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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13645 ***</div>

  <h1><a class="pagenum" name='pageI' title='I' id=
  "pageI"></a><a class="pagenum" name='pageII' title='II' id=
  "pageII"></a><a class="pagenum" name='pageIII' title='III' id=
  "pageIII"></a>THE TATLER</h1>

  <h2>Edited with Introduction &amp; Notes by <b>George A.
  Aitken</b></h2>

  <h3><i>Author of</i> "The Life of Richard Steele," Etc.</h3>

  <h2>Vol. I</h2>
  <hr />

  <h3>New York<br />
  Hadley &amp; Mathews<br />
  156 Fifth Avenue<br />
  London: Duckworth &amp; Co.<br />
  1899</h3>
  <hr class="full" />

  <h2>Contents</h2>

  <ul>
    <li><a href='#preface'>Editor's Preface</a></li>

    <li><a href='#introduction'>Editor's Introduction</a></li>

    <li><a href='#thepreface'>The Preface.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#dedication'>Dedication to Mr.
    Maynwaring.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number1'>No. 1. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number2'>No. 2. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number3'>No. 3. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number4'>No. 4. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number5'>No. 5. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number6'>No. 6. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number7'>No. 7. [Steele</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number8'>No. 8. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number9'>No. 9. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number10'>No. 10. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number11'>No. 11. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number12'>No. 12. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number13'>No. 13. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number14'>No. 14. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number15'>No. 15. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number16'>No. 16. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number17'>No. 17. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number18'>No. 18. [Steele and Addison.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number19'>No. 19. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number20'>No. 20. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number21'>No. 21. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number22'>No. 22. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number23'>No. 23. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number24'>No. 24. [Addison.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number25'>No. 25. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number26'>No. 26. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number27'>No. 27. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number28'>No. 28. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number29'>No. 29. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number30'>No. 30. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number31'>No. 31. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number32'>No. 32. [Swift and Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number33'>No. 33. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number34'>No. 34. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number35'>No. 35. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number36'>No. 36. [?Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number37'>No. 37. [?Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number38'>No. 38. [?Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number39'>No. 39. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number40'>No. 40. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number41'>No. 41. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number42'>No. 42. [Steele and Addison.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number43'>No. 43. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number44'>No. 44. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number45'>No. 45. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number46'>No. 46. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number47'>No. 47. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number48'>No. 48. [Steele.</a></li>

    <li><a href='#number49'>No. 49. [Steele.</a></li>
  </ul>
  <hr class='full' />

  <p><a name='preface' id="preface"></a></p>

  <h2>Preface</h2>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='pageIV' title='IV' id=
  "pageIV"></a><a class="pagenum" name='pageV' title='V' id=
  "pageV"></a></p>

  <div class="italic">
    <p>The original numbers of the <i>Tatler</i> were reissued in
    two forms in 1710-11; one edition, in octavo, being published
    by subscription, while the other, in duodecimo, was for the
    general public. The present edition has been printed from a
    copy of the latter issue, which, as recorded on the title-page,
    was "revised and corrected by the Author"; but I have had by my
    side, for constant reference, a complete set of the folio
    sheets, containing the "Lucubrations of Isaac Bickerstaff" in
    the form in which they were first presented to the world.
    Scrupulous accuracy in the text has been aimed at, but the
    eccentricities of spelling&#8212;which were the printer's, not
    the author's&#8212;have not been preserved, and the punctuation
    has occasionally been corrected.</p>

    <p>The first and the most valuable of the annotated editions of
    the <i>Tatler</i> was published by John Nichols and others in
    1786, with notes by Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, Dr. John
    Calder, and Dr. Pearce, Bishop of Rochester; and though these
    notes are often irrelevant and out of<a class="pagenum" name=
    'pageVI' title='VI' id="pageVI"></a> date, they contain an
    immense amount of information, and have been freely made use of
    by subsequent editors. I have endeavoured to preserve what is
    of value in the older editions, and to supplement it, as
    concisely as possible, by such further information as appeared
    desirable. The eighteenth-century diaries and letters published
    of late years have in many cases enabled me to throw light on
    passages which have hitherto been obscure, and sometimes useful
    illustrations have been found in the contemporary newspapers
    and periodicals.</p>

    <p>The portraits of Steele, Addison, and Swift, the writers
    most associated with the <i>Tatler</i>, have been taken from
    contemporary engravings in the British Museum; and the
    imaginary portrait of Isaac Bickerstaff in the last volume is
    from a rare picture drawn by Lens in 1710 as a frontispiece to
    collections of the original folio numbers.</p>

    <p class="right"><i>G. A. A.</i></p>

    <p>August 1898.</p>
  </div>
  <hr class='full' />

  <p><a name='introduction' id="introduction"></a></p>

  <h2>Introduction</h2>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='pageVII' title='VII' id=
  "pageVII"></a></p>

  <p>When the first number of the <i>Tatler</i> appeared in 1709,
  Steele and Addison were about thirty-seven years of age, while
  Swift, then still counted among the Whigs, was more than four
  years their senior. Addison and Steele had been friends at the
  Charterhouse School and at Oxford, and though they had during the
  following years had varying experiences, their friendship had in
  no way lessened. Addison had been a fellow of his college, had
  gained the patronage of Charles Montague and Lord Somers, had
  made the grand tour, and published an account of his travels; had
  gained popularity by his poem "The Campaign," written in
  celebration of the victory at Blenheim; had been made an
  Under-Secretary of State, and finally (in December 1708) had been
  appointed secretary to Lord Wharton, the Lord Lieutenant of
  Ireland. Steele, on the other hand, had enlisted in the Guards,
  without taking any degree; had obtained an ensign's commission
  after dedicating to Lord Cutts a poem on Queen Mary's death; and
  had written a little book called "The Christian Hero," designed
  "to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of virtue
  and<a class="pagenum" name='pageVIII' title='VIII' id=
  "pageVIII"></a> religion, in opposition to a stronger propensity
  towards unwarrantable pleasures." At the close of the same year
  (1701) he brought out a successful comedy, "The Funeral," which
  was followed by "The Lying Lover" and "The Tender Husband," plays
  which gave strong evidence of the influence of Jeremy Collier's
  attack on the immorality of the stage. "The Tender Husband" owed
  "many applauded strokes" to Addison, to whom it was dedicated by
  Steele, who wished "to show the esteem I have for you, and that I
  look upon my intimacy with you as one of the most valuable
  enjoyments of my life." In 1705 Steele married a lady with
  property in Barbados, and on her death married, in 1707, Mary
  Scurlock, the "dear Prue" to whom he addressed his well-known
  letters. For the rest, he had been made gentleman-waiter to
  Prince George of Denmark, and appointed Gazetteer, with a salary
  of £300, less a tax of £45 a year. He was disappointed in his
  hopes of obtaining the Under-Secretaryship vacated by
  Addison.</p>

  <p>From 1705 onwards there is evidence of frequent and familiar
  intercourse between Swift and Addison and Steele. After Sir
  William Temple's death, Swift had become chaplain to the Earl of
  Berkeley, who gave him the living of Laracor; and during a visit
  to England in 1704 he had gained a position in the front rank of
  authors by the "Tale of a Tub" and the "Battle of the Books." At
  the close of 1707 he was again in England, charged with a mission
  to obtain for the Irish clergy the remission of First Fruits and
  Tenths already conceded to the English, and throughout 1708 what
  he calls "the triumvirate of <a name="pageIX" id=
  "pageIX"></a>Addison, Steele and me" were in constant
  communication. In that year Swift published a pamphlet called "A
  Project for the Advancement of Religion and the Reformation of
  Manners," which anticipated many of the arguments used in the
  <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i>; and he also commenced his
  attack on John Partridge, quack doctor and maker of astrological
  almanacs. On the appearance of Partridge's "Merlinus Liberatus"
  for 1708, Swift&#8212;borrowing a name from the signboard of a
  shoemaker&#8212;published "Predictions for the year 1708, wherein
  the month and day of the month are set down, the persons named,
  and the great actions and events of next year particularly
  related, as they will come to pass. Written to prevent the people
  of England from being further imposed on by vulgar
  almanack-makers. By Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq." Isaac Bickerstaff
  professed to be a true astrologer, disgusted at the lies told by
  impostors, and he said that he was willing to be hooted at as a
  cheat if his prophecies were not exactly fulfilled. His first
  prediction was that Partridge would die on the 29th of March; and
  on the 30th a second pamphlet was published, "The accomplishment
  of the first of Mr. Bickerstaff's Predictions ... in a letter to
  a person of quality, in which a detailed account is given of
  Partridge's death, at five minutes after seven, by which it is
  clear that Mr. Bickerstaff was mistaken almost four hours in his
  calculation.... Whether he had been the cause of this poor man's
  death, as well as the predictor, may be very reasonably
  disputed." The joke was maintained by Swift and others in various
  pieces, and when Partridge, in his almanac for 1709, protested
  that he was still living, Swift <a class="pagenum" name='pageX'
  title='X' id="pageX"></a>replied, in "A Vindication of Isaac
  Bickerstaff, Esq.," which was advertised in the fifth number of
  the <i>Tatler</i>, that he could prove that Partridge was not
  alive; for no one living could have written such rubbish as the
  new almanac. In starting his new paper Steele assumed the name of
  the astrologer Isaac Bickerstaff, rendered famous by Swift, and
  made frequent use of Swift's leading idea. He himself summed up
  the controversy in the words, "if a man's art is gone, the man is
  gone, though his body still appear."</p>

  <p>Much has been written on the interesting question of the early
  history of the periodical press; but with one exception none of
  its predecessors had much effect on the <i>Tatler</i>. John
  Dunton's <i>Athenian Mercury</i> was the forerunner of our
  <i>Notes and Queries</i>; and it was followed by the <i>British
  Apollo</i> (1708-11), the second title of which was "Curious
  Amusements for the Ingenious. To which are added the most
  Material Occurrences, Foreign and Domestic. Performed by a
  Society of Gentlemen." <i>The Gentleman's Journal</i> of 1692-4,
  a monthly paper of poems and other miscellaneous matter, was
  succeeded, in 1707, by Oldmixon's <i>Muses' Mercury; or, The
  Monthly Miscellany</i>, a periodical which contained also notices
  of new plays and books, and numbered Steele among its
  contributors. Defoe's <i>Review</i>, begun in 1704, aimed at
  setting the affairs of Europe in a clearer light, regardless of
  party; but, added Defoe, "After our serious matters are over, we
  shall at the end of every paper present you with a little
  diversion, as anything occurs to make the world merry; and
  whether friend or foe, one party or another, <a class="pagenum"
  name='pageXI' title='XI' id="pageXI"></a>if anything happens so
  scandalous as to require an open reproof, the world will meet
  with it there." Accordingly, of the eight pages in the first
  number, one and a half pages consist of "Mercure Scandale; or,
  Advice from the Scandalous Club, Translated out of French." The
  censure was to be of the actions of men, not of parties; and the
  design was to expose not persons but things. A monthly
  supplement, dealing with "the immediate subject then on the
  tongues of the town," was begun in September 1704; and pressure
  on the space before long pushed the Advices from the Scandal Club
  out of the ordinary issue of the <i>Review</i>. Subsequently
  Defoe wrote more than once in praise of the way in which his work
  had been taken up by Isaac Bickerstaff.</p>

  <p>Probably the <i>Tatler</i> was started by Steele without any
  very definite designs for the future. According to the first
  number, published on April 12, 1709, the aim was to instruct the
  public what to think, after their reading, and there was to be
  something for the entertainment of the fair sex. The numbers were
  published three times a week, on the post-days, at the price of
  one penny. Each paper consisted of a single folio sheet, and the
  first four were distributed gratuitously. Steele probably thought
  that his position of Gazetteer would enable him to give the
  latest news, and he says that these paragraphs brought in a
  multitude of readers; but as the position of the <i>Tatler</i>
  became established, the need for the support of these items of
  news grew less, and after the first eighty numbers they are of
  rare occurrence. Quite early in the career of the paper Addison,
  speaking of the distress which would be <a class="pagenum" name=
  'pageXII' title='XII' id="pageXII"></a>caused among the
  news-writers by the conclusion of a peace, said that Bickerstaff
  was not personally concerned in the matter; "for as my chief
  scenes of action are coffee-houses, playhouses, and my own
  apartment, I am in no need of camps, fortifications, and fields
  of battle to support me.... I shall still be safe as long as
  there are men or women, or politicians, or lovers, or poets, or
  nymphs, or swains, or cits, or courtiers in being."<a name=
  'fntag1' id="fntag1"></a><a class="fn" href=
  '#footnote1'><sup>1</sup></a></p>

  <p>The subject of each article was to be indicated by the name of
  the coffee-house or other place from which it was supposed to
  come: "All accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and entertainment
  shall be under the article of White's Chocolate-house; Poetry,
  under that of Will's Coffee-house; Learning, under the title of
  Grecian; Foreign and Domestic News you will have from Saint
  James's Coffee-house; and what else I have to offer on any other
  subject shall be dated from my own Apartment." For some time each
  number contained short papers from all or several of these
  places; but gradually it became usual to devote the whole number
  to one topic. The motto of the first forty numbers was "Quicquid
  agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli"; but in the following
  numbers it was changed to "Celebrare domestica facta"; and
  afterwards each number generally had a quotation bearing upon the
  subject of the day. Writing some time after the commencement of
  the latter, Steele said, in the Dedication prefixed to the first
  volume, "The general purpose of this paper is to expose the false
  arts of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and
  affectation, and to recommend a general sim<a class="pagenum"
  name='pageXIII' title='XIII' id="pageXIII"></a>plicity in our
  dress, our discourse, and our behaviour." And elsewhere he says:
  "As for my labours, which he is pleased to inquire after, if they
  but wear one impertinence out of human life, destroy a single
  vice, or give a morning's cheerfulness to an honest mind; in
  short, if the world can be but one virtue the better, or in any
  degree less vicious, or receive from them the smallest addition
  to their innocent diversions; I shall not think my pains, or
  indeed my life, to have been spent in vain."<a name='fntag2' id=
  "fntag2"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote2'><sup>2</sup></a> At
  the close, speaking in his own name, Steele wrote: "The general
  purpose of the whole has been to recommend truth, innocence,
  honour, and virtue, as the chief ornaments of life; but I
  considered, that severity of manners was absolutely necessary to
  him who would censure others, and for that reason, and that only,
  chose to talk in a mask. I shall not carry my humility so far as
  to call myself a vicious man, but at the same time must confess
  my life is at best but pardonable."<a name='fntag3' id=
  "fntag3"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote3'><sup>3</sup></a></p>

  <p>With his usual generosity, Steele more than once spoke in the
  warmest terms of the assistance rendered to him by Addison. In
  the preface to the collected edition he said: "I have only one
  gentleman, who will be nameless, to thank for any frequent
  assistance to me, which indeed it would have been barbarous in
  him to have denied to one with whom he had lived in an intimacy
  from childhood, considering the great ease with which he is able
  to despatch the most entertaining pieces of this nature. This
  good office he performed with such force of genius, humour, wit,
  and learning that I fared like a distressed prince, who calls in
  a powerful neighbour to his aid; I was undone by <a class=
  "pagenum" name='pageXIV' title='XIV' id="pageXIV"></a>my
  auxiliary; when I had called him in I could not subsist without
  dependence on him." And in 1722, after Addison's death, in a
  preface to his friend's play, "The Drummer," Steele wrote of the
  <i>Tatler</i>, "That paper was advanced indeed! for it was raised
  to a greater thing than I intended it! For the elegance, purity,
  and correctness which appeared in his writings were not so much
  my purpose, as (in any intelligible manner, as I could) to rally
  all those singularities of human life, through the different
  professions and characters in it, which obstruct anything that
  was truly good and great."</p>

  <p>It is only fair to Steele to point out that the original idea
  of the <i>Tatler</i> was entirely his own, and that he alone was
  responsible for the regular supply of material. Addison was in
  Ireland when the paper was begun, and did not know who was the
  author until several numbers had appeared. His occasional
  contributions were of little importance until after eighty
  numbers had been published; and of the whole 271 numbers Steele
  wrote about 188 and Addison only 42, while they were jointly
  responsible for 36. Swift contributed only to about a dozen
  numbers; and the assistance received from other writers was so
  slight that it does not call for notice here. Steele, unlike
  Addison, was probably at his best in the <i>Tatler</i>, where he
  had a freer hand, and described, in a perfectly fresh and
  unaffected style, the impressions of the moment. Hastily composed
  in coffee-house or printing-office, as they often were, and at
  very short notice, his papers frequently appeal to the reader of
  the present day more than the carefully elaborated and highly
  finished work of his friend, who <a class="pagenum" name='pageXV'
  title='XV' id="pageXV"></a>wrote only when he found a suitable
  topic. And if Addison's art is of a higher standard than
  Steele's, it is to Steele that we owe Addison. A minor poet and
  the author of a book of travels and of an unsuccessful opera,
  Addison found no opportunity for his peculiar genius until his
  friend provided the means in the <i>Tatler</i>. It is tolerably
  certain that he would himself never have taken the necessary step
  of founding a periodical appealing to the general public; and
  Steele himself said with perfect truth, "I claim to myself the
  merit of having extorted excellent productions from a person of
  the greatest abilities, who would not have let them appear by any
  other means."<a name='fntag4' id="fntag4"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote4'><sup>4</sup></a></p>

  <p>If more is said here of Steele than of Addison, it is because
  it is Steele whose name is most intimately connected with the
  <i>Tatler</i>. The field in which Addison shone brightest was the
  <i>Spectator</i>, where the whole plan was arranged in the manner
  best suited to his genius. But his influence is, nevertheless,
  visible in the development of the earlier paper, and some of his
  individual articles are equal to anything he afterwards wrote. It
  is only necessary to mention his papers on the Distress of the
  News-Writers<a name='fntag5' id="fntag5"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote5'><sup>5</sup></a>; on the poetaster, Ned
  Softly<a name='fntag6' id="fntag6"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote6'><sup>6</sup></a>; on the pedant and "broker in
  learning," Tom Folio<a name='fntag7' id="fntag7"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote7'><sup>7</sup></a>; on the Political
  Upholsterer, who was more inquisitive to know what passed in
  Poland than in his own family<a name='fntag8' id=
  "fntag8"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote8'><sup>8</sup></a>;
  and on the Adventures of a Shilling.<a name='fntag9' id=
  "fntag9"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote9'><sup>9</sup></a>
  His, too, are the Vision of Justice<a name='fntag10' id=
  "fntag10"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote10'><sup>10</sup></a>;
  the story of a dream;<a name='fntag11' id="fntag11"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote11'><sup>11</sup></a> and the amusing account
  of the visit to <a class="pagenum" name='pageXVI' title='XVI' id=
  "pageXVI"></a>London of Sir Harry Quickset, who, with his
  old-world breeding, was the forerunner of Sir Roger de
  Coverley.<a name='fntag12' id="fntag12"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote12'><sup>12</sup></a></p>

  <p>Unlike the members of the Spectator's Club, the <i>dramatis
  personæ</i> introduced in the <i>Tatler</i> do not occupy a very
  prominent place in the development of the work. Isaac Bickerstaff
  himself, an old man of sixty-four, "a philosopher, an humourist,
  an astrologer, and a censor," is rather vaguely sketched, and his
  familiar, Pacolet, is made use of chiefly in the earlier numbers.
  The occasional references to Bickerstaff's half-sister, Jenny
  Distaff,<a name='fntag13' id="fntag13"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote13'><sup>13</sup></a> and her husband, Tanquillus, and
  to his three nephews and their conduct in the presence of a
  "beautiful woman of honour,"<a name='fntag14' id=
  "fntag14"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote14'><sup>14</sup></a>
  gave Steele a framework for some charming sketches of domestic
  life. It is not until No. 132 that we
  have the amusing account of the members of Bickerstaff's Club,
  the Trumpet, in Shire Lane. There were Sir Geoffrey Notch, a
  gentleman of an ancient family, who had wasted his estate in his
  youth, and called every thriving man a pitiful upstart; Major
  Matchlock, with his reminiscences of the Civil War; Dick Reptile,
  and the Bencher who was always praising the wit of former days,
  and telling stories of Jack Ogle, with whom he pretended to have
  been intimate in his youth. Very little use was afterwards made
  of this promising material.</p>

  <p>The poet John Gay has given an excellent account of the work
  accomplished by Steele and Addison in a pamphlet called "The
  Present State of Wit" (1711). Speaking of the discontinuance of
  the <i>Tatler</i>, he says: "His disappearing seemed to be
  bewailed as some general <a class="pagenum" name='pageXVII'
  title='XVII' id="pageXVII"></a>calamity: every one wanted so
  agreeable an amusement; and the coffee-houses began to be
  sensible that the Esquire's Lucubrations alone had brought them
  more customers than all their other newspapers put together. It
  must, indeed, be confessed that never man threw up his pen under
  stronger temptations to have employed it longer; his reputation
  was at a greater height than, I believe, ever any living author's
  was before him.... There is this noble difference between him and
  all the rest of our polite and gallant authors: the latter have
  endeavoured to please the age by falling in with them, and
  encouraging them in their fashionable vices and false notions of
  things. It would have been a jest some time since, for a man to
  have asserted that anything witty could be said in praise of a
  married state; or that devotion and virtue were any way necessary
  to the character of a fine gentleman. Bickerstaff ventured to
  tell the town that they were a parcel of fops, fools, and vain
  coquettes; but in such a manner as even pleased them, and made
  them more than half inclined to believe that he spoke truth.
  Instead of complying with the false sentiments or vicious tastes
  of the age, either in morality, criticism, or good breeding, he
  has boldly assured them that they were altogether in the wrong,
  and commanded them, with an authority which perfectly well became
  him, to surrender themselves to his arguments for virtue and good
  sense.</p>

  <p>"It is incredible to conceive the effect his writings have had
  on the town; how many thousand follies they have either quite
  banished, or given a very great check to; how much countenance
  they have added to virtue and religion; <a class="pagenum" name=
  'pageXVIII' title='XVIII' id="pageXVIII"></a>how many people they
  have rendered happy, by showing them it was their own fault if
  they were not so; and, lastly, how entirely they have convinced
  our fops and young fellows of the value and advantages of
  learning. He has indeed rescued it out of the hands of pedants
  and fools, and discovered the true method of making it amiable
  and lovely to all mankind. In the dress he gives it, it is a most
  welcome guest at tea-tables and assemblies, and is relished and
  caressed by the merchants on the 'Change; accordingly, there is
  not a lady at Court, nor a banker in Lombard Street, who is not
  verily persuaded that Captain Steele is the greatest scholar and
  best casuist of any man in England.</p>

  <p>"Lastly, his writings have set all our wits and men of letters
  upon a new way of thinking, of which they had little or no notion
  before; and though we cannot yet say that any of them have come
  up to the beauties of the original, I think we may venture to
  affirm that every one of them writes and thinks much more justly
  than they did some time since."</p>

  <p>Gay's opinion has been confirmed by the best judges of nearly
  two centuries, and there is no need to labour the question of the
  wit and wisdom of the <i>Tatler</i>. But some examples may be
  cited in illustration of the topics on which Steele and his
  friends wrote, and the manner in which they dealt with them. The
  very first numbers contained illustrations of most of what were
  to be the characteristics of the paper. There is the account of
  the very pretty gentleman at White's Chocolate-house thrown into
  a sad condition by a passing vision of a young lady; <a class=
  "pagenum" name='pageXIX' title='XIX' id="pageXIX"></a>the notice
  of Betterton's benefit performance; the comments on the war; the
  campaign against Partridge, with the declaration that all who
  were good for nothing would be included among the deceased; the
  discussion on the morality of the stage, with praise of Mrs.
  Bicknell and reproaches upon a young nobleman who came drunk to
  the play; the comparison of the rival beauties, Chloe and
  Clarissa; the satire on the Italian opera, and on Pinkethman's
  company of strollers; and the allegorical paper on Fælicia, or
  Britain. All these and other matters are dealt with in the four
  numbers which were distributed gratuitously; as the work
  progressed the principal change, besides the disappearance of the
  paragraphs of news, was the development of the sustained essay on
  morals or manners, and the less frequent indulgence in satire
  upon individual offenders, and in personal allusions in general.
  This change seems to have been the result partly of design, and
  partly of circumstances, including Addison's influence on the
  work. Steele himself said, as we have seen, that the
  <i>Tatler</i> was raised to a greater height than he had
  designed; but no doubt he realised that he must feel his way, and
  be at first a tatler rather than a preacher. After some grave
  remarks about duelling in an early paper (<a href='#number26'>No.
  26</a>), he makes Pacolet, Bickerstaff's familiar, say, "It was
  too soon to give my discourse on this subject so serious a turn;
  you have chiefly to do with that part of mankind which must be
  led into reflection by degrees, and you must treat this custom
  with humour and raillery to get an audience, before you come to
  pronounce sentence upon it."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='pageXX' title='XX' id=
  "pageXX"></a>Follies and weaknesses are ridiculed in the
  <i>Tatler</i> in a genial spirit, by one who was fully alive to
  his own imperfections, and point is usually given to the papers
  by a sketch of some veiled or imaginary individual. In this way
  Bickerstaff treats of fops,<a name='fntag15' id=
  "fntag15"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote15'><sup>15</sup></a>
  of wags,<a name='fntag16' id="fntag16"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote16'><sup>16</sup></a> of coquettes,<a name='fntag17'
  id="fntag17"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote17'><sup>17</sup></a> of the lady who condemned the
  vice of the age, meaning the only vice of which she was not
  guilty;<a name='fntag18' id="fntag18"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote18'><sup>18</sup></a> of impudence;<a name='fntag19'
  id="fntag19"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote19'><sup>19</sup></a> and of pride and vanity.<a name=
  'fntag20' id="fntag20"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote20'><sup>20</sup></a> In a graver tone he attacks the
  practice of duelling;<a name='fntag21' id="fntag21"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote21'><sup>21</sup></a> gamesters and
  sharpers;<a name='fntag22' id="fntag22"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote22'><sup>22</sup></a> drunken "roarers" and
  "scowrers";<a name='fntag23' id="fntag23"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote23'><sup>23</sup></a> and brutal pastimes at the Bear
  Garden and elsewhere.<a name='fntag24' id="fntag24"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote24'><sup>24</sup></a> The campaign against
  swindlers exposed Steele to serious threats on more than one
  occasion.<a name='fntag25' id="fntag25"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote25'><sup>25</sup></a></p>

  <p>Of what Coleridge called Steele's "pure humanity" there is
  nowhere better evidence than in the <i>Tatler</i>. It is enough
  to cite once more the well-known examples of the account of his
  father's death and his mother's grief;<a name='fntag26' id=
  "fntag26"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote26'><sup>26</sup></a>
  the stories of Unnion and Valentine,<a name='fntag27' id=
  "fntag27"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote27'><sup>27</sup></a>
  of the Cornish lovers,<a name='fntag28' id=
  "fntag28"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote28'><sup>28</sup></a>
  of Clarinda and Chloe,<a name='fntag29' id=
  "fntag29"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote29'><sup>29</sup></a>
  and of Mr. Eustace,<a name='fntag30' id="fntag30"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote30'><sup>30</sup></a> and the charming
  account of the married happiness of an old friend, with the
  pathetic picture of the death of the wife, and the grief of
  husband and children.<a name='fntag31' id="fntag31"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote31'><sup>31</sup></a> In the last number
  Steele said, "It has been a most exquisite pleasure to me to
  frame characters of domestic life"; and we know from his letters
  that when he wrote of children he <a class="pagenum" name=
  'pageXXI' title='XXI' id="pageXXI"></a>was only expressing the
  deep affection which he felt for his own. Equally in advance of
  his time was his respect for women, one of whom&#8212;Lady
  Elizabeth Hastings&#8212;he has immortalised in the words, "To
  love her is a liberal education."<a name='fntag32' id=
  "fntag32"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote32'><sup>32</sup></a>
  In the same number he wrote, "As charity is esteemed a
  conjunction of the good qualities necessary to a virtuous man, so
  love is the happy composition of all the accomplishments that
  make a fine gentleman." In a time of much laxity he constantly
  dwelt on the happiness of marriage; "wife is the most amiable
  term in human life."<a name='fntag33' id="fntag33"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote33'><sup>33</sup></a> But good nature must be
  cultivated if the married life is to be happy,<a name='fntag34'
  id="fntag34"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote34'><sup>34</sup></a> and all unnecessary provocations
  avoided. "Dear Jenny," says Bickerstaff to his sister, "remember
  me, and avoid Snap-Dragon."<a name='fntag35' id=
  "fntag35"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote35'><sup>35</sup></a>
  Women must be rightly educated before they can expect to be
  treated by, and to influence men as they should.<a name='fntag36'
  id="fntag36"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote36'><sup>36</sup></a> The make of the mind greatly
  contributes to the ornament of the body; "there is so immediate a
  relation between our thoughts and gestures that a woman must
  think well to look well."<a name='fntag37' id=
  "fntag37"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote37'><sup>37</sup></a>
  The habit of scandal-mongering and other weaknesses are the
  result of an improper training of the mind.<a name='fntag38' id=
  "fntag38"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote38'><sup>38</sup></a>
  "All women especially," says Thackeray, "are bound to be grateful
  to Steele, as he was the first of our writers who really seemed
  to admire and respect them." His pity extended to the hunted
  deer: "I have more than once rode off at the death," he says; "to
  be apt to shed tears is a sign of a great as well as a little
  spirit."<a name='fntag39' id="fntag39"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote39'><sup>39</sup></a></p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='pageXXII' title='XXII' id=
  "pageXXII"></a>Steele's teaching on morals and right living
  enters intimately into his literary criticism. His love for
  Shakespeare was real and intelligent; there is no formal
  discussion of the rules of the drama, but throughout the
  <i>Tatler</i> there are references which show the keenest
  appreciation of Shakespeare's powers as poet and philosopher.
  "The vitiated tastes of the audience at the theatre could only be
  amended," says Steele, "by encouraging the representation of the
  noble characters drawn by Shakespeare and others, from whence it
  is impossible to return without strong impressions of honour and
  humanity. On these occasions, distress is laid before us with all
  its causes and consequences, and our resentment placed according
  to the merit of the persons afflicted. Were dramas of this nature
  more acceptable to the taste of the town, men who have genius
  would bend their studies to excel in them."<a name='fntag40' id=
  "fntag40"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote40'><sup>40</sup></a>
  Still more remarkable are the allusions to "Paradise Lost," for
  Milton was then even less appreciated than Shakespeare. As in so
  many other things, Addison's more elaborate criticism in the
  <i>Spectator</i> was foreshadowed in the <i>Tatler</i> by Steele;
  and the comparison of passages by Milton and Dryden<a name=
  'fntag41' id="fntag41"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote41'><sup>41</sup></a> must have been very striking to
  the reader of that time, who usually knew Shakespeare or Chaucer
  only through the adaptations of Dryden or Tate.</p>

  <p>Though it is not true, as some have represented, that the
  <i>Tatler</i> is for the most part a mere society journal,
  concerned chiefly with the gossip of the day, yet its
  contributors made use of the scenes and events familiar to their
  readers in order to bring home the kindly lessons <a class=
  "pagenum" name='pageXXIII' title='XXIII' id="pageXXIII"></a>they
  wished to teach; and in so doing they have given us a picture of
  the daily life of the town which would alone have given lasting
  interest to the paper. The distinctly "moral" papers have had
  countless imitators, and sometimes therefore they are apt to pall
  upon us, but the social articles are at least as interesting now
  as when they were written, and one of the reasons why some
  excellent judges have prefered the <i>Tatler</i> to the
  <i>Spectator</i>, is that there is a greater proportion of these
  gossiping papers, combining wisdom with satire, and bringing
  before us as in a mirror the London of Queen Anne's day.
  Bickerstaff takes us from club to coffee-house, from St. James's
  to the Exchange; we see the poets and wits at Will's, the
  politicians at White's, the merchants at Garraway's, the Templars
  at the Smyrna; we see Betterton and the rest on the stage, and
  the ladies and gentlemen in the front or side boxes; we see
  Pinkethman's players at Greenwich, Powell's puppet-show, Don
  Saltero's Museum at Chelsea, and the bear-baiting and
  prize-fights at Hockley-in-the-Hole. We are taken to the Mall at
  St. James's, or the Ring in Hyde Park, and we study the fine
  ladies and the beaux, with their red heels and their amber-headed
  canes suspended from their waistcoats; or we follow them to
  Charles Lillie's, the perfumer, or to Mather's toy-shop, or to
  Motteux's china warehouse; or to the shops in the New Exchange,
  where the men bought trifles and ogled the attendants. Or yet
  again we watch the exposure of the sharpers and bullies, and the
  denunciation of others who brought even greater ruin on those who
  fell into their clutches. We see the worshipping and the
  flirtations in the church, with Smal<a class="pagenum" name=
  'pageXXIV' title='XXIV' id="pageXXIV"></a>ridge and Atterbury,
  Hoadly and Blackall among the preachers, and hear something of
  the controversies between High and Low Church, Whig and Tory. We
  hear, too, of the war with France, and of the hopes of peace.
  Steele tells us not only of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, but of
  privates and non-commissioned officers, of their lives and
  tragedies, of their comrades and friends. All Sergeant Hall knew
  of the battle was that he wished there had not been so many
  killed; he had himself a very bad shot in the head, but would
  recover, if it pleased God. "To me," says Steele, recalling his
  own service as a trooper, "I take the gallantry of private
  soldiers to proceed from the same, if not from a nobler impulse
  than that of gentlemen and officers.... Sergeant Hall would die
  ten thousand deaths rather than a word should be spoken at the
  Red Lattice, or any part of the Butcher Row, in prejudice to his
  courage or honesty." His letter to his friend was "the picture of
  the bravest sort of man, that is to say, a man of great courage
  and small hopes."<a name='fntag42' id="fntag42"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote42'><sup>42</sup></a></p>

  <p>Something must be said of the events of 1710, which led to the
  discontinuance of the <i>Tatler</i>. The trial of Dr. Sacheverell
  in March was followed by the fall of the Whigs in the autumn; and
  in October Steele lost his post of Gazetteer. Swift says it was
  "for writing a <i>Tatler</i> some months ago, against Mr. Harley,
  who gave him the post at first." There was a growing coldness
  between Swift and his old friends, and on the 3rd of November
  Swift wrote, "We have scurvy <i>Tatlers</i> of late, so pray do
  not suspect me." On the preceding day Swift's first paper
  <a class="pagenum" name='pageXXV' title='XXV' id="pageXXV"></a>in
  the Tory <i>Examiner</i> had been published. He still met Steele
  from time to time, and he says that he interceded for him with
  Harley, but was frustrated by Addison. However this may be, it is
  certain that Harley saw Steele, and that as the result of their
  interview Steele retained his post as Commissioner of the Stamp
  Office, and brought the <i>Tatler</i> to a close on January 2,
  1711, without consulting Addison. "To say the truth, it was
  time," says Swift; "for he grew cruel dull and dry." It is true
  that there is a falling off towards the close of the
  <i>Tatler</i>, but that it was not want of matter that brought
  about the abandonment of the paper is proved by the commencement
  only two months later of the <i>Spectator</i>. Steele himself
  said that on many accounts it had become an irksome task to
  personate Mr. Bickerstaff any longer; he had in some places
  touched upon matters concerning Church and State, and he could
  not be cold enough to conceal his opinions. Gay tells us, in "The
  Present State of Wit," that the town being generally of opinion
  that Steele was quite spent as regards matter, was the more
  surprised when the <i>Spectator</i> appeared; people were
  therefore driven to accept the alternative view that the
  <i>Tatler</i> was laid down "as a sort of submission to, or
  composition with, the Government for some past offences."</p>

  <p>Excellent testimony to the immediate popularity of the
  <i>Tatler</i> is furnished by the fact that its successive
  numbers were reprinted in Dublin and in Edinburgh. At least
  sixty-nine numbers of the Dublin issue, in quarto, were printed.
  The Scottish re-issue was a folio sheet, commenced about February
  1710, and continued until the close of the <a class="pagenum"
  name='pageXXVI' title='XXVI' id="pageXXVI"></a>paper. The date of
  each number of the Edinburgh paper&#8212;"printed by James
  Watson, and sold at his shop next door to the Red Lion, opposite
  to the Lucken Booths"&#8212;is five or six days later than that
  of the original issue; it was evidently worked off as soon as the
  London post came in. Other evidence of the popularity of the
  <i>Tatler</i> in the provinces is afforded by the foundation of
  the "Gentleman's Society" at Spalding. Maurice Johnson, a native
  of Spalding and a member of the Inner Temple, gives this account
  of the matter: "In April 1709, that great genius Captain Richard
  Steele ... published the <i>Tatlers</i>, which, as they came out
  in half-sheets, were taken in by a gentleman, who communicated
  them to his acquaintances at the coffee-house then in the Abbey
  Yard; and these papers being universally approved as both
  instructive and entertaining, they ordered them to be sent down
  thither, with the Gazettes and Votes, for which they paid out of
  charity to the person who kept the coffee-house, and they were
  accordingly had and read there every post-day, generally aloud to
  the company, who would sit and talk over the subject afterwards.
  This insensibly drew the men of sense and letters into a sociable
  way of conversing, and continued the next year, 1710, until the
  publication of these papers desisted, which was in December, to
  their great regret." Afterwards the <i>Spectator</i> was taken
  in, and a regular society was started in 1712, by the
  encouragement of Addison, Steele, and other members of Button's
  Club.</p>

  <p>One indication of the popularity of the <i>Tatler</i> in its
  own day is the long subscription list prefixed to the reprint in
  four octavo volumes. Some copies were printed on <a class=
  "pagenum" name='pageXXVII' title='XXVII' id=
  "pageXXVII"></a>"royal," others on "medium" paper; and the price
  of the former was a guinea a volume, while that of the latter was
  half a guinea. There was also an authorised cheap edition, in
  duodecimo, at half a crown a volume, besides a pirated edition at
  the same price. A still more conclusive proof of the success of
  the <i>Tatler</i> was the number of papers started in imitation
  of its methods. Addison mentioned some of those periodicals in
  No. 229, where details will be found of
  the "Female Tatler," "Tit for Tat," and the like. But besides
  these, several spurious continuations of the <i>Tatler</i>
  appeared directly after the discontinuance of the genuine paper,
  including one by William Harrison, written with Swift's
  encouragement and assistance. But Harrison, as Swift said, had
  "not the true vein for it," and his paper reached only to
  fifty-two numbers, which were afterwards reprinted as a fifth
  volume to the collected edition of the original <i>Tatler</i>.
  Gay said that Steele's imitators seemed to think "that what was
  only the garnish of the former <i>Tatlers</i> was that which
  recommended them, and not those substantial entertainments which
  they everywhere abound in." The town, in the absence of anything
  better, welcomed their occasional and faint endeavours at humour;
  "but even those are at present become wholly invisible, and quite
  swallowed up in the blaze of the <i>Spectator</i>." Steele
  himself said that his imitators held the censorship in
  commission.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class="label">
        <a href="#fntag1">[1]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote1' id="footnote1"></a><a href=
      '#number18'>No. 18.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag2'>[2]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote2' id="footnote2"></a>No. 89.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag3'>[3]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote3' id="footnote3"></a>No. 271.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag4'>[4]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote4' id="footnote4"></a><i>Spectator</i>,
      No. 532.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag5'>[5]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote5' id="footnote5"></a><i>Tatler</i>,
      <a href='#number18'>No. 18.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag6'>[6]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote6' id="footnote6"></a>No. 163.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag7'>[7]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote7' id="footnote7"></a>No. 158.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag8'>[8]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote8' id="footnote8"></a>Nos. 155, 160.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag9'>[9]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote9' id="footnote9"></a>No. 249.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag10'>[10]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote10' id="footnote10"></a>Nos. 100, 102.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag11'>[11]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote11' id="footnote11"></a>No. 117.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag12'>[12]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote12' id="footnote12"></a>No. 86.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag13'>[13]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote13' id="footnote13"></a><a href=
      '#number10'>No. 10.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag14'>[14]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote14' id="footnote14"></a><a href=
      '#number30'>No. 30.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag15'>[15]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote15' id="footnote15"></a>No. 142.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag16'>[16]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote16' id="footnote16"></a>No. 184.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag17'>[17]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote17' id="footnote17"></a><a href=
      '#number27'>No. 27.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag18'>[18]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote18' id="footnote18"></a>No. 210.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag19'>[19]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote19' id="footnote19"></a>No. 168.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag20'>[20]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote20' id="footnote20"></a>Nos. 127, 186.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag21'>[21]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote21' id="footnote21"></a>Nos. <a href=
      "#number25">25</a>, <a href="#number26">26</a>, <a href=
      "#number29">29</a>, <a href="#number31">31</a>, <a href=
      "#number38">38</a>, <a href="#number39">39</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag22'>[22]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote22' id="footnote22"></a>Nos. 56, &amp;c.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag23'>[23]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote23' id="footnote23"></a>Nos. <a href=
      "#number40">40</a>, <a href="#number45">45</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag24'>[24]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote24' id="footnote24"></a>No. 134.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag25'>[25]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote25' id="footnote25"></a>See Nos. 115, 271.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag26'>[26]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote26' id="footnote26"></a>No. 181.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag27'>[27]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote27' id="footnote27"></a><a href=
      '#number5'>No. 5.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag28'>[28]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote28' id="footnote28"></a>No. 82.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag29'>[29]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote29' id="footnote29"></a>No. 94.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag30'>[30]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote30' id="footnote30"></a>No. 172.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag31'>[31]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote31' id="footnote31"></a>Nos. 95, 114.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag32'>[32]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote32' id="footnote32"></a><a href=
      '#number49'>No. 49.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag33'>[33]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote33' id="footnote33"></a><a href=
      '#number33'>No. 33.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag34'>[34]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote34' id="footnote34"></a>No. 149.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag35'>[35]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote35' id="footnote35"></a>No. 85. See, too, No.
      104.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag36'>[36]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote36' id="footnote36"></a>Nos. 141, 248.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag37'>[37]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote37' id="footnote37"></a>No. 212.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag38'>[38]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote38' id="footnote38"></a>Nos. 40, 42, 47.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag39'>[39]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote39' id="footnote39"></a>No. 68.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag40'>[40]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote40' id="footnote40"></a><a href=
      '#number8'>No. 8.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag41'>[41]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote41' id="footnote41"></a><a href=
      '#number6'>No. 6.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag42'>[42]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote42' id="footnote42"></a>No. 87.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>
  <hr class="full" />

  <p><a name='thepreface' id="thepreface"></a></p>

  <h2><a class="pagenum" name='page1' title='1' id=
  "page1"></a><a class="pagenum" name='page2' title='2' id=
  "page2"></a> <a class="pagenum" name='page3' title='3' id=
  "page3"></a>The <i>Preface</i>.<a name='fntag43' id=
  "fntag43"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote43'><sup>43</sup></a></h2>

  <p>In the last <i>Tatler</i> I promised some explanation of
  passages and persons mentioned in this work, as well as some
  account of the assistances I have had in the performance. I shall
  do this in very few words; for when a man has no design but to
  speak plain truth, he may say a great deal in a very narrow
  compass. I have in the dedication of the first volume made my
  acknowledgments to Dr. Swift, whose pleasant writings, in the
  name of Bickerstaff, created an inclination in the town towards
  anything that could appear in the same disguise. I must
  acknowledge also, that at my first entering upon this work, a
  certain uncommon way of thinking, and a turn in conversation
  peculiar to that agreeable gentleman, rendered his company very
  advantageous to one whose imagination was to be continually
  employed upon obvious and common subjects, though at the same
  time obliged to treat of them in a new and unbeaten method. His
  verses on the Shower in Town,<a name='fntag44' id=
  "fntag44"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote44'><sup>44</sup></a>
  and the Description of the Morning,<a name='fntag45' id=
  "fntag45"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote45'><sup>45</sup></a>
  are instances of the happiness of that genius, which could raise
  such pleasing ideas upon occasions so barren to an ordinary
  invention.</p>

  <p>When I am upon the house of Bickerstaff, I must not forget
  that genealogy of the family sent to me by the post, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page5' title='5' id="page5"></a>and written, as I
  since understand, by Mr. Twysden,<a name='fntag46' id=
  "fntag46"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote46'><sup>46</sup></a>
  who died at the battle of Mons, and has a monument in Westminster
  Abbey, suitable to the respect which is due to his wit and his
  valour. There are through the course of the work very many
  incidents which were written by unknown correspondents. Of this
  kind is the tale in the second <i>Tatler</i>, and the epistle
  from Mr. Downes the prompter,<a name='fntag47' id=
  "fntag47"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote47'><sup>47</sup></a>
  with others which were very well received by the public. But I
  have only one gentleman,<a name='fntag48' id=
  "fntag48"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote48'><sup>48</sup></a>
  who will be nameless, to thank for any frequent assistance to me,
  which indeed it would have been barbarous in him to have denied
  to one with whom he has lived in an intimacy from childhood,
  considering the great ease with which he is able to dispatch the
  most entertaining pieces of this nature. This good office he
  performed with such force of genius, humour, wit and learning,
  that I fared like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful
  neighbour to his aid; I was undone by my auxiliary; when I had
  once called him in, I could not subsist without dependence on
  him.</p>

  <p>The same hand writ the distinguishing characters of men and
  women under the names of Musical Instruments, the Distress of the
  News-writers, the Inventory of the Playhouse, and the Description
  of the Thermometer,<a name='fntag49' id="fntag49"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote49'><sup>49</sup></a> which I cannot but look
  upon as the greatest embellishments of this work.</p>

  <p>Thus far I thought necessary to say relating to the great
  hands which have been concerned in these volumes, with relation
  to the spirit and genius of the work; and am far from pretending
  to modesty in making this acknowledgment. What a man obtains from
  the good opinion and friendship of worthy men, is a much greater
  honour than he can possibly reap from any accomplishments
  <a class="pagenum" name='page6' title='6' id="page6"></a>of his
  own. But all the credit of wit which was given me by the
  gentlemen above mentioned (with whom I have now accounted) has
  not been able to atone for the exceptions made against me for
  some raillery in behalf of that learned advocate for the
  episcopacy of the Church, and the liberty of the people, Mr.
  Hoadly. I mention this only to defend myself against the
  imputation of being moved rather by party than opinion;<a name=
  'fntag50' id="fntag50"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote50'><sup>50</sup></a> and I think it is apparent, I
  have with the utmost frankness allowed merit wherever I found it,
  though joined in interests different from those for which I have
  declared myself. When my Favonius<a name='fntag51' id=
  "fntag51"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote51'><sup>51</sup></a>
  is acknowledged to be Dr. Smalridge, and the amiable character of
  the dean in the sixty-sixth <i>Tatler</i> drawn for Dr.
  Atterbury, I hope I need say no more as to my impartiality.</p>

  <p>I really have acted in these cases with honesty, and am
  concerned it should be thought otherwise: for wit, if a man had
  it, unless it be directed to some useful end, is but a wanton
  frivolous quality; all that one should value himself upon in this
  kind is, that he had some honourable intention in it.</p>

  <p>As for this point, never hero in romance was carried away with
  a more furious ambition to conquer giants and tyrants, than I
  have been in extirpating gamesters and duellists. And indeed,
  like one of those knights too, though I was calm before, I am apt
  to fly out again, when the thing that first disturbed me is
  presented to my imagination. I shall therefore leave off when I
  am well, and fight with windmills no more: only shall be so
  <a class="pagenum" name='page7' title='7' id="page7"></a>arrogant
  as to say of myself, that in spite of all the force of fashion
  and prejudice, in the face of all the world, I alone bewailed the
  condition of an English gentleman, whose fortune and life are at
  this day precarious; while his estate is liable to the demands of
  gamesters, through a false sense of justice; and to the demands
  of duellists, through a false sense of honour. As to the first of
  these orders of men, I have not one word more to say of them: as
  to the latter, I shall conclude all I have more to offer against
  them (with respect to their being prompted by the fear of shame)
  by applying to the duellist what I think Dr. South says somewhere
  of the liar, "He is a coward to man, and a brave to God."</p>

  <div class="footnotes">
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag43'>[43]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote43' id="footnote43"></a>This Preface was
      originally prefixed to the fourth volume of the collected
      edition issued in 1710-11.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag44'>[44]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote44' id="footnote44"></a>No. 238.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag45'>[45]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote45' id="footnote45"></a><a href=
      '#number9'>No. 9.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag46'>[46]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote46' id="footnote46"></a>See <a href=
      '#number11'>No. 11.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag47'>[47]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote47' id="footnote47"></a>No. 193.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag48'>[48]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote48' id="footnote48"></a>Addison.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag49'>[49]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote49' id="footnote49"></a>Nos. 153, <a href="#number18">18</a>, <a href=
      "#number42">42</a>, 220.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag50'>[50]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote50' id="footnote50"></a>Benjamin Hoadly,
      afterwards Bishop of Bangor, Salisbury, and Winchester,
      successively, was in 1709 engaged in controversy with Dr.
      Francis Atterbury, who represented the high-church party.
      George Smalridge, afterwards Bishop of Bristol, was a
      Jacobite.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag51'>[51]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote51' id="footnote51"></a>See Nos. 72, 114.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>
  <hr class="full" />

  <h2><a name="dedication" id="dedication"></a> <a class="pagenum"
  name='page8' title='8' id="page8"></a><i>To</i> Mr.
  Maynwaring.<a name='fntag52' id="fntag52"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote52'><sup>52</sup></a></h2>

  <p>SIR,</p>

  <p>The state of conversation and business in this town having
  been long perplexed with pretenders in both kinds, in order to
  open men's eyes against such abuses, it appeared no unprofitable
  undertaking to publish a paper which should observe upon the
  manners of the pleasureable, as well as the busy part of mankind.
  To make this generally read, it seemed the most proper method to
  form it by way of a letter of intelligence, consisting of such
  parts as might gratify the curiosity of persons of all
  conditions, and of each sex. But a work of this nature <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page9' title='9' id="page9"></a>requiring time to
  grow into the notice of the world, it happened very luckily, that
  a little before I had resolved upon this design, a
  gentleman<a name='fntag53' id="fntag53"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote53'><sup>53</sup></a> had written Predictions, and two
  or three other pieces in my name, which had rendered it famous
  through all parts of Europe; and by an inimitable spirit and
  humour, raised it to as high a pitch of reputation as it could
  possibly arrive at.</p>

  <p>By this good fortune, the name of Isaac Bickerstaff gained an
  audience of all who had any taste of wit, and the addition of the
  ordinary occurrences of common journals of news brought in a
  multitude of other readers. I could not, I confess, long keep up
  the opinion of the town, that these lucubrations were written by
  the same hand with the first works which were published under my
  name; but before I lost the participation of that author's fame,
  I had already found the advantage of his authority, to which I
  owe the sudden acceptance which my labours met with in the
  world.</p>

  <p>The general purpose of this paper, is to expose the false arts
  of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and
  affectation, and recommend a general simplicity in our dress, our
  discourse, and our behaviour. No man has a better judgment for
  the discovery, or a nobler spirit for the contempt of such
  impostures, than your self; which qualities render you the most
  proper patron for the author of these essays. In the general, the
  design, however <a class="pagenum" name='page10' title='10' id=
  "page10"></a>executed, has met with so great success, that there
  is hardly a name now eminent among us for power, wit, beauty,
  valour, or wisdom, which is not subscribed, for the encouragement
  of the two volumes in octavo, on a royal or medium paper.<a name=
  'fntag54' id="fntag54"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote54'><sup>54</sup></a> This is indeed an honour, for
  which it is impossible to express a suitable gratitude; and there
  is nothing could be an addition to the pleasure I take in it, but
  the reflection that it gives me the most conspicuous occasion I
  can ever have, of subscribing myself,</p>

  <p>Sir,</p>

  <p>Your most obliged, most obedient, and most humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.</p>

  <div class="footnotes">
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag52'>[52]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote52' id="footnote52"></a>Arthur Maynwaring
      was descended from the ancient family of the Maynwarings of
      Over Peover, Cheshire. He was born in 1668, at Ightfield,
      Shropshire, and was educated at the Shrewsbury Grammar School
      and at Christ Church, Oxford, where Smalridge was his tutor.
      Filled with prejudices against the Revolution, he came to
      London to study law, but a political satire which he
      published brought him under Dryden's notice, and the kind
      reception given him by several Whig statesmen, to whom he was
      introduced, caused him to change his views on politics, and
      after his father's death in 1693 he gave up the law and
      determined to push his fortunes at the Court. He was made a
      Commissioner of Customs and afterwards Auditor of the
      Imprests. He was admitted to the Kit-Cat Club, and in 1706
      the interest of Godolphin procured him a seat in the House of
      Commons. Upon the fall of the Whig ministry in 1710,
      Maynwaring set up the <i>Medley</i>, a weekly paper in which
      the attacks of the <i>Examiner</i> were answered, and wrote
      various political pamphlets. But his health soon broke down,
      and he died in November, 1712. Mrs. Oldfield, the actress,
      was the sole executrix of his will, by which he divided his
      small property of some £3000 between her, a son that he had
      by her, and his sister. There appear to have been many good
      points in his character. His "Life and Posthumous Works" were
      published by Oldmixon in 1715. "Maynwaring, whom we hear
      nothing of now, was the ruling man in all conversations,
      indeed what he wrote had very little merit in it" (Pope, in
      Spence's "Anecdotes," 1820, p. 338). Steele says that Harley
      told him that he had to thank Maynwaring for his post of
      Gazetteer.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag53'>[53]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote53' id="footnote53"></a>Swift.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag54'>[54]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote54' id="footnote54"></a>"Encouragement of
      these volumes," in the octavo edition. The list of
      subscribers to the original octavo edition comprised the
      names of some four hundred of the most prominent persons of
      the day.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>
  <hr class="full" />

  <h1><a class="pagenum" name='page11' title='11' id=
  "page11"></a>THE TATLER</h1>

  <h3>BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ.</h3>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number1' id="number1"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 1.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3><i>Tuesday, April 12</i>, 1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class="line">
        Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
      </div>

      <div class="line right">
        Juv., Sat. I. 85, 86.<a name='fntag55' id=
        "fntag55"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote55'><sup>55</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>Though the other papers which are published for the use of the
  good people of England have certainly very wholesome effects, and
  are laudable in their particular kinds, yet they do not seem to
  come up to the main design of such narrations, which, I humbly
  presume, should be principally intended for the use of politic
  persons, who are so public spirited as to neglect their own
  affairs to look into transactions of State. Now these gentlemen,
  for the most part, being men of strong zeal and weak intellects,
  it is both a charitable and necessary work to offer something,
  whereby such worthy and well-affected members of the commonwealth
  may be instructed, after their reading, what to think; which
  shall be the end and purpose of this my paper: wherein I shall
  from time to time report and consider all matters of what kind
  soever that shall occur to me, and publish such my advices and
  reflections every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday in <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page12' title='12' id="page12"></a>the week for
  the convenience of the post.<a name='fntag56' id=
  "fntag56"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote56'><sup>56</sup></a>
  I have also resolved to have something which may be of
  entertainment to the fair sex, in honour of whom I have taken the
  title of this paper. I therefore earnestly desire all persons,
  without distinction, to take it in for the present gratis, and
  hereafter at the price of one penny, forbidding all hawkers to
  take more for it at their peril. And I desire my readers to
  consider, that I am at a very great charge for proper materials
  for this work, as well as that before I resolved upon it, I had
  settled a correspondence in all parts of the known and knowing
  world. And forasmuch as this globe is not trodden upon by mere
  drudges of business only, but that men of spirit and genius are
  justly to be esteemed as considerable agents in it, we shall not,
  upon a dearth of news, present you with musty foreign edicts, or
  dull proclamations, but shall divide our relation of the passages
  which occur in action or discourse throughout this town, as well
  as elsewhere, under such dates of places as may prepare you for
  the matter you are to expect, in the following manner:</p>

  <p>All accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and entertainment, shall
  be under the article of White's Chocolate-house;<a name='fntag57'
  id="fntag57"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote57'><sup>57</sup></a> poetry, under that of Will's
  Coffee-house;<a name='fntag58' id="fntag58"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote58'><sup>58</sup></a> learning, <a class="pagenum"
  name='page13' title='13' id="page13"></a>under the title of
  Grecian;<a name='fntag59' id="fntag59"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote59'><sup>59</sup></a> foreign and domestic news, you
  will have from St. James's Coffee-house;<a name='fntag60' id=
  "fntag60"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote60'><sup>60</sup></a>
  and what else I shall on any other subject offer, shall be dated
  from my own apartment.</p>

  <p>I once more desire my readers to consider that as I cannot
  keep an ingenious man to go daily to Will's under twopence each
  day merely for his charges,<a name='fntag61' id=
  "fntag61"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote61'><sup>61</sup></a>
  to White's under sixpence, nor to the Grecian without allowing
  him some plain Spanish,<a name='fntag62' id=
  "fntag62"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote62'><sup>62</sup></a>
  to be as able as others at the learned table; and that a good
  observer cannot speak with even Kidney<a name='fntag63' id=
  "fntag63"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote63'><sup>63</sup></a>
  at St. James's without clean linen; I say, these considerations
  will, I hope, make all persons willing to comply with my humble
  request (when my gratis stock is exhausted) of a penny a piece;
  especially since they are sure of some proper amusement, and that
  it is impossible <a class="pagenum" name='page14' title='14' id=
  "page14"></a>for me to want means to entertain them, having,
  besides the helps of my own parts, the power of divination, and
  that I can, by casting a figure, tell you all that will happen
  before it comes to pass.</p>

  <p>But this last faculty I shall use very sparingly, and not
  speak of anything until it is passed, for fear of divulging
  matters which may offend our superiors.<a name='fntag64' id=
  "fntag64"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote64'><sup>64</sup></a></p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, April 11.</h3>

  <p>The deplorable condition of a very pretty gentleman, who walks
  here at the hours when men of quality first appear, is what is
  very much lamented. His history is, that on the 9th of September,
  1705, being in his one and twentieth year, he was washing his
  teeth at a tavern window in Pall Mall, when a fine equipage
  passed by, and in it a young lady, who looked up at him; away
  goes the coach, and the young gentleman pulled off his nightcap,
  and instead of rubbing his gums, as he ought to do out of the
  window till about four o'clock, he sits him down, and spoke not a
  word till twelve at night; after which, he began to inquire, if
  anybody knew the lady. The company asked, "What lady?" But he
  said no more until they broke up at six in the morning. All the
  ensuing winter he went from church to church every Sunday, and
  from play-house to play-house all the week, but could never find
  the original of the picture which dwelt in his bosom. In a word,
  his attention to anything but his passion, was utterly gone. He
  has lost all the money he ever played for, and been confuted in
  every argument he has entered upon since the moment he first saw
  her. He is of a noble family, has naturally a very good air, and
  is of a frank, honest temper: but this <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page15' title='15' id="page15"></a>passion has so extremely
  mauled him, that his features are set and uninformed, and his
  whole visage is deadened by a long absence of thought. He never
  appears in any alacrity, but when raised by wine; at which time
  he is sure to come hither, and throw away a great deal of wit on
  fellows, who have no sense further than just to observe, that our
  poor lover has most understanding when he is drunk, and is least
  in his senses when he is sober.<a name='fntag65' id=
  "fntag65"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote65'><sup>65</sup></a></p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 8.</h3>

  <p>On Thursday last<a name='fntag66' id="fntag66"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote66'><sup>66</sup></a> was presented, for the
  benefit of Mr. Betterton,<a name='fntag67' id=
  "fntag67"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote67'><sup>67</sup></a>
  the celebrated comedy, called "Love for Love."<a name='fntag68'
  id="fntag68"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote68'><sup>68</sup></a> Those excellent players, Mrs.
  Barry,<a name='fntag69' id="fntag69"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote69'><sup>69</sup></a> Mrs. <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page16' title='16' id="page16"></a>Bracegirdle,<a name='fntag70'
  id="fntag70"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote70'><sup>70</sup></a> and Mr. Doggett,<a name='fntag71'
  id="fntag71"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote71'><sup>71</sup></a> though not at present concerned
  in the house, acted on that occasion. There has not been known so
  great a concourse of persons of distinction as at that time; the
  stage itself was covered with gentlemen and ladies, and when the
  curtain was <a class="pagenum" name='page17' title='17' id=
  "page17"></a>drawn, it discovered even there a very splendid
  audience. This unusual encouragement, which was given to a play
  for the advantage of so great an actor, gives an undeniable
  instance, that the true relish for manly entertainments and
  <a class="pagenum" name='page18' title='18' id=
  "page18"></a>rational pleasures is not wholly lost. All the parts
  were acted to perfection; the actors were careful of their
  carriage, and no one was guilty of the affectation to insert
  witticisms of his own, but a due respect was had to the audience,
  for encouraging this accomplished player. It is not now doubted
  but plays will revive, and take their usual place in the opinion
  of persons of wit and merit, notwithstanding their late apostacy
  in favour of dress and sound. This place is very much altered
  since Mr. Dryden frequented it; where you used to see songs,
  epigrams, and satires in the hands of every man you met, you have
  now only a pack of cards; and instead of the cavils about the
  turn of the expression, the elegance of the style, and the like,
  the learned now dispute only about the truth of the game. But,
  however the company is altered, all have shown a great respect
  for Mr. Betterton: and the very gaming part of this house have
  been so much touched with a sense of the uncertainty of human
  affairs (which alter with themselves every moment) that in this
  gentleman, they pitied Mark Antony of Rome, Hamlet of Denmark,
  Mithridates of Pontus, Theodosius of Greece, and Henry the Eighth
  of England. It is well known he has been in the condition of each
  of those illustrious personages for several hours together, and
  behaved himself in those high stations, in all the changes of the
  scene, with suitable dignity. For these reasons, we intend to
  repeat this favour to him on a proper occasion, lest he who can
  instruct us so well in personating feigned sorrows, should be
  lost to us by suffering under real ones. The town is at present
  in very great expectation of seeing a comedy now in rehearsal,
  which is the twenty-fifth production of my honoured friend Mr.
  Thomas D'Urfey;<a name='fntag72' id="fntag72"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote72'><sup>72</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page19' title='19' id="page19"></a>who, besides his great
  abilities in the dramatic, has a peculiar talent in the lyric way
  of writing, and that with a manner wholly new and unknown to the
  ancient Greeks and Romans, wherein he is but faintly imitated in
  the translations of the modern Italian operas.<a name='fntag73'
  id="fntag73"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote73'><sup>73</sup></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 11.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 16th say, that Major-General
  Cadogan<a name='fntag74' id="fntag74"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote74'><sup>74</sup></a> was gone to Brussels, with orders
  to disperse proper instructions for assembling the whole force of
  the allies in Flanders in the beginning of the next
  month.<a name='fntag75' id="fntag75"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote75'><sup>75</sup></a> The late offers concerning peace
  were made in the style of persons who think themselves upon equal
  terms. But the allies have so just a sense of their present
  <a class="pagenum" name='page20' title='20' id=
  "page20"></a>advantages, that they will not admit of a treaty,
  except France offers what is more suitable to her present
  condition. At the same time we make preparations, as if we were
  alarmed by a greater force than that which we are carrying into
  the field. Thus this point seems now to be argued sword in hand.
  This was what a great general<a name='fntag76' id=
  "fntag76"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote76'><sup>76</sup></a>
  alluded to, when being asked the names of those who were to be
  plenipotentiaries for the ensuing peace, answered, with a serious
  air, "There are about a hundred thousand of us." Mr. Kidney, who
  has the ear of the greatest politicians that come hither, tells
  me, there is a mail come in to-day with letters, dated Hague,
  April 19, N.S., which say, a design of bringing part of our
  troops into the field at the latter end of this month, is now
  altered to a resolution of marching towards the camp about the
  20th of the next. There happened the other day, in the road of
  Scheveling, an engagement between a privateer of Zealand and one
  of Dunkirk. The Dunkirker, carrying 33 pieces of cannon, was
  taken and brought into the Texel. It is said, the courier of
  Monsieur Rouillé<a name='fntag77' id="fntag77"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote77'><sup>77</sup></a> is returned to him from the
  Court of France. Monsieur Vendôme being reinstated in the favour
  of the Duchess of Burgundy, is to command in Flanders.</p>

  <p>Mr. Kidney added, that there were letters of the 17th from
  Ghent, which give an account, that the enemy had formed a design
  to surprise two battalions of the allies which lay at Alost; but
  those battalions received advice of their march, and retired to
  Dendermond. Lieutenant-General Wood<a name='fntag78' id=
  "fntag78"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote78'><sup>78</sup></a>
  appeared on this occasion at the head of <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page21' title='21' id="page21"></a>5000 foot, and 1000 horse,
  upon which the enemy withdrew, without making any further
  attempt.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment.</h3>

  <p>I am sorry I am obliged to trouble the public with so much
  discourse upon a matter which I at the very first mentioned as a
  trifle&#8212;viz. the death of Mr. Partridge,<a name='fntag79'
  id="fntag79"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote79'><sup>79</sup></a> under whose name there is an
  almanack come out for the year 1709, in one page of which it is
  asserted by the said John Partridge, that he is still living, and
  that not only so, but that he was also living some time before,
  and even at the instant when I writ of his death. I have in
  another place, and in a paper by itself, sufficiently convinced
  this man that he is dead, and if he has any shame, I don't doubt
  but that by this time he owns it to all his acquaintance: for
  though the legs and arms, and whole body of that man may still
  appear and perform their animal functions; yet since, as I have
  elsewhere observed, his art is gone, the man is gone. I am, as I
  said, concerned, that this little matter should make so much
  noise; but since I am engaged, I take myself obliged in honour to
  go on in my lucubrations, and by the help of these arts of which
  I am master, as well as my skill in astrological speculations, I
  shall, as I see occasion, proceed to confute other dead men, who
  pretend to be in being, that they are actually deceased. I
  therefore give all men fair warning to mend their manners, for I
  shall from time to time print bills of mortality; and I beg the
  pardon of all such who shall be named therein, if they who are
  good for nothing shall find themselves in the number of the
  deceased.<a name='fntag80' id="fntag80"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote80'><sup>80</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag55'>[55]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote55' id="footnote55"></a>This motto was
      repeated at the head of each of the first 40 numbers in the
      folio issue.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag56'>[56]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote56' id="footnote56"></a>These were the
      days on which the post left London for the different parts of
      the country.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag57'>[57]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote57' id="footnote57"></a>White's
      Chocolate-house, five doors from the bottom of the west side
      of St. James's Street, was established in 1698. It was burnt
      on April 28, 1733, while kept by Mr. Arthur. Plate VI. of
      Hogarth's "Rake's Progress" depicts gamblers engrossed in
      play in a room in this house during the fire; see also Plate
      IV. Swift gives it a bad character in his "Essay on Modern
      Education;" it had a strong character for gambling (Timbs's
      "Clubs and Club Life in London," where, at p. 48, there is a
      sketch of White's from an old drawing). The house became a
      private club, as we now have it, about 1736.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag58'>[58]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote58' id="footnote58"></a>Will's
      Coffee-house, named after Will Urwin, its proprietor, was the
      corner house on the north side of Russell Street, Covent
      Garden, at the end of Bow Street. The present house, 21
      Russell Street, is probably part of the old building. Will's
      was ceasing to be the resort of the wits in 1709; it was in
      its glory at the close of the seventeenth century. The wits'
      room, where Dryden presided, was on the first floor.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag59'>[59]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote59' id="footnote59"></a>The Grecian, in
      Devereux Court in the Strand, was probably the most ancient
      coffee-house in or about London. In 1652 an English Turkey
      merchant brought home with him a Greek servant, who first
      opened a house for making and selling coffee. This man's name
      was Constantine, and his house was much resorted to by
      lawyers, Greek scholars, and Members of the Royal Society.
      (See Thoresby's Diary, i. 111, 117.) Foote and Goldsmith
      afterwards frequented it. In Dr. King's "Anecdotes" there is
      a story of two gentlemen friends who disputed at the Grecian
      Coffee-house about the accent of a Greek word to such a
      length that they went out into Devereux Court and drew
      swords, when one of them was killed on the spot.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag60'>[60]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote60' id="footnote60"></a>The St. James's
      Coffee-house was the last house but one on the S.W. corner of
      St. James's Street. It was frequented by Whig statesmen, and
      was closed about 1806. Swift and Steele were at a supper
      given by the keeper on the 19th November, 1710.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag61'>[61]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote61' id="footnote61"></a>Cf. the
      <i>Spectator</i>, No. 31: "Laying down my penny upon the
      bar."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag62'>[62]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote62' id="footnote62"></a>Wine.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag63'>[63]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote63' id="footnote63"></a>A waiter. See
      Nos. <a href="#number10">10</a>, <a href=
      "#number26">26</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag64'>[64]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote64' id="footnote64"></a>This introduction
      was repeated in Nos. <a href="#number2">2</a> and <a href=
      "#number3">3</a> of the original issue.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag65'>[65]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote65' id="footnote65"></a>"The reader is
      desired to take notice of the article from this place from
      time to time, for I design to be very exact in the progress
      this unhappy gentleman makes, which may be of great
      instruction to all who actually are, or who ever shall be, in
      love." (Original folio.) For Viscount Hinchinbroke
      ("Cynthio"), see <a href='#number5'>No. 5.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag66'>[66]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote66' id="footnote66"></a>April 7, 1709.
      Cibber acknowledges that Steele did the stage very
      considerable service by the papers on the theatre in the
      <i>Tatler</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag67'>[67]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote67' id="footnote67"></a>For further
      particulars of Thomas Betterton (1635-1710), see Nos.
      71 and 167.
      Cibber says: "I never heard a line in tragedy come from
      Betterton wherein my judgment, my ear and my imagination were
      not fully satisfied.... The person of this excellent actor
      was suitable to his voice, more manly than sweet, not
      exceeding the middle stature, inclining to be corpulent; of a
      serious and penetrating aspect; his limbs nearer the athletic
      than the delicate proportion; yet, however formed, there
      arose from the harmony of the whole a commanding mien of
      majesty."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag68'>[68]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote68' id="footnote68"></a>By Congreve,
      1695.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag69'>[69]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote69' id="footnote69"></a>Mrs. Elizabeth
      Barry on this occasion spoke an epilogue, written by Rowe.
      She was the daughter of Edward Barry, barrister, whose
      fortunes were ruined by his attachment to Charles I. Tony
      Aston, in his "Supplement to Cibber's Apology," says she was
      woman to Lady Shelton, of Norfolk, his godmother; and Curll
      tells us that she was early taken under the protection of
      Lady Davenant. She was certainly on the stage in 1673. At her
      first appearance there was so little hope of her success,
      that at the end of the season she was discharged [from] the
      theatre. It is probable that at this time she became
      acquainted with Lord Rochester, who took her under his
      protection, and gave her instructions in her theatrical
      performances. By his interest she seems to have been restored
      to the stage, and, improving daily in her profession, she
      soon eclipsed all her competitors, and in the part of Monimia
      in "The Orphan" established her reputation, which was
      enhanced by her performance as Belvidera in "Venice
      Preserved," and as Isabella in "The Fatal Marriage." "In
      characters of greatness," says Cibber, "Mrs. Barry had a
      presence of elevated dignity, her mien and motion superb, and
      gracefully majestic; her voice full, clear, and strong, so
      that no violence of passion could be too much for her, and
      when distress or tenderness possessed her she subsided into
      the most affecting melody and softness. In the art of
      exciting pity she had a power beyond all the actresses I have
      yet seen, or what your imagination can conceive. In scenes of
      anger, defiance, or resentment, while she was impetuous and
      terrible, she poured out the sentiment with an enchanting
      harmony.... In tragedy she was solemn and august, in comedy
      alert, easy, and genteel, pleasant in her face and action,
      filling the stage with a variety of gesture. She could
      neither sing nor dance, no not in a country dance. She
      adhered to Betterton in all the revolutions of the theatre,
      which she quitted about 1707, on account of ill-health." She
      returned, however, for one night with Mrs. Bracegirdle, April
      7, 1709, and performed Mrs. Frail in "Love for Love" for
      Betterton's benefit. She died at Acton in 1713. Mrs. Barry,
      Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mr. Betterton, and Mr. Varbriggen were
      sworn as Comedians in Ordinary to her Majesty, 30th Oct., 2
      Anne (1703). On the 3rd March, 1692, Mrs. Barry received £25
      for acting in "The Orphan" before their Majesties, and on the
      10th June, 1693, £25 for Caius Marius. (Lord Chamberlain's
      Records, Warrant Books, No. 20, p. 151; No. 18, pp. 30,
      242.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag70'>[70]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote70' id="footnote70"></a>Mrs. Anne
      Bracegirdle was the daughter of Justinian Bracegirdle, of
      Northamptonshire. By the imprudence of her father, who ruined
      himself by becoming surety for some friends, she was early
      left to the care of Betterton and his wife, whose attentions
      to her she always acknowledged to be truly paternal. By them
      she was first introduced to the stage, and, while very young,
      performed the page in "The Orphan." Increasing in years, and
      in ability, she became the favourite performer of the times.
      Cibber describes her in these terms: "Mrs. Bracegirdle was
      now but just blooming in her maturity; her reputation, as an
      actress, gradually rising with that of her person; never any
      woman was in such general favour of her spectators, which, to
      the last scene of her dramatic life, she maintained by not
      being unguarded in her private character. This discretion
      contributed not a little to make her the <i>Cara</i>, the
      darling of the theatre: for it will be no extravagant thing
      to say scarce an audience saw her that were less than half of
      them lovers, without a suspected favourite among them: and
      though she might be said to have been the universal passion
      and under the highest temptations, her constancy in resisting
      them served but to increase the number of her admirers. And
      this perhaps you will more easily believe, when I extend not
      my encomiums on her person beyond a sincerity that can be
      suspected; for she had no greater claim to beauty than what
      the most desirable brunette might pretend to. But her youth
      and lively aspect threw out such a glow of health and
      cheerfulness, that, on the stage, few spectators that were
      not past it, could behold her without desire. There were two
      very different characters in which she acquitted herself with
      uncommon applause: if anything could excuse that desperate
      extravagance of love, that almost frantic passion of Lee's
      Alexander the Great, it must have been when Mrs. Bracegirdle
      was his Statira: as when she acted Millamant, all the faults,
      follies, and affectation of that agreeable tyrant were
      venially melted down into so many charms and attractions of a
      conscious beauty." In the theatrical disputes of the times,
      she adhered to her benefactor Betterton, and continued to
      perform with applause until 1707, when, on the preference
      being given to Mrs. Oldfield in a contention between that
      actress and Mrs. Bracegirdle, she left the stage, except for
      one night, when she returned with Mrs. Barry to the theatre,
      and performed Angelica for Betterton's benefit (the
      performance described in this number). She died in 1748.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag71'>[71]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote71' id="footnote71"></a>Thomas Doggett
      died in 1721. In 1695 he created the character of Ben in
      Congreve's "Love for Love." Afterwards he was associated with
      Steele in the management of Drury Lane Theatre.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag72'>[72]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote72' id="footnote72"></a>D'Urfey's "Modern
      Prophets" was produced in 1709. Thomas D'Urfey died in 1723,
      aged 70, leaving Steele a watch and chain, which his friend
      wore at the funeral. He wrote many plays and songs. See also
      Nos. <a href="#number11">11</a>, <a href=
      "#number43">43</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag73'>[73]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote73' id="footnote73"></a>See <a href=
      '#number4'>No. 4.</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag74'>[74]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote74' id="footnote74"></a>William, First
      Earl Cadogan (1675-1726), was an able officer who took a very
      prominent part in Marlborough's campaigns. In January, 1709,
      he was made lieutenant-general, and he was dangerously
      wounded at the siege of Mons. He was appointed Lieutenant of
      the Tower of London in December.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag75'>[75]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote75' id="footnote75"></a>The
      news-paragraphs in the earlier numbers of the <i>Tatler</i>
      are here preserved for the sake of completeness, but for the
      most part the details recorded are not of permanent interest,
      and do not call for comment. The reader may be reminded
      generally that in the spring of 1709 the French, after the
      battle of Oudenarde and the fall of Lille, followed by a very
      severe winter, were driven to think of terms of peace. The
      negotiations, however, fell through for the time, and the
      campaign was begun in the Netherlands, where Marlborough and
      Prince Eugene had an army of 110,000 men. The French were
      entrenched under Villars between Douay and Béthune, and were
      strengthened by part of the garrison of Tournay. Marlborough
      seized the opportunity of attacking the half-defended town,
      which was obliged to surrender on July 29, after a siege of
      nineteen days. The French then made a great effort, and
      brought an army of 100,000 men into the field, with the
      result that the battle of Malplaquet (Sept. 11) was a very
      bloody and hard-earned victory for the allies. The subsequent
      fall of Mons brought the campaign to a close.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag76'>[76]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote76' id="footnote76"></a>Marlborough.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag77'>[77]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote77' id="footnote77"></a>A merchant
      entrusted by Lewis XIV. to negotiate terms of peace with the
      Dutch.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag78'>[78]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote78' id="footnote78"></a>General Wood
      played a distinguished part in the battles of Donauwerth
      (1704) and Ramilies (1706).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag79'>[79]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote79' id="footnote79"></a>See the
      Introduction.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag80'>[80]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote80' id="footnote80"></a>"A Vindication of
      Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., against what is objected to him by
      Mr. Partridge in his Almanack for the present year 1709. By
      the said Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., London, printed in the year
      1709." (Advertisement in folio issue.) In a pamphlet called
      "Predictions for the Year 1712. By Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.;
      in a Letter to the author of the Oxford Almanack. Printed in
      the year 1712," this "Vindication" is thus noticed: "I can't
      but express my resentment against a gentleman who personated
      me in a paper called 'Mr. Bickerstaff's Vindication.' I'm
      grieved to find the times should be so very wicked, that one
      impostor should set up to reform another, and that a false
      Bickerstaff should write against an imaginary Partridge. And
      I am heartily concerned that one who shows so much wit, such
      extreme civility, and writes such a gentlemanlike style,
      should prefix my name to writings in which there appears so
      little solidity and no knowledge of the Arabian philosophy.
      If this paper should be transmitted to posterity (as,
      perhaps, it might have been by the authority of the name it
      wears in the front) it might have been a lasting reflection
      upon me to the end of the world.... Till seeing four volumes
      of writings&#8212;the collected edition of the
      <i>Tatler</i>&#8212;pretended to be mine, and a serious
      philosopher's name prefixed to papers as free from my
      solidity as they are full of wit, I thought it high time to
      vindicate myself, and give the world a taste of my writings;
      for I am now persuaded 'twill be more for my reputation to
      convince than to despise mankind."</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number2' id="number2"></a><a class="pagenum" name=
    'page22' title='22' id="page22"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 2.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, April 12</i>, to <i>Thursday, April
    14</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 13.</h3>

  <p>There has lain all this evening, on the table, the following
  poem. The subject of it being matter very useful for families, I
  thought it deserved to be considered, and made more public. The
  turn the poet<a name='fntag81' id="fntag81"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote81'><sup>81</sup></a> gives it is very happy; but
  the foundation is from a real accident <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page23' title='23' id="page23"></a>which happened among my
  acquaintance.<a name='fntag82' id="fntag82"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote82'><sup>82</sup></a> A young gentleman of a great
  estate fell desperately in love with a great beauty of very high
  quality, but as ill-natured as long flattery and an habitual
  self-will could make her. However, my young spark ventures upon
  her, like a man of quality, without being acquainted with her, or
  having ever saluted her, till it was a crime to kiss any woman
  else. Beauty is a thing which palls with possession; and the
  charms of this lady soon wanted the support of good humour and
  complaisancy of manners. Upon this my spark flies to the bottle
  for relief from his satiety. She disdains him for being tired
  with that for which all men envied him; and he never came home,
  but it was: "Was there no sot that would stay longer? Would any
  man living but you? Did I leave all the world for this usage?" To
  which he: "Madam, split me, you are very impertinent!" In a word,
  this match was wedlock in its most terrible appearances. She, at
  last weary of railing to no purpose, applies to a good uncle, who
  gives her a bottle of water. "The virtue of this powerful
  liquor," said he, "is such, that if the woman you marry proves a
  scold (which, it seems, my dear niece, is your misfortune, as it
  was your good mother's before you), let her hold six spoonfuls in
  her mouth, for a full half hour after you come home&#8212;" But I
  find I am not in humour for telling a tale, and nothing in nature
  is so ungrateful as story-telling against the grain, therefore
  take it as the author has given it you.</p>

  <h3>The MEDECINE.</h3>

  <h4>A Tale&#8212;for the Ladies.</h4>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Miss Molly, a famed toast, was fair and young,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Had wealth and charms, but then she had a tongue
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page24' title='24' id=
        "page24"></a>From morn to night, the eternal larum run,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Which often lost those hearts her eyes had won.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Sir John was smitten, and confessed his flame,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Sighed out the usual time, then wed the dame:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Possessed he thought of every joy of life,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But his dear Molly proved a very wife.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Excess of fondness did in time decline,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Madam loved money, and the knight loved wine.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From whence some petty discords would arise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        As, "You're a fool"; and, "You are mighty wise!"
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Though he and all the world allowed her wit,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        When she began,&#8212;for hat and sword he'd call.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Then, after a faint kiss, cry, "B'y, dear Moll:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Supper and friends expect me at the Rose."<a name='fntag83'
        id="fntag83"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote83'><sup>83</sup></a>
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And, "What, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Sure, never virtuous love was used like mine!"
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Oft as the watchful bellman marched his round,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        At a fresh bottle gay Sir John he found.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        By four the knight would get his business done,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And only then reeled off, because alone;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But armed with bordeaux, he durst venture home.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        My lady with her tongue was still prepared,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        She rattled loud, and he impatient heard:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        "'Tis a fine hour? In a sweet pickle made!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And this, Sir John, is every day the trade.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Here I sit moping all the live-long night,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Devoured with spleen, and stranger to delight;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page25' title='25' id=
        "page25"></a>'Till morn sends staggering home a drunken
        beast,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Resolved to break my heart, as well as rest."
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Hey! Hoop! d'ye hear my damned obstreperous spouse!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        What, can't you find one bed about the house!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Will that perpetual clack lie never still!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That rival to the softness of a mill!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Some couch and distant room must be my choice,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Where I may sleep uncursed with wife and noise."
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Long this uncomfortable life they led,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        With snarling meals, and each, a separate bed.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To an old uncle oft she would complain,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Old Wisewood smoked the matter as it was,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        "Cheer up!" cried he, "and I'll remove the cause.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "A wonderous spring within my garden flows,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Of sovereign virtue, chiefly to compose
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Domestic jars, and matrimonial strife,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The best elixir t' appease man and wife;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Strange are th' effects, the qualities divine,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        'Tis water called, but worth its weight in wine.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        If in his sullen airs Sir John should come,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Three spoonfuls take, hold in your mouth&#8212;then mum:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Smile, and look pleased, when he shall rage and scold,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Still in your mouth the healing cordial hold;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        One month this sympathetic medecine tried,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        He'll grow a lover, you a happy bride.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But, dearest niece, keep this grand secret close,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Or every prattling hussy'll beg a dose."
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        A water-bottle's brought for her relief,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Not Nantz could sooner ease the lady's grief:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page26' title='26' id=
        "page26"></a>Her busy thoughts are on the trial bent,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And female-like, impatient for th' event:
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        The bonny knight reels home exceeding clear,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Prepared for clamour, and domestic war.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Entering, he cries, "Hey! where's our thunder fled?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        No hurricane! Betty, 's your lady dead?"
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Madam, aside, an ample mouthful takes,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Curtsies, looks kind, but not a word she speaks:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Wondering, he stared, scarcely his eyes believed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But found his ears agreeably deceived.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        "Why, how now, Molly, what's the crotchet now?"
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        She smiles, and answers only with a bow.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Then clasping her about,&#8212;"Why, let me die!
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        These nightclothes, Moll, become thee mightily!"
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        With that, he sighed, her hand began to press,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And Betty calls, her lady to undress;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        "Nay, kiss me, Molly, for I'm much inclined."
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Her lace she cuts, to take him in the mind.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Thus the fond pair to bed enamoured went,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The lady pleased, and the good knight content.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        For many days these fond endearments passed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The reconciling bottle fails at last;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        'Twas used and gone: Then midnight storms arose,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And looks and words the union discompose.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Her coach is ordered, and post-haste she flies,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To beg her uncle for some fresh supplies;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Transported does the strange effects relate,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Her knight's conversion, and her happy state!
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Why, niece," says he, "I prithee apprehend
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The water's water. Be thyself thy friend;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Such beauty would the coldest husband warm,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But your provoking tongue undoes the charm:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page27' title='27' id=
        "page27"></a>Be silent, and complying; you'll soon find,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Sir John, without a medecine, will be kind."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 13.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Venice say, the disappointment of their
  expectation to see his Danish Majesty, has very much disquieted
  the Court of Rome. Our last advices from Germany inform us, that
  the minister of Hanover has urged the council at Ratisbon to
  exert themselves in behalf of the common cause, and taken the
  liberty to say, that the dignity, the virtue, the prudence of his
  electoral highness, his master, were called to the head of their
  affairs in vain, if they thought fit to leave him naked of the
  proper means to make those excellences useful for the honour and
  safety of the Empire. They write from Berlin of the 13th, O.S.,
  that the true design of General Fleming's visit to that Court
  was, to insinuate, that it will be for the mutual interest of the
  King of Prussia and King Augustus to enter into a new alliance;
  but that the ministers of Prussia are not inclined to his
  sentiments. We hear from Vienna, that his Imperial Majesty has
  expressed great satisfaction in their high mightinesses having
  communicated to him the whole that has passed in the affair of a
  peace. Though there have been practices used by the agents of
  France, in all the Courts of Europe, to break the good
  understanding of the allies, they have had no other effect, but
  to make all the members concerned in the alliance, more doubtful
  of their safety from the great offers of the enemy. The Empire is
  roused by this alarm, and the frontiers of all the French
  dominions are in danger of being insulted the ensuing campaign:
  advices from all parts confirm, that it is impossible for France
  to find a way to obtain so much credit, as to gain any one
  potentate <a class="pagenum" name='page28' title='28' id=
  "page28"></a>of the allies, or make any hope for safety from
  other prospects.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, April 13.</h3>

  <p>I find it of very great use, now I am setting up for a writer
  of news, that I am an adept in astrological speculations; by
  which means, I avoid speaking of things which may offend great
  persons. But at the same time, I must not prostitute the liberal
  sciences so far, as not to utter the truth in cases which do not
  immediately concern the good of my native country. I must
  therefore boldly contradict what has been so assuredly reported
  by the news-writers of England, that France is in the most
  deplorable condition, and that their people die in great
  multitudes. I will therefore let the world know, that my
  correspondent, by the way of Brussels, informs me, upon his
  honour, that the gentleman who writes the Gazette of Paris, and
  ought to know as well as any man, has told him, that ever since
  the king has been past his 63rd year, or grand climacteric, there
  has not one man died of the French nation who was younger than
  his Majesty, except a very few, who were taken suddenly near the
  village of Hochsted<a name='fntag84' id="fntag84"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote84'><sup>84</sup></a> in Germany; and some
  more, who were straitened for lodging at a place called Ramilies,
  and died on the road to Ghent and Bruges. There are also other
  things given out by the allies, which are shifts below a
  conquering nation to make use of. Among others, 'tis said, there
  is a general murmuring among the people of France, though at the
  same time all my letters agree, that there is so good an
  understanding among them, that there is not one morsel carried
  out of any market in the kingdom, but what is delivered upon
  credit.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag81'>[81]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote81' id="footnote81"></a>William Harrison
      (1685-1713) was a favourite with Swift and Addison. He wrote
      verses, and a continuation of the <i>Tatler</i>, and
      afterwards obtained office in the diplomatic service; but his
      health soon broke down, and he died when 28.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag82'>[82]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote82' id="footnote82"></a>There is a
      similar story in Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag83'>[83]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote83' id="footnote83"></a>The Rose Tavern,
      in Russell Street, adjoined Drury Lane Theatre, and was a
      favourite resort during and after the play.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag84'>[84]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote84' id="footnote84"></a>The Battle of
      Blenheim.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page29' title='29' id=
    "page29"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number3' id="number3"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 3.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, April 14</i>, to <i>Saturday, April
    16</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 14.</h3>

  <p>This evening, the comedy called "The Country Wife"<a name=
  'fntag85' id="fntag85"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote85'><sup>85</sup></a> was acted in Drury Lane, for the
  benefit of Mrs. Bignell.<a name='fntag86' id=
  "fntag86"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote86'><sup>86</sup></a>
  The part which gives name to the play was performed by herself.
  Through the whole action, she made a very pretty figure, and
  exactly entered into the nature of the part. Her husband in the
  drama, is represented to be one of those debauchees who run
  through the vices of the town, and believe when they think fit
  they can marry, and settle at their ease. His own knowledge of
  the iniquity of the age, makes him choose a wife wholly ignorant
  of it, and place his security in her want of skill how to abuse
  him. The poet, on many occasions, where the propriety of the
  character will admit of it, insinuates, that there is no defence
  against vice, but the contempt of it: and has, in the natural
  ideas of an untainted innocent, shown the gradual steps to ruin
  and destruction, which <a class="pagenum" name='page30' title=
  '30' id="page30"></a>persons of condition run into, without the
  help of a good education how to form their conduct. The torment
  of a jealous coxcomb, which arises from his own false maxims, and
  the aggravation of his pain, by the very words in which he sees
  her innocence, makes a very pleasant and instructive satire. The
  character of Horner, and the design of it, is a good
  representation of the age in which that comedy was written; at
  which time love and wenching were the business of life, and the
  gallant manner of pursuing women was the best recommendation at
  Court. To which only it is to be imputed, that a gentleman of Mr.
  Wycherley's character and sense, condescends to represent the
  insults done to the honour of the bed, without just reproof; but
  to have drawn a man of probity with regard to such
  considerations, had been a monster, and a poet had at that time
  discovered his want of knowing the manners of the Court he lived
  in, by a virtuous character in his fine gentleman, as he would
  show his ignorance, by drawing a vicious one to please the
  present audience. Mrs. Bignell did her part very happily, and had
  a certain grace in her rusticity, which gave us hopes of seeing
  her a very skilful player, and in some parts, supply our loss of
  Mrs. Verbruggen.<a name='fntag87' id="fntag87"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote87'><sup>87</sup></a> I cannot be <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page31' title='31' id="page31"></a>of the same
  opinion with my friends and fellow-labourers, the Reformers of
  Manners,<a name='fntag88' id="fntag88"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote88'><sup>88</sup></a> in their severity towards plays,
  but must allow that a good play acted before a well-bred
  audience, must raise very proper incitements to good behaviour,
  and be the most quick and most prevailing method of giving young
  people a turn of sense and breeding. But as I have set up for a
  weekly historian, I resolve to be a faithful one; and therefore
  take this public occasion to admonish a young nobleman, who came
  flustered into the box last night, and let him know, how much all
  his friends were out of countenance for him. The women sat in
  terror of hearing something that should shock their modesty, and
  all the gentlemen in as much pain, out of compassion to the
  ladies, and perhaps resentment for the indignity which was
  offered in coming into their presence in so disrespectful a
  manner. Wine made him say nothing that was rude, therefore he is
  forgiven, upon condition he will never hazard his offending more
  in this kind. As I just now hinted, I own myself of the Society
  for Reformation of Manners. We have lower instruments than those
  of the family of Bickerstaff, for punishing great crimes, and
  exposing the abandoned. Therefore, as I design to have notices
  from all public assemblies, I shall take upon me only indecorums,
  <a class="pagenum" name='page32' title='32' id=
  "page32"></a>improprieties, and negligences, in such as should
  give us better examples. After this declaration, if a fine lady
  thinks fit to giggle at church, or a great beau come in drunk to
  a play, either shall be sure to hear of it in my ensuing paper:
  for merely as a well-bred man, I cannot bear these
  enormities.</p>

  <p>After the play, we naturally stroll to this coffee-house, in
  hopes of meeting some new poem, or other entertainment, among the
  men of wit and pleasure, where there is a dearth at present. But
  it is wonderful there should be so few writers, when the art is
  become merely mechanic, and men may make themselves great that
  way, by as certain and infallible rules, as you may be a joiner
  or a mason. There happens a good instance of this, in what the
  hawker just now has offered to sale; to wit, "Instructions to
  Vanderbank; a Sequel to the Advice to the Poets: A Poem,
  occasioned by the Glorious Success of her Majesty's Arms, under
  the Command of the Duke of Marlborough, the last Year in
  Flanders."<a name='fntag89' id="fntag89"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote89'><sup>89</sup></a> Here you are to understand, that
  the author finding the poets would not take his advice, he
  troubles himself no more about them; but has met with one
  Vanderbank,<a name='fntag90' id="fntag90"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote90'><sup>90</sup></a> who works in arras, and makes
  very <a class="pagenum" name='page33' title='33' id=
  "page33"></a>good tapestry hangings. Therefore, in order to
  celebrate the hero of the age, he claps me together all that can
  be said of a man that makes hangings, as:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Then, artist, who dost Nature's face express
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        In silk and gold, and scenes of action dress;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Dost figured arras animated leave,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Spin a bright story, or a passion weave
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        By mingling threads; canst mingle shade and light,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Delineate triumphs, or describe a fight.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>Well, what shall this workman do? Why, to show how great an
  hero the poet intends, he provides him a very good horse:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Champing his foam, and bounding on the plain,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Arch his high neck, and graceful spread his mane.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>Now as to the intrepidity, the calm courage, the constant
  application of the hero, it is not necessary to take that upon
  yourself; you may, in the lump, bid him you employ raise him as
  high as he can, and if he does it not, let him answer for
  disobeying orders:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Let fame and victory in inferior sky,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Hover with ballanced wings, and smiling fly
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Above his head, &amp;c.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>A whole poem of this kind may be ready against an ensuing
  campaign, as well as a space left in the canvas of a piece of
  tapestry for the principal figure, while the under<a class=
  "pagenum" name='page34' title='34' id="page34"></a>parts are
  working: so that in effect, the adviser copies after the man he
  pretends to direct. This method should, methinks, encourage young
  beginners: for the invention is so fitted to all capacities, that
  by the help of it a man may make a receipt for a poem. A young
  man may observe, that the jig<a name='fntag91' id=
  "fntag91"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote91'><sup>91</sup></a>
  of the thing is, as I said, finding out all that can be said of
  his way [whom] you employ to set forth your worthy. Waller and
  Denham had worn out the expedient of "Advice to a
  Painter."<a name='fntag92' id="fntag92"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote92'><sup>92</sup></a> This author has transferred the
  work, and sent his advice to the Poets; that is to say, to the
  turners of verse, as he calls them. Well, that thought is worn
  out also, therefore he directs his genius to the loom, and will
  have a new set of hangings in honour of the last year in
  Flanders. I must own to you, I approve extremely this invention,
  and it might be improved for the benefit of manufactory: as,
  suppose an ingenious gentleman should write a poem of advice to a
  calico-printer: do you think there is a girl in England, that
  would wear anything but the taking of Lille, or the Battle of
  Oudenarde? They would certainly be all the fashion, till the
  heroes abroad had cut out some more patterns. I should fancy
  small skirmishes might do for under-petticoats, provided they had
  a siege for the upper. If our adviser were well imitated, many
  industrious people might be put to work. Little Mr. Dactile, now
  in the room, who formerly writ a song and a half, is a week
  <a class="pagenum" name='page35' title='35' id="page35"></a>gone
  in a very pretty work upon this hint: he is writing an epigram to
  a young virgin who knits very well ('tis a thousand pities he is
  a Jacobite); but his epigram is by way of advice to this damsel,
  to knit all the actions of the Pretender and the Duke of Burgundy
  last campaign in the clock of a stocking. It were endless to
  enumerate the many hands and trades that may be employed by
  poets, of so useful a turn as this adviser's. I shall think of
  it; and in this time of taxes, shall consult a great critic
  employed in the custom-house, in order to propose what tax may be
  proper to put upon knives, seals, rings, hangings, wrought-beds,
  gowns and petticoats, where any of those commodities bear
  mottoes, or are worked upon poetical grounds.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 15.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Turin of the 3rd instant, N.S., inform us, that
  his Royal Highness employs all his address in alarming the enemy,
  and perplexing their speculations concerning his real designs the
  ensuing campaign. Contracts are entered into with the merchants
  of Milan, for a great number of mules to transport his provisions
  and ammunition. His Royal Highness has ordered the train of
  artillery to be conveyed to Susa before the 20th of the next
  month. In the meantime, all accounts agree, that the enemy are
  very backward in their preparations, and almost incapable of
  defending themselves against an invasion, by reason of the
  general murmurs of their own people; which, they find, are no way
  to be quieted, but by giving them hopes of a speedy peace. When
  these letters were dispatched, the Marshal de Thesse was arrived
  at Genoa, where he has taken much pains to keep the
  correspondents of the merchants of France in hopes, that measures
  will be found out to support the credit and commerce between that
  state and Lyons. But the late <a class="pagenum" name='page36'
  title='36' id="page36"></a>declaration of the agents of Monsieur
  Bernard, that they cannot discharge the demands made upon them,
  has quite dispirited all those who are engaged in the remittances
  of France.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, April 15.</h3>

  <p>It is a very natural passion in all good members of the
  commonwealth, to take what care they can of their families.
  Therefore I hope the reader will forgive me, that I desire he
  would go to the play, called the "Stratagem,"<a name='fntag93'
  id="fntag93"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote93'><sup>93</sup></a> this evening, which is to be
  acted for the benefit of my near kinsman, Mr. John
  Bickerstaff.<a name='fntag94' id="fntag94"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote94'><sup>94</sup></a> I protest to you the
  gentleman has not spoken to me to desire this favour; but I have
  a respect for him, as well in regard to consanguinity, as that he
  is an intimate friend of that famous and heroic actor, Mr. George
  Powell, who formerly played Alexander the Great in all places,
  though he is lately grown so reserved as to act it only on the
  stage.<a name='fntag95' id="fntag95"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote95'><sup>95</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag85'>[85]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote85' id="footnote85"></a>By Wycherley,
      first acted in 1683.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag86'>[86]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote86' id="footnote86"></a>Mrs. Bicknell (or
      Bignell) was born about 1695. It is not clear whether she was
      married, or whether the name Bicknell was taken to
      distinguish her from her sister, Mrs. Young, who was also an
      actress. We first hear of her acting in 1706; she took parts
      in which sauciness and coquetry were the chief features. Her
      last recorded appearance was on the 2nd of April, 1723; and
      she died in May. She signed a petition "M. Bicknell";
      probably her name was Margaret, her mother's name. Steele
      alludes to her as "pretty Mrs. Bignell" in <a href=
      '#number11'>No. 11</a>, and as his friend in the
      <i>Guardian</i>, No. 50. She was Miss
      Prue in Congreve's "Love for Love," and Miss Hoyden in
      Vanbrugh's "Relapse." In the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 370)
      Steele praises her dancing.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag87'>[87]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote87' id="footnote87"></a>Cibber writes
      thus of this actress: "Mrs. Mountford, whose second marriage
      gave her the name of Verbruggen, was mistress of more variety
      of humour than I ever knew in any one woman actress. This
      variety, too, was attended with an equal vivacity, which made
      her excellent in characters extremely different.... She was
      so fond of humour, in what low part soever to be found, that
      she would make no scruple of defacing her fair form to come
      heartily into it." She could act admirably as a Devonshire
      lass, a pretty fellow, or a fine lady. Mrs. Verbruggen's
      first husband, the actor Mountford, was killed by Captain
      Hill, with the assistance of Lord Mohun, in 1692, because
      Hill, who was making unsuccessful suit to Mrs. Bracegirdle
      was jealous of her fellow-actor. Mountford was then in his
      thirty-third year. Mrs. Mountford's second husband, John
      Verbruggen, is described by Tony Aston as "nature without
      extravagance." ... "That rough diamond shone more bright than
      all the artful polished brilliants that ever sparkled on our
      stage." The same writer says of Mrs. Verbruggen: "She was all
      art, but dressed so nice, it looked like nature. She was the
      most easy actress in the world. Her maiden name was
      Percival."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag88'>[88]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote88' id="footnote88"></a>Various Societies
      for the Reformation of Manners were founded in the reign of
      William III. An "Account" of these societies was published in
      1699, and Defoe often wrote on the subject. In 1708 the
      Society for London and Westminster secured the conviction of
      3299 "lewd and scandalous" persons, guilty of Sunday trading
      swearing, drunkenness, &amp;c.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag89'>[89]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote89' id="footnote89"></a>See Steele's
      apology to Blackmore, author of this poem, in No. 14. Sir
      Richard Blackmore (died 1729) was a Whig physician who wrote
      epics on religious and other subjects, and was often at
      loggerheads with the actors and wits. Though he was not a
      poet, Addison and Steele praised him on account of the
      religious tone of his work (see <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 6,
      339).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag90'>[90]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote90' id="footnote90"></a>Vanderbank, or as
      his father sometimes wrote his name, Vandrebanc, was a son of
      Peter Vanderbank, a Parisian, who came into England with
      Gascar the painter, about 1674, and died at Bradfield, in
      Hertfordshire, in 1697. His father was admired for the
      softness of his prints, and still more for the size of them,
      some of his heads being the largest that had then appeared in
      England; but the prices he received by no means compensated
      for the time employed on his works, and he was reduced to
      want, and died at the house of Mr. Forester, his
      brother-in-law. After his death, his widow sold his plates to
      one Brown, a print-seller, who made a great profit by them.
      His eldest son had some share in the theatre at Dublin; the
      youngest, William, was a poor labourer, who gave an account
      of his father and the family to Vertue. The person mentioned
      in this paper was probably his father's name-son, and might
      be, as Walpole conjectures, an engraver. Whatever concern the
      father might have had in any manufacture of tapestry, he
      could not be the person meant here, for at this time he had
      been dead above ten years. The suite of tapestry, in the Duke
      of Ancaster's sale, with Vanderbank's name to it, mentioned
      by Walpole, must therefore be supposed to belong to the son,
      who is said, upon the authority of the French translator of
      the <i>Tatler</i>, to have represented nature very happily in
      works of tapestry, and to have been a man inimitable in this
      way. (See Walpole's "Anecdotes of Painting," 1782, vol. v. p.
      166.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag91'>[91]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote91' id="footnote91"></a>Trick (the early
      editions have "gigg").</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag92'>[92]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote92' id="footnote92"></a>Waller wrote
      "Instructions to a Painter" and "Advice to a Painter," and
      Denham "Directions to a Painter."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag93'>[93]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote93' id="footnote93"></a>Farquhar's
      "Beaux' Stratagem," 1707.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag94'>[94]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote94' id="footnote94"></a>Bickerstaff acted
      the part of the Captain in Mrs. Centlivre's farce, "A
      Bickerstaff's Burying; or, Work for the Upholders" (1713),
      which was dedicated to the "magnificent Company of Upholders,
      whom the judicious Censor of Great Britain has so often
      condescended to mention." In the "British Apollo," vol. ii.
      No. 107 (Feb. 27 to March 1, 1710),
      is a "New Prologue to 'Don Quixote' for Mr. Bickerstaff's
      Benefit at the Theatre Royal, spoken by himself." The
      prologue ends:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "I need not from the ladies fear my doom,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            When it shall thus be said, in my behalf,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            He bears the awful name of BICKERSTAFF."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>In the <i>Daily Courant</i> for Feb. 4, 1710, there was
      advertised a performance of the "Comical History of Don
      Quixote" at Drury Lane, "at the desire of Isaac Bickerstaff,
      Esq., for the benefit of his cousin, John Bickerstaff."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag95'>[95]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote95' id="footnote95"></a>George Powell,
      actor and dramatist, gave way often to drink. He died in
      1714. Addison praised his acting of tragic parts in No. 40 of
      the <i>Spectator</i>. See also <a href='#number31'>No.
      31</a>. An order to the comedians in Dorset Gardens forbade
      them acting till further order, because they had allowed
      Powell to play after he was committed for drawing his sword
      on Colonel Stanhope and Mr. Davenant. This is dated May 3, 10
      Will. III. (1698); but on May 4 there was another order for
      the comedians to resume acting. (Lord Chamberlain's Records,
      Warrant Book No. 19, p. 80.) Cibber's remarks on this
      incident will be found in his "Apology," chap. x.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page37' title='37' id=
    "page37"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number4' id="number4"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 4.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday April 16</i>, to <i>Tuesday, April 19,
    1709</i>.</h3>
  </div>

  <p>It is usual with persons who mount the stage for the cure or
  information of the crowd about them, to make solemn professions
  of their being wholly disinterested in the pains they take for
  the public good. At the same time, those very men, who make
  harangues in plush doublets, and extol their own abilities and
  generous inclinations, tear their lungs in vending a drug, and
  show no act of bounty, except it be, that they lower a demand of
  a crown, to six, nay, to one penny. We have a contempt for such
  paltry barterers, and have therefore all along informed the
  public that we intend to give them our advices for our own sakes,
  and are labouring to make our lucubrations come to some price in
  money, for our more convenient support in the service of the
  public. It is certain, that many other schemes have been proposed
  to me; as a friend offered to show me a treatise he had writ,
  which he called "The Whole Art of Life, or the Introduction to
  Great Men, illustrated in a Pack of Cards." But being a novice at
  all manner of play I declined the offer. Another advised me, for
  want of money, to set up my coach and practise physic, but having
  been bred a scholar, I feared I should not succeed <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page38' title='38' id="page38"></a>that way
  neither; therefore resolved to go on in my present project. But
  you are to understand, that I shall not pretend to raise a credit
  to this work, upon the weight of my politic news only, but, as my
  Latin sentence in the title-page informs you, shall take anything
  that offers for the subject of my discourse. Thus, new persons,
  as well as new things, are to come under my consideration; as,
  when a toast, or a wit, is first pronounced such, you shall have
  the freshest advice of their preferment from me, with a
  description of the beauty's manner, and the wit's style; as also,
  in whose places they are advanced. For this town is never
  good-natured enough to raise one, without depressing another. But
  it is my design, to avoid saying anything, of any person, which
  ought justly to displease; but shall endeavour, by the variety of
  the matter and style, to give entertainment for men of pleasure,
  without offence to those of business.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, April 18.</h3>

  <p>All hearts at present pant for two ladies only<a name=
  'fntag96' id="fntag96"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote96'><sup>96</sup></a>, who have for some time engrossed
  the dominion of the town. They are indeed both exceeding
  charming, but differ very much in their excellences. The beauty
  of <a class="pagenum" name='page39' title='39' id=
  "page39"></a>Clarissa is soft, that of Chloe piercing. When you
  look at Clarissa, you see the most exact harmony of feature,
  complexion, and shape; you find in Chloe nothing extraordinary in
  any one of those particulars, but the whole woman irresistible.
  Clarissa looks languishing; Chloe, killing. Clarissa never fails
  of gaining admiration; Chloe, of moving desire. The gazers at
  Clarissa are at first unconcerned, as if they were observing a
  fine picture. They who behold Chloe, at the first glance,
  discover transport, as if they met their dearest friend. These
  different perfections are suitably represented by the last great
  painter Italy has sent us, Mr. Jervas.<a name='fntag97' id=
  "fntag97"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote97'><sup>97</sup></a>
  Clarissa is, by that skilful hand, placed in a manner that looks
  artless, and innocent of the torments she gives; Chloe drawn with
  a liveliness that shows she is conscious, but not affected, of
  her perfections. Clarissa is a shepherdess; Chloe, a country
  girl. I must own, the design of Chloe's picture shows, to me,
  great mastery in the painter; for nothing could be better
  imagined than the dress he has given her, of a straw hat and
  riband, to represent that sort of beauty which enters the heart
  with a certain familiarity, and cheats it into a belief, that it
  has received a lover as well as an object of love. The force of
  their different beauties is seen also in the effects it makes on
  their lovers. The admirers of Chloe are eternally gay and
  well-pleased: those of Clarissa, melancholy and thoughtful. And
  as this passion always changes the natural man into a quite
  different creature from what he was before, the love of Chloe
  makes coxcombs; that of Clarissa, madmen. There were of each kind
  just now here. Here was one that whistles, laughs, sings, and
  <a class="pagenum" name='page40' title='40' id="page40"></a>cuts
  capers, for love of Chloe. Another has just now written three
  lines to Clarissa, then taken a turn in the garden, then came
  back again, then tore his fragment, then called for some
  chocolate, then went away without it.</p>

  <p>Chloe has so many admirers in the room at present, that there
  is too much noise to proceed in my narration, so that the
  progress of the loves of Clarissa and Chloe, together with the
  bottles that are drank each night for the one, and the many sighs
  which are uttered, and songs written, on the other, must be our
  subject on future occasions.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 18.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Haymarket inform us, that on Saturday night
  last the opera of "Pyrrhus and Demetrius"<a name='fntag98' id=
  "fntag98"></a><a class='fn' href='#footnote98'><sup>98</sup></a>
  was performed with great applause. This intelligence is not very
  acceptable to us friends of the theatre; for the stage being an
  entertainment of the reason and all our faculties, this way of
  being pleased with the suspense of them for three hours together,
  and being given up to the shallow satisfaction of the eyes and
  ears only, seems to arise rather from the degeneracy of our
  understanding, than an improvement of our diversions.<a name=
  'fntag99' id="fntag99"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote99'><sup>99</sup></a> That the understanding has no
  part in the pleasure is evident, from <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page41' title='41' id="page41"></a>what these letters very
  positively assert, to wit, that a great part of the performance
  was done in Italian: and a great critic fell into fits in the
  gallery, at feeling, not only time and place, but languages and
  nations confused in the most incorrigible manner. His spleen is
  so extremely moved on this occasion, that he is going to publish
  a treatise against operas, which, he thinks, have already
  inclined us to thoughts of peace, and if tolerated, must
  infallibly dispirit us from carrying on the war. He has
  communicated his scheme to the whole room, and declared in what
  manner things of this kind were first introduced. He has upon
  this occasion considered the nature of sounds in general, and
  made a very elaborate digression upon the London cries,<a name=
  'fntag100' id="fntag100"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote100'><sup>100</sup></a> wherein he has shown from
  reason and philosophy why oysters are cried, card-matches<a name=
  'fntag101' id="fntag101"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote101'><sup>101</sup></a> sung, and turnips and all other
  vegetables neither cried, sung, nor said, but sold, with an
  accent and tone neither natural to man or beast. This piece seems
  to be taken from the model of that excellent discourse of Mrs.
  Manly the schoolmistress, concerning samplers.<a name='fntag102'
  id="fntag102"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote102'><sup>102</sup></a> Advices from the upper end of
  Piccadilly say that Mayfair is utterly abolished;<a name=
  'fntag103' id="fntag103"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote103'><sup>103</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page42' title='42' id="page42"></a>and we hear Mr.
  Pinkethman<a name='fntag104' id="fntag104"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote104'><sup>104</sup></a> has removed his ingenious
  company of strollers to Greenwich: but other letters from
  Deptford say, the company is only making thither, and not yet
  settled; but that several heathen gods and goddesses, which are
  to descend in machines, landed at the King's Head Stairs last
  Saturday. Venus and Cupid went on foot from thence to Greenwich;
  Mars got drunk in the town, and broke his landlord's head; for
  which he sat in the stocks the whole evening; but Mr. Pinkethman
  giving security that he should do nothing this ensuing summer, he
  was set at liberty. The most melancholy part of all, was, that
  Diana was taken in the act of fornication with a boatman, and
  committed by Justice Wrathful, which has, it seems, put a stop to
  the diversions of the theatre of Blackheath. But there goes down
  another Diana and a patient Grissel next tide from
  Billingsgate.<a name='fntag105' id="fntag105"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote105'><sup>105</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page43' title='43' id="page43"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 18.</h3>

  <p>They write from Saxony of the 13th instant, N.S., that the
  Grand General of the Crown of Poland was so far from entering
  into a treaty with King Stanislaus, that he had written circular
  letters, wherein he exhorted the Palatinates to join against him;
  declaring, that this was the most favourable conjuncture for
  asserting their liberty.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 23rd instant, N.S., say, they
  have advices from Vienna, which import, that his Electoral
  Highness of Hanover had signified to the Imperial Court, that he
  did not intend to put himself at the head of the troops of the
  Empire, except more effectual measures were taken for acting
  vigorously against the enemy the ensuing campaign. Upon this
  representation, the Emperor has given orders to several regiments
  to march towards the Rhine, and despatched expresses to the
  respective princes of the Empire to desire an augmentation of
  their forces.</p>

  <p>These letters add, that an express arrived at the Hague on the
  20th instant, with advice, that the enemy having made a
  detachment from Tournay of 1500 horse, each trooper carrying a
  foot-soldier behind him, in order to surprise the garrison of
  Alost; the allies, upon notice of their march, sent out a strong
  body of troops from Ghent, which engaged the enemy at Asche, and
  took 200 of them prisoners, obliging the rest to retire without
  making any further attempt. On the 22nd in the morning a fleet of
  merchant ships coming from Scotland, were attacked by six French
  privateers at the entrance of the Meuse. We have yet no certain
  advice of the event: but letters from Rotterdam say, that a Dutch
  man-of-war of forty guns, which was convoy to the said fleet, was
  taken, as <a class="pagenum" name='page44' title='44' id=
  "page44"></a>were also eighteen of the merchants. The Swiss
  troops, in the service of the States, have completed the
  augmentation of their respective companies. Those of Wirtemberg
  and Prussia are expected on the frontiers within few days; and
  the auxiliaries from Saxony, as also a battalion of Holstein, and
  another of Wolfembuttel, are advancing thither with all
  expedition. On the 21st instant, the deputies of the States had a
  conference near Woerden with the President Rouillé, but the
  matter which was therein debated is not made public. His Grace
  the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene continue at the
  Hague.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, April 18.</h3>

  <p>I have lately been very studious for intelligence, and have
  just now, by my astrological flying-post, received a packet from
  Felicia,<a name='fntag106' id="fntag106"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote106'><sup>106</sup></a> an island in America, with an
  account that gives me great satisfaction, and lets me understand
  that the island was never in greater prosperity, or the
  administration in so good hands, since the death of their late
  valiant king. These letters import, that the chief minister has
  entered into a firm league with the ablest and best men of the
  nation, to carry on the cause of liberty, to the encouragement of
  religion, virtue, and honour. Those persons at the helm are so
  useful, and in themselves of such weight, that their strict
  alliance must needs tend to the universal prosperity of the
  people. Camillo,<a name='fntag107' id="fntag107"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote107'><sup>107</sup></a> it seems, presides
  over the deliberations of state; and is so highly valued by all
  men, for his singular probity, courage, affability, and love of
  mankind, that his being placed in that station has dissipated the
  fears of that people, who of all the world are the most jealous
  of their <a class="pagenum" name='page45' title='45' id=
  "page45"></a>liberty and happiness. The next member of their
  society is Horatio,<a name='fntag108' id="fntag108"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote108'><sup>108</sup></a> who makes all the
  public despatches. This minister is master of all the languages
  in use to great perfection: he is held in the highest veneration
  imaginable for a severe honesty, and love of his country: he
  lives in a court, unsullied with any of its artifices, the refuge
  of the oppressed, and terror of oppressors. Martio<a name=
  'fntag109' id="fntag109"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote109'><sup>109</sup></a> has joined himself to this
  council; a man of most undaunted resolution and great knowledge
  in maritime affairs; famous for destroying the navy of the
  Franks,<a name='fntag110' id="fntag110"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote110'><sup>110</sup></a> and singularly happy in one
  particular, that he never preferred a man who has not proved
  remarkably serviceable to his country. Philander<a name=
  'fntag111' id="fntag111"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote111'><sup>111</sup></a> is mentioned with particular
  distinction; a nobleman who has the most refined taste of the
  true pleasures and elegance of life, joined to an indefatigable
  industry in business; a man eloquent in assemblies, agreeable in
  conversation, and dextrous in all manner of public negotiations.
  These letters add, that Verono,<a name='fntag112' id=
  "fntag112"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote112'><sup>112</sup></a> who is also of this council,
  has lately set sail to his government of Patricia, with design to
  confirm the affections of the people in the interests of his
  queen. This minister is master of great abilities, and is as
  industrious and restless for the preservation of the liberties of
  the people, as the greatest enemy can be to subvert them. The
  influence of these personages, who are men of such distinguished
  parts and virtues, makes the people enjoy the utmost tranquillity
  in the midst of a war, and <a class="pagenum" name='page46'
  title='46' id="page46"></a>gives them undoubted hopes of a secure
  peace from their vigilance and integrity.<a name='fntag113' id=
  "fntag113"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote113'><sup>113</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag96'>[96]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote96' id="footnote96"></a>In a copy of the
      original edition of the <i>Tatler</i>, with MS. notes written
      early in the last century, which was sold at Messrs.
      Sotheby's, in April, 1887, the ladies here described were
      said to be Mrs. Chetwine and Mrs. Hales respectively. Mrs.
      Hales was a maid of honour who married Mr. Coke,
      vice-chamberlain, in July, 1709 (Luttrell's "Brief Relation,"
      vi. 462); "Mrs. Chetwine" was probably the wife of William
      Richard Chetwynd, afterwards third Viscount Chetwynd, who
      married Honora, daughter of John Baker, Consul at Algiers; or
      the wife of his brother Walter, M.P. for Stafford, and Master
      of the Buckhounds. In 1717, Lady M. W. Montagu, describing a
      week spent by a fashionable lady, said, 'Friday, Mrs.
      Chetwynd's, &amp;c.; a perpetual round of hearing the same
      scandal' (Pope's Works, ix. 385).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag97'>[97]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote97' id="footnote97"></a>Charles Jervas,
      portrait painter (died 1739), became principal painter to
      George I. and George II. He also made a translation of "Don
      Quixote," first published in 1742.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag98'>[98]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote98' id="footnote98"></a>A translation of
      Owen McSwiney (1709) from the Italian of Scarlatti.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag99'>[99]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote99' id="footnote99"></a>In the
      <i>Spectator</i> (Nos. 1, 5, 13, &amp;c.) Addison often wrote
      against the Italian opera. In 1706, Dennis published "An
      Essay on the Operas after the Italian Manner, which are about
      to be established on the English Stage: with some reflections
      on the damage which they may bring to the Public." He traces
      to the recent alterations in the entertainments of the stage,
      the fact that familiar conversation among all classes was
      confined to two points, news and toasting, neither of which
      required much intelligence.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag100'>[100]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote100' id="footnote100"></a>The street
      cries of 1709 are described in Lauron's "Habits and Cries of
      the City of London." They included "Any card-matches or
      save-alls" and "Twelve-pence a peck, oysters."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag101'>[101]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote101' id="footnote101"></a>Matches made by
      dipping pieces of card in melted sulphur. In the
      <i>Spectator</i> (No. 251), Addison speaks of vendors of
      card-matches as examples of the fact that those made most
      noise who had least to sell.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag102'>[102]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote102' id="footnote102"></a>In vol. ii. of
      Dr. W. King's Works (1776) is "An Essay on the Invention of
      Samplers, by Mrs. Arabella Manly, schoolmistress at
      Hackney."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag103'>[103]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote103' id="footnote103"></a>May Fair was
      abolished in 1709, after it had on several occasions been
      presented as a nuisance by the Grand Jury at Westminster.
      This fair was granted by King James II. under the Great Seal,
      in the fourth year of his reign, to Sir John Coell and his
      heirs for ever, in trust for Henry Lord Dover and his heirs
      for ever, to be held in the field called Brookfield, in the
      parish of St. Martin's, Westminster, to commence on the first
      day of May, and to continue fifteen days yearly. It soon
      became the resort of the idle, the dissipated, and the
      profligate, insomuch that the peace-officers were frequently
      opposed in the performance of their duty; and, in the year
      1702, John Cooper, one of the constables, was killed, for
      which a fencing-master, named Cook, was executed. (See also
      <a href='#number20'>No. 20</a>.) The fair was revived under
      George I., but was finally abolished through the exertions of
      the sixth Earl of Coventry.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag104'>[104]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote104' id="footnote104"></a>William
      Pinkethman, the popular actor and droll, was spoken of by
      Gildon as "the flower of Bartholomew Fair, and the idol of
      the rabble." In June, 1710, he opened a theatre at Greenwich,
      and in 1711 his "wonderful invention called The Pantheon, or,
      The Temple of the Heathen Gods," with over 100 figures, was
      to be seen in the Little Piazza, Covent Garden
      (<i>Spectator</i>, No. 46, advertisement).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag105'>[105]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote105' id="footnote105"></a>"It is credibly
      reported that Mr. D&#8212;&#8212;y has agreed with Mr.
      Pinkethman to have his play acted before that audience as
      soon as it has had its first sixteen days' run in Drury Lane"
      (folio). The play was D'Urfey's "Modern Prophets."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag106'>[106]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote106' id="footnote106"></a>Britain.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag107'>[107]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote107' id="footnote107"></a>John, Lord
      Somers, President of the Council.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag108'>[108]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote108' id="footnote108"></a>Sidney, Lord
      Godolphin, the Lord High Treasurer; or (according to the MS.
      notes in the copy mentioned above) Lord Sunderland.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag109'>[109]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote109' id="footnote109"></a>Edward, Earl of
      Orford.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag110'>[110]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote110' id="footnote110"></a>At La Hogue,
      1692.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag111'>[111]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote111' id="footnote111"></a>Probably Lord
      Halifax.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag112'>[112]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote112' id="footnote112"></a>Thomas, Earl of
      Wharton, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag113'>[113]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote113' id=
      "footnote113"></a>"Advertisement.&#8212;Upon the humble
      petition of Running Stationers, &amp;c., this paper maybe had
      of them, for the future, at the price of one penny" (folio).
      The first four numbers were distributed gratuitously.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number5' id="number5"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 5.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, April 19</i>, to <i>Thursday, April
    21</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, April 20.</h3>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Who names that lost thing, love, without a tear,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Since so debauched by ill-bred customs here,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To an exact perfection they have brought
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The action, love, the passion is forgot.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>This was long ago a witty author's lamentation, but the evil
  still continues; and if a man of any delicacy were to attend the
  discourses of the young fellows of this age, they would believe
  there were none but prostitutes to make the objects of passion.
  So true it is what the author of the above verses said, a little
  before his death, of the modern pretenders to gallantry: "They
  set up for wits in this age, by saying when they are sober, what
  they of the last spoke only when they were drunk." But Cupid is
  not only blind at present, but dead-drunk, he has lost all his
  faculties: else how should Celia be so long a maid with that
  agreeable behaviour? Corinna, with that uprightly wit? Lesbia,
  with that heavenly voice? And Sacharissa, with all those
  excellences in one person, frequent the park, the play, and
  murder the poor tits that drag her to public places, and not a
  man turn pale at her appearance? But such is the fallen state of
  love, that <a class="pagenum" name='page47' title='47' id=
  "page47"></a>if it were not for honest Cynthio,<a name='fntag114'
  id="fntag114"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote114'><sup>114</sup></a> who is true to the cause, we
  should hardly have a pattern left of the ancient worthies that
  way: and indeed he has but very little encouragement to
  persevere; but he has a devotion, rather than love, for his
  mistress; and says,</p>

  <div class='poem italic'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Only tell her that I love,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Leave the rest to her, and Fate;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Some kind planet from above,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        May, perhaps, her passsion move:
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Lovers on their stars must wait.<a name='fntag115' id=
        "fntag115"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote115'><sup>115</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>But the stars I am so intimately acquainted with, that I can
  assure him, he will never have her: for would you believe it,
  though Cynthio has wit, good sense, fortune, and his very being
  depends on her, the termagant for whom he sighs, is in love with
  a fellow, who stares in the glass all the time he is with her,
  and lets her plainly see, she may possibly be his rival, but
  never his mistress. Yet Cynthio, the same unhappy man whom I
  mentioned in my first narrative, pleases himself with a vain
  imagination, that with the language of his eyes, now he has found
  who she is, he shall conquer her, though her eyes are intent upon
  one who looks from her; which is ordinary with the sex. It is
  certainly a mistake in the ancients, to draw the little
  gentleman, Love, as a blind boy; for his real <a class="pagenum"
  name='page48' title='48' id="page48"></a>character is, a little
  thief that squints. For ask Mrs. Meddle, who is a confidante, or
  spy, upon all the passions in town, and she will tell you, that
  the whole is a game of cross purposes. The lover is generally
  pursuing one who is in pursuit of another, and running from one
  that desires to meet him. Nay, the figure of this passion is so
  justly represented in a squinting little thief (who is always in
  a double action) that do but observe Clarissa next time you see
  her, and you'll find, when her eyes have made their tour round
  the company, she makes no stay on him they say she is to marry,
  but rests two seconds of a minute on Wildair, who neither looks
  nor thinks on her, or any woman else. However, Cynthio had a bow
  from her the other day, upon which he is very much come to
  himself; and I heard him send his man of an errand yesterday
  without any manner of hesitation; a quarter of an hour after
  which he reckoned twenty, remembered he was to sup with a friend,
  and went exactly to his appointment. I sent to know how he did
  this morning, and I find he very perfectly remembers that he
  spoke to me yesterday.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 20.</h3>

  <p>This week<a name='fntag116' id="fntag116"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote116'><sup>116</sup></a> being sacred to holy
  things, and no public diversions allowed, there has been taken
  notice of, even here, a little treatise, called, "A Project for
  the Advancement of Religion; dedicated to the Countess of
  Berkeley."<a name='fntag117' id="fntag117"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote117'><sup>117</sup></a> The title was so uncommon,
  and promised so <a class="pagenum" name='page49' title='49' id=
  "page49"></a>peculiar a way of thinking, that every man here has
  read it, and as many as have done so, have approved it. It is
  written with the spirit of one, who has seen the world enough to
  undervalue it with good breeding. The author must certainly be a
  man of wisdom, as well as piety, and have spent much time in the
  exercise of both. The real causes of the decay of the interest of
  religion, are set forth in a clear and lively manner, without
  unseasonable passions; and the whole air of the book, as to the
  language, the sentiments, and the reasonings, show it was written
  by one whose virtue sits easy about him, and to whom vice is
  thoroughly contemptible. It was said by one of this
  company,<a name='fntag118' id="fntag118"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote118'><sup>118</sup></a> alluding to the knowledge the
  author seems to have of the world, "The man writes much like a
  gentleman, and goes to heaven with a very good mien."</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 20.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Italy say, that the Marquis de Prie, upon the
  receipt of an express from the Court of Vienna, went immediately
  to the palace of Cardinal Paulucci, minister of state to his
  Holiness, and demanded in the name of his Imperial Majesty, that
  King Charles should be forthwith acknowledged king of Spain, by a
  solemn act of the congregation of cardinals appointed for that
  purpose: he declared at the same time, that if the least
  hesitation were made in this most important article of the late
  treaty, he should not only be obliged to leave Rome himself, but
  also transmit his master's orders to the imperial troops to face
  about, and return into the ecclesiastical dominions. When the
  cardinal reported this <a class="pagenum" name='page50' title=
  '50' id="page50"></a>message to the Pope, he was struck with so
  sensible an affliction, that he burst into tears. His sorrow was
  aggravated by letters which immediately after arrived from the
  Court of Madrid, wherein his Nuncio acquainted his Holiness, that
  upon the news of his accommodation with the Emperor, he had
  received a message to forbear coming to Court; and the people
  were so highly provoked, that they could hardly be restrained
  from insulting his palace. These letters add, that the King of
  Denmark was gone from Florence to Pisa, and from Pisa to Leghorn,
  where the governor paid his Majesty all imaginable honours. The
  king designed to go from thence to Lucca, where a magnificent
  tournament was prepared for his diversion. An English man-of-war,
  which came from Port Mahon to Leghorn in six days, brought
  advice, that the fleet commanded by Admiral Whitaker, was safely
  arrived at Barcelona, with the troops and ammunition which he had
  taken in at Naples.</p>

  <p>General Boneval, Governor of Commacchio, had summoned the
  magistrates of all the towns near that place to appear before
  him, and take an oath of fidelity to his Imperial Majesty,
  commanding also the gentry to pay him homage, on pain of death
  and confiscation of goods. Advices from Switzerland inform us,
  that the bankers of Geneva were utterly ruined by the failure of
  Mr. Bernard. They add, that the deputies of the Swiss Cantons
  were returned from Solleure, where they were assembled at the
  instance of the French Ambassador; but were very much
  dissatisfied with the reception they had from that minister. 'Tis
  true, he omitted no civilities, or expressions of friendship from
  his master, but he took no notice of their pensions and arrears;
  what further provoked their indignation, was, that instead of
  twenty-five pistoles formerly allowed to each member, for their
  charge in <a class="pagenum" name='page51' title='51' id=
  "page51"></a>coming to the Diet, he had presented them with six
  only. They write from Dresden, that King Augustus was still busy
  in recruiting his cavalry, and that the Danish troops, which
  lately served in Hungary, had orders to be in Saxony in the
  middle of May, and that his Majesty of Denmark was expected at
  Dresden in the beginning of that month. King Augustus makes great
  preparations for his reception, and has appointed sixty coaches,
  each drawn by six horses for that purpose: the interview of these
  princes affords great matter for speculation. Letters from Paris
  of the 22nd of this month say, that Mareschal Harcourt and the
  Duke of Berwick were preparing to go into Alsace and Dauphine,
  but that their troops were in want of all manner of necessaries.
  The Court of France had received advices from Madrid, that on the
  7th of this month, the States of Spain had with much magnificence
  acknowledged the Prince of Asturias presumptive heir of the
  crown. This was performed at Buen Retiro; the deputies took the
  oaths on that occasion by the hands of Cardinal Portocarrero.
  Those advices add, that it was signified to the Pope's Nuncio, by
  order of council, to depart from that Court in twenty-four hours,
  and that a guard was accordingly appointed to conduct him to
  Bayonne.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 26th instant inform us, that
  Prince Eugene was to set out the next day for Brussels, to put
  all things in a readiness for opening the campaign. They add,
  that the Grand Pensioner having reported to the Duke of
  Marlborough what passed in the last conference with Mr.
  Rouillé,<a name='fntag119' id="fntag119"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote119'><sup>119</sup></a> his Grace had taken a
  resolution immediately to return to Great Britain, to communicate
  to her Majesty all that has been transacted in that important
  affair.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page52' title='52' id=
  "page52"></a></p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, April 20.</h3>

  <p>The nature of my miscellaneous work is such, that I shall
  always take the liberty to tell for news such things (let them
  have happened never so much before the time of writing) as have
  escaped public notice, or have been misrepresented to the world,
  provided that I am still within rules, and trespass not as a
  Tatler any further than in an incorrectness of style, and writing
  in an air of common speech. Thus if anything that is said, even
  of old Anchises or Æneas, be set by me in a different light than
  has hitherto been hit upon, in order to inspire the love and
  admiration of worthy actions, you will, gentle reader, I hope,
  accept of it for intelligence you had not before. But I am going
  upon a narrative, the matter of which I know to be true: it is
  not only doing justice to the deceased merit<a name='fntag120'
  id="fntag120"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote120'><sup>120</sup></a> of such persons, as, had they
  lived, would not have had it in their power to thank me, but also
  an instance of the greatness of spirit in the lowest of her
  Majesty's subjects; take it as follows:</p>

  <p>At the siege of Namur by the Allies, there were in the ranks
  of the company commanded by Captain Pincent, in Colonel Frederick
  Hamilton's regiment, one Unnion a corporal, and one Valentine a
  private sentinel: there happened between these two men a dispute
  about a matter of love, which, upon some aggravations, grew to an
  irreconcilable hatred. Unnion being the officer of Valentine,
  took all opportunities even to strike his rival, and profess
  <a class="pagenum" name='page53' title='53' id="page53"></a>the
  spite and revenge which moved him to it. The sentinel bore it
  without resistance, but frequently said he would die to be
  revenged of that tyrant. They had spent whole months thus, one
  injuring, the other complaining; when in the midst of this rage
  towards each other, they were commanded upon the attack of the
  castle, where the corporal received a shot in the thigh, and
  fell; the French pressing on, and he expecting to be trampled to
  death, called out to his enemy, "Ah, Valentine! Can you leave me
  here?" Valentine immediately ran back, and in the midst of a
  thick fire of the French, took the corporal upon his back, and
  brought him through all that danger as far as the Abbey of
  Salsine, where a cannon-ball took off his head: his body fell
  under his enemy whom he was carrying off Unnion immediately
  forgot his wound, rose up, tearing his hair, and then threw
  himself upon the bleeding carcass, crying, "Ah, Valentine! Was it
  for me, who have so barbarously used thee, that thou hast died? I
  will not Jive after thee." He was not by any means to be forced
  from the body, but was removed with it bleeding in his arms, and
  attended with tears by all their comrades, who knew their enmity.
  When he was brought to a tent, his wounds were dressed by force;
  but the next day, still calling upon Valentine, and lamenting his
  cruelties to him, he died in the pangs of remorse and
  despair.</p>

  <p>It may be a question among men of noble sentiments, whether of
  these unfortunate persons had the greater soul; he that was so
  generous as to venture his life for his enemy, or he who could
  not survive the man that died, in laying upon him such an
  obligation?</p>

  <p>When we see spirits like these in a people, to what heights
  may we not suppose their glory may arise, but (as it is
  excellently observed by Sallust<a name='fntag121' id=
  "fntag121"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote121'><sup>121</sup></a>) it is not only to the
  <a class="pagenum" name='page54' title='54' id=
  "page54"></a>general bent of a nation that great revolutions are
  owing, but to the extraordinary genios<a name='fntag122' id=
  "fntag122"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote122'><sup>122</sup></a> that lead them. On which
  occasion he proceeds to say that the Roman greatness was neither
  to be attributed to their superior policy, for in that the
  Carthaginians excelled; nor to their valour, for in that the
  French were preferable; but to particular men, who were born for
  the good of their country, and formed for great attempts. This he
  says, to introduce the characters of Cassar and Cato. It would be
  entering into too weighty a discourse for this place, if I
  attempted to show that our nation has produced as great and able
  men for public affairs, as any other. But I believe the reader
  outruns me, and fixes his imagination upon the Duke of
  Marlborough. It is, methinks, a pleasing reflection, to consider
  the dispensations of Providence in the fortune of this
  illustrious man, who, in the space of forty years, has passed
  through all the gradations of human life, till he has ascended to
  the character of a prince, and become the scourge of a tyrant,
  who sat in one of the greatest thrones of Europe, before the man
  who was to have the greatest part in his downfall had made one
  step in the world.<a name='fntag123' id="fntag123"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote123'><sup>123</sup></a> But such elevations
  are the natural consequences of an exact prudence, a calm
  courage, a well-governed temper, a patient ambition, and an
  affable behaviour. These arts, as they are the steps to his
  greatness, so they are the pillars of it now it is raised. To
  this her glorious son, Great Britain is indebted for the happy
  conduct of her arms, in whom she can boast, she has produced a
  man formed by nature to lead a nation of heroes.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag114'>[114]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote114' id="footnote114"></a>Edward Richard
      Montagu, styled Viscount Hinchinbroke, who died before his
      father, on October 3, 1722, was the only son of Edward, third
      Earl of Sandwich. He was born about 1690, and became colonel
      of the First Regiment of Foot Guards, and Lord Lieutenant of
      Huntingdonshire. In 1707, he married Elizabeth, daughter of
      Alexander Popham, of Littlecot, Wilts, and of Anne, daughter
      of the first Duke of Montagu. (See Nos. <a href=
      "#number1">1</a>, <a href="#number22">22</a>, <a href=
      "#number35">35</a>, 85, and the
      <i>Lover</i>, No. 38.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag115'>[115]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote115' id="footnote115"></a>These lines are
      part of a song by Lord Cutts, under whom Steele had served as
      secretary when in the army. The verses will be found in
      Nichols' "Select Collection" (1780), ii. 327.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag116'>[116]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote116' id="footnote116"></a>Passion
      Week.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag117'>[117]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote117' id="footnote117"></a>First published
      as "By a Person of Quality." "The gentleman I here intended
      was Dr. Swift, this kind of man I thought him at that time.
      We have not met of late, but I hope he deserves this
      character still." (Steele's "Apology," 1714.) This pamphlet
      is closely in accord with the <i>Tatler</i> in its
      condemnation of gaming, drunkenness, swearing, immorality on
      the stage, and other evils of the time. Swift suggests, too,
      a revival of censors.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag118'>[118]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote118' id="footnote118"></a>Forster
      suggests that it was Addison.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag119'>[119]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote119' id="footnote119"></a>See <a href=
      '#number1'>No. 1</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag120'>[120]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote120' id="footnote120"></a>This phrase, as
      well as Unnion's forgetting his wound, is criticised in a
      little book called, "Annotations on the <i>Tatler</i>, in two
      parts," 12mo, said to have been written originally in French
      by Monsieur Bournelle, and translated into English by Walter
      Wagstaff, Esq. London, Bernard Lintott, 1710. The annotator
      goes no farther with his annotations than to <i>Tatler</i>
      No. 83. See Nos. 78, 191.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag121'>[121]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote121' id="footnote121"></a>"Bell. Catal.,"
      c. 53.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag122'>[122]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote122' id="footnote122"></a>"A man of a
      particular turn of mind" (Johnson).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag123'>[123]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote123' id="footnote123"></a>In 1705, after
      the battle of Blenheim, Marlborough was made Prince of
      Mildenheim by the Emperor. Lewis XIV. succeeded to the French
      throne in 1643; Marlborough was born in 1650.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page55' title='55' id=
    "page55"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number6' id="number6"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 6.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, April 21</i>, to <i>Saturday, April
    23</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 22.</h3>

  <p>I am just come from visiting Sappho,<a name='fntag124' id=
  "fntag124"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote124'><sup>124</sup></a> a fine lady, who writes verses,
  sings, dances and can say and do whatever she pleases, without
  the imputation of anything that can injure her character; for she
  is so well known to have no passion but self-love, or folly, but
  affectation; that now upon any occasion they only cry, "'Tis her
  way," and "That's so like her," without further reflection. As I
  came into the room, she cries, "O Mr. Bickerstaff, I am utterly
  undone! I have broke that pretty Italian fan I showed you when
  you were here last, wherein were so admirably drawn our first
  parents in Paradise asleep in each other's arms." But there is
  such an affinity between painting and poetry, that I have been
  improving the images which were raised by that picture, by
  reading the same representation in two of our greatest poets.
  Look you, here are the passages in Milton and in Dryden. All
  Milton's thoughts are wonderfully just and natural, in this
  inimitable description which Adam makes of himself in the eighth
  book of "Paradise Lost." But there is none of them finer than
  that contained in the following lines, where he tells us his
  thoughts when he was falling asleep a little after his
  creation.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <a class="pagenum" name='page56' title='56' id="page56"></a>

      <div class="line">
        While thus I called, and strayed I know not whither,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From whence I first drew air, and first beheld
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        This happy light; when answer none returned,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Pensive I sate me down, there gentle sleep
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        First found me, and with soft oppression seized
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        My drowned sense, untroubled, though I thought
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        I then was passing to my former state,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.<a name='fntag125'
        id="fntag125"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote125'><sup>125</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>But now I can't forgive this odious thing, this Dryden, who,
  in his "State of Innocence," has given my great-grand-mother Eve
  the same apprehension of annihilation, on a very different
  occasion, as Adam pronounces it of himself, when he was seized
  with a pleasing kind of stupor and deadness, Eve fancies herself
  falling away, and dissolving in the hurry of a rapture. However,
  the verses are very good, and I don't know but it may be natural
  what she says. I'll read them:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        When your kind eyes looked languishing on mine,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And wreathing arms did soft embraces join,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A doubtful trembling seized me first all o'er,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Then wishes, and a warmth unknown before;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        What followed was all extasy and trance,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Immortal pleasures round my swimming eyes did dance,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And speechless joys, in whose sweet tumults tost,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        I thought my breath and my new being lost.<a name=
        'fntag126' id="fntag126"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote126'><sup>126</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>She went on, and said a thousand good things at random, but so
  strangely mixed that you would be apt to say all her wit is mere
  good luck, and not the effect of <a class="pagenum" name='page57'
  title='57' id="page57"></a>reason and judgment. When I made my
  escape hither I found a gentleman playing the critic on two other
  great poets, even Virgil and Homer.<a name='fntag127' id=
  "fntag127"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote127'><sup>127</sup></a> He was observing, that Virgil
  is more judicious than the other in the epithets he gives his
  hero. "Homer's usual epithet," said he, "is <span lang="el"
  title="Pódas ôchùs" xml:lang=
  "el">&#928;&#8057;&#948;&#945;&#962; &#8032;&#967;&#8058;&#962;</span>,
  or <span lang="el" title="Podárchês" xml:lang=
  "el">&#928;&#959;&#948;&#8049;&#961;&#967;&#951;&#962;</span>,
  and his indiscretion has been often rallied by the critics, for
  mentioning the nimbleness of foot in Achilles, though he
  describes him standing, sitting, lying down, fighting, eating,
  drinking, or in any other circumstance, however foreign or
  repugnant to speed and activity. Virgil's common epithet to
  Æneas, is 'Pius' or 'Pater.' I have therefore considered," said
  he, "what passage there is in any of his hero's actions, where
  either of these appellations would have been most improper, to
  see if I could catch him at the same fault with Homer: and this,
  I think, is his meeting with Dido in the cave, where Pius Æneas
  would have been absurd, and Pater Æneas a burlesque: the poet has
  therefore wisely dropped them both for Dux Trojanus,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus eandem Devenient;<a name=
        'fntag128' id="fntag128"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote128'><sup>128</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>which he has repeated twice in Juno's speech, and his own
  narration: for he very well knew a loose action might be
  consistent enough with the usual manners of a soldier, though it
  became neither the chastity of a pious man, nor the gravity of
  the father of a people."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page58' title='58' id=
  "page58"></a></p>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, April 22.</h3>

  <p>While other parts of the town are amused with the present
  actions, we generally spend the evening at this table in
  inquiries into antiquity, and think anything news which gives us
  new knowledge. Thus we are making a very pleasant entertainment
  to ourselves, in putting the actions of Homer's "Iliad" into an
  exact journal.</p>

  <p>This poem is introduced by Chryses, King of Chryseis, and
  priest of Apollo, who comes to re-demand his daughter, who was
  carried off at the taking of that city, and given to Agamemnon
  for his part of the booty. The refusal he received enrages
  Apollo, who for nine days showered down darts upon them, which
  occasioned the pestilence.</p>

  <p>The tenth day Achilles assembles the council, and encourages
  Chalcas to speak for the surrender of Chryseis to appease Apollo.
  Agamemnon and Achilles storm at one another, notwithstanding
  which Agamemnon will not release his prisoner, unless he has
  Briseis in her stead. After long contestations, wherein Agamemnon
  gives a glorious character of Achilles' valour, he determines to
  restore Briseis to her father, and sends two heralds to fetch
  away Chryseis from Achilles, who abandons himself to sorrow and
  despair. His mother Thetis came to comfort him under his
  affliction, and promises to represent his sorrowful lamentations
  to Jupiter; but he could not attend it; for the evening before,
  he had appointed to divert himself for two days beyond the seas
  with the harmless Æthiopians.</p>

  <p>It was the twenty-first day after Chryseis' arrival to the
  camp, that Thetis went very early to demand an audience of
  Jupiter. The means he uses to satisfy her were, to persuade the
  Greeks to attack the Trojans; that so they <a class="pagenum"
  name='page59' title='59' id="page59"></a>might perceive the
  consequence of condemning Achilles and the miseries they suffer
  if he does not head them. The next night he orders Agamemnon, in
  a dream, to attack them; who was deceived with the hopes of
  obtaining a victory, and also taking the city, without sharing
  the honour with Achilles.</p>

  <p>On the 22nd, in the morning, he assembles the council, and
  having made a feint of raising the siege and retiring, he
  declares to them his dream; and, together with Nestor and
  Ulysses, resolves on an engagement.</p>

  <p>This was the twenty-third day, which is full of incidents, and
  which continues from almost the beginning of the second canto to
  the eighth. The armies being then drawn up in view of one
  another, Hector brings it about that Menelaus and Paris, the two
  persons concerned in the quarrel, should decide it by a single
  combat; which tending to the advantage of Menelaus, was
  interrupted by a cowardice infused by Minerva: then both armies
  engage, where the Trojans have the disadvantage; but being
  afterwards animated by Apollo, they repulse the enemy, yet they
  are once again forced to give ground; but their affairs were
  retrieved by Hector, who has a single combat with Ajax. The gods
  threw themselves into the battle, Juno and Minerva took the
  Grecians' part, and Apollo and Mars the Trojans': but Mars and
  Venus are both wounded by Diomedes.</p>

  <p>The truce for burying the slain ended the twenty-third day;
  after which the Greeks threw up a great entrenchment to secure
  their navy from danger. Councils are held on both sides. On the
  morning of the twenty-fourth day the battle is renewed, but in a
  very disadvantageous manner to the Greeks, who were beaten back
  to their retrenchments. Agamemnon being in despair at this ill
  success, proposes to the council to quit the enterprise and
  retire from Troy. <a class="pagenum" name='page60' title='60' id=
  "page60"></a>But by the advice of Nestor, he is persuaded to
  regain Achilles, by returning Chryseis, and sending him
  considerable presents. Hereupon, Ulysses and Ajax are sent to
  that hero, who continues inflexible in his anger. Ulysses, at his
  return, joins himself with Diomedes, and goes in the night to
  gain intelligence of the enemy: they enter into their very camp,
  where, finding the sentinels asleep, they made a great slaughter.
  Rhesus, who was just then arrived with recruits from Thrace for
  the Trojans, was killed in that action. Here ends the tenth
  canto. The sequel of this journal will be inserted in the next
  article from this place.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 22.</h3>

  <p>We hear from Italy, that notwithstanding the Pope has received
  a letter from the Duke of Anjou, demanding of him to explain
  himself upon the affair of acknowledging King Charles: his
  Holiness has not yet thought fit to send any answer to that
  prince. The Court of Rome appears very much mortified, that they
  are not to see his Majesty of Denmark in that city, having
  perhaps given themselves vain hopes from a visit made by a
  Protestant priest to that see. The Pope has despatched a
  gentleman to compliment his Majesty, and sent the king a present
  of all the curiosities and antiquities of Rome, represented in
  seventeen volumes, very richly bound, which were taken out of the
  Vatican library. Letters from Genoa of the 14th instant say, a
  felucca was arrived there in five days from Marseilles, with an
  account, that the people of that city had made an insurrection,
  by reason of the scarcity of provisions, and that the Intendant
  had ordered some companies of marines, and the men belonging to
  the galleys, to stand to their arms to protect him from violence;
  but that he began to be in as much <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page61' title='61' id="page61"></a>apprehension of his guards as
  those from whom they were to defend him. When that vessel came
  away, the soldiers murmured publicly for want of pay, and it was
  generally believed they would pillage the magazines, as the
  garrison of Grenoble, and other towns of France, had already
  done. A vessel which lately came into Leghorn, brought advice,
  that the British squadron was arrived at Port Mahon, where they
  were taking in more troops, in order to attempt the relief of
  Alicante, which still made a very vigorous defence. 'Tis said,
  Admiral Byng will be at the head of that expedition. The King of
  Denmark was gone from Leghorn towards Lucca.</p>

  <p>They write from Vienna, that in case the Allies should enter
  into a treaty of peace with France, Count Zinzendorf will be
  appointed first plenipotentiary, the Count de Goes the second,
  and Monsieur van Konsbruch a third. Major-General Palmes, Envoy
  Extraordinary from her Britannic Majesty, has been very urgent
  with that Court to make their utmost efforts against France the
  ensuing campaign, in order to oblige it to such a peace, as may
  establish the tranquillity of Europe for the future.</p>

  <p>We are also informed, that the Pope uses all imaginable shifts
  to elude the treaty concluded with the Emperor, and that he
  demanded the immediate restitution of Commacchio; insisting also,
  that his Imperial Majesty should ask pardon, and desire
  absolution for what has formerly passed, before he would solemnly
  acknowledge King Charles: but this was utterly refused.</p>

  <p>They hear at Vienna, by letters from Constantinople, dated the
  22nd of February last, that on the 12th of that month the Grand
  Signior took occasion, at the celebration of the festivals of the
  Mussulmen, to set all the Christian slaves which were in the
  galleys at liberty.</p>

  <p>Advices from Switzerland import, that the preachers of
  <a class="pagenum" name='page62' title='62' id="page62"></a>the
  county of Tockenburg continue to create new jealousies of the
  Protestants, and some disturbances lately happened there on that
  account. The Protestants and Papists in the town of Hamman go to
  divine service one after another in the same church, as is usual
  in many other parts of Switzerland; but on Sunday, the 10th
  instant, the Popish curate, having ended his service, attempted
  to hinder the Protestants from entering into the church according
  to custom; but the Protestants briskly attacked him and his
  party, and broke into it by force.</p>

  <p>Last night between seven and eight, his Grace the Duke of
  Marlborough arrived at Court.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, April 22.</h3>

  <p>The present great captains of the age, the Duke of Marlborough
  and Prince Eugene, having been the subject of the discourse of
  the last company I was in, it has naturally led me into a
  consideration of Alexander and Cæsar, the two greatest names
  which ever appeared before this century. In order to enter into
  their characters, there needs no more but examining their
  behaviour in parallel circumstances. It must be allowed, that
  they had an equal greatness of soul; but Cæsar's was more
  corrected and allayed by a mixture of prudence and
  circumspection. This is seen conspicuously in one particular in
  their histories, wherein they seem to have shown exactly the
  difference of their tempers. When Alexander, after a long course
  of victories, would still have led his soldiers farther from
  home, they unanimously refused to follow him. We meet with the
  like behaviour in Cæsar's army in the midst of his march against
  Ariovistus. Let us therefore observe the conduct of our two
  generals in so nice an affair: and here we find Alexander at the
  head of his army, upbraiding them with <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page63' title='63' id="page63"></a>their cowardice, and meanness
  of spirit; and in the end, telling them plainly, he would go
  forward himself, though not a man followed him. This showed
  indeed an excessive bravery; but how would the commander have
  come off, if the speech had not succeeded, and the soldiers had
  taken him at his word? The project seems of a piece with Mr.
  Bayes' in "The Rehearsal,"<a name='fntag129' id=
  "fntag129"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote129'><sup>129</sup></a> who, to gain a clap in his
  prologue, comes out, with a terrible fellow in a fur cap
  following him, and tells his audience, if they would not like his
  play, he would lie down and have his head struck off. If this
  gained a clap, all was well; but if not, there was nothing left
  but for the executioner to do his office. But Cæsar would not
  leave the success of his speech to such uncertain events: he
  shows his men the unreasonableness of their fears in an obliging
  manner, and concludes, that if none else would march along with
  them, he would go himself with the Tenth Legion, for he was
  assured of their fidelity and valour, though all the rest forsook
  him; not but that in all probability they were as much against
  the march as the rest. The result of all was very natural: the
  Tenth Legion, fired with the praises of their general, send
  thanks to him for the just opinion he entertains of them; and the
  rest, ashamed to be outdone, assure him, that they are as ready
  to follow where he pleases to lead them, as any other part of the
  army.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag124'>[124]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote124' id="footnote124"></a>It has been
      suggested, with little or no reason, that Sappho is meant for
      Mrs. Manley (Author of the "New Atalantis"), or Mrs.
      Elizabeth Thomas (known as "Corinna"), or Mrs. Elizabeth
      Heywood. See <a href='#number40'>No. 40</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag125'>[125]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote125' id="footnote125"></a>"Paradise
      Lost," viii. 283.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag126'>[126]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote126' id="footnote126"></a>Dryden's "State
      of Innocence and Fall of Man: an Opera," act iii. sc. i. In
      the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 345), Addison illustrated Milton's
      chaste treatment of the subject of Eve's nuptials by
      contrasting what he says with the account in the opera in
      which Dryden, according to Lee's verses, refined "Milton's
      golden ore, and new-weaved his hard-spun thought."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag127'>[127]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote127' id="footnote127"></a>Addison, on
      reading here this remark upon Virgil, which he himself had
      communicated to Steele, discovered that his friend was the
      author of the <i>Tatler</i>. He was at this time in Ireland,
      Secretary to Lord Wharton, and returned to England with the
      Lord Lieutenant on the 8th of September following. (Tickell's
      Preface to Addison's Works.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag128'>[128]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote128' id="footnote128"></a>"Æneid," iv.
      124.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag129'>[129]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote129' id="footnote129"></a>"The
      Rehearsal," act i. sc. 2. This play of the Duke of
      Buckingham's was produced in 1671, and the poet Bayes, as
      finally drawn after revision, was a satire on Dryden.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number7' id="number7"></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
    'page64' title='64' id="page64"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 7.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, April 23</i>, to <i>Tuesday, April
    26</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <p>It is so just an observation, that mocking is catching, that I
  am become an unhappy instance of it, and am (in the same manner
  that I have represented Mr. Partridge) myself a dying man in
  comparison of the vigour with which I first set out in the world.
  Had it been otherwise, you may be sure I would not have pretended
  to have given for news, as I did last Saturday, a diary of the
  siege of Troy. But man is a creature very inconsistent with
  himself: the greatest heroes are sometimes fearful, the
  sprightliest wits at some hours dull; and the greatest
  politicians on some occasions whimsical. But I shall not pretend
  to palliate, or excuse the matter; for I find, by a calculation
  of my own nativity, that I cannot hold out with any tolerable wit
  longer than two minutes after twelve o'clock at night, between
  the 18th and 19th of the next month. For which space of time you
  may still expect to hear from me, but no longer, except you will
  transmit to me the occurrences you meet with relating to your
  amours, or any other subject within the rules by which I have
  proposed to walk. If any gentleman or lady sends to Isaac
  Bickerstaff, Esq., at Mr. Morphew's,<a name='fntag130' id=
  "fntag130"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote130'><sup>130</sup></a> near Stationers' Hall, by the
  Penny Post, the grief or joy of their soul, what they think fit
  of the matter shall be related in colours as much to their
  advantage, as those in which Jervas<a name='fntag131' id=
  "fntag131"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote131'><sup>131</sup></a> has drawn the agreeable Chloe.
  But since, without such assistance, I frankly confess, and am
  <a class="pagenum" name='page65' title='65' id=
  "page65"></a>sensible, that I have not a month's wit more, I
  think I ought, while I am in my sound health and senses, to make
  my will and testament; which I do in manner and form
  following:</p>

  <p>Imprimis, I give to the stockjobbers about the Exchange of
  London, as a security for the trusts daily reposed in them, all
  my real estate; which I do hereby vest in the said body of worthy
  citizens for ever.</p>

  <p>Item, Forasmuch as it is very hard to keep land in repair
  without ready cash, I do, out of my personal estate, bestow the
  bearskin,<a name='fntag132' id="fntag132"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote132'><sup>132</sup></a> which I have frequently lent to
  several societies about this town, to supply their necessities. I
  say, I give also the said bearskin, as an immediate fund to the
  said citizens for ever.</p>

  <p>Item, I do hereby appoint a certain number of the said
  citizens to take all the custom-house or customary oaths,
  concerning all goods imported to the whole city, strictly
  directing, that some select members, and not the whole number of
  a body corporate, should be perjured.</p>

  <p>Item, I forbid all n&#8212;&#8212;s and persons of
  q&#8212;&#8212;ty to watch bargains near and about the Exchange,
  to the diminution and wrong of the said stockjobbers.</p>

  <p>Thus far, in as brief and intelligible a manner as any will
  can appear, till it is explained by the learned, I have disposed
  of my real and personal estate: but, as I am an adept, I have by
  birth an equal right to give also an indefeasible title to my
  endowments and qualifications; which I do in the following
  manner:</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page66' title='66' id=
  "page66"></a>Item, I give my chastity to all virgins who have
  withstood their market.</p>

  <p>Item, I give my courage among all who are ashamed of their
  distressed friends, all sneakers in assemblies, and men who show
  valour in common conversation.</p>

  <p>Item, I give my wit (as rich men give to the rich) among such
  as think they have enough already. And in case they shall not
  accept of the legacy, I give it to Bentivolio,<a name='fntag133'
  id="fntag133"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote133'><sup>133</sup></a> to defend his works from time
  to time, as he shall think fit to publish them.</p>

  <p>Item, I bestow my learning upon the honorary members of the
  Royal Society.<a name='fntag134' id="fntag134"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote134'><sup>134</sup></a></p>

  <p>Now for the disposal of this body.</p>

  <p>As these eyes must one day cease to gaze on Teraminta, and
  this heart shall one day pant no more for her indignation: that
  is to say, since this body must be earth, I shall commit it to
  the dust in a manner suitable to my character. Therefore, as
  there are those who dispute, whether there is any such real
  person as Isaac Bickerstaff or not, I shall excuse all persons
  who appear what they really are, from coming to my funeral. But
  all those who are, in their way of life, persons, as the Latins
  have it, persons assumed, and who appear what they really are
  not, are hereby invited to that solemnity.</p>

  <p>The body shall be carried by six watchmen, who are never seen
  in the day.</p>

  <p>Item, The pall shall be held up by the six most known
  pretenders to honesty, wealth and power, who are not <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page67' title='67' id="page67"></a>possessed of
  any of them. The two first, an half-lawyer, a complete justice.
  The two next, a chemist, a projector. The third couple, a
  Treasury solicitor, and a small courtier.</p>

  <p>To make my funeral (what that solemnity, when done to common
  men, really is in itself) a very farce; and since all mourners
  are mere actors on these occasions, I shall desire those who are
  professedly such, to attend me. I humbly therefore beseech Mrs.
  Barry<a name='fntag135' id="fntag135"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote135'><sup>135</sup></a> to act once more, and be my
  widow. When she swoons away at the church-porch, I appoint the
  merry Sir John Falstaff, and the gay Sir Harry Wildair, to
  support her. I desire Mr. Pinkethman<a name='fntag136' id=
  "fntag136"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote136'><sup>136</sup></a> to follow in the habit of a
  cardinal, and Mr. Bullock<a name='fntag137' id=
  "fntag137"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote137'><sup>137</sup></a> in that of a privy councillor.
  To make up the rest of the appearance, I desire all the ladies
  from the balconies to weep with Mrs. Barry, as they hope to be
  wives and widows themselves. I invite all, who have nothing else
  to do, to accept of gloves and scarves.</p>

  <p>Thus, with the great Charles V. of Spain, I resign the glories
  of this transitory world: yet, at the same time, to show you my
  indifference, and that my desires are not too much fixed upon
  anything, I own to you, I am as willing to stay as go: therefore
  leave it in the choice of my gentle readers, whether I shall hear
  from them, or they hear no more from me.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, April 25.</h3>

  <p>Easter Day being a time when you can't well meet with any but
  humble adventures; and there being such a thing as low gallantry,
  as well as a low comedy, Colonel <a class="pagenum" name='page68'
  title='68' id="page68"></a>Ramble<a name='fntag138' id=
  "fntag138"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote138'><sup>138</sup></a> and myself went early this
  morning into the fields, which were strewed with shepherds and
  shepherdesses, but indeed of a different turn from the simplicity
  of those of Arcadia. Every hedge was conscious of more than what
  the representations of enamoured swains admit of. While we were
  surveying the crowd around us, we saw at a distance a company
  coming towards Pancras Church; but though there was not much
  disorder, we thought we saw the figure of a man stuck through
  with a sword, and at every step ready to fall, if a woman by his
  side had not supported him; the rest followed two and two. When
  we came nearer this appearance, who should it be but Monsieur
  Guardeloop, mine and Ramble's French tailor, attended by others,
  leading one of Madame Depingle's<a name='fntag139' id=
  "fntag139"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote139'><sup>139</sup></a> maids to the church, in order
  to their espousals. It was his sword tucked so high above his
  waist, and the circumflex which persons of his profession take in
  their walking, that made him appear at a distance wounded and
  falling. But the morning being rainy, methought the march to this
  wedding was but too lively a picture of wedlock itself. They
  seemed both to have a month's mind to make the best of their way
  single; yet both tugged arm in arm; and when they were in a dirty
  way, he was but deeper in the mire, by endeavouring to pull out
  his companion, and yet without helping her. The bridegroom's
  feathers in his hat all drooped, one of his shoes had lost an
  heel. In short, he was in his whole person and dress so extremely
  soused, that there did not appear one inch or single thread about
  him unmarried.<a name='fntag140' id="fntag140"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote140'><sup>140</sup></a> Pardon me, that the
  melancholy <a class="pagenum" name='page69' title='69' id=
  "page69"></a>object still dwells upon me so far, as to reduce me
  to punning. However, we attended to the chapel, where we stayed
  to hear the irrevocable words pronounced upon our old servant,
  and made the best of our way to town. I took a resolution to
  forbear all married persons, or any, in danger of being such, for
  four-and-twenty hours at least; therefore dressed, and went to
  visit Florimel, the vainest thing in town, where I knew would
  drop in Colonel Picket, just come from the camp, her professed
  admirer. He is of that order of men who has much honour and
  merit, but withal a coxcomb; the other of that set of females,
  who has innocence and wit, but the first of coquettes. It is easy
  to believe, these must be admirers of each other. She says, "The
  Colonel rides the best of any man in England": the Colonel says,
  "She talks the best of any woman." At the same time, he
  understands wit just as she does horsemanship. You are to know,
  these extraordinary persons see each other daily; and they
  themselves, as well as the town, think it will be a match: but it
  can never happen that they can come to the point; for instead of
  addressing to each other, they spend their whole time in reports
  of themselves. He is satisfied if he can convince her he is a
  fine gentleman, and a man of consequence; and she, in appearing
  to him an accomplished lady and a wit, without further design.
  Thus he tells her of his manner of posting his men at such a
  pass, with the numbers he commanded on that detachment: she tells
  him, how she was dressed on such a day at Court, and what offers
  were made her the week following. She seems to hear the
  repetition of his men's names with admiration; and waits only to
  answer him with as false a muster of lovers. They talk to each
  other not to be informed, but approved. Thus they are so like,
  that they are to be ever distant, and the parallel lines may run
  together for ever, but never meet.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page70' title='70' id=
  "page70"></a></p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 25.</h3>

  <p>This evening, the comedy, called "Epsom Wells,"<a name=
  'fntag141' id="fntag141"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote141'><sup>141</sup></a> was acted for the benefit of
  Mr. Bullock,<a name='fntag142' id="fntag142"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote142'><sup>142</sup></a> who, though he is a person
  of much wit and ingenuity, has a peculiar talent of looking like
  a fool, and therefore excellently well qualified for the part of
  Biskett in this play. I cannot indeed sufficiently admire his way
  of bearing a beating, as he does in this drama, and that with
  such a natural air and propriety of folly, that one cannot help
  wishing the whip in one's own hand; so richly does he seem to
  deserve his chastisement. Skilful actors think it a very peculiar
  happiness to play in a scene with such as top their parts.
  Therefore I cannot but say, when the judgment of any good author
  directs him to write a beating for Mr. Bullock from Mr. William
  Pinkethman, or for Mr. William Pinkethman from Mr. Bullock, those
  excellent players seem to be in their most shining circumstances,
  and please me more, but with a different sort of delight, than
  that which I receive from those grave scenes of Brutus and
  Cassius, or Antony and Ventidius. The whole comedy is very just,
  and the low part of human life represented with much humour and
  wit.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 25.</h3>

  <p>We are advised from Vienna, by letters of the 20th instant,
  that the Emperor hath lately added twenty new members to his
  Council of State, but they have not yet taken their places at the
  board. General Thaun is returned from Baden, his health being so
  well re-established by the baths of that place, that he designs
  to set out next week for Turin, to his command of the Imperial
  troops in <a class="pagenum" name='page71' title='71' id=
  "page71"></a>the service of the Duke of Savoy. His Imperial
  Majesty has advanced his brother Count Henry Thaun to be a
  brigadier, and a Councillor of the Aulic Council of War. These
  letters import, that King Stanislaus and the Swedish General
  Crassau are directing their march to the Nieper, to join the King
  of Sweden's army in Ukrania: that the States of Austria have
  furnished Marshal Heister with a considerable sum of money, to
  enable him to push on the war vigorously in Hungary, where all
  things as yet are in perfect tranquillity: and that General
  Thungen has been very importunate for a speedy reinforcement of
  the forces on the Upper Rhine, representing at the same time,
  what miseries the inhabitants must necessarily undergo, if the
  designs of France on those parts be not speedily and effectually
  prevented.</p>

  <p>Letters from Rome, dated the 13th instant, say, that on the
  preceding Sunday his Holiness was carried in an open chair from
  St. Peter's to St. Mary's, attended by the Sacred College, in
  cavalcade; and, after Mass, distributed several dowries for the
  marriage of poor and distressed virgins. The proceedings of that
  Court are very dilatory concerning the recognition of King
  Charles, notwithstanding the pressing instances of the Marquis de
  Prie, who has declared, that if this affair be not wholly
  concluded by the 15th instant, he will retire from that Court,
  and order the Imperial troops to return into the ecclesiastical
  state. On the other hand, the Duke of Anjou's minister has, in
  the name of his master, demanded of his Holiness to explain
  himself on that affair; which, it is said, will be finally
  determined in a consistory to be held on Monday next; the Duke
  d'Uzeda designing to delay his departure till he sees the issue.
  These letters also say, that the Court was mightily alarmed at
  the news which they received by an express from Ferrara, that
  General Boneval, who commands <a class="pagenum" name='page72'
  title='72' id="page72"></a>in Commachio, had sent circular
  letters to the inhabitants of St. Alberto, Longastrino, Fillo,
  and other adjacent parts, enjoining them to come and swear fealty
  to the Emperor, and receive new investitures of their fiefs from
  his hands. Letters from other parts of Italy say, that the King
  of Denmark continues at Lucca; that four English and Dutch
  men-of-war were seen off of Oneglia, bound for Final, in order to
  transport the troops designed for Barcelona; and that her
  Majesty's ship the <i>Colchester</i> arrived at Leghorn the 4th
  instant from Port Mahon, with advice, that Major-General Stanhope
  designed to part from thence the 1st instant with 6000 or 7000
  men to attempt the relief of the Castle of Alicant.</p>

  <p>Our last advices from Berlin, bearing date the 27th instant,
  import, that the King was gone to Linum, and the Queen to
  Mecklenburg; but that their Majesties designed to return the next
  week to Oranienburg, where a great chase of wild beasts was
  prepared for their diversion, and from thence they intend to
  proceed together to Potsdam; that the Prince Royal was set out
  for Brabant, but intended to make some short stay at Hanover.
  These letters also inform us, that they are advised from Obory,
  that the King of Sweden, being on his march towards Holki, met
  General Renne with a detachment of Muscovites, who placing some
  regiments in ambuscade, attacked the Swedes in their rear, and
  putting them to flight, killed 2000 men, the king himself having
  his horse shot under him.</p>

  <p>We hear from Copenhagen, that, the ice being broke, the Sound
  is again open for the ships; and that they hoped his Majesty
  would return sooner than they at first expected.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague, dated May the 4th, N.S., say that an
  express arrived there on the 1st from Prince Eugene to his Grace
  the Duke of Marlborough. The States are <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page73' title='73' id="page73"></a>advised, that the auxiliaries
  of Saxony were arrived on the frontiers of the United Provinces;
  as also, that the two regiments of Wolfembuttel, and 4000 troops
  from Wirtemberg, which are to serve in Flanders, are in full
  march thither. Letters from Flanders, say that the great convoy
  of ammunition and provisions which set out from Ghent for Lille,
  was safely arrived at Courtray. We hear from Paris, that the King
  has ordered the militia on the coasts of Normandy and Bretagne to
  be in a readiness to march; and that the Court was in
  apprehension of a descent, to animate the people to rise in the
  midst of their present hardships.</p>

  <p>They write from Spain, that the Pope's Nuncio left Madrid the
  10th of April, in order to go to Bayonne; that the Marquis de Bay
  was at Badajos to observe the motions of the Portuguese; and that
  the Count d'Estain, with a body of 5000 men, was on his march to
  attack Gironne. The Duke of Anjou has deposed the Bishop of
  Lerida, as being a favourer of the interest of King Charles; and
  has summoned a convocation at Madrid, composed of the
  archbishops, bishops and states of that kingdom, wherein he hopes
  they will come to a resolution to send for no more bulls to
  Rome.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag130'>[130]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote130' id="footnote130"></a>John Morphew
      was the publisher of the <i>Tatler</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag131'>[131]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote131' id="footnote131"></a>See <a href=
      '#number4'>No. 4</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag132'>[132]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote132' id="footnote132"></a>Stockjobbers,
      who contract for a sale of stock which they do not possess,
      are called sellers of bearskins; and universally whoever
      sells what he does not possess was said to sell the bear's
      skin, while the bear runs in the woods. "You never heard such
      bellowing about the town of the state of the nation,
      especially among the sharpers, sellers of
      bearskins&#8212;<i>i.e.</i> stockjobbers, &amp;c." (Swift).
      See <a href='#number38'>No. 38</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag133'>[133]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote133' id="footnote133"></a>Dr. Richard
      Bentley, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, took a leading
      part in the controversy regarding the genuineness of the
      Epistles of Phalaris. In 1709 he published critical notes on
      the Tusculan Disputations.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag134'>[134]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote134' id="footnote134"></a>There are
      several sneers at the members of the Royal Society in the
      <i>Tatler</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag135'>[135]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote135' id="footnote135"></a>See <a href=
      '#number1'>No. 1</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag136'>[136]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote136' id="footnote136"></a>See <a href=
      '#number4'>No. 4</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag137'>[137]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote137' id="footnote137"></a>William Bullock
      was a comic actor whose abilities are praised by Gildon and
      others. He was the original Sir Tunbelly Clumsy in Vanbrugh's
      "Relapse." Later on in this number (p. 70), Steele says that
      Bullock had a peculiar talent of looking like a fool, and in
      No. 188 he compares Bullock and
      Pinkethman in a satirical vein.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag138'>[138]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote138' id="footnote138"></a>Perhaps Colonel
      Hunter, afterwards Governor of New York; or Colonel Brett,
      one of the managers of Drury Lane Theatre.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag139'>[139]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote139' id="footnote139"></a>See <a href=
      '#number34'>No. 34</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag140'>[140]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote140' id="footnote140"></a>The pun is, of
      course, on the word "unmarred."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag141'>[141]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote141' id="footnote141"></a>By Thomas
      Shadwell, 1676.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag142'>[142]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote142' id="footnote142"></a>See note on p.
      67, above.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number8' id="number8"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 8.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, April 26.</i> to <i>Thursday, April
    28</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Wills Coffee-house, April 26.</h3>

  <p>The play of "The London Cuckolds"<a name='fntag143' id=
  "fntag143"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote143'><sup>143</sup></a> was acted this evening before a
  suitable audience, who were extremely well diverted with that
  heap of vice and <a class="pagenum" name='page74' title='74' id=
  "page74"></a>absurdity. The indignation which Eugenio, who is a
  gentleman of a just taste, has, upon occasion of seeing human
  nature fall so low in their delights, made him, I thought,
  expatiate upon the mention of this play very agreeably. "Of all
  men living," said he, "I pity players (who must be men of good
  understanding to be capable of being such) that they are obliged
  to repeat and assume proper gestures for representing things, of
  which their reason must be ashamed, and which they must disdain
  their audience for approving. The amendment of these low
  gratifications is only to be made by people of condition, by
  encouraging the presentation of the noble characters drawn by
  Shakespeare and others, from whence it is impossible to return
  without strong impressions of honour and humanity. On these
  occasions, distress is laid before us with all its causes and
  consequences, and our resentment placed according to the merit of
  the persons afflicted. Were dramas of this nature more acceptable
  to the taste of the town, men who have genius would bend their
  studies to excel in them. How forcible an effect this would have
  on our minds, one needs no more than to observe how strongly we
  are touched by mere pictures. Who can see Le Brun's<a name=
  'fntag144' id="fntag144"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote144'><sup>144</sup></a> picture of the Battle of Porus,
  without entering into the character of that fierce gallant
  man,<a name='fntag145' id="fntag145"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote145'><sup>145</sup></a> and being accordingly spurred
  to an emulation of his constancy and courage? When he is falling
  with his wound, the features are at the same time very terrible
  and languishing; and there is such a stern faintness <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page75' title='75' id="page75"></a>diffused
  through his look, as is apt to move a kind of horror, as well as
  pity, in the beholder. This, I say, is an effect wrought by mere
  lights and shades; consider also a representation made by words
  only, as in an account given by a good writer: Catiline in
  Sallust makes just such a figure as Porus by Le Brun. It is said
  of him, 'Catilina vero longe a suis inter hostium cadavera
  repertus est; paululum etiam spirans, ferocitatemque animi quam
  vivus habuerat in vultu retinens.'<a name='fntag146' id=
  "fntag146"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote146'><sup>146</sup></a> ('Catiline was found killed far
  from his own men among the dead bodies of the enemy: he seemed
  still to breathe, and still retained in his face the same
  fierceness he had when he was living.') You have in that one
  sentence, a lively impression of his whole life and actions. What
  I would insinuate from all this, is, that if the painter and the
  historian can do thus much in colours and language, what may not
  be performed by an excellent poet, when the character he draws is
  presented by the person, the manner, the look, and the motion, of
  an accomplished player? If a thing painted or related can
  irresistibly enter our hearts, what may not be brought to pass by
  seeing generous things performed before our eyes?" Eugenio ended
  his discourse, by recommending the apt use of a theatre, as the
  most agreeable and easy method of making a polite and moral
  gentry, which would end in rendering the rest of the people
  regular in their behaviour, and ambitious of laudable
  undertakings.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 27.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Naples of the 9th instant, N.S., advise, that
  Cardinal Grimani had ordered the regiment commanded by General
  Pate to march towards Final, in <a class="pagenum" name='page76'
  title='76' id="page76"></a>order to embark for Catalonia, whither
  also a thousand horse are to be transported from Sardinia,
  besides the troops which come from the Milanese. An English
  man-of-war has taken two prizes, one a vessel of Malta, the other
  of Genoa, both laden with goods of the enemy. They write from
  Florence of the 13th, that his Majesty of Denmark had received a
  courier from the Hague, with an account of some matters relating
  to the treaty of a peace; upon which he declared, that he thought
  it necessary to hasten to his own dominions.</p>

  <p>Letters from Switzerland inform us, that the effects of the
  great scarcity of corn in France were felt at Geneva; the
  magistrates of which city had appointed deputies to treat with
  the cantons of Berne and Zurich, for leave to buy up such
  quantities of grain within their territories as should be thought
  necessary. The Protestants of Tockenburg are still in arms about
  the convent of St. John, and have declared, that they will not
  lay them down, till they shall have sufficient security from the
  Roman Catholics, of living unmolested in the exercise of their
  religion. In the meantime the deputies of Berne and Tockenburg
  have frequent conferences at Zurich, with the regency of that
  canton, to find out methods for the quieting these disorders.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 3rd of May advise, that the
  President Rouillé, after his last conference with the deputies of
  the States, had retired to Bodegrave, five miles distant from
  Worden, and expected the return of a courier from France on the
  4th, with new instructions. It is said, if his answer from the
  French Court shall not prove satisfactory, he will be desired to
  withdraw out of these parts. In the meantime it is also reported,
  that his equipage, as an ambassador on this great occasion, is
  <a class="pagenum" name='page77' title='77' id=
  "page77"></a>actually on the march towards him. They write from
  Flanders, that the great convoy of provisions, which set out from
  Ghent, is safely arrived at Lille. Those advices add, that the
  enemy had assembled near Tournay a considerable body of troops
  drawn out of the neighbouring garrisons. Their high mightinesses
  having sent orders to their Ministers at Hamburg and Dantzic, to
  engage the magistrates of those cities to forbid the sale of corn
  to the French, and to signify to them, that the Dutch merchants
  will buy up as much of that commodity as they can spare, the
  Hamburgers have accordingly contracted with the Dutch, and
  refused any commerce with the French on that occasion.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment.</h3>

  <p>After the lassitude of a day spent in the strolling manner,
  which is usual with men of pleasure in this town, and with a head
  full of a million of impertinences, which had danced round it for
  ten hours together, I came to my lodging, and hastened to bed. My
  <i>valet-de-chambre</i><a name='fntag147' id=
  "fntag147"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote147'><sup>147</sup></a> knows my University trick of
  reading there; and he being: a good scholar for a gentleman, ran
  over the names of Horace, Tibullus, Ovid, and others, to know
  which I would have. "Bring Virgil," said I, "and if I fall
  asleep, take care of the candle." I read the sixth book over with
  the most exquisite delight, and had gone half through it a second
  time, when the pleasing ideas of Elysian Fields, deceased
  worthies walking in them, sincere lovers enjoying their
  languishment without pain, compassion for the unhappy spirits who
  had misspent their short daylight, and were exiled from the seats
  of bliss for ever; I say, I was deep again in my reading, when
  this mixture of <a class="pagenum" name='page78' title='78' id=
  "page78"></a>images had taken place of all others in my
  imagination before, and lulled me into a dream, from which I am
  just awake, to my great disadvantage. The happy mansions of
  Elysium by degrees seemed to be wafted from me, and the very
  traces of my late waking thoughts began to fade away, when I was
  cast by a sudden whirlwind upon an island, encompassed with a
  roaring and troubled sea, which shaked its very centre, and
  rocked its inhabitants as in a cradle. The islanders lay on their
  faces, without offering to look up, or hope for preservation; all
  her harbours were crowded with mariners, and tall vessels of war
  lay in danger of being driven to pieces on her shores. "Bless
  me!" said I, "why have I lived in such a manner that the
  convulsion of nature should be so terrible to me, when I feel in
  myself, that the better part of me is to survive it? Oh! may that
  be in happiness." A sudden shriek, in which the whole people on
  their faces joined, interrupted my soliloquy, and turned my eyes
  and attention to the object which had given us that sudden start,
  in the midst of an inconsolable and speechless affliction.
  Immediately the winds grew calm, the waves subsided, and the
  people stood up, turning their faces upon a magnificent pile in
  the midst of the island. There we beheld an hero of a comely and
  erect aspect, but pale and languid, sitting under a canopy of
  state. By the faces and dumb sorrow of those who attended we
  thought him in the article of death. At a distance sat a lady,
  whose life seemed to hang upon the same thread with his: she kept
  her eyes fixed upon him, and seemed to smother ten thousand
  thousand nameless things, which urged her tenderness to clasp him
  in her arms: but her greatness of spirit overcame those
  sentiments, and gave her power to forbear disturbing his last
  moment; which immediately approached. The hero looked up with an
  air of negligence, and satiety <a class="pagenum" name='page79'
  title='79' id="page79"></a>of being, rather than of pain to leave
  it; and leaning back his head, expired.<a name='fntag148' id=
  "fntag148"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote148'><sup>148</sup></a></p>

  <p>When the heroine, who sat at a distance, saw his last instant
  come, she threw herself at his feet, and kneeling, pressed his
  hand to her lips; in which posture she continued under the agony
  of an unutterable sorrow, till conducted from our sight by her
  attendants. That commanding awe, which accompanies the grief of
  great minds, restrained the multitude while in her presence; but
  as soon as she retired, they gave way to their distraction, and
  all the islanders called upon their deceased hero. To him,
  methought, they cried out, as to a guardian being, and I gathered
  from their broken accents, that it was he who had the empire over
  the ocean and its powers, by which he had long protected the
  island from shipwreck and invasion. They now give a loose to
  their moan, and think themselves exposed without hopes of human
  or divine assistance. While the people ran wild, and expressed
  all the different forms of lamentation, methought a sable cloud
  overshadowed the whole land, and covered its inhabitants with
  darkness: no glimpse of light appeared, except one ray from
  heaven upon the place in which the heroine now secluded herself
  from the world, with her eyes fixed on those abodes to which her
  consort was ascended.<a name='fntag149' id=
  "fntag149"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote149'><sup>149</sup></a> Methought, a long period of
  time had passed away in mourning and in darkness, when a twilight
  began by degrees to enlighten the hemisphere; and looking round
  me, I saw a boat rowed towards the shore, in which <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page80' title='80' id="page80"></a>sat a
  personage adorned with warlike trophies, bearing on his left arm
  a shield, on which was engraven the image of Victory, and in his
  right hand a branch of olive. His visage was at once so winning
  and so awful, that the shield and the olive seemed equally
  suitable to his genius.</p>

  <p>When this illustrious person<a name='fntag150' id=
  "fntag150"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote150'><sup>150</sup></a> touched on the shore, he was
  received by the acclamations of the people, and followed to the
  palace of the heroine. No pleasure in the glory of her arms, or
  the acclamations of her applauding subjects, were ever capable to
  suspend her sorrow for one moment, until she saw the olive branch
  in the hand of that auspicious messenger. At that sight, as
  Heaven bestows its blessings on the wants and importunities of
  mortals, out of its native bounty, and not to increase its own
  power, or honour, in compassion to the world, the celestial
  mourner was then first seen to turn her regard to things below;
  and taking the branch out of the warrior's hand, looked at it
  with much satisfaction, and spoke of the blessings of peace, with
  a voice and accent, such as that in which guardian spirits
  whisper to dying penitents assurances of happiness. The air was
  hushed, the multitude attentive, and all nature in a pause, while
  she was speaking. But as soon as the messenger of peace had made
  some low reply, in which, methought, I heard the word Iberia, the
  heroine assuming a more severe air, but such as spoke resolution,
  without rage, returned him the olive, and again veiled her face.
  Loud cries and clashing of arms immediately followed, which
  forced me from my charming vision, and drove me back to these
  mansions of care and sorrow.<a name='fntag151' id=
  "fntag151"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote151'><sup>151</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag143'>[143]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote143' id="footnote143"></a>A very coarse
      play by Edward Ravenscroft, produced in 1682, and often acted
      on Lord Mayors' days and other holidays.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag144'>[144]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote144' id="footnote144"></a>Charles Le
      Brun, who was born in 1619, and died in 1690, was the son of
      a sculptor, of Scotch extraction. Under Colbert's patronage
      he founded the Academy of Painting and Sculpture, at Paris,
      and he received many honours from Louis XIV. Le Brun's
      painting of the Defeat of Porus is 16 feet high and 39 feet 5
      inches long.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag145'>[145]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote145' id="footnote145"></a>Porus was an
      Indian king who was defeated and put to death by Alexander
      the Great. See Q. Curtius, viii. 12, 14.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag146'>[146]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote146' id="footnote146"></a>"Bell. Catil."
      cap. 61.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag147'>[147]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote147' id="footnote147"></a>Steele seems to
      have forgotten that he was Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., and had
      only an old maid-servant. (Nichols.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag148'>[148]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote148' id="footnote148"></a>Prince George
      of Denmark, the consort of Queen Anne, died on October 21,
      1708, after a few days' illness. This dream gives a picture
      of the state of England from his death until the conclusion
      of the negotiations at the Hague in 1709.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag149'>[149]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote149' id="footnote149"></a>The mourning of
      Queen Anne was so long that the manufacturers remonstrated,
      and secured a limit to the duration of public mournings.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag150'>[150]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote150' id="footnote150"></a>About this time
      the D[uke]. of M[arlborough]. returned from Holland with the
      preliminaries of a peace.&#8212;(Steele.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag151'>[151]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote151' id="footnote151"></a>"Mr.
      Bickerstaff thanks Mr. Quarterstaff for his kind and
      instructive letter dated the 26th instant" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number9' id="number9"></a><a class="pagenum" name=
    'page81' title='81' id="page81"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 9.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, April 28</i>, to <i>Saturday, April
    30</i>, 1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, April 28.</h3>

  <p>This evening we were entertained with "The Old
  Bachelor,"<a name='fntag152' id="fntag152"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote152'><sup>152</sup></a> a comedy of deserved
  reputation. In the character which gives name to the play, there
  is excellently represented the reluctance of a battered debauchee
  to come into the trammels of order and decency: he neither
  languishes nor burns, but frets for love. The gentlemen of more
  regular behaviour are drawn with much spirit and wit, and the
  drama introduced by the dialogue of the first scene with
  uncommon, yet natural conversation. The part of Fondlewife is a
  lively image of the unseasonable fondness of age and impotence.
  But instead of such agreeable works as these, the town has this
  half age been tormented with insects called "easy writers," whose
  abilities Mr. Wycherley one day described excellently well in one
  word: "That," said he, "among these fellows is called easy
  writing, which any one may easily write." Such jaunty scribblers
  are so justly laughed at for their sonnets on Phillis and
  Chloris, and fantastical descriptions in them, that an ingenious
  kinsman of mine,<a name='fntag153' id="fntag153"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote153'><sup>153</sup></a> of the family of the
  Staffs, Mr. Humphrey Wagstaff by name, has, to avoid their
  strain, run into a way perfectly new, and described things
  exactly as they happen: he never forms fields, or nymphs, or
  groves, where they are not, but makes the incidents just as they
  <a class="pagenum" name='page82' title='82' id=
  "page82"></a>really appear. For an example of it; I stole out of
  his manuscript the following lines: they are a Description of the
  Morning, but of the morning in town; nay, of the morning at this
  end of the town, where my kinsman at present lodges.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Now hardly here and there an hackney coach
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Appearing, showed the ruddy morn's approach.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Now Betty from her master's bed had flown,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And softly stole to discompose her own.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The slipshod 'prentice from his master's door,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Had pared the street, and sprinkled round the floor.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Now Moll had whirled her mop with dext'rous airs,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Prepared to scrub the entry and the stairs.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The youth with broomy stumps began to trace
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The kennel edge, where wheels had worn the place.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The smallcoal-man was heard with cadence deep,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Till drowned in shriller notes of chimney-sweep.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Duns at his lordship's gate began to meet;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And Brickdust Moll had screamed through half a street;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The turnkey now his flock returning sees,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Duly let out at nights to steal for fees.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>All that I apprehend is, that dear Numps will be angry I have
  published these lines; not that he has any reason to be ashamed
  of them, but for fear of those rogues, the bane to all excellent
  performances, the imitators. Therefore, beforehand, I bar all
  descriptions of the evenings; as, a medley of verses signifying,
  grey-peas are now cried warm: that wenches now begin to amble
  round the passages of the playhouse: or of noon; as, that fine
  ladies and great beaux are just yawning out of their beds and
  windows in Pall Mall, and so forth. I forewarn also all <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page83' title='83' id="page83"></a>persons from
  encouraging any draughts after my cousin; and foretell any man
  who shall go about to imitate him, that he will be very insipid.
  The family stock is embarked in this design, and we will not
  admit of counterfeits: Dr. Anderson<a name='fntag154' id=
  "fntag154"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote154'><sup>154</sup></a> and his heirs enjoy his pills,
  Sir. William Read<a name='fntag155' id="fntag155"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote155'><sup>155</sup></a> has the cure of eyes,
  and Monsieur Rozelli<a name='fntag156' id=
  "fntag156"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote156'><sup>156</sup></a> can only cure the gout. We
  pretend to none of these things; but to examine who and who are
  together, to tell any mistaken man he is not what he believes he
  is, to distinguish merit, and expose false pretences to it, is a
  liberty our family has by law in them, from an intermarriage with
  a daughter of Mr. Scoggan,<a name='fntag157' id=
  "fntag157"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote157'><sup>157</sup></a> the famous droll of the last
  century. This right I design to make use of; but will not
  encroach upon <a class="pagenum" name='page84' title='84' id=
  "page84"></a>the above-mentioned adepts, or any other. At the
  same time I shall take all the privileges I may, as an
  Englishman, and will lay hold of the late Act of
  Naturalisation<a name='fntag158' id="fntag158"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote158'><sup>158</sup></a> to introduce what I shall
  think fit from France. The use of that law may, I hope, be
  extended to people the polite world with new characters, as well
  as the kingdom itself with new subjects. Therefore an author of
  that nation, called La Bruyère, I shall make bold with on such
  occasions. The last person I read of in that writer, was Lord
  Timon.<a name='fntag159' id="fntag159"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote159'><sup>159</sup></a> Timon, says my author, is the
  most generous of all men; but is so hurried away with that strong
  impulse of bestowing, that he confers benefits without
  distinction, and is munificent without laying obligations. For
  all the unworthy, who receive from him, <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page85' title='85' id="page85"></a>have so little sense of this
  noble infirmity, that they look upon themselves rather as
  partners in a spoil, than partakers of a bounty. The other day,
  coming into Paris, I met Timon going out on horseback, attended
  only by one servant. It struck me with a sudden damp, to see a
  man of so excellent a disposition, and that understood making a
  figure so very well, so much shortened in his retinue. But
  passing by his house, I saw his great coach break to pieces
  before his door, and by a strange enchantment, immediately turned
  into many different vehicles. The first was a very pretty
  chariot, into which stepped his lordship's secretary. The second
  was hung a little heavier; into that strutted the fat steward. In
  an instant followed a chaise, which was entered by the butler.
  The rest of the body and wheels were forthwith changed into
  go-carts, and ran away with by the nurses and brats of the rest
  of the family. What makes these misfortunes in the affairs of
  Timon the more astonishing, is, that he has a better
  understanding than those who cheat him; so that a man knows not
  which more to wonder at, the indifference of the master, or the
  impudence of the servant.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, April 29.</h3>

  <p>It is matter of much speculation among the beaux and oglers,
  what it is that can have made so sudden a change, as has been of
  late observed, in the whole behaviour of Pastorella, who never
  sat still a moment till she was eighteen, which she has now
  exceeded by two months. Her aunt, who has the care of her, has
  not been always so rigid as she is at this present date; but has
  so good a sense of the frailty of woman, and falsehood of man,
  that she resolved on all manner of methods to keep Pastorella, if
  possible, in safety, against herself, and all her admirers. At
  the same time the good lady knew by long <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page86' title='86' id="page86"></a>experience, that a gay
  inclination, curbed too rashly, would but run to the greater
  excesses for that restraint: therefore intended to watch her, and
  take some opportunity of engaging her insensibly in her own
  interests, without the anguish of an admonition. You are to know
  then, that miss, with all her flirting and ogling, had also
  naturally a strong curiosity in her, and was the greatest
  eavesdropper breathing. Parisatis (for so her prudent aunt is
  called) observed this humour, and retires one day to her closet,
  into which she knew Pastorella would peep, and listen to know how
  she was employed. It happened accordingly, and the young lady saw
  her good governante on her knees, and after a mental behaviour,
  break into these words: "As for the dear child committed to my
  care, let her sobriety of carriage, and severity of behaviour, be
  such, as may make that noble lord, who is taken with her beauty,
  turn his designs to such as are honourable." Here Parisatis heard
  her niece nestle closer to the keyhole: she then goes on; "Make
  her the joyful mother of a numerous and wealthy offspring, and
  let her carriage be such, as may make this noble youth expect the
  blessings of an happy marriage, from the singularity of her life,
  in this loose and censorious age." Miss having heard enough,
  sneaks off for fear of discovery, and immediately at her glass,
  alters the sitting of her head; then pulls up her tucker,<a name=
  'fntag160' id="fntag160"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote160'><sup>160</sup></a> and forms herself into the
  exact manner of Lindamira: in a word, becomes a sincere convert
  to everything that's commendable in a fine young lady; and two or
  three such matches as her aunt feigned in her devotions, are at
  this day in her choice. This is the history and original cause of
  Pastorella's conversion from coquetry. The prudence <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page87' title='87' id="page87"></a>in the
  management of this young lady's temper, and good judgment of it,
  is hardly to be exceeded. I scarce remember a greater instance of
  forbearance of the usual peevish way with which the aged treat
  the young, than this, except that of our famous Noye,<a name=
  'fntag161' id="fntag161"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote161'><sup>161</sup></a> whose good nature went so far,
  as to make him put off his admonitions to his son, even till
  after his death; and did not give him his thoughts of him, till
  he came to read that memorable passage in his will: "All the rest
  of my estate," says he, "I leave to my son Edward (who is
  executor to this my will) to be squandered as he shall think fit:
  I leave it him for that purpose, and hope no better from him." A
  generous disdain and reflection, upon how little he deserved from
  so excellent a father, reformed the young man, and made Edward,
  from an errant rake, become a fine gentleman.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, April 29.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Portugal of the 18th instant, dated from
  Estremos, say, that on the 6th the Earl of Galway arrived at that
  place, and had the satisfaction to see the quarters well
  furnished with all manner of provisions, and a quantity of bread
  sufficient for subsisting the troops for sixty days, besides
  biscuits for twenty-five days. The enemy give out, that they
  shall bring into the field 14 regiments of horse, and 24
  battalions. The troops in the service of Portugal will make up
  14,000 foot, and 4000 <a class="pagenum" name='page88' title='88'
  id="page88"></a>horse. On the day these letters were despatched,
  the Earl of Galway received advice, that the Marquis de Bay was
  preparing for some enterprise, by gathering his troops together
  on the frontiers. Whereupon his Excellency resolved to go that
  same night to Villa-Vicosa, to assemble the troops in that
  neighbourhood, in order to disappoint his designs.</p>

  <p>Yesterday in the evening Captain Foxon, aide-de-camp to
  Major-General Cadogan, arrived here express from the Duke of
  Marlborough. And this day a mail is come in, with letters dated
  from Brussels of the 6th of May, N.S., which advise, that the
  enemy had drawn together a body, consisting of 20,000 men, with a
  design, as was supposed, to intercept the great convoy on the
  march towards Lille, which was safely arrived at Menin and
  Courtray, in its way to that place, the French having retired
  without making any attempt.</p>

  <p>We hear from the Hague, that a person of the first quality is
  arrived in the Low Countries from France, in order to be a
  plenipotentiary in an ensuing treaty of peace.</p>

  <p>Letters from France acknowledge, that Monsieur Bernard has
  made no higher offers of satisfaction to his creditors than of
  £35 per cent.</p>

  <p>These advices add, that the Marshal Boufflers, Monsieur Torcy
  (who distinguished himself formerly, by advising the Court of
  France to adhere to the treaty of partition), and Monsieur
  d'Harcourt (who negotiated with Cardinal Portocarrero for the
  succession of the crown of Spain in the House of Bourbon), are
  all three joined in a commission for a treaty of peace. The
  Marshal is come to Ghent: the other two are arrived at the
  Hague.</p>

  <p>It is confidently reported here that the Right Honour<a class=
  "pagenum" name='page89' title='89' id="page89"></a>able the Lord
  Townshend is to go with his Grace the Duke of Marlborough into
  Holland.<a name='fntag162' id="fntag162"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote162'><sup>162</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag152'>[152]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote152' id="footnote152"></a>Congreve's
      first play, produced in 1693. See also No. 193. This piece is attacked in Jeremy
      Collier's "Short View of the Profaneness and Immorality of
      the English Stage," 1698.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag153'>[153]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote153' id="footnote153"></a>Swift.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag154'>[154]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote154' id="footnote154"></a>A Scotch
      physician in the reigns of Charles I. and Charles II. An
      advertisement of his "famous Scots Pills" requested the
      public to beware of counterfeits, especially an ignorant
      pretender, one Muffen, who kept a china-shop.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag155'>[155]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote155' id="footnote155"></a>"Henley would
      fain have me to go with Steele and Rowe, &amp;c., to an
      invitation at Sir William Read's. Surely you have heard of
      him. He has been a mountebank, and is the Queen's oculist; he
      makes admirable punch, and treats you in gold vessels. But I
      am engaged, and won't go; neither indeed am I fond of the
      jaunt" (Swift's "Journal," April 11, 1711). Read was knighted
      in 1705, for services done in curing soldiers and sailors of
      blindness gratis. Beginning life as a tailor, he became Queen
      Anne's oculist in ordinary, and died in 1715. See
      <i>Spectator</i>, No. 547.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag156'>[156]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote156' id="footnote156"></a>Rozelli, the
      inventor of a specific for the gout, died at the Hague. In
      <a href='#number33'>No. 33</a> was an advertisement of the
      "Memoirs of the Life and Adventures of Signior Rozelli, at
      the Hague, giving a particular account of his birth,
      education, slavery, monastic state, imprisonment in the
      Inquisition at Rome, and the different figures he has since
      made, as well in Italy, as in France and Holland.... Done
      into English from the second edition of the French." This
      work, like the continuation of 1724, has been wrongly
      attributed to Defoe. Rozelli advertised in the <i>London
      Gazette</i>, for July 19, 1709, that the book was entirely
      fictitious, and a libel upon his character.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag157'>[157]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote157' id="footnote157"></a>We learn from
      Ben Jonson, that Scoggan, or Skogan, was M.A., and lived in
      the time of Henry IV. "He made disguises for the King's sons,
      writ in ballad-royal daintily well, and was regarded and
      rewarded." Jonson calls him the moral Skogan; and introduces
      him with Skelton, the poet laureate of Henry VIII., into his
      Masque, entitled "The Fortunate Isles," where he keeps them
      in character, and makes them rhyme in their own manner.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag158'>[158]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote158' id="footnote158"></a>7 Anne, cap. 5,
      was an "Act for naturalising Foreign Protestants." After the
      preamble, "Whereas many strangers of the Protestant or
      reformed religion would be induced to transport themselves
      and their estates into this kingdom, if they might be made
      partakers of the advantages and privileges which the
      natural-born subjects thereof do enjoy," it was enacted that
      all persons taking the oaths, and making and subscribing the
      declaration appointed by 6 Anne, cap. 23, should be deemed
      natural-born subjects; but no person was to have the benefit
      of this Act unless he received the sacrament. The Act was
      repealed by 10 Anne, c. 5, because "divers mischiefs and
      inconveniences have been found by experience to follow from
      the same, to the discouragement of the natural-born subjects
      of this kingdom, and to the detriment of the trade and wealth
      thereof."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag159'>[159]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote159' id="footnote159"></a>It has been
      alleged that there is here an allusion to the Duke of Ormond,
      whose servants enriched themselves at their master's expense
      (see <i>Examiner</i>, vol. iii. p. 48). But in the
      <i>Guardian</i>, No. 53, Steele, writing in his own name,
      declared that the character of Timon was not disgraceful, and
      that when he drew it he thought it resembled himself more
      than any one else.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag160'>[160]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote160' id="footnote160"></a>The tucker, an
      edging round the top of a low dress, began to be discontinued
      about 1713, as appears from complaints in the
      <i>Guardian</i>, <i>passim</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag161'>[161]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote161' id="footnote161"></a>"William Noye,
      of St. Burian in Cornwall, gentleman, was made
      Attorney-General in 1631; his will is dated June 3, 1634,
      about a month or six weeks before his death. The expedient
      did not operate an alteration in his son so altogether
      favourable; for within two years Edward was slain in a duel
      by one Captain Byron, who was pardoned for it" (Wood's
      "Athen. Oxon." 1691, i. 506). Noye's character is drawn in
      the first book of Clarendon's "History of the Civil War."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag162'>[162]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote162' id="footnote162"></a>"Mr.
      Bickerstaff has received the epistles of Mrs. Rebecca
      Wagstaff, Timothy Pikestaff and Wagstaff, which he will
      acknowledge farther as occasion shall serve" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number10' id="number10"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 10.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By Mrs.<a name='fntag163' id="fntag163"></a><a class='fn'
    href='#footnote163'><sup>163</sup></a> JENNY DISTAFF,
    half-sister to Mr. BICKERSTAFF.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, April 30</i>, to <i>Tuesday, May 3</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 1.</h3>

  <p>My brother Isaac having a sudden occasion to go out of town,
  ordered me to take upon me the despatch of the next advices from
  home, with liberty to speak it my own way; not doubting the
  allowances which would be given to a writer of my sex. You may be
  sure I undertook it with much satisfaction, and I confess, I am
  not a little pleased with the opportunity of running over all the
  papers in his closet, which he has left open for my use on this
  occasion. The first that I lay my hands on, is, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page90' title='90' id="page90"></a>a treatise
  concerning "The Empire of Beauty," and the effects it has had in
  all nations of the world, upon the public and private actions of
  men; with an appendix, which he calls, "The Bachelor's Scheme for
  Governing his Wife." The first thing he makes this gentleman
  propose, is, that she shall be no woman; for she is to have an
  aversion to balls, to operas, to visits: she is to think his
  company sufficient to fill up all the hours of life with great
  satisfaction: she is never to believe any other man wise,
  learned, or valiant; or at least but in a second degree. In the
  next place, he intends she shall be a cuckold; but expects, that
  he himself must live in perfect security from that terror. He
  dwells a great while on instructions for her discreet behaviour,
  in case of his falsehood. I have not patience with these
  unreasonable expectations, therefore turn back to the treatise
  itself. Here, indeed, my brother deduces all the revolutions
  among men from the passion of love; and in his preface, answers
  that usual observation against us, that there is no quarrel
  without a woman in it, with a gallant assertion, that there is
  nothing else worth quarrelling for. My brother is of a complexion
  truly amorous; all his thoughts and actions carry in them a
  tincture of that obliging inclination; and this turn has opened
  his eyes to see, we are not the inconsiderable creatures which
  unlucky pretenders to our favour would insinuate. He observes
  that no man begins to make any tolerable figure, till he sets out
  with the hopes of pleasing some one of us. No sooner he takes
  that in hand, but he pleases every one else by-the-bye. It has an
  immediate effect upon his behaviour. There is Colonel Ranter, who
  never spoke without an oath, till he saw the Lady Betty
  Modish;<a name='fntag164' id="fntag164"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote164'><sup>164</sup></a> now never gives his man an
  order, <a class="pagenum" name='page91' title='91' id=
  "page91"></a>but it is, "Pray, Tom, do it." The drawers where he
  drinks live in perfect happiness. He asked Will at the "George"
  the other day how he did? Where he used to say, "Damn it, it is
  so," he now believes there is some mistake: he must confess, he
  is of another opinion; but however he won't insist.</p>

  <p>Every temper, except downright insipid, is to be animated and
  softened by the influence of beauty: but of this untractable sort
  is a lifeless handsome fellow that visits us, whom I have dressed
  at this twelvemonth; but he is as insensible of all the arts I
  use, as if he conversed all that time with his nurse. He outdoes
  our whole sex in all the faults our enemies impute to us; he has
  brought laziness into an opinion, and makes his indolence his
  philosophy: insomuch, that no longer ago than yesterday in the
  evening he gave me this account of himself: "I am, madam,
  perfectly unmoved at all that passes among men, and seldom give
  myself the fatigue of going among them; but when I do, I always
  appear the same thing to those whom I converse with. My hours of
  existence, or being awake, are from eleven in the morning to
  eleven at night; half of which I live to myself, in picking my
  teeth, washing my hands, paring my nails, and looking in the
  glass. The insignificancy of my manners to the rest of the world
  makes the laughers call me a <i>quidnunc</i>, a phrase I shall
  never inquire what they mean by it. The last of me each night is
  at St. James's Coffee-house, where I converse, yet never fall
  into a dispute on any occasion, but leave the understanding I
  have, passive of all that goes through it, without entering into
  the business of life. <a class="pagenum" name='page92' title='92'
  id="page92"></a>And thus, madam, have I arrived by laziness, to
  what others pretend to by devotion, a perfect neglect of the
  world." Sure, if our sex had the liberty of frequenting
  public-houses and conversations, we should put these rivals of
  our faults and follies out of countenance. However, we shall soon
  have the pleasure of being acquainted with them one way or other,
  for my brother Isaac designs, for the use of our sex, to give the
  exact characters of all the chief politicians who frequent any of
  the coffee-houses from St. James's to the Change; but designs to
  begin with that cluster of wise heads, as they are found sitting
  every evening, from the left side of the fire, at the
  Smyrna,<a name='fntag165' id="fntag165"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote165'><sup>165</sup></a> to the door. This will be of
  great service for us, and I have authority to promise an exact
  journal of their deliberations; the publication of which I am to
  be allowed for pin-money. In the meantime, I cast my eye upon a
  new book, which gave me a more pleasing entertainment, being a
  sixth part of "Miscellany Poems," published by Jacob
  Tonson,<a name='fntag166' id="fntag166"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote166'><sup>166</sup></a> which I find, by my brother's
  notes upon it, no way inferior to the other volumes. There are,
  it seems, in this, a collection of the best pastorals that have
  hitherto appeared in England; but among them, none superior to
  that dialogue between Sylvia and Dorinda, written by one of my
  own sex,<a name='fntag167' id="fntag167"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote167'><sup>167</sup></a> where all our little
  weak<a class="pagenum" name='page93' title='93' id=
  "page93"></a>nesses are laid open in a manner more just, and
  with, truer raillery than ever man yet hit upon.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Only this I now discern.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From the things thou'st have me learn;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That womankind's peculiar joys
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From past or present beauties rise.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>But to reassume my first design, there cannot be a greater
  instance of the command of females, than in the prevailing charms
  of the heroine in the play which was acted this night, called
  "All for Love; or, The World Well Lost."<a name='fntag168' id=
  "fntag168"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote168'><sup>168</sup></a> The enamoured Antony resigns
  glory and power to the force of the attractive Cleopatra, whose
  charms were the defence of her diadem, against a people otherwise
  invincible. It is so natural for women to talk of themselves,
  that it is to be hoped all my own sex, at least, will pardon me,
  that I could fall into no other discourse. If we have their
  favour, we give ourselves very little anxiety for the rest of our
  readers. I believe I see a sentence of Latin in my brother's
  day-book of wit, which seems applicable on this occasion, and in
  contempt of the critics.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        &#8212;Tristitiam et metus
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Tradam protectis in mare Criticum
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Portare ventis.<a name='fntag169' id=
        "fntag169"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote169'><sup>169</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>But I am interrupted by a packet from Mr. Kidney,<a name=
  'fntag170' id="fntag170"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote170'><sup>170</sup></a> from the St. James's
  Coffee-house, which I am obliged to insert in the very style and
  words which Mr. Kidney uses in his letter.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page94' title='94' id=
  "page94"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 2.</h3>

  <p>We are advised by letters from Berne, dated the 1st instant,
  N.S., that the Duke of Berwick arrived at Lyons the 25th of the
  last month, and continued his journey the next day to visit the
  passes of the mountains, and other posts in Dauphine and
  Provence. These letters also informed us, that the miseries of
  the people in France are heightened to that degree, that unless a
  peace be speedily concluded, half of that kingdom would perish
  for want of bread. On the 24th, the Marshal de Thesse passed
  through Lyons, in his way to Versailles; and two battalions,
  which were marching from Alsace to reinforce the army of the Duke
  of Berwick, passed also through that place. Those troops were to
  be followed by six Battalions more.</p>

  <p>Letters from Naples of the 16th of April say, that the Marquis
  de Prie's son was arrived there, with instructions from his
  father, to signify to the viceroy the necessity his Imperial
  Majesty was under, of desiring an aid from that kingdom, for
  carrying on the extraordinary expenses of the war. On the 14th of
  the same month, they made a review of the Spanish troops in that
  garrison, and afterwards of the marines; one part of whom will
  embark with those designed for Barcelona, and the rest are to be
  sent on board the galleys appointed to convoy provisions to that
  place.</p>

  <p>We hear from Rome, by letters dated the 20th of April, that
  the Count de Mellos, envoy from the King of Portugal, had made
  his public entry into that city with much state and magnificence.
  The Pope has lately held two other consistories, wherein he made
  a promotion of two cardinals; but the acknowledgment of King
  Charles is still deferred.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page95' title='95' id=
  "page95"></a>Letters from other parts of Italy advise us, that
  the Doge of Venice continues dangerously ill: that the Prince de
  Carignan, having relapsed into a violent fever, died the 23rd of
  April, in his 80th year.</p>

  <p>Advices from Vienna of the 27th of April import, that the
  Archbishop of Saltzburg is dead, who is succeeded by Count
  Harrach, formerly Bishop of Vienna, and for these last three
  years coadjutor to the said Archbishop; and that Prince
  Maximilian of Lichtenstein has likewise departed this life, at
  his country seat called Cromaw in Moravia. These advices add,
  that the Emperor has named Count Zinzendorf, Count Goes, and
  Monsieur Consbruck, for his plenipotentiaries in an ensuing
  treaty of peace; and they hear from Hungary, that the
  Imperialists have had several successful skirmishes with the
  malcontents.</p>

  <p>Letters from Paris, dated May the 6th, say, that the Marshal
  de Thesse arrived there on the 29th of the last month; and that
  the Chevalier de Beuil was sent thither by Don Pedro Ronquillo
  with advice, that the confederate squadron appeared before
  Alicante the 17th, and having for some time cannonaded the city,
  endeavoured to land some troops for the relief of the castle; but
  General Stanhope finding the passes well guarded, and the
  enterprise dangerous, demanded to capitulate for the castle;
  which being granted him, the garrison, consisting of 600 regular
  troops, marched out with their arms and baggage the day
  following; and being received on board, they immediately set sail
  for Barcelona. These letters add, that the march of the French
  and Swiss regiments is further deferred for a few days; and that
  the Duke of Noailles was just ready to set out for Roussillon, as
  well as the Count de Bezons for Catalonia.</p>

  <p>The same advices say, bread was sold at Paris for 6d.
  <a class="pagenum" name='page96' title='96' id="page96"></a>per
  pound; and that there was not half enough, even at that rate, to
  supply the necessities of the people, which reduced them to the
  utmost despair; that 300 men had taken up arms, and having
  plundered the market of the suburb St. Germain, pressed down by
  their multitude the King's Guards who opposed them. Two of those
  mutineers were afterwards seized, and condemned to death; but
  four others went to the magistrate who pronounced that sentence,
  and told him, he must expect to answer with his own life for
  those of their comrades. All order and sense of government being
  thus lost among the enraged people, to keep up a show of
  authority, the captain of the Guards, who saw all their
  insolence, pretended, that he had represented to the King their
  deplorable condition, and had obtained their pardon. It is
  further reported, that the Dauphin and Duchess of Burgundy, as
  they went to the Opera, were surrounded by crowds of people, who
  upbraided them with their neglect of the general calamity, in
  going to diversions, when the whole people were ready to perish
  for want of bread. Edicts are daily published to suppress these
  riots, and papers, with menaces against the Government, are
  publicly thrown about. Among others, these words were dropped in
  a court of justice: "France wants a Ravilliac or a Jesuit to
  deliver her." Besides this universal distress, there is a
  contagious sickness, which, it is feared, will end in a
  pestilence. Letters from Bordeaux bring accounts no less
  lamentable: the peasants are driven by hunger from their abodes
  into that city, and make lamentations in the streets without
  redress.</p>

  <p>We are advised by letters from the Hague, dated the 10th
  instant, N.S., that on the 6th, the Marquis de Torcy arrived
  there from Paris; but the passport, by which he came, having been
  sent blank by Monsieur Rouillé, he <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page97' title='97' id="page97"></a>was there two days before his
  quality was known. That Minister offered to communicate to
  Monsieur Heinsius the proposals which he had to make; but the
  pensionary refused to see them, and said, he would signify it to
  the States, who deputed some of their own body to acquaint him,
  That they would enter into no negotiation till the arrival of his
  Grace the Duke of Marlborough, and the other Ministers of the
  Alliance. Prince Eugene was expected there the 12th instant from
  Brussels. It is said, that besides Monsieur de Torcy and Monsieur
  Pajot, Director-general of the Posts, there are two or three
  persons at the Hague whose names are not known; but it is
  supposed that the Duke d'Alba, ambassador from the Duke of Anjou,
  was one of them. The States have sent letters to all the cities
  of the Provinces, desiring them to send their deputies to receive
  the propositions of peace made by the Court of France.<a name=
  'fntag171' id="fntag171"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote171'><sup>171</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag163'>[163]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote163' id="footnote163"></a>The word "Miss"
      was still confined, in Steele's day, to very young girls or
      to young women of giddy or doubtful character. Thus
      Pastorella in <a href='#number9'>No. 9</a> is called "Miss,"
      and similarly we find "Miss Gruel" in <a href='#number33'>No.
      33</a>. In the "Original Letters to the <i>Tatler</i> and
      <i>Spectator</i>," printed by Charles Lillie (i. 223) there
      is a "Table of the Titles and Distinctions of Women," from
      which what follows is extracted. "Let all
      country-gentlewomen, without regard to more or less fortune,
      content themselves with being addressed by the style of
      'Mrs.' Let 'Madam' govern independently in the city, &amp;c.
      Let no women after the known age of 21 presume to admit of
      her being called 'Miss,' unless she can fairly prove she is
      not out of her sampler. Let every common maid-servant be
      plain 'Jane,' 'Doll,' or 'Sue,' and let the better-born and
      higher-placed be distinguished by 'Mrs. Patience,' 'Mrs.
      Prue,' or 'Mrs. Abigail.'"</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag164'>[164]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote164' id="footnote164"></a>Perhaps there
      is here an illusion to Mrs. Anne Oldfield (died 1730), and
      Brigadier-General Charles Churchill, brother of the Duke of
      Marlborough. Mrs. Oldfield acted as Lady Betty Modish in
      Cibber's "Careless Husband," a part which was not only
      written for, but copied from her. Her son by Churchill
      married Lady Mary Walpole.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag165'>[165]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote165' id="footnote165"></a>A coffee-house
      in Pall Mall. Swift and Prior frequented it: "Prior and I
      came away at nine, and sat at the Smyrna till eleven
      receiving acquaintance." "I walked a little in the Park till
      Prior made me go with him to the Smyrna
      Coffee-house."&#8212;("Journal to Stella," Oct. 15, 1710;
      Feb. 19, 1711.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag166'>[166]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote166' id="footnote166"></a>The sixth and
      last volume of the "Dryden" Miscellany Poems was published by
      Tonson in 1709. The elder Tonson, who was founder and
      secretary of the Kit Cat Club, died in 1736.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag167'>[167]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote167' id="footnote167"></a>By Elizabeth
      Singer, who became Mrs. Rowe in 1710, and died in 1737.
      Besides poems which gained for her the friendship of Prior,
      Dr. Watts, and Bishop Ken, she published "Friendship in
      Death, in twenty letters from the Dead to the Living," and
      "Letters Moral and Entertaining."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag168'>[168]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote168' id="footnote168"></a>Dryden's
      version of "Antony and Cleopatra" was produced in 1673.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag169'>[169]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote169' id="footnote169"></a>Horace, 1 Od.
      xxvi. 2. The joke consists in Mrs. Jenny Distaff mistaking
      Horace's "Creticum" for "Criticum," and so misapplying the
      passage.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag170'>[170]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote170' id="footnote170"></a>See <a href=
      '#number1'>No. 1</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag171'>[171]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote171' id="footnote171"></a>"In the absence
      of Mr. Bickerstaff, Mrs. Distaff has received Mr. Nathaniel
      Broomstick's letter" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number11' id="number11"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 11.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday May 3,</i> to <i>Thursday, May 5</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 3.</h3>

  <p>A kinsman<a name='fntag172' id="fntag172"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote172'><sup>172</sup></a> has sent me a letter,
  wherein he informs me, he had lately resolved to write an heroic
  poem, but by business had been interrupted, and has only made one
  <a class="pagenum" name='page98' title='98' id=
  "page98"></a>similitude, which he should be afflicted to have
  wholly lost, and begs of me to apply it to something, being very
  desirous to see it well placed in the world. I am so willing to
  help the distressed, that I have taken it in; but though his
  greater genius might very well distinguish his verses from mine,
  I have marked where his begin. His lines are a description of the
  sun in eclipse, which I know nothing more like than a brave man
  in sorrow, who bears it as he should, without imploring the pity
  of his friends, or being dejected with the contempt of his
  enemies. As in the case of Cato:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        When all the globe to Cæsar's fortune bowed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Cato alone his empire disallowed;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        With inborn strength alone opposed mankind,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        With heaven in view, to all below it blind:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Regardless of his friend's applause, or moan,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Alone triumphant, since he falls alone.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Thus when the Ruler of the genial day,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Behind some darkening planet forms his way,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Desponding mortals, with officious care,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The concave drum, and magic brass prepare;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Implore him to sustain the important fight,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And save depending worlds from endless night.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Fondly they hope their labour may avail,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To ease his conflict, and assist his toil.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Whilst he in beams of native splendour bright, }
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        (Though dark his orb appear to human sight) }
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Shines to the gods with more diffusive light. }
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To distant stars with equal glory burns,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Inflames their lamps, and feeds their golden urns.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Sure to retain his known superior tract,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And proves the more illustrious by defect."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page99' title='99' id=
  "page99"></a>This is a very lively image; but I must take the
  liberty to say, my kinsman drives the sun a little like Phaëton:
  he has all the warmth of Ph&#339;bus, but won't stay for his
  direction of it. Avail and toil, defect and tract, will never do
  for rhymes. But, however, he has the true spirit in him; for
  which reason I was willing to entertain anything he pleased to
  send me. The subject which he writes upon, naturally raises great
  reflections in the soul, and puts us in mind of the mixed
  condition which we mortals are to support; which, as it varies to
  good or bad, adorns or defaces our actions to the beholders: All
  which glory and shame must end in what we so much repine at,
  death. But doctrines on this occasion, any other than that of
  living well, are the most insignificant and most empty of all the
  labours of men. None but a tragedian can die by rule, and wait
  till he discovers a plot, or says a fine thing upon his exit. In
  real life, this is a chimera; and by noble spirits, it will be
  done decently, without the ostentation of it. We see men of all
  conditions and characters go through it with equal resolution:
  and if we consider the speeches of the mighty philosophers,
  heroes, law-givers, and great captains, they can produce no more
  in a discerning spirit, than rules to make a man a fop on his
  death-bed. Commend me to that natural greatness of soul,
  expressed by an innocent, and consequently resolute, country
  fellow, who said in the pains of the colic, "If I once get this
  breath out of my body, you shall hang me before you put it in
  again." Honest Ned! and so he died.<a name='fntag173' id=
  "fntag173"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote173'><sup>173</sup></a></p>

  <p>But it is to be supposed, from this place you may expect an
  account of such a thing as a new play is not to be omitted. That
  acted this night is the newest that ever <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page100' title='100' id="page100"></a>was writ. The author is my
  ingenious friend Mr. Thomas D&#8212;&#8212;y. The drama is
  called, "The Modern Prophets,"<a name='fntag174' id=
  "fntag174"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote174'><sup>174</sup></a> and is a most unanswerable
  satire against the late spirit of enthusiasm. The writer had by
  long experience observed, that in company, very grave discourses
  have been followed by bawdry; and therefore has turned the humour
  that way with great success, and taken from his audience all
  manner of superstition, by the agitations of pretty Mrs.
  Bignell,<a name='fntag175' id="fntag175"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote175'><sup>175</sup></a> whom he has, with great
  subtlety, made a lay-sister, as well as a prophetess; by which
  means, she carries on the affairs of both worlds with great
  success. My friend designs to go on with another work against
  winter, which he intends to call, "The Modern Poets"; a people no
  less mistaken in their opinions of being inspired than the other.
  In order to this, he has by him seven songs, besides many
  ambiguities, which cannot be mistaken for anything but what he
  means them. Mr. D&#8212;&#8212;y generally writes state-plays,
  and is wonderfully useful to the world in such representations.
  This method is the same that was used by old Athenians, to laugh
  out of countenance, or promote opinions among the people. My
  friend has therefore, against this play is acted for his own
  benefit, made two dances, which may be also of an universal
  benefit. In the first he has represenced absolute power, in the
  person of a tall man with a hat and feather, who gives his first
  minister, that stands just before him, a huge kick: the minister
  gives the kick to the next before; and so to the end of the
  stage. In this moral and practical jest, you <a class="pagenum"
  name='page101' title='101' id="page101"></a>are made to
  understand, that there is, in an absolute government, no
  gratification, but giving the kick you receive from one above you
  to one below you. This is performed to a grave and melancholy
  air; but on a sudden the tune moves quicker, and the whole
  company fall into a circle and take hands; then, at a certain
  sharp note, they move round, and kick as kick can. This latter
  performance he makes to be the representation of a free state;
  where, if you all mind your steps, you may go round and round
  very jollily, with a motion pleasant to yourselves and those you
  dance with: nay, if you put yourselves out, at the worst you only
  kick, and are kicked, like friends and equals.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 4.</h3>

  <p>Of all the vanities under the sun, I confess, that of being
  proud of one's birth is the greatest. At the same time, since in
  this unreasonable age, by the force of prevailing custom, things
  in which men have no hand are imputed to them; and that I am used
  by some people, as if Isaac Bickerstaff, though I write myself
  "Esquire," was nobody: to set the world right in that particular,
  I shall give you my genealogy, as a kinsman of ours has sent it
  me from the Heralds' Office. It is certain, and observed by the
  wisest writers, that there are women who are not nicely chaste,
  and men not severely honest in all families; therefore let those
  who may be apt to raise aspersions upon ours, please to give us
  as impartial an account of their own, and we shall be satisfied.
  The business of heralds is a matter of so great nicety, that to
  avoid mistakes, I shall give you my cousin's letter verbatim,
  without altering a syllable.<a name='fntag176' id=
  "fntag176"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote176'><sup>176</sup></a></p>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page102' title='102' id=
  "page102"></a>DEAR COUSIN,</p>

  <p>"Since you have been pleased to make yourself so famous of
  late, by your ingenious writings, and some time ago by your
  learned Predictions: since Partridge, of immortal memory, is dead
  and gone, who, poetical as he was, could not understand his own
  poetry; and philomathical as he was, could not read his own
  destiny: since the Pope, the King of France, and great part of
  his Court, are either literally or metaphorically defunct: since,
  I say, these things (not foretold by any one but yourself) have
  come to pass after so surprising a manner; it is with no small
  concern I see the original of the Staffian race so little known
  in the world as it is at this time; for which reason, as you have
  employed your studies in astronomy and the occult sciences, so I,
  my mother being a Welsh woman, dedicated mine to genealogy,
  particularly that of our own family, which, for its antiquity and
  number, may challenge any in Great Britain. The Staffs are
  originally of Staffordshire, which took its name from them: the
  first that I find of the Staffs was one Jacobstaff, a famous and
  renowned astronomer, who by Dorothy his wife, had issue seven
  sons; viz., Bickerstaff, Longstaff, Wagstaff, Quarterstaff,
  Whitestaff, Falstaff, and Tipstaff. He also had a younger brother
  who was twice married, and had five sons; viz., Distaff,
  Pikestaff, Mopstaff, Broomstaff, and Raggedstaff. As for the
  branch from whence you <a class="pagenum" name='page103' title=
  '103' id="page103"></a>spring, I shall say very little of it,
  only that it is the chief of the Staffs, and called Bickerstaff,
  <i>quasi</i> Biggerstaff; as much as to say, the great staff, or
  staff of staffs; and that it has applied itself to astronomy with
  great success, after the example of our aforesaid forefather. The
  descendants from Longstaff, the second son, were a rakish
  disorderly sort of people, and rambled from one place to another,
  till in Harry II.'s time they settled in Kent, and were called
  Long-tails, from the long tails which were sent them as a
  punishment for the murder of Thomas-à-Becket, as the legends say;
  they have been always sought after by the ladies; but whether it
  be to show their aversion to popery, or their love to miracles, I
  can't say. The Wagstaffs are a merry thoughtless sort of people,
  who have always been opinionated of their own wit; they have
  turned themselves mostly to poetry. This is the most numerous
  branch of our family, and the poorest. The Quarterstaffs are most
  of them prize-fighters or deer-stealers. There have been so many
  of them hanged lately, that there are very few of that branch of
  our family left. The Whitestaffs<a name='fntag177' id=
  "fntag177"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote177'><sup>177</sup></a> are all courtiers, and have had
  very considerable places: there have been some of them of that
  strength and dexterity, that five hundred of the ablest men in
  the kingdom<a name='fntag178' id="fntag178"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote178'><sup>178</sup></a> have often tugged in vain
  to pull a staff out of their hands. The Falstaffs are strangely
  given to whoring and drinking: there are abundance of them in and
  about London. And one thing is very remarkable of this branch,
  and that is, there are just as many women as men in it. There was
  a wicked stick of wood of this name in Harry IV.'s time, one Sir
  John Falstaff. As for Tipstaff, the youngest son, he was
  <a class="pagenum" name='page104' title='104' id="page104"></a>an
  honest fellow; but his sons, and his sons' sons, have all of them
  been the veriest rogues living: it is this unlucky branch has
  stocked the nation with that swarm of lawyers, attorneys,
  serjeants, and bailiffs, with which the nation is overrun.
  Tipstaff, being a seventh son, used to cure the king's evil; but
  his rascally descendants are so far from having that healing
  quality, that by a touch upon the shoulder, they give a man such
  an ill habit of body, that he can never come abroad afterwards.
  This is all I know of the line of Jacobstaff: his younger brother
  Isaacstaff, as I told you before, had five sons, and was married
  twice; his first wife was a Staff (for they did not stand upon
  false heraldry in those days), by whom he had one son, who in
  process of time, being a schoolmaster, and well read in the
  Greek, called himself Distaff or Twicestaff: he was not very
  rich, so he put his children out to trades; and the Distaffs have
  ever since been employed in the woollen and linen manufactures,
  except myself, who am a genealogist. Pikestaff, the eldest son by
  the second venter, was a man of business, a downright plodding
  fellow, and withal so plain, that he became a proverb. Most of
  this family are at present in the army. Raggedstaff was an
  unlucky boy, and used to tear his clothes getting birds' nests,
  and was always playing with a tame bear his father kept. Mopstaff
  fell in love with one of his father's maids, and used to help her
  to clean the house. Broomstaff was a chimney-sweeper. The
  Mopstaffs and Broomstaffs are naturally as civil people as ever
  went out of doors; but alas! if they once get into ill hands,
  they knock down all before them. Pilgrimstaff run away from his
  friends, and went strolling about the country: and Pipestaff was
  a wine-cooper. These two were the unlawful issue of
  Longstaff.</p>

  <p>"N.B. The Canes, the Clubs, the Cudgels, the Wands, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page105' title='105' id="page105"></a>the Devil
  upon two Sticks, and one Bread, that goes by the name of Staff of
  Life, are none of our relations.</p>

  <p>"I am, dear Cousin,</p>

  <p>"Your humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"D. DISTAFF.</p>

  <p>"From the Heralds' Office, <i>May 1</i>."</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 4.</h3>

  <p>As politic news is not the principal subject on which we
  treat, we are so happy as to have no occasion for that art of
  cookery, which our brother-newsmongers so much excel in; as
  appears by their excellent and inimitable manner of dressing up a
  second time for your taste the same dish which they gave you the
  day before, in case there come over no new pickles from Holland.
  Therefore, when we have nothing to say to you from courts and
  camps, we hope still to give you somewhat new and curious from
  ourselves: the women of our house, upon occasion, being capable
  of carrying on the business, according to the laudable custom of
  the wives in Holland; but, without further preface, take what we
  have not mentioned in our former relations.</p>

  <p>Letters from Hanover of the 30th of the last month say, that
  the Prince Royal of Prussia arrived there on the 15th, and left
  that Court on the 2nd of this month, in pursuit of his journey to
  Flanders, where he makes the ensuing campaign. Those advices add,
  that the young Prince Nassau, hereditary governor of Friesland,
  consummated on the 26th of the last month his marriage with the
  beauteous princess of Hesse-Cassel, with a pomp and magnificence
  suitable to their age and quality.</p>

  <p>Letters from Paris say, his most Christian Majesty retired to
  Marli on the 1st instant, N.S., and our last advices from Spain
  inform us, that the Prince of Asturias had made his public entry
  into Madrid in great splendour. The Duke of Anjou has given Don
  Joseph Hartado de Amaraga the government of Terra-Firma de
  Veragua, and the presidency of Panama in America. They add, That
  the forces commanded by the Marquis de Bay had been reinforced by
  six battalions of Spanish and Walloon guards. Letters from Lisbon
  advise, That the army of the King of Portugal was at Elvas on the
  22nd of the last month, and would decamp on the 24th, in order to
  march upon the enemy, who lay at Badajos.</p>

  <p>Yesterday, at four in the morning, his Grace the Duke of
  Marlborough set out for Margate, and embarked for Holland at
  eight this morning.</p>

  <p>Yesterday also, Sir George Thorold was declared Alderman of
  Cordwainers' Ward, in the room of his brother Sir Charles
  Thorold, deceased.<a name='fntag179' id="fntag179"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote179'><sup>179</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag172'>[172]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote172' id="footnote172"></a>Jabez Hughes
      (died 1731), the author of these verses, was the younger
      brother of John Hughes. He published several translations,
      and his "Miscellanies in Verse and Prose" appeared in
      1737.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag173'>[173]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote173' id="footnote173"></a>"Honest Ned"
      was a farmer on the estate of Anthony Henley, who mentions
      this saying in a letter to Swift.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag174'>[174]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote174' id="footnote174"></a>D'Urfey's
      "Modern Prophets" attacked the enthusiasts known as "French
      Prophets," who were in the habit of assembling in Moorfields
      to exert their alleged gifts. Lord Chesterfield says that the
      Government took no steps, except to direct Powell, the
      puppet-show man, to make Punch turn prophet, which he did so
      well, that it put an end to the fanatics.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag175'>[175]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote175' id="footnote175"></a>See <a href=
      '#number3'>No. 3</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag176'>[176]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote176' id="footnote176"></a>The letter is
      by Heneage Twysden. (See Steele's Preface.) Heneage Twysden
      was the seventh son of Sir William Twysden, Bart., of Roydon
      Hall, East Peckham, Kent. At the time of his death (1709,
      aged 29) he was a captain of foot in Sir Richard Temple's
      Regiment, and aide-de-camp to John, Duke of Argyle. Near his
      monument in the north aisle of the Abbey are two other small
      ones to the memory of his brothers Josiah and John. Josiah, a
      captain of foot, was killed in Flanders in 1708, in his 23rd
      year; John was a lieutenant in the admiral's ship, under Sir
      Cloudesley Shovel, and perished with him in 1707, in his 24th
      year. [Chalmers.]&#8212;Heneage Twysden was killed at the
      battle of Blarequies.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag177'>[177]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote177' id="footnote177"></a>The allusion is
      to the staff carried by the First Lord of the Treasury.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag178'>[178]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote178' id="footnote178"></a>The House of
      Commons.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag179'>[179]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote179' id="footnote179"></a>"Any ladies who
      have any particular stories of their acquaintance, which they
      are willing privately to make public, may send them by the
      penny-post to Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., enclosed to Mr. John
      Morphew, near Stationers' Hall" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page106' title='106' id=
    "page106"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number12' id="number12"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 12.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, May 5</i>, to <i>Saturday, May 7</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>May 5.</h3>

  <p>When a man has engaged to keep a stage-coach, he is obliged,
  whether he has passengers or not, to set out: thus it fares with
  us weekly historians; but indeed, for my particular, I hope I
  shall soon have little more to do in this work, than to publish
  what is sent me from such as have leisure and capacity for giving
  delight, and <a class="pagenum" name='page107' title='107' id=
  "page107"></a>being pleased in an elegant manner. The present
  grandeur of the British nation might make us expect, that we
  should rise in our public diversions, and manner of enjoying
  life, in proportion to our advancement in glory and power.
  Instead of that, take and survey this town, and you'll find,
  rakes and debauchees are your men of pleasure; thoughtless
  atheists, and illiterate drunkards, call themselves free
  thinkers; and gamesters, banterers, biters,<a name='fntag180' id=
  "fntag180"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote180'><sup>180</sup></a> swearers, and twenty new-born
  insects more, are, in their several species, the modern men of
  wit. Hence it is, that a man who has been out of town but one
  half-year, has lost the language, and must have some friend to
  stand by him, and keep him in countenance for talking common
  sense. To-day I saw a short interlude at White's of this nature,
  which I took notes of, and put together as well as I could in a
  public place. The persons of the drama are, Pip, the last
  gentleman that has been made so at cards; Trimmer, a person half
  undone at them, and is now between a cheat and a gentleman;
  Acorn, an honest Englishman, of good plain sense and meaning; and
  Mr. Friendly, a reasonable man of the town.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page108' title='108' id=
  "page108"></a></p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 5.</h3>

  <p class="right">[<i>Enter</i> PIP, TRIM, <i>and</i> ACORN.</p>

  <p>AC. What's the matter, gentlemen? What! Take no notice of an
  old friend?</p>

  <p>PIP. Pox on it! don't talk to me, I am voweled by the Count,
  and cursedly out of humour.</p>

  <p>AC. Voweled! Prithee, Trimmer, what does he mean by that?</p>

  <p>TRIM. Have a care, Harry, speak softly; don't show your
  ignorance:&#8212;If you do, they'll bite you where-e'er they meet
  you; they are such cursed curs,&#8212;the present wits.</p>

  <p>AC. Bite me! What do you mean?</p>

  <p>PIP. Why! Don't you know what biting is? Nay, you are in the
  right on it. However, one would learn it only to defend oneself
  against men of wit, as one would know the tricks of play, to be
  secure against the cheats. But don't you hear, Acorn, that
  report, that some potentates of the Alliance have taken care of
  themselves, exclusive of us?</p>

  <p>AC. How! Heaven forbid! After all our glorious victories; all
  this expense of blood and treasure!</p>

  <p>PIP. Bite&#8212;</p>

  <p>AC. Bite! How?</p>

  <p>TRIM. Nay, he has bit you fairly enough; that's certain.</p>

  <p>AC. Pox! I don't feel it&#8212;how? Where?</p>

  <p class="right">[<i>Exit</i> PIP <i>and</i> TRIMMER,
  <i>laughing.</i></p>

  <p>AC. Ho! Mr. Friendly, your most humble servant; you heard what
  passed between those fine gentlemen and me. Pip complained to me,
  that he has been voweled; and they tell me, I am bit.</p>

  <p>FRIEND. You are to understand, sir, that simplicity of
  <a class="pagenum" name='page109' title='109' id=
  "page109"></a>behaviour, which is the perfection of good breeding
  and good sense, is utterly lost in the world; and in the room of
  it, there are started a thousand little inventions, which men,
  barren of better things, take up in the place of it. Thus, for
  every character in conversation that used to please, there is an
  impostor put upon you. Him whom we allowed formerly for a certain
  pleasant subtilty, and natural way of giving you an unexpected
  hit, called a droll, is now mimicked by a biter, who is a dull
  fellow, that tells you a lie with a grave face, and laughs at you
  for knowing him no better than to believe him. Instead of that
  sort of companion, who could rally you, and keep his countenance,
  till he made you fall into some little inconsistency of
  behaviour, at which you yourself could laugh with him, you have
  the sneerer, who will keep you company from morning to night, to
  gather your follies of the day (which perhaps you commit out of
  confidence in him), and expose you in the evening to all the
  scorners in town. For your man of sense and free spirit, whose
  set of thoughts were built upon learning, reason, and experience,
  you have now an impudent creature made up of vice only, who
  supports his ignorance by his courage, and want of learning by
  contempt of it.</p>

  <p>AC. Dear sir, hold: what you have told me already of this
  change in conversation, is too miserable to be heard with any
  delight; but, methinks, as these new creatures appear in the
  world, it might give an excellent field to writers for the stage,
  to divert us with the representation of them there.</p>

  <p>FRIEND. No, no: as you say, there might be some hopes of
  redress of these grievances, if there were proper care taken of
  the theatre; but the history of that is yet more lamentable than
  that of the decay of conversation I gave you.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page110' title='110' id=
  "page110"></a>AC. Pray, sir, a little: I haven't been in town
  these six years, till within this fortnight.</p>

  <p>FRIEND. It is now some years since several revolutions in the
  gay world had made the empire of the stage subject to very fatal
  convulsions, which were too dangerous to be cured by the skill of
  little King Oberon,<a name='fntag181' id="fntag181"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote181'><sup>181</sup></a> who then sat in the
  throne of it. The laziness of this prince threw him upon the
  choice of a person who was fit to spend his life in contentions,
  an able and profound attorney, to whom he mortgaged his whole
  empire. This Divito<a name='fntag182' id="fntag182"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote182'><sup>182</sup></a> is the most skilful
  of all politicians: he has a perfect art in being unintelligible
  in discourse, and uncomeatable in business. But he having no
  understanding in this polite way, brought in upon us, to get in
  his money, ladder-dancers,<a name='fntag183' id=
  "fntag183"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote183'><sup>183</sup></a> rope-dancers, jugglers, and
  mountebanks, to strut in the place of Shakespeare's heroes, and
  Jonson's humorists. When the seat of wit was thus mortgaged,
  without equity of redemption, an architect<a name='fntag184' id=
  "fntag184"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote184'><sup>184</sup></a> arose, who has built the muse a
  new palace, but secured her no <a class="pagenum" name='page111'
  title='111' id="page111"></a>retinue; so that instead of action
  there, we have been put off by song and dance. This latter help
  of sound has also begun to fail for want of voices; therefore the
  palace has since been put into the hands of a surgeon,<a name=
  'fntag185' id="fntag185"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote185'><sup>185</sup></a> who cuts any foreign fellow
  into an eunuch, and passes him upon us for a singer of Italy.</p>

  <p>AC. I'll go out of town to-morrow.</p>

  <p>FRIEND.<a name='fntag186' id="fntag186"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote186'><sup>186</sup></a> Things are come to this
  pass; and yet the world will not understand, that the theatre has
  much the same effect on the manners of the age, as the bank on
  the credit of the nation. Wit and spirit, humour and good sense,
  can never be revived, but under the government of those who are
  judges of such talents, who know, that whatever is put up in
  their stead, is but a short and trifling expedient, to support
  the appearance of them for a season. It is possible, a peace will
  give leisure to put these matters under new regulations; but at
  present, all the assistance we can see towards our recovery, is
  as far from giving us help, as a poultice is from performing what
  can be done only by the Grand Elixir.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 6.</h3>

  <p>According to our late design in the applauded verses on the
  Morning,<a name='fntag187' id="fntag187"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote187'><sup>187</sup></a> which you lately had from
  hence, we proceed to improve that just intention, and present you
  with other labours, made proper to the place in which they were
  written. The following poem comes from <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page112' title='112' id="page112"></a>Copenhagen, and is as fine
  a winter-piece as we have ever had from any of the schools of the
  most learned painters. Such images as these give us a new
  pleasure in our sight, and fix upon our minds traces of
  reflection, which accompany us whenever the like objects occur.
  In short, excellent poetry and description dwell upon us so
  agreeably, that all the readers of them are made to think, if not
  write, like men of wit. But it would be injury to detain you
  longer from this excellent performance, which is addressed to the
  Earl of Dorset by Mr. Philips,<a name='fntag188' id=
  "fntag188"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote188'><sup>188</sup></a> the author of several choice
  poems in Mr. Tonson's new Miscellany.<a name='fntag189' id=
  "fntag189"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote189'><sup>189</sup></a></p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line right">
        <i>Copenhagen, March 9</i>, 1709.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        What present shall the muse to Dorset bring;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The hoary winter here conceals from sight
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        All pleasing objects that to verse invite.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The flowery plains, and silver streaming floods,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        By snow disguised, in bright confusion lie,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        No birds within the desert region sing.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The ships unmoved the boisterous winds defy,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The vast leviathan wants room to play,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And spout his waters in the face of day.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And to the moon in icy valleys howl.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        For many a shining league the level main
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Here spreads itself into a glassy plain:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        There solid billows of enormous size,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page113' title='113' id=
        "page113"></a>Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        And yet but lately have I seen e'en here,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The winter in a lovely dress appear;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        At evening a keen eastern breeze arose;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And the descending rain unsullied froze.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The face of nature in a rich disguise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And brightened every object to my eyes.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The thick-sprung reeds the watery marshes yield,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Seem polished lances in a hostile field.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The stag in limpid currents with surprise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That wave and glitter in the distant sun.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        When if a sudden gust of wind arise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The brittle forest into atoms flies:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And in a spangled shower the prospect ends.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Or if a southern gale the region warm,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And by degrees unbind the wintry charm;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The traveller a miry country sees,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page114' title='114' id=
        "page114"></a>And journeys sad beneath the dropping trees.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Like some deluded peasant, Merlin leads
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Through fragrant bowers, and through delicious meads;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        While here enchanted gardens to him rise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        His wandering feet the magic paths pursue;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And while he thinks the fair illusion true,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And woods and wilds, and thorny ways appear:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And, as he goes, the transient vision mourns.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 6.</h3>

  <p>There has a mail this day arrived from Holland; but the matter
  of the advices importing rather what gives us great expectations,
  than any positive assurances, I shall, for this time, decline
  giving you what I know, and apply the following verses of Mr.
  Dryden, in the second part of "Almanzor," to the present
  circumstances of things, without discovering what my knowledge in
  astronomy suggests to me.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        When empire in its childhood first appears,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A watchful fate o'er sees its tender years:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Till grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And elbows all the kingdoms round about.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The place thus made for its first breathing free,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        It moves again for ease and luxury;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Till swelling by degrees it has possest
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The greater space, and now crowds up the rest.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page115' title='115' id=
        "page115"></a>When from behind there starts some petty
        state,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And pushes on its now unwieldy fate.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Then down the precipice of time it goes,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose.<a name='fntag190'
        id="fntag190"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote190'><sup>190</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag180'>[180]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote180' id="footnote180"></a>"I'll teach you
      a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson; it is a new-fashioned way of
      being witty, and they call it a <i>bite</i>. You must ask a
      bantering question, or tell some damned lie in a serious
      manner, then she will answer, or speak as if you were in
      earnest, and then cry you, 'Madam, there's a <i>bite</i>.' I
      would not have you undervalue this, for it is the constant
      amusement in Court, and everywhere else among the great
      people; and I let you know it, in order to have it obtain
      among you, and to teach you a new refinement" (Swift's
      "Journal"). See the <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 47, 504: "<i>A
      Biter</i> is one who tells you a thing you have no reason to
      disbelieve in itself; and perhaps has given you, before he
      bit you, no reason to disbelieve it for his saying it; and if
      you give him credit, laughs in your face, and triumphs that
      he has deceived you. In a word, a <i>Biter</i> is one who
      thinks you a fool, because you do not think him a knave."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag181'>[181]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote181' id="footnote181"></a>Owen McSwiney,
      a manager of Drury Lane Theatre, and afterwards of the
      Haymarket Theatre. After living in Italy for some years, he
      obtained a place in the Custom-house, and was keeper of the
      King's Mews. On his death in 1754 he left his fortune to Mrs.
      Woffington.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag182'>[182]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote182' id="footnote182"></a>Christopher
      Rich, manager of Drury Lane Theatre, who died in 1714, was at
      this time involved in a quarrel with the principal actors
      about the profits of their benefits.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag183'>[183]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote183' id="footnote183"></a>Cibber
      ("Apology," chap. x.) complains that Rich paid extraordinary
      prices to singers, dancers, and other exotic performers,
      which were as constantly deducted out of the sinking salaries
      of his actors. In December, 1709, the Lord Chamberlain
      ordered that no new representations were to be brought upon
      the stage which were not necessary to the better performance
      of comedy or opera, "such as ladder-dancing, antic postures,"
      &amp;c., without his leave.&#8212;(Lord Chamberlain's
      Records, Warrant Book, No. 22.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag184'>[184]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote184' id="footnote184"></a>Sir John
      Vanbrugh built the Haymarket Theatre in 1705. The new house
      was opened with a translation of an Italian opera, "The
      Triumph of Love", which met with little success. This was
      followed by Vanbrugh's "Confederacy."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag185'>[185]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote185' id="footnote185"></a>John James
      Heidegger, who died in 1749, aged 90, was the son of a Swiss
      clergyman. When over 40 he came to England, and became the
      chief director of the opera-house and masquerades. His face
      was remarkably ugly.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag186'>[186]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote186' id="footnote186"></a>"Trim", in
      original editions.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag187'>[187]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote187' id="footnote187"></a>See No. 9.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag188'>[188]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote188' id="footnote188"></a>"Philips
      writeth verses in a sledge upon the frozen sea," wrote Swift,
      "and transmits them hither to thrive in our warm climate
      under the shelter of my Lord Dorset." Addison refers to this
      poem by Ambrose Philips in No. 223 of the <i>Spectator</i>,
      and Pope commends it.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag189'>[189]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote189' id="footnote189"></a>The sixth and
      last volume of Tonson's "Miscellany" opens with Philips'
      Pastorals, and closes with those of Pope.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag190'>[190]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote190' id="footnote190"></a>"Almanzor and
      Almahide; or, The Conquest of Granada. The Second Part," act
      i. sc. I.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number13' id="number13"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 13.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, May 7</i>, to <i>Tuesday, May 10</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 8.</h3>

  <p>Much hurry and business had to-day perplexed me into a mood
  too thoughtful for going into company; for which reason, instead
  of the tavern, I went into Lincoln's Inn Walks; and having taken
  a round or two, I sat down, according to the allowed familiarity
  of these places, on a bench; at the other end of which sat a
  venerable gentleman, who speaking with a very affable air, "Mr.
  Bickerstaff," said he, "I take it for a very great piece of good
  fortune, that you have found me out." "Sir," said I, "I had
  never, that I know of, the honour of seeing you before." "That,"
  replied he, "is what I have often lamented; but I assure you, I
  have for many years done you good offices, without being observed
  by you; or else, when you had any little glimpse of my being
  concerned in an affair, you have fled from me, and shunned me
  like an enemy; but however, the part I am to act in the world is
  such, that I am to go on in doing good, though I meet with never
  so many repulses, even from those I oblige." This, thought I,
  shows a great good nature, but little judgment in the persons
  upon whom he confers his favours. He immediately took notice to
  me, that he observed by my countenance I <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page116' title='116' id="page116"></a>thought him indiscreet in
  his beneficence, and proceeded to tell me his quality in the
  following manner: "I know thee, Isaac, to be so well versed in
  the occult sciences, that I need not much preface, or make long
  preparations to gain your faith that there are airy beings, who
  are employed in the care and attendance of men, as nurses are to
  infants, till they come to an age in which they can act of
  themselves. These beings are usually called amongst men, guardian
  angels; and, Mr. Bickerstaff, I am to acquaint you, that I am to
  be yours for some time to come; it being our orders to vary our
  stations, and sometimes to have one patient under our protection,
  and sometimes another, with a power of assuming what shape we
  please, to ensnare our wards into their own good. I have of late
  been upon such hard duty, and know you have so much work for me,
  that I think fit to appear to you face to face, to desire you
  would give me as little occasion for vigilance as you can."
  "Sir," said I, "it will be a great instruction to me in my
  behaviour, if you please to give me some account of your late
  employments, and what hardships or satisfactions you have had in
  them, that I may govern myself accordingly." He answered: "To
  give you an example of the drudgery we go through, I will
  entertain you only with my three last stations: I was on the 1st
  of April last, put to mortify a great beauty, with whom I was a
  week; from her I went to a common swearer, and have been last
  with a gamester. When I first came to my lady, I found my great
  work was to guard well her eyes and ears; but her flatterers were
  so numerous, and the house, after the modern way, so full of
  looking-glasses, that I seldom had her safe but in her sleep.
  Whenever we went abroad, we were surrounded by an army of
  enemies: when a well-made man appeared, he was sure to have a
  side-glance of <a class="pagenum" name='page117' title='117' id=
  "page117"></a>observation: if a disagreeable fellow, he had a
  full face, out of mere inclination to conquests. But at the close
  of the evening, on the sixth of the last month, my ward was
  sitting on a couch, reading Ovid's 'Epistles'; and as she came to
  this line of Helen to Paris,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        She half consents who silently denies;<a name='fntag191'
        id="fntag191"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote191'><sup>191</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>entered Philander,<a name='fntag192' id=
  "fntag192"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote192'><sup>192</sup></a> who is the most skilful of all
  men in an address to women. He is arrived at the perfection of
  that art which gains them, which is, to talk like a very
  miserable man, but look like a very happy one. I saw Dictinna
  blush at his entrance, which gave me the alarm; but he
  immediately said something so agreeable on her being at study,
  and the novelty of finding a lady employed in so grave a manner,
  that he on a sudden became very familiarly a man of no
  consequence; and in an instant laid all her suspicions of his
  skill asleep, as he almost had done mine, till I observed him
  very dangerously turn his discourse upon the elegance of her
  dress, and her judgment in the choice of that very pretty
  mourning. Having had women before under my care, I trembled at
  the apprehension of a man of sense, who could talk upon trifles,
  and resolved to stick to my post with all the circumspection
  imaginable. In short, I prepossessed her against all he could say
  to the advantage of her dress and person; but he turned again the
  discourse, where I found I had no power over her, on the abusing
  her friends and acquaintance. He allowed indeed, that Flora had a
  little beauty, and a great deal of wit; but then she was so
  ungainly in her behaviour, and such a laughing
  hoyden&#8212;Pastorella <a class="pagenum" name='page118' title=
  '118' id="page118"></a>had with him the allowance of being
  blameless: but what was that towards being praiseworthy? To be
  only innocent, is not to be virtuous. He afterwards spoke so much
  against Mrs. Dipple's forehead, Mrs. Prim's mouth, Mrs.
  Dentifrice's teeth, and Mrs. Fidget's cheeks, that she grew
  downright in love with him: for it is always to be understood,
  that a lady takes all you detract from the rest of her sex to be
  a gift to her. In a word, things went so far, that I was
  dismissed, and she will remember that evening nine months, from
  the 6th of April, by a very remarkable token. The next, as I
  said, I went to was a common swearer: never was creature so
  puzzled as myself when I came first to view his brain; half of it
  was worn out, and filled up with mere expletives, that had
  nothing to do with any other parts of the texture; therefore,
  when he called for his clothes in a morning, he would cry,
  'John&#8212;?' John does not answer. 'What a plague! Nobody
  there? What the devil, and rot me! John, for a lazy dog as you
  are.' I knew no way to cure him, but by writing down all he said
  one morning as he was dressing, and laying it before him on the
  toilet when he came to pick his teeth. The last recital I gave
  him of what he said for half an hour before, was, 'What, a pox
  rot me! Where is the washball? Call the chairmen: damn them, I
  warrant they are at the ale-house already! Zounds, and confound
  them.' When he came to the glass, he takes up my note&#8212;'Ha!
  this fellow is worse than me: what, does he swear with pen and
  ink?' But reading on, he found them to be his own words. The
  stratagem had so good an effect upon him, that he grew
  immediately a new man, and is learning to speak without an oath,
  which makes him extremely short in his phrases; for, as I
  observed before, a common swearer has a brain without any idea on
  the swearing <a class="pagenum" name='page119' title='119' id=
  "page119"></a>side; therefore my ward has yet mighty little to
  say, and is forced to substitute some other vehicle of nonsense
  to supply the defect of his usual expletives. When I left him, he
  made use of, 'Oddsbodikins!' 'Oh me!' and, 'Never stir alive!'
  and so forth; which gave me hopes of his recovery. So I went to
  the next I told you of, the gamester. When we first take our
  place about a man, the receptacles of the pericranium are
  immediately searched. In his, I found no one ordinary trace of
  thinking; but strong passion, violent desires, and a continued
  series of different changes, had torn it to pieces. There
  appeared no middle condition; the triumph of a prince, or the
  misery of a beggar, were his alternate states. I was with him no
  longer than one day, which was yesterday. In the morning at
  twelve, we were worth four thousand pounds; at three, we were
  arrived at six thousand; half an hour after, we were reduced to
  one thousand; at four of the clock, we were down to two hundred;
  at five, to fifty; at six, to five; at seven, to one guinea; the
  next bet, to nothing: this morning, he borrowed half a crown of
  the maid who cleans his shoes; and is now gaming in Lincoln's Inn
  Fields among the boys for farthings and oranges, till he has made
  up three pieces, and then he returns to White's into the best
  company in town." This ended our first discourse; and it is
  hoped, you will forgive me, that I have picked so little out of
  my companion at our first interview. In the next, it is possible
  he may tell me more pleasing incidents; for though he is a
  familiar, he is not an evil spirit.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page120' title='120' id=
  "page120"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 9.</h3>

  <p>We hear from the Hague of the 14th instant, N.S., that
  Monsieur de Torcy hath had frequent conferences with the Grand
  Pensioner, and the other Ministers who were heretofore
  commissioned to treat with Monsieur Rouillé. The preliminaries of
  a peace are almost settled, and the proceedings wait only for the
  arrival of the Duke of Marlborough; after whose approbation of
  the articles proposed, it is not doubted but the methods of the
  treaty will be publicly known. In the meantime, the States have
  declared an abhorrence of making any step in this great affair,
  but in concert with the Court of Great Britain, and other princes
  of the Alliance. The posture of affairs in France does
  necessarily oblige that nation to be very much in earnest in
  their offers; and Monsieur de Torcy hath professed to the Grand
  Pensioner, that he will avoid all occasions of giving him the
  least jealousy of his using any address in private conversations
  for accomplishing the ends of his embassy. It is said, that as
  soon as the preliminaries are adjusted, that Minister is to
  return to the French Court. The States of Holland have resolved
  to make it an instruction to all their men-of-war and privateers,
  to bring into their ports whatever neutral ships they shall meet
  with laden with corn, and bound for France; and to avoid all
  cause of complaint from the potentates to whom these ships shall
  belong, their full demand for their freight shall be paid them
  there. The French Protestants residing in that country have
  applied themselves to their respective magistrates, desiring that
  there may be an article in the treaty of peace, which may give
  liberty of conscience to the Protestants in France. Monsieur
  Bosnage, minister of the Walloon church at Rotterdam, has been at
  the Hague and hath had some <a class="pagenum" name='page121'
  title='121' id="page121"></a>conferences with the deputies of the
  States on that subject. It is reported there, that all the French
  refugees in those dominions are to be naturalised, that they may
  enjoy the same good effects of the treaty with the Hollanders
  themselves, in respect of France.</p>

  <p>Letters from Paris say, the people conceive great hopes of a
  sudden peace, from Monsieur Torcy's being employed in the
  negotiation, he being a Minister of too great weight in that
  Court, to be sent on any employment in which his master would not
  act in a manner wherein he might justly promise himself success.
  The French advices add, that there is an insurrection in Poictou;
  3000 men having taken up arms, and beaten the troops which were
  appointed to disperse them: three of the mutineers being taken,
  were immediately executed; and as many of the king's party were
  used after the same manner.</p>

  <p>Our late Act of Naturalisation<a name='fntag193' id=
  "fntag193"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote193'><sup>193</sup></a> hath had so great an effect in
  foreign parts, that some princes have prohibited the French
  refugees in their dominions to sell or transfer their estates to
  any other of their subjects; and at the same time have granted
  them greater immunities than they hitherto enjoyed. It has been
  also thought necessary to restrain their own subjects from
  leaving their native country, on pain of death.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag191'>[191]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote191' id="footnote191"></a>Ovid's
      "Epistles," 1709; translation of "Helen's Epistle to Paris,"
      by the Earl of Mulgrave and Dryden.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag192'>[192]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote192' id="footnote192"></a>An original for
      Philander has been found in Lord Halifax. See <a href=
      '#number49'>No. 49</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag193'>[193]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote193' id="footnote193"></a>See <a href=
      '#number9'>No. 9</a>. "If the Whigs were now restored to
      power, the bill [for a general naturalisation] now to be
      repealed, would then be re-enacted, and the birthright of an
      Englishman reduced again to the value of twelve
      pence."&#8212;(<i>Examiner</i>, vol. i. No. 26.)</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number14' id="number14"></a><a class="pagenum" name=
    'page122' title='122' id="page122"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 14.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday May 10</i>, to <i>Thursday, May 12</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 10.</h3>

  <p>Had it not been that my familiar had appeared to me, as I told
  you in my last, in person, I had certainly been unable to have
  found even words, without meaning, to keep up my intelligence
  with the town: but he has checked me severely for my despondence,
  and ordered me to go on in my design of observing upon things,
  and forbearing persons; "for," said he, "the age you live in is
  such, that a good picture of any vice or virtue will infallibly
  be misrepresented; and though none will take the kind
  descriptions you make so much to themselves, as to wish well to
  the author, yet all will resent the ill characters you produce,
  out of fear of their own turn in the licence you must be obliged
  to take, if you point at particular persons." I took his
  admonition kindly, and immediately promised him to beg pardon of
  the author of the "Advice to the Poets,"<a name='fntag194' id=
  "fntag194"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote194'><sup>194</sup></a> for my raillery upon his work;
  though I aimed at no more in that examination, but to convince
  him, and all men of genius, of the folly of laying themselves out
  on such plans as are below their characters. I hope too it was
  done without ill-breeding, and nothing spoken below what a
  civilian (as it is allowed I am) may utter to a physician. After
  this preface, all the world may be safe from my writings; for if
  I can find nothing to commend, I am silent, and will forbear the
  subject: for, though I am a reformer, I scorn to be an
  inquisitor.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page123' title='123' id=
  "page123"></a>It would become all men, as well as me, to lay
  before them the noble character of Verus the magistrate,<a name=
  'fntag195' id="fntag195"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote195'><sup>195</sup></a> who always sat in triumph over,
  and contempt of, vice; he never searched after it, or spared it
  when it came before him: at the same time, he could see through
  the hypocrisy and disguise of those, who have no pretence to
  virtue themselves, but by their severity to the vicious. This
  same Verus was, in times long past, chief justice (as we call it
  amongst us) in Fælicia.<a name='fntag196' id=
  "fntag196"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote196'><sup>196</sup></a> He was a man of profound
  knowledge of the laws of his country, and as just an observer of
  them in his own person. He considered justice as a cardinal
  virtue, not as a trade for maintenance. Wherever he was judge, he
  never forgot that he was also counsel. The criminal before him
  was always sure he stood before his country, and, in a sort, a
  parent of it. The prisoner knew, that though his spirit was
  broken with guilt, and incapable of language to defend itself,
  all would be gathered from him which could conduce to his safety;
  and that his judge would wrest no law to destroy him, nor conceal
  any that could save him. In his time, there were a nest of
  pretenders to justice, who happened to be employed to put things
  in a method for being examined before him at his usual sessions:
  these animals were to Verus, as monkeys are to men, so like, that
  you can hardly disown them; but so base, that you are ashamed of
  their fraternity. It grew a phrase, "Who would do justice on the
  justices?" That certainly would Verus. I have seen an old trial
  where he sat judge on two of them; one was called Trick-Track,
  the other <a class="pagenum" name='page124' title='124' id=
  "page124"></a>Tearshift;<a name='fntag197' id=
  "fntag197"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote197'><sup>197</sup></a> one was a learned judge of
  sharpers, the other the quickest of all men at finding out a
  wench. Trick-Track never spared a pickpocket, but was a companion
  to cheats: Tearshift would make compliments to wenches of
  quality, but certainly commit poor ones. If a poor rogue wanted a
  lodging, Trick-Track sent him to gaol for a thief: if a poor
  whore went only with one thin petticoat, Tearshift would imprison
  her for being loose in her dress. These patriots infested the
  days of Verus, while they alternately committed and released each
  other's prisoners. But Verus regarded them as criminals, and
  always looked upon men as they stood in the eye of justice,
  without respecting whether they sat on the bench, or stood at the
  bar.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page125' title='125' id=
  "page125"></a></p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 11</h3>

  <p>Yesterday we were entertained with the tragedy of "The Earl of
  Essex,"<a name='fntag198' id="fntag198"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote198'><sup>198</sup></a> in which there is not one good
  line, and yet a play which was never seen without drawing tears
  from some part of the audience: a remarkable instance, that the
  soul is not to be moved by words, but things; for the incidents
  in this drama are laid together so happily, that the spectator
  makes the play for himself, by the force which the circumstance
  has upon his imagination. Thus, in spite of the most dry
  discourses, and expressions almost ridiculous with respect to
  propriety, it is impossible for one unprejudiced to see it
  untouched with pity. I must confess, this effect is not wrought
  on such as examine why they are pleased; but it never fails to
  appear on those who are not too learned in nature, to be moved by
  her first suggestions. It is certain, the person and behaviour of
  Mr. Wilks<a name='fntag199' id="fntag199"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote199'><sup>199</sup></a> has no small share in conducing
  to the popularity of the play; and when a handsome fellow is
  going to a more coarse exit than beheading, his shape and
  countenance make every tender one reprieve him with all her
  heart, without waiting till she hears his dying words.</p>

  <p>This evening "The Alchemist"<a name='fntag200' id=
  "fntag200"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote200'><sup>200</sup></a> was played. This comedy is an
  example of Ben's extensive genius and <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page126' title='126' id="page126"></a>penetration into the
  passions and follies of mankind. The scene in the fourth act,
  where all the cheated people oppose the man that would open their
  eyes, has something in it so inimitably excellent, that it is
  certainly as great a masterpiece as has ever appeared by any
  hand. The author's great address in showing covetousness the
  motive of the actions of the Puritan, the epicure, the gamester,
  and the trader; and that all their endeavours, how differently
  soever they seem to tend, centre only in that one point of gain,
  shows he had to a great perfection, that discernment of spirit,
  which constitutes a genius for comedy.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 11.</h3>

  <p>It is not to be imagined how far the violence of our desires
  will carry us towards our own deceit in the pursuit of what we
  wish for. A gentleman here this evening was giving me an account
  of a dumb fortune-teller,<a name='fntag201' id=
  "fntag201"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote201'><sup>201</sup></a> who outdoes Mr. Partridge,
  myself, or the unborn-doctor,<a name='fntag202' id=
  "fntag202"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote202'><sup>202</sup></a> for predictions. All his
  visitants come to him <a class="pagenum" name='page127' title=
  '127' id="page127"></a>full of expectations, and pay his own rate
  for the interpretations they put upon his shrugs and nods. There
  is a fine rich City widow stole thither the other day (though it
  is not six weeks since her husband's departure from her company
  to rest), and, with her trusty maid, demanded of him, whether she
  should marry again, by holding up two fingers, like horns on her
  forehead. The wizard held up both his hands forked. The relict
  desired to know, whether he meant by his holding up both hands,
  to represent that she had one husband before, and that she should
  have another? Or that he intimated, she should have two more? The
  cunning-man looked a little sour; upon which Betty jogged her
  mistress, who gave the other guinea; and he made her understand,
  she should positively have two more; but shaked his head, and
  hinted, that they should not live long with her. The widow
  sighed, and gave him the other half-guinea. After this
  prepossession, all that she had next to do, was to make sallies
  to our end of the town, and find out who it is her fate to have.
  There are two who frequent this place, whom she <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page128' title='128' id="page128"></a>takes for
  men of vogue, and of whom her imagination has given her the
  choice. They are both the appearances of fine gentlemen, to such
  as do not know when they see persons of that turn; and indeed,
  they are industrious enough to come at that character, to deserve
  the reputation of being such: but this town will not allow us to
  be the things we seem to aim at, and are too discerning to be
  fobbed off with pretences. One of these pretty fellows fails by
  his laborious exactness; the other, by his as much studied
  negligence. Frank Careless, as soon as his valet has helped on
  and adjusted his clothes, goes to his glass, sets his wig awry,
  tumbles his cravat; and in short, undresses himself to go into
  company. Will Nice is so little satisfied with his dress, that
  all the time he is at a visit, he is still mending it, and is for
  that reason the more insufferable; for he who studies
  carelessness, has, at least, his work the sooner done of the two.
  The widow is distracted whom to take for her first man; for Nice
  is every way so careful, that she fears his length of days; and
  Frank is so loose, that she has apprehensions for her own health
  with him. I am puzzled how to give a just idea of them; but in a
  word, Careless is a coxcomb, and Nice a fop: both, you'll say,
  very hopeful candidates for a gay woman just set at liberty. But
  there is a whisper, her maid will give her to Tom Terrour the
  gamester. This fellow has undone so many women, that he'll
  certainly succeed if he is introduced; for nothing so much
  prevails with the vain part of that sex, as the glory of
  deceiving them who have deceived others.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Desunt multa.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page129' title='129' id=
  "page129"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 11.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Berlin, bearing date May 11, N.S., inform us,
  that the birthday of her Prussian Majesty has been celebrated
  there with all possible magnificence; and the king made her on
  that occasion a present of jewels to the value of thirty thousand
  crowns. The Marquis de Quesne, who has distinguished himself by
  his great zeal for the Protestant interest, was, at the time of
  the despatch of these letters, at that Court, soliciting the king
  to take care, that an article in behalf of the refugees,
  admitting their return to France, should be inserted in the
  treaty of peace. They write from Hanover of the 14th, that his
  electoral highness had received an express from Count Merci,
  representing how necessary it was to the common cause, that he
  would please to hasten to the Rhine; for that nothing but his
  presence could quicken the measures towards bringing the imperial
  army into the field. There are very many speculations upon the
  intended interview of the King of Denmark and King Augustus. The
  latter has made such preparations for the reception of the other,
  that it is said his Danish Majesty will be entertained in Saxony
  with much more elegance than he met with in Italy itself.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 18th instant, N.S., say, that
  his Grace the Duke of Marlborough landed the night before at the
  Brill, after having been kept out at sea by adverse winds two
  days longer than is usual in that passage. His Excellency the
  Lord Townshend, her Majesty's ambassador extraordinary and
  plenipotentiary to the States-General, was driven into the Veere
  in Zealand on Thursday last, from whence he came to the Hague
  within few hours after the arrival of his grace. The duke, soon
  after his coming to the Hague, had a visit from the Pensioner of
  Holland. All things relating to the peace <a class="pagenum"
  name='page130' title='130' id="page130"></a>were in suspense till
  this interview; nor is it yet known what resolutions will be
  taken on that subject; for the troops of the Allies have fresh
  orders despatched to them to move from their respective quarters,
  and march with all expedition to the frontiers, where the enemy
  are making their utmost efforts for the defence of their country.
  These advices further inform us, that the Marquis de Torcy had
  received an answer from the Court of France to his letters which
  he had sent thither by an express on the Friday before.</p>

  <p>Mr. Bickerstaff has received letters from Mr. Coltstaff, Mr.
  Whipstaff, and Mrs. Rebecca Wagstaff; all which relate chiefly to
  their being left out in the genealogy of the family lately
  published;<a name='fntag203' id="fntag203"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote203'><sup>203</sup></a> but my cousin being a
  clerk in the Heralds' Office who writ that draught, and being at
  present under the displeasure of the chapter, it is feared, if
  that matter should be touched upon at this time, the young
  gentleman would lose his place for treason against the Kings at
  Arms.<a name='fntag204' id="fntag204"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote204'><sup>204</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag194'>[194]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote194' id="footnote194"></a>Sir Richard
      Blackmore. See <a href='#number3'>No. 3</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag195'>[195]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote195' id="footnote195"></a>Sir John Holt
      (see <i>Examiner</i>, vol. iv. No. 14) was born in 1642, made
      Recorder of London and knighted in 1686, and appointed Chief
      Justice of the King's Bench in 1689, a position which he
      filled very ably and impartially for twenty-one years. He
      died March 5, 1710.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag196'>[196]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote196' id="footnote196"></a>Britain.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag197'>[197]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote197' id="footnote197"></a>According to a
      MS. note in the copy of the Tatler referred to in a note to
      <a href='#number4'>No. 4</a>, these justices were "Sir H.
      C&#8212;&#8212; and Mr. C&#8212;&#8212;r." Who the latter was
      I do not know; the former appears to be meant for Sir Henry
      Colt, of whom Luttrell gives some particulars. In April 1694,
      a Bill was found against Sir Henry Colt and Mr. Lake, son to
      the late Bishop of Chichester, for fighting a duel in St.
      James's Park; the trial was to be on May 31. Sir Henry Colt,
      a Justice of the Peace, had a duel with Beau Feilding on the
      11th January, 1696, and Colt was run through the body. A
      reward of £200 was offered for Feilding's arrest, and he was
      captured in March; but in the following month he was set at
      liberty upon Colt promising not to prosecute. In July 1698,
      Colt unsuccessfully contested Westminster, and in December
      the Committee of Privileges decided that his petition against
      the return of Mr. Chancellor Montague and Mr. Secretary
      Vernon was vexatious, frivolous and scandalous; and Colt was
      put out of the commission of the peace for Westminster and
      Middlesex. In 1701, he became M.P. for Westminster, for one
      Parliament only. In August 1702, he was again displaced from
      being a Justice for Westminster. In July 1708, he was
      defeated at Westminster, and the petition which he lodged
      against Mr. Medlicot's election was dismissed, after Huggins,
      the head bailiff, had been examined.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag198'>[198]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote198' id="footnote198"></a>By John Banks,
      1685.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag199'>[199]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote199' id="footnote199"></a>Robert Wilks
      died in 1732, age 62. See No. 182,
      and the <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 268, 370: "When I am
      commending Wilks for representing the tenderness of a husband
      and a father in 'Macbeth', the contrition of a reformed
      prodigal in 'Harry the Fourth', the winning emptiness of a
      young man of good-nature and wealth in 'The Trip to the
      Jubilee', the officiousness of an artful servant in 'The
      Fox', when thus I celebrate Wilks, I talk to all the world
      who are engaged in any of those circumstances."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag200'>[200]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote200' id="footnote200"></a>Ben Jonson's
      "Alchemist" was published in 1610.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag201'>[201]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote201' id="footnote201"></a>Duncan
      Campbell, who is best known through Defoe's "History of the
      Life and Adventures of Mr. Duncan Campbell, a gentleman, who,
      though deaf and dumb, writes down any strange name at first
      sight, with their future contingencies of fortune," 1720.
      Several other books about Campbell appeared, and some said
      that he only pretended to be deaf and dumb. Campbell had a
      very large number of clients (<i>Spectator</i>, No. 560). He
      died in 1730.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag202'>[202]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote202' id="footnote202"></a>The name of
      this quack was Kirleus. He pretended to extraordinary
      endowments, on the score of his having been introduced into
      the world by means of the Cesarean operation. In the
      <i>Examiner</i>, vol. i. No. 49, original edition in folio,
      there is among the advertisements subjoined, July 5, 1711,
      notice given that some of his nostrums, which had been tested
      for fifty years, were to be had of "Mary Kirleus, widow of
      John Kirleus, son of Dr. Tho. Kirleus, a sworn physician in
      ordinary to K. Charles II." Nichols says that there were two
      male and two female quacks of the name of Kirleus; Thomas the
      father, and his son John, Susannah the widow of Thomas, and
      Mary the relict of John; but it does not appear that any of
      them all were rich. The women, after the decease of their
      husbands, engaged in a paper war, which was carried on about
      this time in polemical advertisements. Dr. Kirleus and Dr.
      Case (see <a href='#number20'>No. 20</a>) are said to have
      been sent for to prescribe to Partridge in his last illness.
      Garth ("Dispensary," canto iii.) wrote:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Whole troops of quacks shall join us on the place,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            From great Kirleus down to Doctor Case."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>"In Grays-Inn-lane in Plow-yard, the third door, lives Dr.
      Thomas Kirleus, a Collegiate Physician and sworn Physician in
      Ordinary to King Charles the Second until his death; who with
      a drink and pill (hindring no business) undertakes to cure
      any ulcers," &amp;c. &amp;c. "Take heed whom you trust in
      physick, for it's become a common cheat to profess it. He
      gives his opinion to all that writes or comes for nothing"
      (<i>Athenian Mercury</i>, February 13, 1694). See also
      <i>Tatler</i>, Nos. <a href="#number41">41</a>, 226, 240.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag203'>[203]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote203' id="footnote203"></a>See <a href=
      '#number11'>No. 11</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag204'>[204]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote204' id="footnote204"></a>"Castabella's
      complaint is come to hand" (folio). See No. 16.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number15' id="number15"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 15.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, May 12</i>, to <i>Saturday, May 14</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 12.</h3>

  <p>I have taken a resolution hereafter, on any want of
  intelligence, to carry my familiar abroad with me, who has
  promised to give me very proper and just notices of persons and
  things, to make up the history of the passing day. He is
  wonderfully skilful in the knowledge of men and manners, which
  has made me more than ordinary <a class="pagenum" name='page131'
  title='131' id="page131"></a>curious to know how he came to that
  perfection, and I communicated to him that doubt. "Mr. Pacolet,"
  said I, "I am mightily surprised to see you so good a judge of
  our nature and circumstances, since you are a mere spirit, and
  have no knowledge of the bodily part of us." He answered,
  smiling, "You are mistaken, I have been one of you, and lived a
  month amongst you, which gives me an exact sense of your
  condition. You are to know, that all who enter into human life,
  have a certain date or stamen given to their being, which they
  only who die of age may be said to have arrived at; but it is
  ordered sometimes by fate, that such as die infants, are after
  death to attend mankind to the end of that stamen of being in
  themselves, which was broke off by sickness or any other
  disaster. These are proper guardians to men, as being sensible of
  the infirmity of their state. You are philosopher enough to know,
  that the difference of men's understanding proceeds only from the
  various dispositions of their organs; so that he who dies at a
  month old, is in the next life as knowing (though more innocent)
  as they who live to fifty; and after death, they have as perfect
  a memory and judgment of all that passed in their lifetime, as I
  have of all the revolutions in that uneasy, turbulent condition
  of yours; and, you'd say, I had enough of it in a month, were I
  to tell you all my misfortunes." "A life of a month, can't have,
  one would think, much variety; but pray," said I, "let us have
  your story."</p>

  <p>Then he proceeds in the following manner:</p>

  <p>"It was one of the most wealthy families in Great Britain into
  which I was born, and it was a very great happiness to me that it
  so happened, otherwise I had still, in all probability, been
  living: but I shall recount to you all the occurrences of my
  short and miserable existence, just as, by examining into the
  traces made in my brain, <a class="pagenum" name='page132' title=
  '132' id="page132"></a>they appeared to me at that time. The
  first thing that ever struck my senses, was a noise over my head
  of one shrieking; after which, methought I took a full jump, and
  found myself in the hands of a sorceress, who seemed as if she
  had been long waking and employed in some incantation: I was
  thoroughly frightened, and cried out, but she immediately seemed
  to go on in some magical operation, and anointed me from head to
  foot. What they meant I could not imagine; for there gathered a
  great crowd about me, crying, 'An heir, an heir'; upon which I
  grew a little still, and believed this was a ceremony to be used
  only to great persons, and such as made them, what they called,
  Heirs. I lay very quiet; but the witch, for no manner of reason
  or provocation in the world, takes me and binds my head as hard
  as possibly she could, then ties up both my legs, and makes me
  swallow down a horrid mixture; I thought it a harsh entrance into
  life to begin with taking physic; but I was forced to it, or else
  must have taken down a great instrument in which she gave it me.
  When I was thus dressed, I was carried to a bedside, where a fine
  young lady (my mother I wot) had like to have hugged me to death.
  From her, they faced me about, and there was a thing with quite
  another look from the rest of the room, to whom they talked about
  my nose. He seemed wonderfully pleased to see me; but I knew
  since, my nose belonged to another family. That into which I was
  born, is one of the most numerous amongst you; therefore crowds
  of relations came every day to congratulate my arrival; among
  others, my cousin Betty, the greatest romp in nature; she whisks
  me such a height over her head, that I cried out for fear of
  falling. She pinched me, and called me squealing chit, and threw
  me into a girl's arms that was taken in to tend me. The girl was
  <a class="pagenum" name='page133' title='133' id=
  "page133"></a>very proud of the womanly employment of a nurse,
  and took upon her to strip and dress me anew, because I made a
  noise, to see what ailed me: she did so, and stuck a pin in every
  joint about me. I still cried: upon which, she lays me on my face
  in her lap; and to quiet me, fell a nailing in all the pins, by
  clapping me on the back, and screaming a lullaby. But my pain
  made me exalt my voice above hers, which brought up the nurse,
  the witch I first saw, and my grandmother. The girl is turned
  down stairs, and I stripped again, as well to find out what ailed
  me, as to satisfy my granam's further curiosity. This good old
  woman's visit was the cause of all my troubles. You are to
  understand, that I was hitherto bred by hand, and anybody that
  stood next, gave me pap, if I did but open my lips; insomuch,
  that I was grown so cunning, as to pretend myself asleep when I
  was not, to prevent my being crammed. But my grandmother began a
  loud lecture upon the idleness of the wives of this age, who, for
  fear of their shape, forbear suckling their own offspring; and
  ten nurses were immediately sent for; one was whispered to have a
  wanton eye, and would soon spoil her milk; another was in a
  consumption; the third had an ill voice, and would frighten me,
  instead of lulling me to sleep. Such exceptions were made against
  all but one country milch-wench, to whom I was committed, and put
  to the breast. This careless jade was eternally romping with the
  footmen, and downright starved me; insomuch that I daily pined
  away, and should never have been relieved, had it not been, that
  on the thirtieth day of my life, a fellow of the Royal
  Society,<a name='fntag205' id="fntag205"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote205'><sup>205</sup></a> who had writ upon <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page134' title='134' id="page134"></a>Cold Baths,
  came to visit me, and solemnly protested, I was utterly lost for
  want of that method: upon which he soused me head and ears into a
  pail of water, where I had the good fortune to be drowned, and so
  escaped being lashed into a linguist till sixteen, running after
  wenches till twenty-five, and being married to an ill-natured
  wife till sixty: which had certainly been my fate, had not the
  enchantment between body and soul been broke by this philosopher.
  Thus, till the age I should have otherwise lived, I am obliged to
  watch the steps of men; and if you please, shall accompany you in
  your present walks, and get you intelligence from the aërial
  lackey, who is in waiting, what are the thoughts and purposes of
  any whom you inquire for." I accepted his kind offer, and
  immediately took him with me in a hack to White's.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 13.</h3>

  <p>We got in hither, and my companion threw a powder round us,
  that made me as invisible as himself; so that we could see and
  hear all others; ourselves unseen and unheard.</p>

  <p>The first thing we took notice of, was a nobleman of a goodly
  and frank aspect, with his generous birth and temper visible in
  it, playing at cards with a creature of a black and horrid
  countenance, wherein were plainly delineated the arts of his
  mind, cozenage and falsehood. They were marking their game with
  counters, on which we could see inscriptions, imperceptible to
  any but us. My lord had scored with pieces of ivory, on which
  were writ, Good Fame, Glory, Riches, Honour, and Posterity. The
  spectre over against him had on his counters the inscriptions of,
  Dishonour, Impudence, Poverty, Ignorance, and Want of Shame.
  "Bless me!" said I, "sure my lord does not see what he plays
  for!" "As well as I <a class="pagenum" name='page135' title='135'
  id="page135"></a>do," says Pacolet. "He despises that fellow he
  plays with, and scorns himself for making him his companion." At
  the very instant he was speaking, I saw the fellow who played
  with my lord, hide two cards in the roll of his stocking: Pacolet
  immediately stole them from thence; upon which the nobleman soon
  after won the game. The little triumph he appeared in, when he
  got such a trifling stock of ready money, though he had ventured
  so great sums with indifference, increased my admiration. But
  Pacolet began to talk to me. "Mr. Isaac, this to you looks
  wonderful, but not at all to us higher beings: that noble has as
  many good qualities as any man of his order, and seems to have no
  faults but what, as I may say, are excrescences from virtues: he
  is generous to a prodigality, more affable than is consistent
  with his quality, and courageous to a rashness. Yet, after all
  this, the source of his whole conduct is (though he would hate
  himself if he knew it) mere avarice. The ready cash laid before
  the gamester's counters makes him venture, as you see, and lay
  distinction against infamy, abundance against want; in a word,
  all that's desirable against all that's to be avoided."
  "However," said I, "be sure you disappoint the sharpers to-night,
  and steal from them all the cards they hide." Pacolet obeyed me,
  and my lord went home with their whole bank in his pocket.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 13.</h3>

  <p>To-night was acted a second time a comedy, called "The Busy
  Body:"<a name='fntag206' id="fntag206"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote206'><sup>206</sup></a> this play is written by a lady.
  In old times, we used to sit upon a play here after it was acted;
  but now the entertainment is turned another way; <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page136' title='136' id="page136"></a>not but
  there are considerable men appear in all ages, who, for some
  eminent quality or invention, deserve the esteem and thanks of
  the public. Such a benefactor is a gentleman of this house, who
  is observed by the surgeons with much envy; for he has invented
  an engine for the prevention of harms by love adventures, and by
  great care and application, hath made it an immodesty to name his
  name. This act of self-denial has gained this worthy member of
  the commonwealth a great reputation. Some lawgivers have departed
  from their abodes for ever, and commanded the observation of
  their laws till their return; others have used other artifices to
  fly the applause of their merit; but this person shuns glory with
  greater address, and has, by giving his engine his own name, made
  it obscene to speak of him more. However, he is ranked among, and
  received by the modern wits, as a great promoter of gallantry and
  pleasure. But I fear, pleasure is less understood in this age,
  which so much pretends to it, than in any since the creation. It
  was admirably said of him who first took notice, that (<i>res est
  severa voluptas</i>) there is a certain severity in pleasure.
  Without that, all decency is banished; and if reason is not to be
  present at our greatest satisfactions, of all the races of
  creatures, the human is the most miserable. It was not so of old;
  when Virgil describes a wit, he always means a virtuous man; and
  all his sentiments of men of genius are such as show persons
  distin<a class="pagenum" name='page137' title='137' id=
  "page137"></a>guished from the common level of mankind; such as
  placed happiness in the contempt of low fears, and mean
  gratifications: fears, which we are subject to with the vulgar;
  and pleasures, which we have in common with beasts. With these
  illustrious personages, the wisest man was the greatest wit; and
  none was thought worthy of that character, unless he answered
  this excellent description of the poet:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Qui&#8212;metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.<a name=
        'fntag207' id="fntag207"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote207'><sup>207</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 13.</h3>

  <p>We had this morning advice, that some English merchant-ships,
  convoyed by the <i>Bristol</i> of fifty-four guns, were met with
  by a part of Mons. du Guy Trouin's squadron, who engaged the
  convoy. That ship defended itself till the English merchants got
  clear of the enemy, but being disabled was herself taken. Within
  few hours after, my Lord Dursley<a name='fntag208' id=
  "fntag208"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote208'><sup>208</sup></a> came up with part of his
  squadron and engaging the French, retook the <i>Bristol</i>
  (which being very much shattered, sunk), and took the
  <i>Glorieux</i>, a ship of forty-four guns, as also a privateer
  of fourteen. Before this action, his lordship had taken two
  French merchant-men; and had, at the despatch of these advices,
  brought the whole safe into Plymouth.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag205'>[205]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote205' id="footnote205"></a>Probably
      William Oliver, M.D., F.R.S., who published a Dissertation on
      Bath waters, and cold baths, in 1709 (<i>Flying Post</i>,
      Feb. 10 to 12, 1709). Sir John Floyer's "Inquiry into the
      right Use and Abuses of the Hot, Cold, and Temperate Baths in
      England, &amp;c.," appeared in 1697.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag206'>[206]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote206' id="footnote206"></a>By Mrs.
      Susannah Centlivre, a lady of Whig views, who was possessed
      of considerable beauty. (See also <a href='#number19'>No.
      19</a>.) Isaac Bickerstaff had promised a prologue to "The
      Busy Body" before it was to be first played, as appears from
      a poetical epistle of Mrs. Centlivre, claiming the
      performance of such a promise, printed by Charles Lillie
      ("Orig. Letters to <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i>" vol.
      ii. pp. 33, 34). Leigh Hunt ("The Town") suggests that Pope
      put Mrs. Centlivre in the "Dunciad" (ii. 410&#8212;"At last
      Centlivre felt her voice to fail") on account of her intimacy
      with Steele and other friends of Addison. Mrs. Centlivre
      (1667-1723) married, as her second husband, Mr. Carrol, a
      gentleman of the army, and afterwards Mr. Joseph Centlivre,
      principal cook to Queen Anne, 1706.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag207'>[207]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote207' id="footnote207"></a>Virgil,
      "Georgics," ii. 492.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag208'>[208]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote208' id="footnote208"></a>In November
      1709, James Viscount Dursley was raised to the rank of
      Vice-Admiral of the Blue. Next year he succeeded his father
      in the title of Earl of Berkeley.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page138' title='138' id=
    "page138"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number16' id="number16"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 16.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, May 14</i>, to <i>Tuesday, May 17</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 15.</h3>

  <p>Sir Thomas,<a name='fntag209' id="fntag209"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote209'><sup>209</sup></a> of this house, has shown
  me some letters from the Bath, which give accounts of what passes
  among the good company of that place; and allowed me to
  transcribe one of them, that seems to be writ by some of Sir
  Thomas' particular acquaintances, and is as follows:</p>

  <p>"DEAR KNIGHT,</p>

  <p>"I desire you would give my humble service to all our friends,
  which I speak of to you (out of method) in the very beginning of
  my epistle, lest the present disorders, by which this seat of
  gallantry and pleasure is torn to pieces, should make me forget
  it. You keep so good company, that you know Bath is stocked with
  such as come hither to be relieved from luxuriant health, or
  imaginary sickness, and consequently is always as well stowed
  with gallants as invalids, who live together in a very good
  understanding. But the season is so early, that our fine company
  is not yet arrived: and the warm Bath, which in heathen times was
  dedicated to Venus, is now used only by such as really want it
  for health's sake. There are however a good many strangers, among
  whom are two ambitious ladies, who being both in the autumn of
  their life, take the opportunity of placing themselves at the
  head of such as we are, before the Chloes, Clarissas, and
  Pastorellas come down. One of <a class="pagenum" name='page139'
  title='139' id="page139"></a>these two is excessively in pain,
  that the ugly being called Time will make wrinkles in spite of
  the lead forehead-cloth; and therefore hides, with the gaiety of
  her air, the volubility of her tongue, and quickness of her
  motion, the injuries which it has done her. The other lady is but
  two years behind her in life, and dreads as much being laid aside
  as the former, and consequently has taken the necessary
  precautions to prevent her reign over us. But she is very
  discreet, and wonderfully turned for ambition, being never
  apparently transported either with affection or malice. Thus,
  while Florimel is talking in public, and spreading her graces in
  assemblies, to gain a popular dominion over our diversions,
  Prudentia visits very cunningly all the lame, the splenetic, and
  the superannuated, who have their distinct classes of followers
  and friends. Among these, she has found that some body has sent
  down printed certificates of Florimel's age, which she has read
  and distributed to this unjoyful set of people, who are always
  enemies to those in possession of the good opinion of the
  company. This unprovoked injury done by Prudentia, was the first
  occasion of our fatal divisions here, and a declaration of war
  between these rivals. Florimel has abundance of wit, which she
  has lavished in decrying Prudentia, and giving defiance to her
  little arts. For an instance of her superior power, she bespoke
  the play of 'Alexander the Great,'<a name='fntag210' id=
  "fntag210"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote210'><sup>210</sup></a> to be acted by the company of
  strollers, and desired us all to be there on Thursday last. When
  she spoke to me to come, 'As you are,' said she, 'a lover, you
  will not fail the death of Alexander: the passion of love is
  wonderfully hit&#8212;Statira! Oh that happy woman&#8212;to have
  a conqueror at her feet&#8212;but you will be sure to be there.'
  I, and several others, <a class="pagenum" name='page140' title=
  '140' id="page140"></a>resolved to be of her party. But see the
  irresistible strength of that unsuspected creature, a silent
  woman. Prudentia had counterplotted us, and had bespoke on the
  same evening the puppet-show of 'The Creation of the
  World.'<a name='fntag211' id="fntag211"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote211'><sup>211</sup></a> She had engaged everybody to be
  there, and, to turn our leader into ridicule, had secretly let
  them know, that the puppet Eve was made the most like Florimel
  that ever was seen. On Thursday morning the puppet-drummer, Adam
  and Eve, and several others who lived before the Flood, passed
  through the streets on horseback, to invite us all to the
  pastime, and the representation of such things as we all knew to
  be true; and Mr. Mayor was so wise as to prefer these innocent
  people the puppets, who, he said, were to represent Christians,
  before the wicked players, who were to show Alexander, a heathen
  philosopher. To be short, this Prudentia had so laid it, that at
  ten of the clock footmen were sent to take places at the
  puppet-show, and all we of Florimel's party were to be out of
  fashion, or desert her. We chose the latter. All the world
  crowded to Prudentia's house, because it was given out, nobody
  could get in. When we came to Noah's flood in the show, Punch and
  his wife were introduced dancing in the Ark. An honest plain
  friend of Florimel's, but a critic withal, rose up in the midst
  of the representation, and made many very good exceptions to the
  drama itself, and told us, that it was against all morality, as
  well as rules of the stage, that Punch should be in jest in the
  Deluge, or indeed that he should <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page141' title='141' id="page141"></a>appear at all. This was
  certainly a just remark, and I thought to second him; but he was
  hissed by Prudentia's party; upon which, really, Sir Thomas, we
  who were his friends, hissed him too. Old Mrs. Petulant desired
  both her daughters to mind the moral; then whispered Mrs.
  Mayoress, 'This is very proper for young people to see.' Punch at
  the end of the play made Madam Prudentia a compliment, and was
  very civil to the whole company, making bows till his buttons
  touched the ground. All was carried triumphantly against our
  party. In the meantime Florimel went to the tragedy, dressed as
  fine as hands could make her, in hopes to see Prudentia pine away
  with envy. Instead of that, she sat a full hour alone, and at
  last was entertained with this whole relation from Statira, who
  wiped her eyes with her tragical-cut handkerchief, and lamented
  the ignorance of the quality. Florimel was stung with this
  affront, and the next day bespoke the puppet-show. Prudentia,
  insolent with power, bespoke 'Alexander.' The whole company came
  then to 'Alexander.' Madam Petulant desired her daughters to mind
  the moral, and believe no man's fair words; 'For you'll see,
  children,' said she, 'these soldiers are never to be depended
  upon; they are sometimes here, sometimes there&#8212;don't you
  see, daughter Betty, Colonel Clod, our next neighbour in the
  country, pulls off his hat to you? Courtesy, good child, his
  estate is just by us.' Florimel was now mortified down to
  Prudentia's humour; and Prudentia exalted into hers. This was
  observed: Florimel invites us to the play a second time,
  Prudentia to the show. See the uncertainty of human affairs! The
  beaux, the wits, the gamesters, the prues,<a name='fntag212' id=
  "fntag212"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote212'><sup>212</sup></a> the coquettes, the
  valetudinarians, and gallants, all now <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page142' title='142' id="page142"></a>wait upon Florimel. Such
  is the state of things at this present date; and if there happens
  any new commotions, you shall have immediate advice from,</p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"Your affectionate Friend</p>

  <p>"and Servant.</p>

  <p>"Bath, <i>May 11</i>, 1709."</p>

  <h4>"<i>To Castabella.</i></h4>

  <p>"MADAM,</p>

  <p>I have the honour of a letter from a friend of yours, relating
  to an incivility done to you at the opera, by one of your own
  sex; but I, who was an eye-witness of the accident, can testify
  to you, that though she pressed before you, she lost her ends in
  that design; for she was taken notice of for no other reason, but
  her endeavours to hide a finer woman than herself. But indeed, I
  dare not go farther in this matter, than just this bare mention;
  for though it was taking your place of right, rather than place
  of precedence, yet it is so tender a point, and on which the very
  life of female ambition depends, that it is of the last
  consequence to meddle in it: all my hopes are from your beautiful
  sex; and those bright eyes, which are the bane of others, are my
  only sunshine. My writings are sacred to you; and I hope I shall
  always have the good fortune to live under your protection;
  therefore take this public opportunity to signify to all the
  world, that I design to forbear anything that may in the least
  tend to the diminution of your interest, reputation, or power.
  You will therefore <a class="pagenum" name='page143' title='143'
  id="page143"></a>forgive me, that I strive to conceal every wrong
  step made by any who have the honour to wear petticoats; and
  shall at all times do what is in my power, to make all mankind as
  much their slaves as myself. If they would consider things as
  they ought, there needs not much argument to convince them, that
  it is their fate to be obedient to you, and that your greatest
  rebels do only serve with a worse grace.</p>

  <p>"I am, Madam,</p>

  <p>"Your most obedient, and</p>

  <p>"most humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.</p>

  <p>"<i>May 16.</i>"</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 16.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague, bearing date the 21st instant, N.S.,
  advise, that his Grace the Duke of Marlborough, immediately after
  his arrival, sent his secretary to the President and the
  Pensionary, to acquaint them therewith. Soon after, these
  Ministers visited the duke, and made him compliments in the name
  of the States-General; after which they entered into a conference
  with him on the present posture of affairs, and gave his grace
  assurances of the firm adherence of the States to the alliance:
  at the same time acquainting him, that all overtures of peace
  were rejected, till they had an opportunity of acting in concert
  with their allies on that subject. After this interview, the
  Pensionary and the President returned to the assembly of the
  States. Monsieur Torcy has had a conference at the Pensioner's
  house with his Grace the Duke of Marlborough, Prince Eugene, and
  his Excellency the Lord Townshend. The result of what <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page144' title='144' id="page144"></a>was debated
  at that time is kept secret; but there appears an air of
  satisfaction and good understanding between these Ministers. We
  are apt also to give ourselves very hopeful prospects from
  Monsieur Torcy's being employed in this negotiation, who has been
  always remarkable for a particular way of thinking, in his sense
  of the greatness of France; which he has always said, was to be
  promoted rather by the arts of peace, than those of war. His
  delivering himself freely on this subject, has formerly appeared
  an unsuccessful way to power in that Court; but in its present
  circumstances, those maxims are better received; and it is
  thought a certain argument of the sincerity of the French king's
  intentions, that this Minister is at present made use of. The
  marquis is to return to Paris within few days, who has sent a
  courier thither to give notice of the reasons of his return, that
  the Court may be the sooner able to despatch commissions for a
  formal treaty.</p>

  <p>The expectations of peace are increased by advices from Paris
  of the 17th instant, which say, the Dauphin hath altered his
  resolution of commanding in Flanders the ensuing campaign. The
  Saxon and Prussian reinforcements, together with Count Merci's
  regiment of Imperial horse, are encamped in the neighbourhood of
  Brussels; and sufficient stores of corn and forage are
  transported to that place and Ghent for the service of the
  confederate army.</p>

  <p>They write from Mons, that the Elector of Bavaria had advice,
  that an advanced party of the Portuguese army had been defeated
  by the Spaniards.</p>

  <p>We hear from Languedoc, that their corn, olives and figs, were
  wholly destroyed; but that they have a hopeful prospect of a
  plentiful vintage.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag209'>[209]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote209' id="footnote209"></a>The nickname of
      a waiter at White's (see <a href='#number1'>No. 1</a>).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag210'>[210]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote210' id="footnote210"></a>"The Rival
      Queens; or, Alexander the Great," by Nathaniel Lee, 1677.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag211'>[211]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote211' id="footnote211"></a>The following
      advertisement is among the Harleian MSS. (Bayford's Coll.
      5931): "At Crawley's show at the Golden Lion, near St.
      George's Church, during the time of Southwark Fair, will be
      presented the whole story of the old 'Creation of the World,
      or Paradise Lost,' yet newly revived with the addition of
      'Noah's Flood'; &amp;c. The best known puppet-show man was
      Martin Powell. (See No. 236.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag212'>[212]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote212' id="footnote212"></a>So in the folio
      and original collected editions. "Prue" was Steele's
      favourite name for his wife; here it means "prude," and no
      doubt Steele sometimes thought "dear Prue" was unnecessarily
      and unreasonably particular.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page145' title='145' id=
    "page145"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number17' id="number17"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 17.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, May 17</i>, to <i>Thursday, May 19</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 18.</h3>

  <p>The discourse has happened to turn this evening upon the true
  nature of panegyric, the perfection of which was asserted to
  consist in a certain artful way of conveying the applause in an
  indirect manner. There was a gentleman gave us several instances
  of it: among others, he quoted, from Sir Francis Bacon, in his
  "Advancement of Learning," a very great compliment made to
  Tiberius, as follows: In a full debate upon public affairs in the
  Senate, one of the assembly rose up, and with a very grave air
  said, he thought it for the honour and dignity of the
  commonwealth, that Tiberius should be declared a god, and have
  divine worship paid him. The Emperor was surprised at the
  proposal, and demanded of him to declare whether he had made any
  application to incline him to that overture? The senator
  answered, with a bold and haughty tone, "Sir, in matters that
  concern the commonwealth, I will be governed by no man."<a name=
  'fntag213' id="fntag213"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote213'><sup>213</sup></a> Another gentleman mentioned
  something of the same kind spoken by the late Duke of
  B&#8212;&#8212;m,<a name='fntag214' id="fntag214"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote214'><sup>214</sup></a> to the late Earl of
  O&#8212;&#8212;y:<a name='fntag215' id="fntag215"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote215'><sup>215</sup></a> "My lord," says the
  duke, after his libertine way, "you will certainly be damned."
  "How, my lord!" says the earl with some warmth. "Nay," said the
  duke, "there's no help for it, for it is positively said, 'Cursed
  is he of whom all men speak well.'"<a name='fntag216' id=
  "fntag216"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote216'><sup>216</sup></a> This is taking a man by
  <a class="pagenum" name='page146' title='146' id=
  "page146"></a>surprise, and being welcome when you have so
  surprised him. The person flattered receives you into his closet
  at once; and the sudden change in his heart, from the expectation
  of an ill-wisher, to find you his friend, makes you in his full
  favour in a moment. The spirits that were raised so suddenly
  against you, are as suddenly for you. There was another instance
  given of this kind at the table: a gentleman who had a very great
  favour done him, and an employment bestowed upon him, without so
  much as being known to his benefactor, waited upon the great man
  who was so generous, and was beginning to say, he was infinitely
  obliged. "Not at all," says the patron, turning from him to
  another, "had I known a more deserving man in England, he should
  not have had it."</p>

  <p>We should certainly have had more examples, had not a
  gentleman produced a book which he thought an instance of this
  kind: it was a pamphlet, called, "The Naked Truth."<a name=
  'fntag217' id="fntag217"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote217'><sup>217</sup></a> The idea any one would have of
  that work from the title, was, that there would be much plain
  <a class="pagenum" name='page147' title='147' id=
  "page147"></a>dealing with people in power, and that we should
  see things in their proper light, stripped of the ornaments which
  are usually given to the actions of the great: but the skill of
  this author is such, that he has, under that rugged appearance,
  approved himself the finest gentleman and courtier that ever
  writ. The language is extremely sublime, and not at all to be
  understood by the vulgar: the sentiments are such as would make
  no figure in ordinary words; but such is the art of the
  expression, and the thoughts are elevated to so high a degree,
  that I question whether the discourse will sell much. There was
  an ill-natured fellow present, who hates all panegyric mortally.
  "P&#8212;&#8212; take him!" said he, "what the devil means his
  'Naked Truth,' in speaking nothing but to the advantage of all
  whom he mentions? This is just such a great action as that of the
  champion's on a coronation day, who challenges all mankind to
  dispute with him the right of the sovereign, surrounded with his
  guards." The gentleman who produced the treatise, desired him to
  be cautious, and said, it was writ by an excellent soldier, which
  made the company observe it more narrowly: and, as critics are
  the greatest conjurers at finding out a known <a class="pagenum"
  name='page148' title='148' id="page148"></a>truth, one said, he
  was sure it was writ by the hand of his sword-arm. I could not
  perceive much wit in that expression: but it raised a laugh, and
  I suppose, was meant as a sneer upon valiant men. The same man
  pretended to see in the style, that it was a horse officer; but
  sure that's being too nice: for though you may know officers of
  the cavalry by the turn of their feet, I can't imagine how you
  should discern their hands from those of other men. But it is
  always thus with pedants, they will ever be carping; if a
  gentleman or a man of honour puts pen to paper, I don't doubt,
  but this author will find this assertion too true, and that
  obloquy is not repulsed by the force of arms. I will therefore
  set this excellent piece in a light too glaring for weak eyes,
  and, in imitation of the critic Longinus, shall, as well as I
  can, make my observations in a style like the author's, of whom I
  treat; which perhaps I am as capable of as another, having an
  unbounded force of thinking, as well as a most exquisite address,
  extensively and wisely indulged to me by the supreme powers. My
  author, I will dare to assert, shows the most universal knowledge
  of any writer who has appeared this century. He is a poet, and
  merchant, which is seen in two master-words, Credit Blossoms. He
  is a grammarian, and a politician; for he says, the uniting the
  two kingdoms is the emphasis of the security to the Protestant
  Succession. Some would be apt to say he is a conjurer; for he has
  found that a republic is not made up of every body of animals,
  but is composed of men only, and not of horses. Liberty and
  property have chosen their retreat within the emulating circle of
  a human commonwealth. He is a physician; for he says, "I observe
  a constant equality in its pulse, and a just quickness of its
  vigorous circulation." And again: "I view the strength of our
  Constitution plainly appear in the sanguine <a class="pagenum"
  name='page149' title='149' id="page149"></a>and ruddy complexion
  of a well-contented city." He is a divine; for he says, "I cannot
  but bless myself." And indeed, this excellent treatise has had
  that good effect upon me, who am far from being superstitious,
  that I, also, can't but bless myself.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 18.</h3>

  <p>This day arrived a mail from Lisbon, with letters of the 13th
  instant, N.S., containing a particular account of the late action
  in Portugal. On the 7th instant, the army of Portugal, under the
  command of the Marquis de Frontera, lay on the side of the Caya,
  and the army of the Duke of Anjou, commanded by the Marquis de
  Bay, on the other. The latter commander having an ambition to
  ravage the country, in a manner in sight of the Portuguese, made
  a motion with the whole body of his horse toward Fort St.
  Christopher, near the town of Badajos. The generals of the
  Portuguese, disdaining that such an insult should be offered to
  their arms, took a resolution to pass the river, and oppose the
  designs of the enemy. The Earl of Galway represented to them,
  that the present posture of affairs was such on the side of the
  Allies, that there needed no more to be done at present in that
  country, but to carry on a defensive part. But his arguments
  could not avail in the council of war. Upon which, a great
  detachment of foot, and the whole of the horse of the King of
  Portugal's army, passed the river, and with some pieces of cannon
  did good execution on the enemy. Upon observing this, the Marquis
  de Bay advanced with his horse, and attacked the right wing of
  the Portuguese cavalry, who faced about, and fled, without
  standing the first encounter. But their foot repulsed the same
  body of horse in three successive charges, with great order and
  resolution. While this was transacting, the <a class="pagenum"
  name='page150' title='150' id="page150"></a>British general
  commanded the brigade of Pearce to keep the enemy in diversion by
  a new attack. This was so well executed, that the Portuguese
  infantry had time to retire in good order, and repass the river.
  But that brigade, which rescued them, was itself surrounded by
  the enemy, and Major-General Sarkey, Brigadier Pearce, together
  with both their regiments, and that of the Lord Galway, lately
  raised, were taken prisoners.</p>

  <p>During the engagement, the Earl of Barrymore having advanced
  too far to give some necessary order, was hemmed in by a squadron
  of the enemy; but found means to gallop up to the brigade of
  Pearce, with which he remains also a prisoner. My Lord Galway had
  his horse shot under him in this action; and the Conde de St.
  Juan, a Portuguese general, was taken prisoner. The same night
  the army encamped at Aronches, and on the 9th moved to Elvas,
  where they lay when these despatches came away. Colonel Stanwix's
  regiment is also taken. The whole of this affair has given the
  Portuguese a great idea of the capacity and courage of my Lord
  Galway, against whose advice they entered upon this unfortunate
  affair, and by whose conduct they were rescued from it. The
  prodigious constancy and resolution of that great man is hardly
  to be paralleled, who, under the oppression of a maimed body, and
  the reflection of repeated ill fortune, goes on with an
  unspeakable alacrity in the service of the common cause. He has
  already put things in a very good posture after this ill
  accident, and made the necessary dispositions for covering the
  country from any further attempt of the enemy, who lie still in
  the camp they were in before the battle.</p>

  <p>Letters from Brussels, dated the 25th instant, advise, that
  notwithstanding the negotiations of a peace seem so far advanced,
  that some do confidently report the pre<a class="pagenum" name=
  'page151' title='151' id="page151"></a>liminaries of a treaty to
  be actually agreed on; yet the Allies hasten their preparations
  for opening the campaign; and the forces of the Empire, the
  Prussians, the Danes, the Wirtembergers, the Palatines, and Saxon
  auxiliaries, are in motion towards the general rendezvous, they
  being already arrived in the neighbourhood of Brussels. These
  advices add, that the deputies of the States of Holland having
  made a general review of the troops in Flanders, set out for
  Antwerp on the 21st instant from that place. On the same day the
  Prince Royal of Prussia came thither <i>incognito</i>, with a
  design to make the ensuing campaign under his Grace the Duke of
  Marlborough.</p>

  <p>This day is published a treatise called, "The Difference
  between Scandal and Admonition." By Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.; and
  on the 1st of July next, you may expect, "A Prophecy of Things
  Past; wherein the Art of Fortune-telling is laid open to the
  meanest capacity." And on the Monday following, "Choice Sentences
  for the Company of Masons and Bricklayers, to be put upon new
  Houses, with a translation of all the Latin sentences that have
  been built of late years, together with a comment upon stone
  walls," by the same hand.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag213'>[213]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote213' id="footnote213"></a>See Tacitus,
      "Annals," i. 8.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag214'>[214]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote214' id="footnote214"></a>George
      Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag215'>[215]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote215' id="footnote215"></a>Roger Boyle,
      Earl of Orrery.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag216'>[216]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote216' id="footnote216"></a>Luke vi.
      26.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag217'>[217]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote217' id="footnote217"></a>Like Nichols, I
      have not been able to see a copy of this pamphlet, or the
      defence of it, mentioned in <a href='#number21'>No. 21</a>;
      but a letter from Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, dated 20 May,
      1709, throws some light on the matter: "Dear Brother, ...
      Brigadeer Crowder of late has made some talk in the Coffee
      Houses upon a peice he has lately been pleased to print, he
      did me the favour to show it me some time agoe in manuscript,
      and I complymented him with desiring a coppy of it, that I
      might have the pleasure of reading it more than once, and
      that I might communicate the like sattisfaction to you by
      sending it to Berlin. He told me it had the approbation of
      very ingenious men and good scholars, and his very good
      friends who had persuaded him to print it, and then you, as
      he always esteem'd to be such, shou'd be sure to have one.
      The day before yesterday he perform'd his promise but desir'd
      I wou'd not tell you directly who was the author, but
      recommend it to you with his most humble service, as from a
      friend of his. Yesterday came out this <i>Tatler</i>, and
      tho' I reckon myself a little base after all the fine
      complyments he made me upon my great judgment, I can't
      forbear sending it you as a fine peice of rallery upon his
      elaborate work, which I can assure you he has not been a
      little proud of. I han't seen him since to know if this
      <i>Tatler</i> has given him any mortification. I know before
      he was prepar'd for the censorious, for he said lett people
      say what they wou'd, he was sure the intention was good, and
      his meaning for the service of the public. I am sorry he has
      printed, for he's very civill to me, and always profess a
      great respect for you, and I wou'd have none that does so
      exposed" ("Wentworth Papers," pp. 86-7). See <a href=
      '#number46'>No. 46</a>. A writer in "Notes and Queries" (7 S.
      iii. 526), in reply to a question of mine, stated that there
      is a copy of "Naked Truth," 4to, 1709, in the Bamburgh Castle
      Library. The pamphlet is anonymous, but is ascribed in the
      catalogue to Colonel Crowder. In May 1710, Thomas Crowther
      was made a Major-General (Pointer's "Chron. History," ii.
      679).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number18' id="number18"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 18.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE AND ADDISON.<a name='fntag218'
    id="fntag218"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote218'><sup>218</sup></a></h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, May 19</i>, to <i>Saturday, May 21</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 20.</h3>

  <p>It is observed too often, that men of wit do so much employ
  their thoughts upon fine speculations, that things useful to
  mankind are wholly neglected; and they <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page152' title='152' id="page152"></a>are busy in making
  emendations upon some enclitics in a Greek author, while obvious
  things, that every man may have use for, are wholly overlooked.
  It would be a happy thing, if such as have real capacities for
  public service, were employed in works of general use; but
  because a thing is everybody's business, it is nobody's business:
  this is for want of public spirit. As for my part, who am only a
  student, and a man of no great interest, I can only remark
  things, and recommend the correction of them to higher powers.
  There is an offence I have a thousand times lamented, but fear I
  shall never see remedied; which is, that in a nation where
  learning is so frequent as in Great Britain, there should be so
  many gross errors as there are in the very directions of things,
  wherein accuracy is necessary for the conduct of life. This is
  notoriously observed by all men of letters when they first come
  to town (at which time they are usually curious that way) in the
  inscriptions on sign-posts. I have cause to know this matter as
  well as anybody; for I have (when I went to Merchant Taylors'
  School) suffered stripes for spelling after the signs I observed
  in my way; though at the same time, I must confess, staring at
  those inscriptions first gave me an idea and curiosity for
  medals; in which I have since arrived at some knowledge.<a name=
  'fntag219' id="fntag219"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote219'><sup>219</sup></a> Many a man has lost his way and
  his dinner by this general want of skill in orthography: for,
  considering that the painters are usually so very bad, that you
  cannot know the animal under whose sign you are to live that day,
  how must the stranger be misled, if it be wrong spelled, as well
  as ill painted? I have a cousin now in town, who has answered
  under Bachelor at Queen's College, whose name is <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page153' title='153' id="page153"></a>Humphrey
  Mopstaff (he is akin to us by his mother). This young man going
  to see a relation in Barbican, wandered a whole day by the
  mistake of one letter; for it was written, "This is the BEER,"
  instead of "This is the BEAR." He was set right at last, by
  inquiring for the house, of a fellow who could not read, and knew
  the place mechanically, only by having been often drunk there.
  But, in the name of goodness, let us make our learning of use to
  us, or not. Was not this a shame, that a philosopher should be
  thus directed by a cobbler? I'll be sworn, if it were known how
  many have suffered in this kind by false spelling since the
  union, this matter would not long lie thus. What makes these
  evils the more insupportable, is, that they are so easily
  amended, and nothing done in it. But it is so far from that, that
  the evil goes on in other arts as well as orthography. Places are
  confounded, as well for want of proper distinctions, as things
  for want of true characters. Had I not come by the other day very
  early in the morning, there might have been mischief done; for a
  worthy North Briton was swearing at Stocks Market,<a name=
  'fntag220' id="fntag220"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote220'><sup>220</sup></a> that they would not let him in
  at his lodgings; but I knowing the gentleman, and observing him
  look often at the King on horseback, and then double his oaths,
  that he was sure he was right, found he mistook that for
  <a class="pagenum" name='page154' title='154' id=
  "page154"></a>Charing Cross, by the erection of the like statue
  in each place. I grant, private men may distinguish their abodes
  as they please; as one of my acquaintance who lives at
  Marylebone, has put a good sentence of his own invention upon his
  dwelling-place, to find out where he lives: he is so near London,
  that his conceit is this, "The country in town; or, the town in
  the country"; for you know, if they are both in one, they are all
  one. Besides that, the ambiguity is not of great consequence; if
  you are safe at the place, it is no matter if you do not
  distinctly know where to say the place is. But to return to the
  orthography of public places: I propose that every tradesman in
  the cities of London and Westminster shall give me sixpence a
  quarter for keeping their signs in repair, as to the grammatical
  part; and I will take into my house a Swiss Count<a name=
  'fntag221' id="fntag221"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote221'><sup>221</sup></a> of my acquaintance, who can
  remember all their names without book, for despatch sake, setting
  up the head of the said foreigner for my sign; the features being
  strong, and fit for hanging high.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 20.</h3>

  <p>This day a mail arrived from Holland, by which there are
  advices from Paris, that the kingdom of France is in the utmost
  misery and distraction. The merchants of Lyons have been at
  Court, to remonstrate their great sufferings by the failure of
  their public credit; but have received no other satisfaction,
  than promises of a sudden peace; and that their debts will be
  made good by funds out of the revenue, which will not answer, but
  in case of the peace which is promised. In the meantime, the
  cries of the common people are loud for want of bread, the gentry
  have lost all spirit and zeal for their country, and the king
  himself seems to languish under the anxiety of <a class="pagenum"
  name='page155' title='155' id="page155"></a>the pressing
  calamities of the nation, and retires from hearing those
  grievances which he hath not power to redress. Instead of
  preparations for war, and the defence of their country, there is
  nothing to be seen but evident marks of a general despair.
  Processions, fastings, public mournings, and humiliations, are
  become the sole employments of a people, who were lately the most
  vain and gay of any in the universe.</p>

  <p>The Pope has written to the French king on the subject of a
  peace, and his Majesty has answered in the lowliest terms, that
  he entirely submits his affairs to divine providence, and shall
  soon show the world, that he prefers the tranquillity of his
  people to the glory of his arms, and extent of his conquests.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 24th say, that his Excellency
  the Lord Townshend delivered his credentials on that day to the
  States-General, as plenipotentiary from the Queen of Great
  Britain; as did also Count Zinzendorf, who bears the same
  character from the Emperor.</p>

  <p>Prince Eugene intended to set out the next day for Brussels,
  and his Grace the Duke of Marlborough on the Tuesday following.
  The Marquis de Torcy talks daily of going, but still continues
  here. The army of the Allies is to assemble on the 7th of the
  next month at Helchin; though it is generally believed, that the
  preliminaries to a treaty are fully adjusted.</p>

  <p>The approach of a peace<a name='fntag222' id=
  "fntag222"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote222'><sup>222</sup></a> strikes a panic through our
  armies, though that of a battle could never do it, and they
  almost repent of their bravery, that made such haste to humble
  themselves and the French king. The Duke of Marlborough, though
  otherwise the greatest general of the age, has plainly shown
  himself unacquainted with the arts <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page156' title='156' id="page156"></a>of husbanding a war. He
  might have grown as old as the Duke of Alva, or Prince Waldeck,
  in the Low Countries, and yet have got reputation enough every
  year for any reasonable man: for the command of general in
  Flanders hath been ever looked upon as a provision for life. For
  my part, I can't see how his grace can answer it to the world,
  for the great eagerness he hath shown to send a hundred thousand
  of the bravest fellows in Europe a begging. But the private
  gentlemen of the infantry will be able to shift for themselves; a
  brave man can never starve in a country stocked with hen-roosts.
  "There is not a yard of linen," says my honoured progenitor, Sir
  John Falstaff, "in my whole company; but as for that," says this
  worthy knight, "I am in no great pain, we shall find shirts on
  every hedge."<a name='fntag223' id="fntag223"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote223'><sup>223</sup></a> There is another sort of
  gentlemen whom I am much more concerned for, and that is, the
  ingenious fraternity of which I have the honour to be an unworthy
  member; I mean the news-writers of Great Britain, whether Postmen
  or Postboys,<a name='fntag224' id="fntag224"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote224'><sup>224</sup></a> or by what other name or
  title soever dignified or distinguished. The case of these
  gentlemen is, I think, more hard than that of <a class="pagenum"
  name='page157' title='157' id="page157"></a>the soldiers,
  considering that they have taken more towns, and fought more
  battles. They have been upon parties and skirmishes, when our
  armies have lain still; and given the general assault to many a
  place, when the besiegers were quiet in their trenches. They have
  made us masters of several strong towns many weeks before our
  generals could do it; and completed victories, when our greatest
  captains have been glad to come off with a drawn battle. Where
  Prince Eugene has slain his thousands, Boyer<a name='fntag225'
  id="fntag225"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote225'><sup>225</sup></a> has slain his ten thousands.
  This, gentleman can indeed be never enough commended for his
  courage and intrepidity during this whole war: he has laid about
  him with an inexpressible fury, and like the offended Marius of
  ancient Rome, made such havoc among his countrymen, as must be
  the work of two or three ages to repair. It must be confessed,
  the redoubted Mr. Buckley<a name='fntag226' id=
  "fntag226"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote226'><sup>226</sup></a> has shed as much blood as the
  former; but I cannot forbear saying (and I hope it will not look
  like envy) that we regard our brother Buckley as a
  Drawcansir,<a name='fntag227' id="fntag227"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote227'><sup>227</sup></a> who spares neither friend
  nor foe, but generally kills as many of his own side as the
  enemy's. It is impossible for this ingenious sort of men to
  subsist after a peace: every one remembers the shifts they were
  driven to in the reign of King Charles II., when they could not
  furnish out <a class="pagenum" name='page158' title='158' id=
  "page158"></a>a single paper of news, without lighting up a comet
  in Germany, or a fire in Moscow. There scarce appeared a letter
  without a paragraph on an earthquake. Prodigies were grown so
  familiar, that they had lost their name, as a great poet of that
  age has it. I remember Mr. Dyer,<a name='fntag228' id=
  "fntag228"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote228'><sup>228</sup></a> who is justly looked upon by
  all the fox-hunters in the nation as the greatest statesman our
  country has produced, was particularly famous for dealing in
  whales; insomuch that in five months' time (for I had the
  curiosity to examine his letters on that occasion) he brought
  three into the mouth of the river Thames, besides two porpoises
  and a sturgeon. The judicious and wary Mr. I. Dawks<a name=
  'fntag229' id="fntag229"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote229'><sup>229</sup></a> hath all along been the rival
  of this great writer, and got himself a reputation from plagues
  and famines, by which, in those days, he destroyed as great
  multitudes as he has lately done by the sword. In every dearth of
  news, Grand Cairo was sure to be unpeopled.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page159' title='159' id=
  "page159"></a>It being therefore visible, that our society will
  be greater sufferers by the peace than the soldiery itself;
  insomuch that the <i>Daily Courant</i><a name='fntag230' id=
  "fntag230"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote230'><sup>230</sup></a> is in danger of being broken,
  my friend Dyer of being reformed, and the very best of the whole
  band of being reduced to half-pay; might I presume to offer
  anything in the behalf of my distressed brethren, I would humbly
  move, that an appendix of proper apartments furnished with pen,
  ink, and paper, and other necessaries of life should be added to
  the Hospital of Chelsea,<a name='fntag231' id=
  "fntag231"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote231'><sup>231</sup></a> for the relief of such decayed
  news-writers as have served their country in the wars; and that
  for their exercise, they should compile the annals of their
  brother-veterans, who have been engaged in the same service, and
  are still obliged to do duty after the same manner.</p>

  <p>I cannot be thought to speak this out of an eye to any private
  interest; for, as my chief scenes of action are coffee-houses,
  play-houses, and my own apartment, I am in no need of camps,
  fortifications, and fields of battle, to support me; I don't call
  out for heroes and generals to my assistance. Though the officers
  are broken, and the armies disbanded, I shall still be safe as
  long as there are men or women, or politicians, or lovers, or
  poets, or nymphs, or swains, or cits, or courtiers in being.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag218'>[218]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote218' id="footnote218"></a>It is very
      possible that the first article in this number (see the
      allusion to medals) is by Addison, as well as the account of
      the Distress of the News-writers.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag219'>[219]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote219' id="footnote219"></a>There is much
      about medals in Addison's "Remarks on several Parts of
      Italy," 1705. His "Dialogues on Medals" was published
      posthumously by Tickell.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag220'>[220]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote220' id="footnote220"></a>Stocks Market
      was so named from a pair of stocks which were erected there
      as early as the 13th century. The two statues referred to
      were really very unlike. The one was of white marble; the
      other, of brass, was originally intended for John Sobieski,
      King of Poland, but being bought by Sir Robert Viner in 1672,
      it was altered and erected in honour of King Charles II. The
      Turk underneath the horse was metamorphosed into Oliver
      Cromwell; but his turban escaped unnoticed or unaltered, to
      testify the truth. The statue in Stocks Market, with the
      conduit and all its ornaments, was removed to make way for
      the Mansion House in 1739. Marvell refers to these statues in
      his "Satires."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag221'>[221]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote221' id="footnote221"></a>Heidegger. See
      <a href='#number12'>No. 12</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag222'>[222]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote222' id="footnote222"></a>The remainder
      of this paper is by Addison. See Steele's Preface, and his
      Dedication of "The Drummer" to Congreve.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag223'>[223]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote223' id="footnote223"></a>"There's but a
      shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two
      napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like
      a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the
      truth, stolen from my host of St. Alban, or the red-nosed
      innkeeper of Daintry. But that's all one, they'll find linen
      enough on every hedge." (1 Henry IV., act iii. sc. 2).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag224'>[224]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote224' id="footnote224"></a>The Tory
      <i>Postboy</i> was published by Abel Roper; and the Whig
      <i>Flying Post</i> by George Ridpath:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "There Ridpath, Roper, cudgelled might ye view,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            The very worsted still looked black and blue."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>("Dunciad," ii. 149.) It is remarkable that both Roper and
      Ridpath died on the same day, Feb. 5, 1726. Swift and others
      sometimes contributed to Roper's paper for party
      purposes.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag225'>[225]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote225' id="footnote225"></a>Abel Boyer
      (1667-1729), author of "The Political State of Great
      Britain," was a Whig journalist towards whom Swift felt
      bitterly. "The Secretary promises me to swinge him," he wrote
      in 1711; "I must make that rogue an example for a warning to
      others." Boyer compiled a valuable French and English
      dictionary.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag226'>[226]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote226' id="footnote226"></a>Samuel Buckley
      was printer of the <i>London Gazette, Daily Courant</i>, and
      <i>Spectator</i>. He died in 1741.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag227'>[227]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote227' id="footnote227"></a>Drawcansir, in
      "The Rehearsal," is described by another character as "a
      great hero, who frights his mistress, snubs up kings, baffles
      armies, and does what he will, without regard to number, good
      sense, or justice."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag228'>[228]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote228' id="footnote228"></a>John Dyer was a
      Jacobite journalist who issued a news-letter to country
      subscribers, among whom was Sir Roger de Coverley
      (<i>Spectator</i>, No. 127), by whom he was held in high
      esteem. Defoe (<i>Review</i>, vi. 132) says that Dyer "did
      not so much write what his readers should believe, as what
      they would believe." Vellum, in Addison's "The Drummer" (act
      ii. sc. i), cannot but believe his master is living, "because
      the news of his death was first published in Dyer's Letter."
      See also <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 43 and 457. At the trial of
      John Tutchin for seditious libel (Howell's "State Trials,"
      xiv. 1150), on complaint being made by counsel that Dyer had
      charged him with broaching seditious principles, Lord Chief
      Justice Holt said, "Dyer is very familiar with me too
      sometimes; but you need not fear such a little scandalous
      paper of such a scandalous author."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag229'>[229]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote229' id="footnote229"></a>Ichabod Dawks
      was another "epistolary historian" (see <i>Spectator</i>, No.
      457, and <i>Tatler</i>, No. 178).
      Dawks and Dyer are both introduced by Edmund Smith, author of
      "Phædra and Hippolitus," in his poem, "Charlettus Percivallo
      suo":</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Scribe securus, quid agit Senatus,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Quid caput stertit grave Lambethanum,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Quid comes Guilford, quid habent novorum.
          </div>

          <div class="line right">
            "Dawksque Dyerque."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag230'>[230]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote230' id="footnote230"></a>The <i>Daily
      Courant</i>, our first daily newspaper, was begun in
      1702.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag231'>[231]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote231' id="footnote231"></a>Chelsea
      Hospital, for old soldiers, was founded in 1682.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page160' title='160' id=
    "page160"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number19' id="number19"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 19.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, May 21</i>, to <i>Tuesday, May 24</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 23.</h3>

  <p>There is nothing can give a man of any consideration greater
  pain, than to see order and distinction laid aside amongst men,
  especially when the rank (of which he himself is a member) is
  intruded upon by such as have no pretence to that honour. The
  appellation of Esquire is the most notoriously abused in this
  kind of any class amongst men, insomuch that it is become almost
  the subject of derision: but I will be bold to say, this
  behaviour towards it proceeds from the ignorance of the people in
  its true origin. I shall therefore, as briefly as possible, do
  myself and all true esquires the justice to look into antiquity
  upon this subject.</p>

  <p>In the first ages of the world, before the invention of
  jointures and settlements, when the noble passion of love had
  possession of the hearts of men, and the fair sex were not yet
  cultivated into the merciful disposition which they have showed
  in latter centuries, it was natural for great and heroic spirits
  to retire to rivulets, woods, and caves, to lament their destiny,
  and the cruelty of the fair persons who were deaf to their
  lamentations. The hero in this distress was generally in armour,
  and in a readiness to fight any man he met with, especially if
  distinguished by any extraordinary qualifications, it being the
  nature of heroic love to hate all merit, lest it should come
  within the observation of the cruel one, by whom its own
  perfections are neglected. A lover of this kind had always about
  him a person of a second value, and subordinate to <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page161' title='161' id="page161"></a>him, who
  could hear his afflictions, carry an enchantment for his wounds,
  hold his helmet when he was eating (if ever he did eat); or in
  his absence, when he was retired to his apartment in any king's
  palace, tell the prince himself, or perhaps his daughter, the
  birth, parentage, and adventures, of his valiant master. This
  trusty companion was styled his esquire, and was always fit for
  any offices about him; was as gentle and chaste as a gentleman
  usher, quick and active as an equerry, smooth and eloquent as a
  master of the ceremonies. A man thus qualified was the first, as
  the ancients affirm, who was called an esquire; and none without
  these accomplishments ought to assume our order: but, to the
  utter disgrace and confusion of the heralds, every pretender is
  admitted into this fraternity, even persons the most foreign to
  this courteous institution. I have taken an inventory of all
  within this city, and looked over every letter in the post-office
  for my better information. There are of the Middle Temple,
  including all in the buttery books, and in the lists of the
  house, 5000. In the Inner, 4000. In the King's Bench Walks, the
  whole buildings are inhabited by esquires only. The adjacent
  street of Essex, from Morris' Coffee-house, and the turning
  towards the Grecian, you cannot meet one who is not an esquire,
  till you take water. Every house in Norfolk and Arundel Streets
  is governed also by a squire, or his lady. Soho Square,
  Bloomsbury Square, and all other places where the floors rise
  above nine feet, are so many universities, where you enter
  yourselves, and become of our order. However, if this were the
  worst of the evil, it were to be supported, because they are
  generally men of some figure and use; though I know no pretence
  they have to an honour which had its rise from chivalry. But if
  you travel into the counties of Great Britain, we are still more
  imposed upon by innovation. <a class="pagenum" name='page162'
  title='162' id="page162"></a>We are indeed derived from the
  field: but shall that give title to all that ride mad after
  foxes, that halloo when they see a hare, or venture their necks
  full speed after a hawk, immediately to commence esquires? No,
  our order is temperate, cleanly, sober, and chaste; but these
  rural esquires commit immodesties upon haycocks, wear shirts half
  a week, and are drunk twice a day. These men are also to the last
  degree excessive in their food: an esquire of Norfolk eats two
  pounds of dumpling every meal, as if obliged to it by our order:
  an esquire of Hampshire is as ravenous in devouring hogs' flesh:
  one of Essex has as little mercy on calves. But I must take the
  liberty to protest against them, and acquaint those persons, that
  it is not the quantity they eat, but the manner of eating, that
  shows a squire. But above all, I am most offended at small
  quillmen, and transcribing clerks, who are all come into our
  order, for no reason that I know of, but that they can easily
  flourish it at the end of their name. I'll undertake, that if you
  read the superscriptions to all the offices in the kingdom, you
  will not find three letters directed to any but esquires. I have
  myself a couple of clerks, and the rogues make nothing of leaving
  messages upon each other's desk: one directs, to "Degory
  Goosequill, Esq."; to which the other replies by a note, to
  "Nehemiah Dashwell, Esq.; with respect." In a word, it is now,
  <i>populus armigerorum</i>, a people of esquires. And I don't
  know, but, by the late Act of Naturalisation,<a name='fntag232'
  id="fntag232"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote232'><sup>232</sup></a> foreigners will assume that
  title, as part of the immunity of being Englishmen. All these
  improprieties flow from the negligence of the Heralds' Office.
  Those gentlemen in parti-coloured habits do not so rightly, as
  they ought, understand themselves; though they are dressed
  <i>cap-a-pié</i> in hieroglyphics, they are inwardly but ignorant
  men. I <a class="pagenum" name='page163' title='163' id=
  "page163"></a>asked an acquaintance of mine, who is a man of wit,
  but of no fortune, and is forced to appear as Jack Pudding on the
  stage to a mountebank: "Prithee, Jack, why is your coat of so
  many colours?" He replied, "I act a fool, and this spotted dress
  is to signify, that every man living has a weak place about him;
  for I am knight of the shire, and represent you all." I wish the
  heralds would know as well as this man does, in his way, that
  they are to act for us in the case of our arms and appellations:
  we should not then be jumbled together in so promiscuous and
  absurd a manner. I design to take this matter into further
  consideration, and no man shall be received as an esquire, who
  cannot bring a certificate, that he has conquered some lady's
  obdurate heart; that he can lead up a country dance, or carry a
  message between her and her lover, with address, secrecy and
  diligence. A squire is properly born for the service of the sex,
  and his credentials shall be signed by three toasts, and one
  prude, before his title shall be received in my office.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 23.</h3>

  <p>On Saturday last was presented, "The Busy Body," a comedy,
  written (as I have heretofore remarked) by a woman.<a name=
  'fntag233' id="fntag233"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote233'><sup>233</sup></a> The plot and incidents of the
  play are laid with that subtlety of spirit which is peculiar to
  females of wit, and is very seldom well performed by those of the
  other sex, in whom craft in love is an act of invention, and not,
  as with women, the effect of nature and instinct.</p>

  <p>To-morrow will be acted a play, called, "The Trip to the
  Jubilee."<a name='fntag234' id="fntag234"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote234'><sup>234</sup></a> This performance is the
  greatest instance that we can have of the irresistible force of
  proper action. <a class="pagenum" name='page164' title='164' id=
  "page164"></a>The dialogue in itself has something too low to
  bear a criticism upon it: but Mr. Wilks enters into the part with
  so much skill, that the gallantry, the youth, and gaiety of a
  young man of a plentiful fortune, is looked upon with as much
  indulgence on the stage, as in real life, without any of those
  intermixtures of wit and humour, which usually prepossess us in
  favour of such characters in other plays.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 23.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 23rd instant, N.S., say, Mr.
  Walpole<a name='fntag235' id="fntag235"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote235'><sup>235</sup></a> (who is since arrived) was
  going with all expedition to Great Britain, whither they doubted
  not but he carried with him the preliminaries to a treaty of
  peace. The French Minister, Monsieur Torcy, has been observed in
  this whole negotiation to turn his discourse upon the calamities
  sent down by Heaven upon France, and imputed the necessities they
  were under to the immediate hand of Providence, in inflicting a
  general scarcity of provision, rather than the superior genius of
  the generals, or the bravery of the armies against them. It would
  be impious not to acknowledge the indulgence of Heaven to us; but
  at the same time, as we are to love our enemies, we are glad to
  see them mortified enough to mix Christianity with their
  politics. An authentic letter from Madame Maintenon to Monsieur
  Torcy has been stolen by a person about him, who has communicated
  a copy of it to some of the dependants of a Minister of the
  Allies. That epistle is writ in the most pathetic manner
  imaginable, and in a style which shows her genius, that has so
  long engrossed the heart of this great monarch.<a name='fntag236'
  id="fntag236"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote236'><sup>236</sup></a></p>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page165' title='165' id=
  "page165"></a>SIR,</p>

  <p>"I received yours, and am sensible of the address and capacity
  with which you have hitherto transacted the great affair under
  your management. You well observe, that our wants here are not to
  be concealed; and that it is vanity to use artifices with the
  knowing men with whom you are to deal. Let me beg you therefore,
  in this representation of our circumstances, to lay aside art,
  which ceases to be such when it is seen, and make use of all your
  skill, to gain us what advantages you can from the enemy's
  jealousy of each other's greatness; which is the place where only
  you have room for any dexterity. If you have any passion for your
  unhappy country, or any affection for your distressed master,
  come home with peace. O Heaven! Do I live to talk of Lewis the
  Great as the object of pity? The king shows a great uneasiness to
  be informed of all that passes; but at the same time, is fearful
  of every one who appears in his presence, lest he should bring an
  account of some new calamity. I know not in what terms to
  represent my thoughts to you, when I speak of the king, with
  relation to his bodily health. Figure to yourself that immortal
  man, who stood in our public places, represented with trophies,
  armour, and terrors, on his pedestal: consider, the Invincible,
  the Great, the Good, the Pious, the Mighty, which were the usual
  epithets we gave him, both in our language and thoughts. I say,
  consider him whom you knew the most glorious and great of
  monarchs; and now think you see the same man an unhappy Lazar, in
  the lowest circumstances of human nature itself, without regard
  to the state from whence he is fallen. I write from his bedside:
  he is at present in a slumber. I have many, many things to add;
  but my <a class="pagenum" name='page166' title='166' id=
  "page166"></a>tears flow too fast, and my sorrow is too big for
  utterance.</p>

  <p>"I am, etc."</p>

  <p>There is such a veneration due from all men to the persons of
  princes, that it were a sort of dishonesty to represent further
  the condition which the king is in; but it is certain, that soon
  after the receipt of these advices, Monsieur Torcy waited upon
  his Grace the Duke of Marlborough and the Lord Townshend, and in
  that conference gave up many points, which he had before said
  were such, as he must return to France before he could
  answer.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag232'>[232]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote232' id="footnote232"></a>See <a href=
      '#number13'>No. 13</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag233'>[233]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote233' id="footnote233"></a>Mrs. Centlivre.
      See <a href='#number15'>No. 15</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag234'>[234]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote234' id="footnote234"></a>Wilks took the
      part of Sir Harry Wildair in Farquhar's "The Constant Couple;
      or, A Trip to the Jubilee," 1699.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag235'>[235]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote235' id="footnote235"></a>Horatio
      Walpole, Secretary to the Embassy at the Hague, and brother
      of Sir Robert Walpole.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag236'>[236]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote236' id="footnote236"></a>This letter is
      a pure invention.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number20' id="number20"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 20.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, May 24</i>, to <i>Thursday, May 26</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 24.</h3>

  <p>It is not to be imagined how far prepossession will run away
  with people's understandings, in cases wherein they are under
  present uneasiness. The following narration is a sufficient
  testimony of the truth of this observation.</p>

  <p>I had the honour the other day of a visit from a gentlewoman
  (a stranger to me) who seemed to be about thirty. Her complexion
  is brown; but the air of her face has an agreeableness, which
  surpasses the beauties of the fairest women. There appeared in
  her look and mien a sprightly health; and her eyes had too much
  vivacity to become the language of complaint, which she began to
  enter into. She seemed sensible of it; and therefore, with
  downcast looks, said she, "Mr. Bickerstaff, you see before you
  the <a class="pagenum" name='page167' title='167' id=
  "page167"></a>unhappiest of women; and therefore, as you are
  esteemed by all the world both a great civilian, as well as an
  astrologer, I must desire your advice and assistance, in putting
  me in a method of obtaining a divorce from a marriage, which I
  know the law will pronounce void." "Madam," said I, "your
  grievance is of such a nature, that you must be very ingenuous in
  representing the causes of your complaint, or I cannot give you
  the satisfaction you desire." "Sir," she answers, "I believed
  there would be no need of half your skill in the art of
  divination, to guess why a woman would part from her husband."
  "It is true," said I; "but suspicions, or guesses at what you
  mean, nay certainty of it, except you plainly speak it, are no
  foundation for a formal suit." She clapped her fan before her
  face; "My husband," said she, "is no more a husband" (here she
  burst into tears) "than one of the Italian singers."</p>

  <p>"Madam," said I, "the affliction you complain of, is to be
  redressed by law; but at the same time, consider what
  mortifications you are to go through in bringing it into open
  court; how you will be able to bear the impertinent whispers of
  the people present at the trial, the licentious reflections of
  the pleaders, and the interpretations that will in general be put
  upon your conduct by all the world: 'How little,' will they say,
  'could that lady command her passions.' Besides, consider, that
  curbing our desires is the greatest glory we can arrive at in
  this world, and will be most rewarded in the next." She answered,
  like a prudent matron, "Sir, if you please to remember the office
  of matrimony, the first cause of its institution is that of
  having posterity: therefore, as to the curbing desires, I am
  willing to undergo any abstinence from food as you please to
  enjoin me; but I cannot, with any quiet of mind, live in the
  neglect of a necessary duty, and an express <a class="pagenum"
  name='page168' title='168' id="page168"></a>commandment, Increase
  and multiply." Observing she was learned, and knew so well the
  duties of life, I turned my arguments rather to dehort her from
  this public procedure by examples, than precepts. "Do but
  consider, madam, what crowds of beauteous women live in
  nunneries, secluded for ever from the sight and conversation of
  men, with all the alacrity of spirit imaginable; they spend their
  time in heavenly raptures, in constant and frequent devotions,
  and at proper hours in agreeable conversations." "Sir," said she
  hastily, "tell not me of Papists, or any of their idolatries."
  "Well then, madam, consider how many fine ladies live innocently
  in the eye of the world, and this gay town, in the midst of
  temptation: there's the witty Mrs. W&#8212;&#8212; is a virgin of
  44, Mrs. T&#8212;&#8212;s is 39, Mrs. L&#8212;&#8212;ce, 33; yet
  you see, they laugh and are gay, at the park, at the playhouse,
  at balls, and at visits; and so much at ease, that all this seems
  hardly a self-denial." "Mr. Bickerstaff," said she, with some
  emotion, "you are an excellent casuist; but the last word
  destroyed your whole argument; if it is not self-denial, it is no
  virtue. I presented you with a half-guinea, in hopes not only to
  have my conscience eased, but my fortune told. Yet&#8212;" "Well,
  madam," said I, "pray of what age is your husband?" "He is,"
  replied my injured client, "fifty, and I have been his wife
  fifteen years." "How happened it, you never communicated your
  distress in all this time to your friends and relations?" She
  answered, "He has been thus but a fortnight." I am the most
  serious man in the world to look at, and yet could not forbear
  laughing out. "Why, madam, in case of infirmity, which proceeds
  only from age, the law gives no remedy." "Sir," said she, "I find
  you have no more learning than Dr. Case;<a name='fntag237' id=
  "fntag237"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote237'><sup>237</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page169' title='169' id="page169"></a>and I am told of a young
  man, not five and twenty, just come from Oxford, to whom I will
  communicate this whole matter, and doubt not but he will appear
  to have seven times more useful and satisfactory knowledge than
  you and all your boasted family." Thus I have entirely lost my
  client: but if this tedious narrative preserves Pastorella from
  the intended marriage with one twenty years her senior&#8212;To
  save a fine lady, I am contented to have my learning decried, and
  my predictions bound up with Poor Robin's Almanacks.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 25.</h3>

  <p>This evening was acted, "The Recruiting Officer,"<a name=
  'fntag238' id="fntag238"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote238'><sup>238</sup></a> in which Mr. Estcourt's<a name=
  'fntag239' id="fntag239"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote239'><sup>239</sup></a> proper sense and observation is
  what supports the play. There is not, in my humble opinion, the
  humour hit in Sergeant Kite; but it is admirably supplied by his
  action. If I have skill to judge, that man is an excellent actor;
  but the crowd of the audience are fitter for representations at
  Mayfair, than a <a class="pagenum" name='page170' title='170' id=
  "page170"></a>theatre royal. Yet that fair is now broke,<a name=
  'fntag240' id="fntag240"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote240'><sup>240</sup></a> as well as the theatre is
  breaking: but it is allowed still to sell animals there.
  Therefore, if any lady or gentleman have occasion for a tame
  elephant, let them inquire of Mr. Pinkethman, who has one to
  dispose of at a reasonable rate.<a name='fntag241' id=
  "fntag241"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote241'><sup>241</sup></a> The downfall of Mayfair has
  quite sunk the price of this noble creature, as well as of many
  other curiosities of nature. A tiger will sell almost as cheap as
  an ox; and I am credibly informed, a man may purchase a cat with
  three legs, for very near the value of one with four. I hear
  likewise, that there is a great desolation among the gentlemen
  and ladies who were the ornaments of the town, and used to shine
  in plumes and diadems; the heroes being most of them pressed, and
  the queens beating hemp. Mrs. Sarabrand, so famous for her
  ingenious puppet-show, has set up a shop in the Exchange,<a name=
  'fntag242' id="fntag242"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote242'><sup>242</sup></a> where she sells her little
  troop under the term of jointed babies.<a name='fntag243' id=
  "fntag243"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote243'><sup>243</sup></a> I could not but be solicitous
  to know of her, how she had disposed of that rake-hell Punch,
  whose lewd life and conversation had given so much scandal, and
  did not a little contribute to the ruin of the fair. She told me,
  with a sigh, that despairing of ever reclaiming him, she would
  not offer to place him in a civil family, but got him in a post
  upon a stall in Wapping, where he may be seen from sun-rising to
  sun-setting, with a glass in one hand, and a pipe in the other,
  as sentry to a brandy-shop. <a class="pagenum" name='page171'
  title='171' id="page171"></a>The great revolutions of this nature
  bring to my mind the distresses of the unfortunate
  Camilla<a name='fntag244' id="fntag244"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote244'><sup>244</sup></a>, who has had the ill-luck to
  break before her voice, and to disappear at a time when her
  beauty was in the height of its bloom. This lady entered so
  thoroughly into the great characters she acted, that when she had
  finished her part, she could not think of retrenching her
  equipage, but would appear in her own lodgings with the same
  magnificence that she did upon the stage. This greatness of soul
  has reduced that unhappy princess to an involuntary retirement,
  where she now passes her time among the woods and forests,
  thinking on the crowns and sceptres she has lost, and often
  humming over in her solitude,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "I was born of royal race,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Yet must wander in disgrace," &amp;c.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>But for fear of being overheard, and her quality known, she
  usually sings it in Italian:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Naqui al regno, naqui al trono
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        E pur sono
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Inventurata Pastorella&#8212;"
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>Since I have touched upon this subject, I shall communicate to
  my reader part of a letter I have received from an ingenious
  friend at Amsterdam, where there is a very noble theatre; though
  the manner of furnishing it <a class="pagenum" name='page172'
  title='172' id="page172"></a>with actors is something peculiar to
  that place, and gives us occasion to admire both the politeness
  and frugality of the people.</p>

  <p>My friends have kept me here a week longer than ordinary to
  see one of their plays, which was performed last night with great
  applause. The actors are all of them tradesmen, who, after their
  day's work is over, earn about a guilder a night by personating
  kings and generals. The hero of the tragedy I saw, was a
  journeyman tailor, and his first minister of state a coffee-man.
  The empress made me think of Parthenope<a name='fntag245' id=
  "fntag245"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote245'><sup>245</sup></a> in "The Rehearsal"; for her
  mother keeps an ale-house in the suburbs of Amsterdam. When the
  tragedy was over, they entertained us with a short farce, in
  which the cobbler did his part to a miracle; but upon inquiry, I
  found he had really been working at his own trade, and
  representing on the stage what he acted every day in his shop.
  The profits of the theatre maintain a hospital: for as here they
  do not think the profession of an actor the only trade that a man
  ought to exercise, so they will not allow anybody to grow rich on
  a profession that in their opinion so little conduces to the good
  of the commonwealth. If I am not mistaken, your playhouses in
  England have done the same thing; for, unless I am misinformed,
  the hospital at Dulwich was erected and endowed by Mr.
  Alleyn,<a name='fntag246' id="fntag246"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote246'><sup>246</sup></a> a player: and it is <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page173' title='173' id="page173"></a>also said,
  a famous she-tragedian<a name='fntag247' id=
  "fntag247"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote247'><sup>247</sup></a> has settled her estate, after
  her death, for the maintenance of decayed wits, who are to be
  taken in as soon as they grow dull, at whatever time of their
  life that shall happen.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 25.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 31st instant, N.S., say, that
  the articles preliminary to a general peace were settled,
  communicated to the States-General and all the foreign Ministers
  residing there, and transmitted to their respective masters on
  the 28th. Monsieur Torcy immediately returned to the Court of
  France, from whence he is expected again on the 4th of the next
  month, with those articles ratified by that Court. The Hague is
  agreed upon for the place of treaty, and the 15th of the next
  month the day on which it is to commence. The terms on which this
  negotiation is founded, are not yet declared by public authority;
  but what is most generally received, is as follows:</p>

  <p>Her Majesty's right and title, and the Protestant succession
  to those dominions, is forthwith to be acknowledged. King Charles
  is also to be owned the lawful sovereign of Spain; and the French
  king shall not only recall his troops out of that kingdom, and
  deliver up to the Allies the towns of Roses, Fontarabia, and
  Pampeluna; but in case the Duke of Anjou shall not retire out of
  the Spanish dominions, he shall be obliged to assist the Allies
  to force him from thence. A cessation of arms is agreed upon for
  two months from the first day of the treaty. The port and
  fortifications of Dunkirk are to be demolished within four
  months; but the town itself left in the hands of the French. The
  Pretender is to be obliged to leave France. All Newfoundland is
  to be restored to the <a class="pagenum" name='page174' title=
  '174' id="page174"></a>English. As to the other parts of America,
  the French are to restore whatever they may have taken from the
  English, as the English in like manner to give up what they may
  have taken from the French before the commencement of the treaty.
  The trade between Great Britain and France shall be settled upon
  the same foundation as in the reign of King Charles II.</p>

  <p>The Dutch are to have for their barriers, Nieuport, Berg, St.
  Vinox, Furnes, Ipres, Lille, Tournay, Douay, Valenciennes, Condé,
  Maubeuge, Mons, Charleroy, Namur, and Luxemburg; all which places
  shall be delivered up to the Allies before the end of June. The
  trade between Holland and France shall be on the same foot as in
  1664. The cities of Strasburg, Brisac, and Alsatia, shall be
  restored to the Emperor and Empire; and the King of France,
  pursuant to the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, shall only retain
  the protection of ten imperial cities, viz., Colmar, Schlestat,
  Haguenau, Munster, Turkeim, Keisemberg, Obrenheim, Rosheim,
  Weisemburg, and Landau. Huninguen, Fort Louis, Fort Kiel, and New
  Brisac shall be demolished, and all the fortifications from Basle
  to Philipsburg. The King of Prussia shall remain in the peaceable
  possession of Neufchatel. The affair of Orange, as also the
  pretensions of his Prussian Majesty in the French Comté, shall be
  determined at this general negotiation of peace. The Duke of
  Savoy shall have a restitution made of all that has been taken
  from him by the French, and remain master of Exilles, Chamont,
  Fenestrelles, and the Valley of Pragelas.<a name='fntag248' id=
  "fntag248"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote248'><sup>248</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag237'>[237]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote237' id="footnote237"></a>John Case,
      astrologer and friend of John Partridge, succeeded to
      Saffold's habitation in Blackfriars gateway, opposite to
      Ludgate Church, whence he issued many advertisements. "Their
      old physician begged they would not forget him&#8212;he gives
      his advice for nothing&#8212;his cures are private. At
      Lilly's Head, &amp;c., is the only place to obtain health,
      long life, and happiness, by your old friend Dr. Case, who
      extirpates the foundation of all diseases":</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "At the Golden Ball and Lillie's Head
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            John Case lives though Saffold's dead."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>His handbills were commonly adorned with a variety of
      emblematic devices and poetry. See note on Kirleus, in
      <a href='#number14'>No. 14</a>; and Nos. 216, 240. Case's
      most important book was his "Compendium Anatomicum nova
      methodo institutum," 1695.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag238'>[238]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote238' id="footnote238"></a>By Farquhar;
      first acted in 1706.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag239'>[239]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote239' id="footnote239"></a>Richard
      Estcourt (1668-1712), whom Farquhar specially selected to act
      the part of Sergeant Kite, is celebrated by Steele in a
      well-known paper in the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 468; see also
      No. 390). Estcourt was providore of the Beefsteak Club, and
      wrote two or three dramatic pieces. See No. 51.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag240'>[240]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote240' id="footnote240"></a>See <a href=
      '#number4'>No. 4</a>. This article was printed by Tickell
      among Addison's works.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag241'>[241]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote241' id="footnote241"></a>In 1704,
      Pinkethman advertised that at his booth he would speak an
      epilogue upon an elephant between nine and ten feet high,
      arrived from Guinea, led upon the stage by six blacks.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag242'>[242]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote242' id="footnote242"></a>This may be
      either the Royal Exchange or the New Exchange, in the Strand.
      There were shops for the sale of trinkets and toys at both
      places.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag243'>[243]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote243' id="footnote243"></a>"Baby" was a
      term often applied to dolls.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag244'>[244]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote244' id="footnote244"></a>Mrs. Katherine
      Tofts sang in English to Nicolini's Italian, in Buononcini's
      opera of "Camilla," but this absurdity was forgiven on
      account of the charm of their voices. In 1709, in the height
      of her beauty, Mrs. Tofts left the stage, owing to her
      intellect becoming disordered; but afterwards she married Mr.
      Joseph Smith, a gentleman who lived in great state; but his
      wife's mind again gave way, and she spent hours walking and
      singing in a garden attached to a remote part of the house.
      She died in 1760. See <i>Spectator,</i> Nos. 18, 22 and 443,
      where there is a letter purporting to be from Mrs. Tofts, at
      Venice.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag245'>[245]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote245' id="footnote245"></a>In act iii. sc.
      2 of "The Rehearsal," Prince Volscius falls in love at first
      sight with Parthenope, who says:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "My mother, sir, sells ale by the town-walls,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            And me her dear Parthenope she calls;"
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>whereupon Volscius (repeating words from Davenant's "Siege
      of Rhodes") replies:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud?
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Thou bring'st the morning pictured in a cloud."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag246'>[246]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote246' id="footnote246"></a>Edward Alleyn,
      the actor, who died in 1626, aged 61, founded Dulwich
      Hospital.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag247'>[247]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote247' id="footnote247"></a>Mrs.
      Bracegirdle; see <a href='#number1'>No. 1</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag248'>[248]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote248' id="footnote248"></a>"It is said
      that Monsieur Torcy, when he signed this instrument broke
      into this exclamation: 'Would Colbert have signed such a
      treaty for France?' On which a Minister present was pleased
      to say, 'Colbert himself would have been proud to have saved
      France in these circumstances on such terms'" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page175' title='175' id=
    "page175"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number21' id="number21"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 21.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, May 26</i>, to <i>Saturday, May 28</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 26.</h3>

  <p>A gentleman has writ to me out of the country a very civil
  letter, and said things which I suppress with great violence to
  my vanity. There are many terms in my narratives which he
  complains want explaining, and has therefore desired, that, for
  the benefit of my country readers, I would let him know what I
  mean by a Gentleman, a Pretty Fellow, a Toast, a Coquette, a
  Critic, a Wit, and all other appellations in the gayer world, who
  are in present possession of these several characters; together
  with an account of those who unfortunately pretend to them. I
  shall begin with him we usually call a Gentleman, or man of
  conversation. It is generally thought, that warmth of
  imagination, quick relish of pleasure, and a manner of becoming
  it, are the most essential qualities for forming this sort of
  man. But any one that is much in company will observe, that the
  height of good breeding is shown rather in never giving offence,
  than in doing obliging things. Thus, he that never shocks you,
  though he is seldom entertaining, is more likely to keep your
  favour, than he who often entertains, and sometimes displeases
  you. The most necessary talent therefore in a man of
  conversation, which is what we ordinarily intend by a fine
  gentleman, is a good judgment. He that has this in perfection, is
  master of his companion, without letting him see it; and has the
  same advantage over men of any other qualifications whatsoever,
  as one that can see would have over a blind man of ten times his
  strength. <a class="pagenum" name='page176' title='176' id=
  "page176"></a>This is what makes Sophronius the darling of all
  who converse with him, and the most powerful with his
  acquaintance of any man in town. By the light of this faculty, he
  acts with great ease and freedom among the men of pleasure, and
  acquits himself with skill and despatch among the men of
  business. This he performs with so much success, that, with as
  much discretion in life as any man ever had, he neither is, nor
  appears, cunning. But as he does a good office, if he ever does
  it, with readiness and alacrity; so he denies what he does not
  care to engage in, in a manner that convinces you, that you ought
  not to have asked it. His judgment is so good and unerring, and
  accompanied with so cheerful a spirit, that his conversation is a
  continual feast, at which he helps some, and is helped by others,
  in such a manner, that the equality of society is perfectly kept
  up, and every man obliges as much as he is obliged: for it is the
  greatest and justest skill in a man of superior understanding, to
  know how to be on a level with his companions. This sweet
  disposition runs through all the actions of Sophronius, and makes
  his company desired by women, without being envied by men.
  Sophronius would be as just as he is, if there were no law; and
  would be as discreet as he is, if there were no such thing as
  calumny.</p>

  <p>In imitation of this agreeable being, is made that animal we
  call a Pretty Fellow; who being just able to find out, that what
  makes Sophronius acceptable, is a natural behaviour; in order to
  the same reputation, makes his own an artificial one. Jack Dimple
  is his perfect mimic, whereby he is of course the most unlike him
  of all men living. Sophronius just now passed into the inner room
  directly forward: Jack comes as fast after as he can for the
  right and left looking-glass, in which he had but just approved
  himself by a nod at each, and marched on. He <a class="pagenum"
  name='page177' title='177' id="page177"></a>will meditate within
  for half an hour, till he thinks he is not careless enough in his
  air, and come back to the mirror to recollect his
  forgetfulness.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 27.</h3>

  <p>This night was acted the comedy, called, "The Fox";<a name=
  'fntag249' id="fntag249"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote249'><sup>249</sup></a> but I wonder the modern writers
  do not use their interest in the house to suppress such
  representations. A man that has been at this, will hardly like
  any other play during the season: therefore I humbly move, that
  the writings, as well as dresses, of the last age, should give
  way to the present fashion. We are come into a good method enough
  (if we were not interrupted in our mirth by such an apparition as
  a play of Jonson's) to be entertained at more ease, both to the
  spectator and the writer, than in the days of old. It is no
  difficulty to get hats, and swords, and wigs, and shoes, and
  everything else, from the shops in town, and make a man show
  himself by his habit, without more ado, to be a counsellor, a
  fop, a courtier, or a citizen, and not be obliged to make those
  characters talk in different dialects to be distinguished from
  each other. This is certainly the surest and best way of writing:
  but such a play as this makes a man for a month after overrun
  with criticism, and inquire, what every man on the stage said?
  What had such a one to do to meddle with such a thing? How came
  the other, who was bred after such a manner, to speak so like a
  man conversant among a different people? These questions rob us
  of all our pleasure; for at this rate, no one sentence in a play
  should be spoken by any one character, which could possibly enter
  into the head of any other man represented in it; but every
  sentiment should be peculiar to him only who utters it. Laborious
  <a class="pagenum" name='page178' title='178' id=
  "page178"></a>Ben's works will bear this sort of inquisition; but
  if the present writers were thus examined, and the offences
  against this rule cut out, few plays would be long enough for the
  whole evening's entertainment. But I don't know how they did in
  those old times: this same Ben Jonson has made every one's
  passion in this play be towards money, and yet not one of them
  expresses that desire, or endeavours to obtain it any way but
  what is peculiar to him only: one sacrifices his wife, another
  his profession, another his posterity from the same motive; but
  their characters are kept so skilfully apart, that it seems
  prodigious their discourses should rise from the invention of the
  same author. But the poets are a nest of hornets, and I'll drive
  these thoughts no farther, but must mention some hard treatment I
  am like to meet with from my brother-writers. I am credibly
  informed, that the author of a play, called, "Love in a Hollow
  Tree,"<a name='fntag250' id="fntag250"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote250'><sup>250</sup></a> has made some remarks upon my
  late discourse on "The Naked Truth."<a name='fntag251' id=
  "fntag251"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote251'><sup>251</sup></a> I cannot blame a gentleman for
  writing against any error; it is for the good of the learned
  world. But I would have the thing fairly left between us two, and
  not under the protection of patrons. But my intelligence is, that
  he has dedicated his treatise to the Honourable Mr.
  Ed&#8212;&#8212;d H&#8212;&#8212;rd.<a name='fntag252' id=
  "fntag252"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote252'><sup>252</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page179' title='179' id="page179"></a></p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 27.</h3>

  <p><i>"To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.</i></p>

  <p>"York, May 16, 1709.</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"Being convinced as the whole world is, how infallible your
  predictions are, and having the honour to be your near relation,
  of the Staffian family, I was under great concern at one of your
  predictions relating to yourself, wherein you foretold your own
  death would happen on the 17th instant, unless it were prevented
  by the assistance of well-disposed people:<a name='fntag253' id=
  "fntag253"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote253'><sup>253</sup></a> I have therefore prevailed on
  my own modesty to send you a piece of news, which may serve
  instead of Goddard's Drops,<a name='fntag254' id=
  "fntag254"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote254'><sup>254</sup></a> to keep you alive for two days,
  till nature be able to recover itself, or till you meet with some
  better help from other hands. Therefore, without further
  ceremony, I will go on to relate a singular adventure just
  happened in the place where I am <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page180' title='180' id="page180"></a>writing, wherein it may be
  highly useful for the public to be informed.<a name='fntag255'
  id="fntag255"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote255'><sup>255</sup></a></p>

  <p>"Three young ladies of our town were on Saturday last indicted
  for witchcraft. The witnesses against the first deposed upon oath
  before Justice Bindover, that she kept spirits locked up in
  velvets, which sometimes appeared in flames of blue fire; that
  she used magical herbs, with some of which she drew in hundreds
  of men daily to her, who went out from her presence all inflamed,
  their mouths parched, and a hot steam issuing from them, attended
  with a grievous stench; that many of the said men were by the
  force of that herb metamorphosed into swine, and lay wallowing in
  the kennels for twenty-four hours, before they could reassume
  their shapes or their senses.</p>

  <p>"It was proved against the second, that she cut off by night
  the limbs from dead bodies that were hanged, and was seen to dig
  holes in the ground, to mutter some conjuring words, and bury
  pieces of the flesh, after the usual manner of witches.</p>

  <p>"The third was accused for a notorious piece of sorcery, long
  practised by hags, of moulding up pieces of dough into the shapes
  of men, women, and children; then heating them at a gentle fire,
  which had a sympathetic power to torment the bowels of those in
  the neighbourhood.</p>

  <p>"This was the sum of what was objected against the three
  ladies, who indeed had nothing to say in their own defence, but
  downright denying the facts, which is like to avail very little
  when they come upon their trials.</p>

  <p>"But the parson of our parish, a strange refractory <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page181' title='181' id="page181"></a>man, will
  believe nothing of all this; so that the whole town cries out,
  'Shame! that one of his coat should be such an atheist;' and
  design to complain of him to the bishop. He goes about very oddly
  to solve the matter. He supposes, that the first of these ladies
  keeping a brandy and tobacco shop, the fellows went out smoking,
  and got drunk towards evening, and made themselves beasts. He
  says, the second is a butcher's daughter, and sometimes brings a
  quarter of mutton from the slaughter-house overnight against a
  market-day, and once buried a bit of beef in the ground, as a
  known receipt to cure warts on her hands. The parson affirms,
  that the third sells gingerbread, which, to please the children,
  she is forced to stamp with images before it is baked; and if it
  burns their guts, it is because they eat too much, or do not
  drink after it.</p>

  <p>"These are the answers he gives to solve this wonderful
  phenomenon; upon which I shall not animadvert, but leave it among
  the philosophers: and so wishing you all success in your
  undertakings for the amendment of the world, I remain,</p>

  <p>"Dear Cousin,</p>

  <p>"Your most affectionate Kinsman,</p>

  <p>"and humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"EPHRAIM BEDSTAFF."</p>

  <p>"P.S.&#8212;Those who were condemned to death among the
  Athenians, were obliged to take a dose of poison, which made them
  die upwards, seizing first upon their feet, making them cold and
  insensible, and so ascending gradually, till it reached the vital
  parts. I believe your death, which you foretold would happen on
  the 17th instant, will fall <a class="pagenum" name='page182'
  title='182' id="page182"></a>out the same way, and that your
  distemper hath already seized on you, and makes progress daily.
  The lower part of you, that is, the advertisements,<a name=
  'fntag256' id="fntag256"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote256'><sup>256</sup></a> is dead; and these have risen
  for these ten days last past, so that they now take up almost a
  whole paragraph. Pray, sir, do your endeavour to drive this
  distemper as much as possible to the extreme parts, and keep it
  there, as wise folks do the gout; for if it once gets into your
  stomach, it will soon fly up into your head, and you are a dead
  man."</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, May 27.</h3>

  <p>We hear from Leghorn, that Sir Edward Whitaker, with five
  men-of-war, four transports, and two fire-ships, was arrived at
  that port, and Admiral Byng was suddenly expected. Their
  squadrons being joined, they design to sail directly for Final,
  to transport the reinforcements, lodged in those parts, to
  Barcelona.</p>

  <p>They write from Milan, that Count Thaun arrived there on the
  16th instant, N.S., and proceeded on his journey to Turin on the
  21st, in order to concert such measures with his royal highness,
  as shall appear necessary for the operations of the ensuing
  campaign.</p>

  <p>Advices from Dauphiny say, that the troops of the Duke of
  Savoy began already to appear in those valleys, whereof he made
  himself master the last year; and that the Duke of Berwick
  applied himself with all imaginable diligence to secure the
  passes of the mountains by ordering entrenchments to be made
  towards Briançon, Tourneau, and the Valley of Queiras. That
  general has also been at Marseilles and Toulon, to hasten the
  transportation of the corn and provisions designed for his
  army.</p>

  <p>Letters from Vienna, bearing date May 23, N.S., <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page183' title='183' id="page183"></a>import,
  that the Cardinal of Saxe-Zeits and the Prince of Lichtenstein
  were preparing to set out for Presburg, to assist at the Diet of
  the States of Hungary, which is to be assembled at that place on
  the 25th of this month. General Heister would shortly appear at
  the head of his army at Trentschin, which place is appointed for
  the general rendezvous of the Imperial forces in Hungary; from
  whence he will advance to lay siege to Neuhausel: in the
  meantime, reinforcements, with a great train of artillery, are
  marching the same way. The King of Denmark arrived on the both
  instant at Innspruck, and on the 26th at Dresden, under a triple
  discharge of the artillery of that place; but his Majesty refused
  the ceremonies of a public entry.</p>

  <p>Our letters from the Upper Rhine say, that the Imperial army
  began to form itself at Etlingen; where the respective deputies
  of the Elector Palatine, the Prince of Baden Durlach, the
  Bishopric of Spires, &amp;c. were assembled, and had taken the
  necessary measures for the provision of forage, the security of
  the country against the incursions of the enemy, and laying a
  bridge over the Rhine. Several vessels laden with corn are daily
  passing before Frankfort for the Lower Rhine.</p>

  <p>Letters from Poland inform us, that a detachment of Muscovite
  cavalry, under the command of General Infland, had joined the
  confederate army; and the infantry commanded by General Goltz,
  was expected to come up within few days. These succours will
  amount to 20,000 men.</p>

  <p>Our last advices from the Hague, dated June the 4th, N.S.,
  say, that they expected a courier from the French Court with the
  ratification of the preliminaries that night or the day
  following. His Grace the Duke of Marlborough will set out for
  Brussels on Wednesday or Thursday next, if the despatches which
  are expected from Paris don't alter <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page184' title='184' id="page184"></a>his resolutions. Letters
  from Majorca confirm the honourable capitulation of the castle of
  Alicante, and also the death of the governor, Major-General
  Richards, Colonel Sibourg, and Major Vignolles, who were all
  buried in the ruins of that place, by the springing of their
  great mine, which did, it seems, more execution than was
  reported. Monsieur Torcy passed through Mons in his return, and
  had there a long conference with the Elector of Bavaria; after
  which, that prince spoke publicly of the treatment he had from
  France with the utmost indignation.</p>

  <p>Any person that shall come publicly abroad in a fantastical
  habit, contrary to the present mode and fashion, except Don Diego
  Dismallo,<a name='fntag257' id="fntag257"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote257'><sup>257</sup></a> or any other out of poverty,
  shall have his name and dress inserted in our next.</p>

  <p>N.B.&#8212;Mr. How'd'call is desired to leave off those
  buttons.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag249'>[249]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote249' id="footnote249"></a>Ben Jonson's
      "Volpone; or, The Fox."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag250'>[250]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote250' id="footnote250"></a>The comedy,
      "Love in a Hollow Tree; or, The Lawyer's Fortune," was
      published by William, Lord Viscount Grimston (1683-1756),
      when he was twenty-two years of age. On the occasion of a
      contested election for the borough of St. Albans (1736), it
      was reprinted&#8212;by the Duchess of Marlborough, it is
      said&#8212;with notes attacking the author, and adorned with
      the frontispiece of an elephant dancing on a rope. The
      viscount bought up as nearly as he could the whole edition.
      "This worthy notleman was a good husband to one of the best
      of wives, an indulgent father of a numerous offspring, a kind
      master to his servants, a generous friend, and an affable,
      hospitable neighbour." (Biog. Dram.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag251'>[251]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote251' id="footnote251"></a>See <a href=
      '#number17'>No. 17</a></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag252'>[252]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote252' id="footnote252"></a>Probably the
      Hon. Edward Howard, second son of Henry, fifth Earl of
      Suffolk. On the death of his nephew without issue in 1722, he
      became eighth Earl of Suffolk, but he died unmarried in
      1731.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag253'>[253]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote253' id="footnote253"></a>See <a href=
      '#number7'>No. 7</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag254'>[254]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote254' id="footnote254"></a>Dr. Jonathan
      Goddard, the physician and confidant of Cromwell, a member of
      the Royal Society, and medical professor of Gresham College,
      discovered in the course of his chemical experiments, the
      famous elixir, called here his "drops." Dr. Goddard died of
      an apoplexy in 1675. "March 24, 1674-5. About 10 o'clock that
      night, my very good friend, Dr. Jonathan Goddard, reader of
      the physic lectures at Gresham College, suddenly fell down
      dead in the street, as he was entering into a coach. He was a
      pretty corpulent and tall man, a bachelor between 45 and 50
      years of age; he was melancholy, inclined to be cynical, and
      used now and then to complain of giddiness in his head. He
      was an excellent mathematician, and some time physician to
      Oliver the Protector" (John Coniers, apothecary, in Shoe
      Lane. MSS. Sloan. 958). The "drops" were a preparation of
      spirit of hartshorn, with other things; they were used in
      fainting, apoplexies, &amp;c.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag255'>[255]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote255' id="footnote255"></a>With this
      satire on the vulgar prejudices concerning witches, may be
      compared what Addison says in the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 117):
      "I believe in general that there is and has been such a thing
      as witchcraft; but at the same time can give no credit to any
      particular instance of it."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag256'>[256]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote256' id="footnote256"></a>The number of
      advertisements in the Tatler gradually increased; but as a
      compensation the "news" paragraph was dropped.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag257'>[257]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote257' id="footnote257"></a>This name was
      afterwards applied by the Tory writers to the Earl of
      Nottingham; and the author of the 'Examiner' (vol. iii. No
      48) says that it was Steele who first used the name for this
      nobleman, "and upon no less an important affair, than the
      oddness of his buttons." In the 'Guardian (No. 53), however,
      Steele disavowed any reference to Lord Nottingham: "I do not
      remember the mention of Don Diego; nor do I remember tht ever
      I thought of Lord Nottingham in any character drawn in any
      one paper of Bickerstaff." See also <a href='#number31'>No.
      31</a>, below.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number22' id="number22"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 22.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, May 28</i>, to <i>Tuesday, May 31</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 28.</h3>

  <p>I came hither this evening to see fashions, and who should I
  first encounter but my old friend Cynthio<a name='fntag258' id=
  "fntag258"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote258'><sup>258</sup></a> (encompassed by a crowd of
  young fellows) dictating on the <a class="pagenum" name='page185'
  title='185' id="page185"></a>passion of love with the gayest air
  imaginable. "Well," says he, "as to what I know of the matter,
  there is nothing but ogling with skill carries a woman; but
  indeed it is not every fool that is capable of this art: you will
  find twenty can speak eloquently, fifty can fight manfully, and a
  thousand that can dress genteelly at a mistress, where there is
  one that can gaze skilfully. This requires an exquisite judgment,
  to take the language of her eyes to yours exactly, and not let
  yours talk too fast for hers; as at a play between the acts, when
  Beau Frisk stands upon a bench full in Lindamira's face, and her
  dear eyes are searching round to avoid that flaring open fool;
  she meets the watchful glance of her true lover, and sees his
  heart attentive on her charms, and waiting for a second twinkle
  of her eye for its next motion." Here the good company sneered;
  but he goes on. "Nor is this attendance a slavery, when a man
  meets encouragement, and her eye comes often in his way: for,
  after an evening so spent, and the repetition of four or five
  significant looks at him, the happy man goes home to his lodging,
  full of ten thousand pleasing images: his brain is dilated, and
  gives him all the ideas and prospects which it ever lets in to
  its seat of pleasure. Thus a kind look from Lindamira revives in
  his imagination all the beauteous lawns, green fields, woods,
  forests, rivers and solitudes, which he had ever before seen in
  picture, description, or real life: and all with this addition,
  that he now sees them with the eyes of a happy lover, as before
  only with those of a common man. You laugh, gentlemen: but
  consider yourselves (you common people that were never in love)
  and compare yourselves in good humour with yourselves out of
  humour, and you will then acknowledge, that all external objects
  affect you according to the disposition you are in to receive
  their impressions, and not as those objects are in their own
  nature. How <a class="pagenum" name='page186' title='186' id=
  "page186"></a>much more shall all that passes within his view and
  observation, touch with delight a man who is prepossessed with
  successful love, which is an assemblage of soft affections, gay
  desires, and hopeful resolutions?" Poor Cynthio went on at this
  rate to the crowd about him, without any purpose in his talk, but
  to vent a heart overflowing with sense of success. I wondered
  what could exalt him from the distress in which he had long
  appeared, to so much alacrity. But my familiar has given me the
  state of his affairs. It seems then, that lately coming out of
  the play-house, his mistress, who knows he is in her livery (as
  the manner of insolent beauties is), resolved to keep him still
  so, and gave him so much wages, as to complain to him of the
  crowd she was to pass through. He had his wits and resolution
  enough about him to take her hand, and say, he would attend her
  to her coach. All the way thither, my good young man stammered at
  every word, and stumbled at every step. His mistress, wonderfully
  pleased with her triumph, put him to a thousand questions, to
  make a man of his natural wit speak with hesitation, and let drop
  her fan, to see him recover it awkwardly. This is the whole
  foundation of Cynthio's recovery to the sprightly air he appears
  with at present. I grew mighty curious to know something more of
  that lady's affairs, as being amazed how she could dally with an
  offer of one of his merit and fortune. I sent Pacolet to her
  lodgings; he immediately brought me back the following letter to
  her friend and confidante Amanda in the country, wherein she has
  opened her heart and all its folds.</p>

  <p>"DEAR AMANDA,</p>

  <p>The town grows so empty, that you must expect my letter so
  too, except you will allow me to talk of myself instead of
  others: you cannot imagine what pain it <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page187' title='187' id="page187"></a>is, after a whole day
  spent in public, to want your company, and the ease which
  friendship allows in being vain to each other, and speaking all
  our minds. An account of the slaughter which these unhappy eyes
  have made within ten days last past, would make me appear too
  great a tyrant to be allowed in a Christian country. I shall
  therefore confine myself to my principal conquests, which are the
  hearts of Beau Frisk, and Jack Freeland, besides Cynthio, who,
  you know, wore my fetters before you went out of town. Shall I
  tell you my weakness? I begin to love Frisk: it is the
  best-humoured impertinent thing in the world: he is always too in
  waiting, and will certainly carry me off one time or other.
  Freeland's father and mine have been upon treaty without
  consulting me; and Cynthio has been eternally watching my eyes,
  without approaching me, my friends, my maid, or any one about me:
  he hopes to get me, I believe, as they say the rattlesnake does
  the squirrel, by staring at me till I drop into his mouth.
  Freeland demands me for a jointure which he thinks deserves me;
  Cynthio thinks nothing high enough to be my value: Freeland
  therefore will take it for no obligation to have me; and
  Cynthio's idea of me, is what will vanish by knowing me better.
  Familiarity will equally turn the veneration of the one, and the
  indifference of the other, into contempt. I will stick therefore
  to my old maxim, to have that sort of man, who can have no
  greater views than what are in my power to give him possession
  of. The utmost of my dear Frisk's ambition is, to be thought a
  man of fashion; and therefore has been so much in mode, as to
  resolve upon me, because the whole town likes me. Thus I choose
  rather a man who loves me because others do, than one who
  approves me on his own judgment. He that judges for himself in
  love, will often change his opinion; but he that follows the
  sense of others, must be <a class="pagenum" name='page188' title=
  '188' id="page188"></a>constant, as long as a woman can make
  advances. The visits I make, the entertainments I give, and the
  addresses I receive, will be all arguments for me with a man of
  Frisk's second-hand genius; but would be so many bars to my
  happiness with any other man. However, since Frisk can wait, I
  shall enjoy a summer or two longer, and remain a single woman, in
  the sublime pleasure of being followed and admired; which nothing
  can equal, except that of being beloved by you.</p>

  <p>"I am, &amp;c."</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, May 30.</h3>

  <p>My chief business here this evening was to speak to my friends
  in behalf of honest Cave Underhill,<a name='fntag259' id=
  "fntag259"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote259'><sup>259</sup></a> who has been a comic for three
  generations: my father<a name='fntag260' id=
  "fntag260"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote260'><sup>260</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page189' title='189' id="page189"></a>admired him extremely when
  he was a boy. There is certainly nature excellently represented
  in his manner of action; in which he ever avoided that general
  fault in players, of doing too much. It must be confessed, he has
  not the merit of some ingenious persons now on the stage, of
  adding to his authors; for the actors were so dull in the last
  age, that many of them have gone out of the world, without having
  ever spoke one word of their own in the theatre. Poor Cave is so
  mortified, that he quibbles, and tells you, he pretends only to
  act a part fit for a man who has one foot in the grave; viz., a
  gravedigger. All admirers of true comedy, it is hoped, will have
  the gratitude to be present on the last day of his acting, who,
  if he does not happen to please them, will have it even then to
  say, that it is his first offence.</p>

  <p>But there is a gentleman here, who says he has it from good
  hands, that there is actually a subscription made by many persons
  of wit and quality, for the encouragement of new comedies. This
  design will very much contribute to the improvement and diversion
  of the town: but as every man is most concerned for himself, I,
  who am of a saturnine and melancholy complexion, cannot but
  murmur, that there is not an equal invitation to write tragedies,
  having by me, in my book of commonplaces, enough to enable me to
  finish a very sad one by the 5th of next month. I have the
  farewell of a general, with a truncheon in his hand, dying for
  love, in six lines. I have the principles of a politician (who
  does all the mischief in the play) together with his declaration
  on the vanity of ambition in his last moments, expressed in a
  page and a half. I have all my oaths ready, and my similes want
  nothing but application. I won't pretend to give you an account
  of the plot, it being the same design upon which all tragedies
  have been writ for several years last past; and <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page190' title='190' id="page190"></a>from the
  beginning of the first scene, the frequenters of the house may
  know, as well as the author, when the battle is to be fought, the
  lady to yield, and the hero to proceed to his wedding and
  coronation. Besides these advantages which I have in readiness, I
  have an eminent tragedian very much my friend, who shall come in,
  and go through the whole five acts, without troubling me for one
  sentence, whether he is to kill or be killed, love or be loved,
  win battles or lose them, or whatever other tragical performance
  I shall please to assign him.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 30.</h3>

  <p>I have this day received a letter subscribed "Fidelia," that
  gives me an account of an enchantment under which a young lady
  suffers, and desires my help to exorcise her from the power of
  the sorcerer. Her lover is a rake of sixty; the lady a virtuous
  woman of twenty-five: her relations are to the last degree
  afflicted, and amazed at this irregular passion: their sorrow I
  know not how to remove, but can their astonishment; for there is
  no spirit in woman half so prevalent as that of contradiction,
  which is the sole cause of her perseverance. Let the whole family
  go dressed in a body, and call the bride to-morrow morning to her
  nuptials, and I'll undertake, the inconstant will forget her
  lover in the midst of all his aches. But if this expedient does
  not succeed, I must be so just to the young lady's distinguishing
  sense, as to applaud her choice. A fine young woman, at last, is
  but what is due from fate to an honest fellow, who has suffered
  so unmercifully by the sex; and I think we cannot enough
  celebrate her heroic virtue, who (like the patriot that ended a
  pestilence by plunging himself into a gulf) gives herself up to
  gorge that dragon which has devoured so many virgins before
  her.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page191' title='191' id=
  "page191"></a>A letter directed to "Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.;
  astrologer and physician in ordinary to her Majesty's subjects of
  Great Britain, with respect," is come to hand.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag258'>[258]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote258' id="footnote258"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number1">1</a>, <a href="#number5">5</a>, <a href=
      "#number35">35</a>, 85.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag259'>[259]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote259' id="footnote259"></a>The following
      advertisement appeared in Nos. <a href="#number20">20</a> and
      <a href="#number22">22</a>: "Mr. Cave Underhill, the famous
      comedian in the reigns of Charles II., King James II., King
      William and Queen Mary, and her present Majesty Queen Anne;
      but now not able to perform so often as heretofore in the
      playhouse, and having had losses to the value of near £2500,
      is to have the tragedy of 'Hamlet' acted for his benefit, on
      Friday, the 3rd of June next, at the Theatre Royal in Drury
      Lane, in which he is to perform his original part, the
      Grave-maker. Tickets may be had at the Mitre Tavern in Fleet
      Street." Colley Cibber says that Underhill was particularly
      admired in the character of the Grave-digger; and he adds:
      "Underhill was a correct and natural comedian; his particular
      excellence was in characters that may be called still-life; I
      mean the stiff, the heavy, and the stupid; to these he gave
      the exactest and most expressive colours, and in some of them
      looked as if it were not in the power of human passions to
      alter a feature of him. A countenance of wood could not be
      more fixed than his, when the blockhead of a character
      required it; his face was full and long; from his crown to
      the end of his nose was the shorter half of it, so that the
      disproportion of his lower features, when soberly composed,
      threw him into the most lumpish, moping mortal, that ever
      made beholders merry; not but, at other times, he could be
      wakened into spirit equally ridiculous." Genest says that
      Underhill acted again as the Grave-digger on Feb. 23, 1710,
      at Drury Lane.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag260'>[260]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote260' id="footnote260"></a>"Grandfather"
      (folio).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number23' id="number23"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 23.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, May 31</i>, to <i>Thursday, June 2</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, May 31.</h3>

  <p>The generality of mankind are so very fond of this world, and
  of staying in it, that a man cannot have eminent skill in any one
  art, but they will, in spite of his teeth, make him a physician
  also, that being the science the worldlings have most need of. I
  pretended, when I first set up, to astrology only; but I am told,
  I have deep skill also in medicine. I am applied to now by a
  gentleman for my advice in behalf of his wife, who, upon the
  least matrimonial difficulty, is excessively troubled with fits,
  and can bear no manner of passion without falling into immediate
  convulsions. I must confess, it is a case I have known before,
  and remember the party was recovered by certain words pronounced
  in the midst of the fit by the learned doctor who performed the
  cure. These ails have usually their beginning from the affections
  of the mind: therefore you must have patience to let me give you
  an instance, whereby you may discern the cause of the distemper,
  and then proceed in the cure as follows:</p>

  <p>A fine town lady was married to a gentleman of ancient descent
  in one of the counties of Great Britain, who had good humour to a
  weakness, and was that sort of person, of whom it is usually
  said, he is no man's enemy but his own: one who had too much
  tenderness of soul to have any authority with his wife; and she
  too little sense to <a class="pagenum" name='page192' title='192'
  id="page192"></a>give him authority for that reason. His kind
  wife observed this temper in him, and made proper use of it. But
  knowing it was below a gentlewoman to wrangle, she resolved upon
  an expedient to save decorum, and wear her dear to her point at
  the same time. She therefore took upon her to govern him, by
  falling into fits whenever she was repulsed in a request, or
  contradicted in a discourse. It was a fish-day, when in the midst
  of her husband's good humour at table, she bethought herself to
  try her project. She made signs that she had swallowed a bone.
  The man grew pale as ashes, and ran to her assistance, calling
  for drink. "No, my dear," said she, recovering, "it is down;
  don't be frightened." This accident betrayed his softness enough.
  The next day she complained, a lady's chariot, whose husband had
  not half his estate, had a crane-neck, and hung with twice the
  air that hers did. He answered, "Madam, you know my income; you
  know I have lost two coach-horses this spring."&#8212;Down she
  fell.&#8212;"Hartshorn! Betty, Susan, Alice, throw water in her
  face." With much care and pains she was at last brought to
  herself, and the vehicle in which she visited was amended in the
  nicest manner, to prevent relapses; but they frequently happened
  during that husband's whole life, which he had the good fortune
  to end in few years after. The disconsolate soon pitched upon a
  very agreeable successor, whom she very prudently designed to
  govern by the same method. This man knew her little arts, and
  resolved to break through all tenderness, and be absolute master,
  as soon as occasion offered. One day it happened, that a
  discourse arose about furniture: he was very glad of the
  occasion, and fell into an invective against china,<a name=
  'fntag261' id="fntag261"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote261'><sup>261</sup></a> protesting, he would never let
  five pounds more of his <a class="pagenum" name='page193' title=
  '193' id="page193"></a>money be laid out that way as long as he
  breathed. She immediately fainted&#8212;he starts up as amazed,
  and calls for help&#8212;the maids ran to the closet&#8212;he
  chafes her face, bends her forwards, and beats the palms of her
  hands: her convulsions increase, and down she tumbles on the
  floor, where she lies quite dead, in spite of what the whole
  family, from the nursery to the kitchen, could do for her
  relief.</p>

  <p>While every servant was thus helping or lamenting their
  mistress, he, fixing his cheek to hers, seemed to be following
  her in a trance of sorrow; but secretly whispers her, "My dear,
  this will never do: what is within my power and fortune, you may
  always command, but none of your artifices: you are quite in
  other hands than those you passed these pretty passions upon."
  This made her almost in the condition she pretended; her
  convulsions now came thicker, nor was she to be held down. The
  kind man doubles his care, helps the servants to throw water in
  her face by full quarts; and when the sinking part of the fit
  came again, "Well, my dear," said he, "I applaud your action; but
  I must take my leave of you till you are more sincere with me.
  Farewell for ever: you shall always know where to hear of me, and
  want for nothing." With that, he ordered the maids to keep plying
  her with hartshorn, while he went for a physician: he was scarce
  at the stairhead when she followed; and pulling him into a
  closet, thanked him for her cure; which was so absolute, that she
  gave me this relation herself, to be communicated for the benefit
  of all the voluntary invalids of her sex.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page194' title='194' id=
  "page194"></a></p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, May 31.</h3>

  <p>The public is not so little my concern, though I am but a
  student, as that I should not interest myself in the present
  great things in agitation. I am still of opinion, the French king
  will sign the preliminaries. With that view, I have sent him by
  my familiar the following epistle, and admonished him, on pain of
  what I shall say of him to future generations, to act with
  sincerity on this occasion.</p>

  <h3>"London, May 31.</h3>

  <h4>"Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., of Great Britain, to Lewis XIV. of
  France.</h4>

  <p>"The surprising news which arrived this day, of your Majesty's
  having refused to sign the treaty your Ministers have in a manner
  sued for, is what gives ground to this application to your
  Majesty, from one whose name, perhaps, is too obscure to have
  ever reached your territories; but one who, with all the European
  world, is affected with your determinations. Therefore, as it is
  mine and the common cause of mankind, I presume to expostulate
  with you on this occasion. It will, I doubt not, appear to the
  vulgar extravagant, that the actions of a mighty prince should be
  balanced by the censure of a private man, whose approbation or
  dislike are equally contemptible in their eyes, when they regard
  the thrones of sovereigns. But your Majesty has shown, through
  the whole course of your reign, too great a value for liberal
  arts to be insensible, that true fame lies only in the hands of
  learned men, by whom it is to be transmitted to futurity, with
  marks of honour or reproach to the end of time. The date of human
  life is too short to recompense the cares which attend the most
  private condition: <a class="pagenum" name='page195' title='195'
  id="page195"></a>therefore it is, that our souls are made as it
  were too big for it, and extend themselves in the prospect of a
  longer existence, in a good fame and memory of worthy actions
  after our decease. The whole race of men have this passion in
  some degree implanted in their bosoms, which is the strongest and
  noblest incitation to honest attempts: but the base use of the
  arts of peace, eloquence, poetry, and all the parts of learning,
  have been possessed by souls so unworthy those faculties, that
  the names and appellations of things have been confounded by the
  labours and writings of prostituted men, who have stamped a
  reputation upon such actions as are in themselves the objects of
  contempt and disgrace. This is that which has misled your Majesty
  in the conduct of your reign, and made that life, which might
  have been the most imitable, the most to be avoided. To this it
  is, that the great and excellent qualities of which your Majesty
  is master, are lost in their application; and your Majesty has
  been carrying on for many years the most cruel tyranny, with all
  the noble methods which are used to support a just reign. Thus it
  is, that it avails nothing that you are a bountiful master; that
  you are so generous as to reward even the unsuccessful with
  honour and riches; that no laudable action passes unrewarded in
  your kingdoms; that you have searched all nations for obscure
  merit; in a word, that you are in your private character endowed
  with every princely quality, when all this is subjected to unjust
  and ill-taught ambition, which to the injury of the world, is
  gilded by those endowments. However, if your Majesty will
  condescend to look into your own soul, and consider all its
  faculties and weaknesses with impartiality; if you will but be
  convinced, that life is supported in you by the ordinary methods
  of food, rest, and sleep; you would think it impossible that you
  could ever be so much <a class="pagenum" name='page196' title=
  '196' id="page196"></a>imposed on, as to have been wrought into a
  belief, that so many thousands of the same make with yourself,
  were formed by Providence for no other end, but by the hazard of
  their very being to extend the conquests and glory of an
  individual of their own species. A very little reflection will
  convince your Majesty, that such cannot be the intent of the
  Creator; and if not, what horror must it give your Majesty to
  think of the vast devastations your ambition has made among your
  fellow creatures? While the warmth of youth, the flattery of
  crowds, and a continual series of success and triumph, indulged
  your Majesty in this allusion of mind, it was less to be wondered
  at, that you proceeded in this mistaken pursuit of grandeur; but
  when age, disappointments, public calamities, personal
  distempers, and the reverse of all that makes men forget their
  true being, are fallen upon you: heavens! is it possible you can
  live without remorse? Can the wretched man be a tyrant? Can grief
  study torments? Can sorrow be cruel?&#8212;</p>

  <p>"Your Majesty will observe, I do not bring against you a
  railing accusation; but as you are a strict professor of
  religion, I beseech your Majesty to stop the effusion of blood,
  by receiving the opportunity which presents itself, for the
  preservation of your distressed people. Be no longer so
  infatuated, as to hope for renown from murder and violence: but
  consider, that the great day will come, in which this world and
  all its glory shall change in a moment: when nature shall sicken,
  and the earth and sea give up the bodies committed to them, to
  appear before the last tribunal. Will it then, O king! be an
  answer for the lives of millions who have fallen by the sword,
  'They perished for my glory'? That day will come on, and one like
  it is immediately approaching: injured nations advance towards
  thy habitation: vengeance has begun its <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page197' title='197' id="page197"></a>march, which is to be
  diverted only by the penitence of the oppressor. Awake, O
  monarch, from thy lethargy! Disdain the abuses thou hast
  received: pull down the statue which calls thee immortal: be
  truly great: tear thy purple, and put on sackcloth.</p>

  <p>"I am,</p>

  <p>"Thy generous Enemy,</p>

  <p class="right">"ISAAC BICKERSTAFF."</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 1.</h3>

  <p>Advices from Brussels of the 6th instant, N.S., say, his
  Highness Prince Eugene had received a letter from Monsieur Torcy,
  wherein that Minister, after many expressions of great respect,
  acquaints him, that his master had absolutely refused to sign the
  preliminaries to the treaty which he had, in his Majesty's
  behalf, consented to at the Hague. Upon the receipt of this
  intelligence, the face of things at that place were immediately
  altered, and the necessary orders were transmitted to the troops
  (which lay most remote from thence) to move towards the place of
  rendezvous with all expedition. The enemy seem also to prepare
  for the field, and have at present drawn together twenty-five
  thousand men in the plains of Lenz. Marshal Villars is at the
  head of those troops; and has given the generals under his
  command all possible assurances, that he will turn the fate of
  the war to the advantage of his master.</p>

  <p>They write from the Hague of the 7th, that Monsieur Rouillé
  had received orders from the Court of France, to signify to the
  States-General and the Ministers of the High Allies, that the
  king could not consent to the preliminaries of a treaty of peace,
  as it was offered to him by Monsieur Torcy. The great difficulty
  is the business of Spain, on <a class="pagenum" name='page198'
  title='198' id="page198"></a>which particular his Ministers
  seemed only to say, during the treaty, that it was not so
  immediately under their master's direction, as that he could
  answer for its being relinquished by the Duke of Anjou: but now
  he positively answers, that he cannot comply with what his
  Minister has promised in his behalf, even in such points as are
  wholly in himself to act in or not. This has had no other effect,
  than to give the Alliance fresh arguments for being diffident of
  engagements entered into by France. The Pensioner made a report
  of all which this Minister had declared to the Deputies of the
  States-General, and all things turn towards a vigorous war. The
  Duke of Marlborough designed to leave the Hague within two days,
  in order to put himself at the head of the army, which is to
  assemble on the 17th instant between the Scheldt and the Lis. A
  fleet of eighty sail, laden with corn from the Baltic, is arrived
  in the Texel. The States have sent circular letters to all the
  provinces, to notify this change of affairs, and animate their
  subjects to new resolutions in defence of their country.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag261'>[261]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote261' id="footnote261"></a>Addison
      ridiculed the prevalent craze for collecting china in No. 10
      of the <i>Lover</i>; and Swift wrote to Steele, "What do I
      know whether china is dear or not; I once took a fancy of
      resolving to go mad for it, but now it is off."</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number24' id="number24"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 24.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[ADDISON.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, June 2</i>, to <i>Saturday, June 4</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 2.</h3>

  <p>In my paper of the 28th of the last month,<a name='fntag262'
  id="fntag262"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote262'><sup>262</sup></a> I mentioned several characters
  which want explanation to the generality of readers: among
  others, I spoke of a Pretty Fellow; but I have received a kind
  admonition in a letter, to take care that I do not omit to show
  also what is meant by a Very Pretty Fellow, which is to be
  allowed as a <a class="pagenum" name='page199' title='199' id=
  "page199"></a>character by itself, and a person exalted above the
  other by a peculiar sprightliness, as one who, by a
  distinguishing vigour, outstrips his companions, and has thereby
  deserved and obtained a particular appellation, or nickname of
  familiarity. Some have this distinction from the fair sex, who
  are so generous as to take into their protection those who are
  laughed at by the men, and place them for that reason in degrees
  of favour. The chief of this sort is Colonel Brunett, who is a
  man of fashion, because he will be so; and practises a very
  jaunty way of behaviour, because he is too careless to know when
  he offends, and too sanguine to be mortified if he did know it.
  Thus the colonel has met with a town ready to receive him, and
  cannot possibly see why he should not make use of their favour,
  and set himself in the first degree of conversation. Therefore he
  is very successfully loud among the wits, familiar among the
  ladies, and dissolute among the rakes. Thus he is admitted in one
  place, because he is so in another; and every man treats Brunett
  well, not out of his particular esteem for him, but in respect to
  the opinion of others. It is to me a solid pleasure to see the
  world thus mistaken on the good-natured side; for it is ten to
  one but the colonel mounts into a general officer, marries a fine
  lady, and is master of a good estate, before they come to explain
  upon him. What gives most delight to me in this observation, is,
  that all this arises from pure nature, and the colonel can
  account for his success no more than those by whom he succeeds.
  For these causes and considerations, I pronounce him a true
  woman's man, and in the first degree, "a very pretty fellow." The
  next to a man of this universal genius, is one who is peculiarly
  formed for the service of the ladies, and his merit chiefly is to
  be of no consequence. I am indeed a little in doubt, whether he
  ought not rather to be called a "very happy," <a class="pagenum"
  name='page200' title='200' id="page200"></a>than a "very pretty"
  fellow? For he is admitted at all hours: all he says or does,
  which would offend in another, are passed over in him; and all
  actions and speeches which please, doubly please if they come
  from him: no one wonders or takes notice when he is wrong; but
  all admire him when he is in the right. By the way it is fit to
  remark, that there are people of better sense than these, who
  endeavour at this character; but they are out of nature; and
  though, with some industry, they get the characters of fools,
  they cannot arrive to be "very," seldom to be merely "pretty
  fellows." But where nature has formed a person for this station
  amongst men, he is gifted with a peculiar genius for success, and
  his very errors and absurdities contribute to it; this felicity
  attending him to his life's end. For it being in a manner
  necessary that he should be of no consequence, he is as well in
  old age as youth; and I know a man, whose son has been some years
  a pretty fellow, who is himself at this hour a "very" pretty
  fellow. One must move tenderly in this place, for we are now in
  the ladies' lodgings, and speaking of such as are supported by
  their influence and favour; against which there is not, neither
  ought there to be, any dispute or observation. But when we come
  into more free air, one may talk a little more at large. Give me
  leave then to mention three, whom I do not doubt but we shall see
  make considerable figures; and these are such as, for their
  Bacchanalian performances, must be admitted into this order. They
  are three brothers lately landed from Holland: as yet, indeed,
  they have not made their public entry, but lodge and converse at
  Wapping. They have merited already on the waterside particular
  titles: the first is called Hogshead; the second Culverin; and
  the third Musket. This fraternity is preparing for our end of the
  town by their ability in the exercises of Bacchus, and measure
  their time <a class="pagenum" name='page201' title='201' id=
  "page201"></a>and merit by liquid weight, and power of drinking.
  Hogshead is a prettier fellow than Culverin by two quarts, and
  Culverin than Musket by a full pint. It is to be feared, Hogshead
  is so often too full, and Culverin overloaded, that Musket will
  be the only lasting "very" pretty fellow of the three.<a name=
  'fntag263' id="fntag263"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote263'><sup>263</sup></a> A third sort of this
  denomination are such as, by very daring adventures in love, have
  purchased to themselves renown and new names; as, Joe Carry, for
  his excessive strength and vigour; Tom Drybones, for his generous
  loss of youth and health; and Cancrum, for his meritorious
  rottenness. These great and leading spirits are proposed to all
  such of our British youth as would arrive at perfection in these
  different kinds; and if their parts and accomplishments were well
  imitated, it is not doubted but that our nation would soon excel
  all others in wit and arts, as they already do in arms.</p>

  <p>N.B.&#8212;The gentleman who stole Betty Pepin,<a name=
  'fntag264' id="fntag264"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote264'><sup>264</sup></a> may own it, for he is allowed
  to be a "very" pretty fellow.</p>

  <h4>But we must proceed to the explanation of other terms in our
  writings.</h4>

  <p>To know what a Toast is in the country, gives as much
  <a class="pagenum" name='page202' title='202' id=
  "page202"></a>perplexity as she herself does in town: and,
  indeed, the learned differ very much upon the original of this
  word, and the acceptation of it among the moderns. However, it is
  by all agreed to have a joyous and cheerful import. A toast in a
  cold morning, heightened by nutmeg, and sweetened with sugar, has
  for many ages been given to our rural dissenters of justice,
  before they entered upon causes, and has been of great and
  politic use to take off the severity of their sentences; but has
  indeed been remarkable for one ill effect, that it inclines those
  who use it immoderately, to speak Latin, to the admiration,
  rather than information, of an audience. This application of "a
  toast" makes it very obvious, that the word may, without a
  metaphor, be understood as an apt name for a thing which raises
  us in the most sovereign degree. But many of the wits of the last
  age will assert, that the word, in its present sense, was known
  among them in their youth, and had its rise from an accident at
  the town of Bath, in the reign of King Charles II. It happened,
  that on a public day a celebrated beauty of those times was in
  the Cross Bath, and one of the crowd of her admirers took a glass
  of the water in which the fair one stood, and drank her health to
  the company. There was in the place a gay fellow, half fuddled,
  who offered to jump in, and swore, though he liked not the
  liquor, he would have the toast. He was opposed in his
  resolution; yet this whim gave foundation to the present honour
  which is done to the lady we mention in our liquors, who has ever
  since been called a "toast." Though this institution had so
  trivial a beginning, it is now elevated into a formal order; and
  that happy virgin who is received and drank to at their meetings,
  has no more to do in this life, but to judge and accept of the
  first good offer. The manner of her inauguration is much like
  that of the choice of a Doge in <a class="pagenum" name='page203'
  title='203' id="page203"></a>Venice: it is performed by
  balloting; and when she is so chosen, she reigns indisputably for
  that ensuing year; but must be elected anew to prolong her empire
  a moment beyond it. When she is regularly chosen, her name is
  written with a diamond on a drinking-glass.<a name='fntag265' id=
  "fntag265"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote265'><sup>265</sup></a> The hieroglyphic of the diamond
  is to show her, that her value is imaginary; and that of the
  glass to acquaint her, that her condition is frail, and depends
  on the hand which holds her. This wise design admonishes her,
  neither to overrate nor depreciate her charms; as well
  considering and applying, that it is perfectly according to the
  humour and taste of the company, whether the toast is eaten, or
  left as an offal.</p>

  <p>The foremost of the whole rank of toasts, and the most
  undisputed in their present empire, are Mrs. Gatty and Mrs.
  Frontlet: the first, an agreeable; the second, an awful beauty.
  These ladies are perfect friends, out of a knowledge that their
  perfections are too different to stand in competition. He that
  likes Gatty can have no relish for so solemn a creature as
  Frontlet; and an admirer of Frontlet will call Gatty a
  maypole-girl. Gatty for ever smiles upon you; and Frontlet
  disdains to see you smile. Gatty's love is a shining quick flame;
  Frontlet's a slow wasting fire. Gatty likes the man that diverts
  her; Frontlet him who adores her. Gatty always improves the soil
  in which she travels; Frontlet lays waste the country. Gatty does
  not only smile, but laughs at her lover; Frontlet not only looks
  serious, but frowns at him. All the men of wit (and coxcombs
  their followers) are professed servants of Gatty: the politicians
  and pretenders give solemn worship to Frontlet. Their reign will
  be best judged of by its duration. Frontlet will never be chosen
  more; and Gatty is a toast for life.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page204' title='204' id=
  "page204"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 3.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Hamburg of the 7th instant, N.S., inform us, that
  no art or cost is omitted to make the stay of his Danish Majesty
  at Dresden agreeable; but there are various speculations upon the
  interview between King Augustus and that prince, many putting
  politic constructions upon his Danish Majesty's arrival, at a
  time when his troops are marching out of Hungary, with orders to
  pass through Saxony, where it is given out, that they are to be
  recruited. It is said also, that several Polish senators have
  invited King Augustus to return into Poland. His Majesty of
  Sweden, according to the same advices, has passed the Dnieper
  without any opposition from the Muscovites, and advances with all
  possible expedition towards Voldinia, where he proposes to join
  King Stanislaus and General Cressau.</p>

  <p>We hear from Berne of the 1st instant, N.S., that there is not
  a province in France, from whence the Court is not apprehensive
  of receiving accounts of public emotions, occasioned by the want
  of corn. The General Diet of the thirteen cantons is assembled at
  Baden, but have not yet entered upon business, so that the affair
  of Tockenburg is yet at a stand.</p>

  <p>Letters from the Hague, dated the 11th instant, N.S., advise
  that Monsieur Rouillé having acquainted the Ministers of the
  Allies, that his master had refused to ratify the preliminaries
  of a treaty adjusted with Monsieur Torcy, set out for Paris on
  Sunday morning. The same day the foreign Ministers met a
  committee of the States-General, where Monsieur van Hessen opened
  the business upon which they were assembled, and in a very warm
  discourse laid before them the conduct of France in the late
  negotiations, representing the abject manner in which she had
  <a class="pagenum" name='page205' title='205' id=
  "page205"></a>laid open her own distresses, which reduced her to
  a compliance with the demands of all the Allies, and the mean
  manner in receding from those points to which her Minister had
  consented. The respective Ministers of each potentate of the
  Alliance severally expressed their resentment of the faithless
  behaviour of the French, and gave each other mutual assurances of
  the constancy and resolution of their principles to proceed with
  the utmost vigour against the common enemy. His Grace the Duke of
  Marlborough set out from the Hague on the 9th, in the afternoon,
  and lay that night at Rotterdam, from whence at four the next
  morning he proceeded towards Antwerp, with design to reach Ghent
  as on this day. All the troops in the Low Countries are in motion
  towards the general rendezvous between the Scheldt and Lis, and
  the whole army will be formed on the 12th instant; and it is said
  that on the 14th they will advance towards the enemy's country.
  In the meantime the Marshal de Villars has assembled the French
  army between Lens, la Bassée, and Douay.</p>

  <p>Yesterday morning Sir John Norris<a name='fntag266' id=
  "fntag266"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote266'><sup>266</sup></a> with the squadron under his
  command, sailed from the Downs for Holland.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 3.</h3>

  <p>I have the honour of the following letter from a gentleman
  whom I receive into my family, and order the heralds at arms to
  enroll him accordingly.</p>

  <p>"MR. BICKERSTAFF,</p>

  <p>"Though you have excluded me the honour of your family, yet I
  have ventured to correspond with the same great persons as
  yourself, and have wrote this post <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page206' title='206' id="page206"></a>to the King of France;
  though I'm in a manner unknown in his country, and have not been
  seen there these many months.</p>

  <h4>"'To Lewis le Grand.</h4>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "'Though in your country I'm unknown,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Yet, sir, I must advise you;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Of late so poor and mean you're grown,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        That all the world despise you.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Here vermin eat your majesty,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        There meagre subjects stand unfed;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        What surer signs of poverty,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Than many lice, and little bread?
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Then, sir, the present minute choose,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Our armies are advanced;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Those terms you at the Hague refuse,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        At Paris won't be granted.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Consider this, and Dunkirk raze,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        And Anna's title own;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Send one Pretender out to graze,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        And call the other home.'
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"Your humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"BREAD, THE STAFF OF LIFE."</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag262'>[262]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote262' id="footnote262"></a>No. 21.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag263'>[263]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote263' id="footnote263"></a>It would seem
      from the passage in the <i>Examiner</i> (vol. iii. No. 48),
      that three men of distinction at that time, probably
      noblemen, were supposed to be denoted under the names of
      Hogshead, Culverin, and Musket, from Wapping; or, as they are
      named by the <i>Examiner</i>, "Tun, Gun, and Pistol, from
      Wapping." They are there mentioned among others, said to have
      been, "with at least fifty more, sufferers of figure under
      this author's satire, in the days of his mirth," &amp;c. In
      the <i>Guardian</i> (No. 53) Steele says, "Tun, Gun, and
      Pistol from Wapping, laughed at the representation which was
      made of them, and were observed to be more regular in their
      conduct afterwards."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag264'>[264]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote264' id="footnote264"></a>The kept
      mistress of a knight of the shire near Brentford, who
      squandered his estate on women, and in contested elections.
      He has long since gone into the land of oblivion. See No.
      51.&#8212;(Nichols.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag265'>[265]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote265' id="footnote265"></a>Several such
      verses, inscribed on the glasses of the Kit Cat Club, are
      given in Nichols' "Select Collection of Poems," v.
      168-178.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag266'>[266]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote266' id="footnote266"></a>Admiral Sir
      John Norris (died 1749) was sent in June 1709, with a small
      squadron, to stop the French supply of corn from the
      Baltic.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page207' title='207' id=
    "page207"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number25' id="number25"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 25.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, June 4</i>, to <i>Tuesday, June 7</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 6.</h3>

  <p>A letter from a young lady, written in the most passionate
  terms (wherein she laments the misfortune of a gentleman, her
  lover, who was lately wounded in a duel), has turned my thoughts
  to that subject, and inclined me to examine into the causes which
  precipitate men into so fatal a folly.<a name='fntag267' id=
  "fntag267"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote267'><sup>267</sup></a> And as it has been proposed to
  treat of subjects of gallantry in the article from hence, and no
  one point of nature is more proper to be considered by the
  company who frequent this place, than that of duels, it is worth
  our consideration to examine into this chimerical groundless
  humour, and to lay every other thought aside, till we have
  stripped it of all its false pretences to credit and reputation
  amongst men. But I must confess, when I consider what I am going
  about, and run over in my imagination all the endless crowd of
  men of honour who will be offended at such a discourse, I am
  undertaking, methinks, a work worthy an invulnerable hero in
  romance, rather than a private gentleman with a single rapier;
  but as I am pretty well acquainted by great opportunities with
  the nature of man, and know of a truth, that all men fight
  against their will, the danger vanishes, and resolution rises
  upon this subject. For this reason I shall talk very freely on a
  custom which all men wish exploded, though no man has courage
  enough to resist it. But there is one unintelligible word which I
  fear will extremely perplex my <a class="pagenum" name='page208'
  title='208' id="page208"></a>dissertation, and I confess to you I
  find very hard to explain, which is, the term "satisfaction." An
  honest country gentleman had the misfortune to fall into company
  with two or three modern men of honour, where he happened to be
  very ill-treated; and one of the company being conscious of his
  offence, sends a note to him in the morning, and tells him, he
  was ready to give him satisfaction. "This is fine doing," says
  the plain fellow: "last night he sent me away cursedly out of
  humour, and this morning he fancies it would be a satisfaction to
  be run through the body." As the matter at present stands, it is
  not to do handsome actions denominates a man of honour; it is
  enough if he dares to defend ill ones. Thus you often see a
  common sharper in competition with a gentleman of the first rank;
  though all mankind is convinced, that a fighting gamester is only
  a pickpocket with the courage of a highwayman. One cannot with
  any patience reflect on the unaccountable jumble of persons and
  things in this town and nation, which occasions very frequently,
  that a brave man falls by a hand below that of the common
  hangman, and yet his executioner escapes the clutches of the
  hangman for doing it. I shall therefore hereafter consider, how
  the bravest men in other ages and nations have behaved themselves
  upon such incidents as we decide by combat; and show, from their
  practice, that this resentment neither has its foundation from
  true reason, nor solid fame; but is an imposture,<a name=
  'fntag268' id="fntag268"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote268'><sup>268</sup></a> made up of cowardice,
  falsehood, and want of understanding. For this work, a good
  history of quarrels would be very edifying to the public, and I
  apply myself to the town for particulars and circumstances within
  their knowledge, which may serve to embellish the dissertation
  with proper cuts. Most of the quarrels I have ever known, have
  proceeded from some <a class="pagenum" name='page209' title='209'
  id="page209"></a>valiant coxcomb's persisting in the wrong, to
  defend some prevailing folly, and preserve himself from the
  ingenuity of owning a mistake.<a name='fntag269' id=
  "fntag269"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote269'><sup>269</sup></a></p>

  <p>By this means it is called, "giving a man satisfaction," to
  urge your offence against him with your sword; which puts me in
  mind of Peter's order to the keeper, in the "Tale of a Tub": "If
  you neglect to do all this, damn you and your generation for
  ever; and so we bid you heartily farewell."<a name='fntag270' id=
  "fntag270"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote270'><sup>270</sup></a> If the contradiction in the
  very terms of one of our challenges were as well explained, and
  turned into plain English, would it not run after this
  manner?</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"Your extraordinary behaviour last night, and the liberty you
  were pleased to take with me, makes me this morning give you
  this, to tell you, because you are an ill-bred puppy, I will meet
  you in Hyde Park an hour hence; and because you want both
  breeding and humanity, I desire you would come with a pistol in
  your hand, on horseback, and endeavour to shoot me through the
  head; to teach you more manners. If you fail of doing me this
  pleasure, I shall say, you are a rascal on every post in town:
  and so, sir, if you will not injure me more, I shall never
  forgive what you have done already. Pray sir, do not fail of
  getting everything ready, and you will infinitely oblige,</p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"Your most obedient,</p>

  <p>"humble Servant, &amp;c."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page210' title='210' id=
  "page210"></a></p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 6.</h3>

  <p>Among the many employments I am necessarily put upon by my
  friends, that of giving advice is the most unwelcome to me; and
  indeed, I am forced to use a little art in the matter; for some
  people will ask counsel of you, when they have already acted what
  they tell you is still under deliberation. I had almost lost a
  very good friend the other day, who came to know how I liked his
  design to marry such a lady. I answered, "By no means; and I must
  be positive against it, for very solid reasons, which are not
  proper to communicate." "Not proper to communicate!" said he with
  a grave air, "I will know the bottom of this." I saw him moved,
  and knew from thence he was already determined; therefore evaded
  it by saying, "To tell you the truth, dear Frank, of all women
  living, I would have her myself." "Isaac," said he, "thou art too
  late, for we have been both one these two months." I learned this
  caution by a gentleman's consulting me formerly about his son. He
  railed at his damned extravagance, and told me, in a very little
  time, he would beggar him by the exorbitant bills which came from
  Oxford every quarter. "Make the rogue bite upon the
  bridle,"<a name='fntag271' id="fntag271"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote271'><sup>271</sup></a> said I, "pay none of his bills,
  it will but encourage him to further trespasses." He looked
  plaguy sour at me. His son soon after sent up a paper of verses,
  forsooth, in print, on the last public occasion; upon which, he
  is convinced the boy has parts, and a lad of spirit is not to be
  too much cramped in his maintenance, lest he take ill courses.
  Neither father nor son can ever since endure the sight of me.
  These sort of people ask opinions, only out of the fulness of
  their heart on the subject of their perplexity, and not from a
  desire of infor<a class="pagenum" name='page211' title='211' id=
  "page211"></a>mation. There is nothing so easy as to find out
  which opinion the person in doubt has a mind to; therefore the
  sure way is to tell him, that is certainly to be chosen. Then you
  are to be very clear and positive; leave no handle for scruple.
  "Bless me! sir, there is no room for a question." This rivets you
  into his heart; for you at once applaud his wisdom, and gratify
  his inclination. However, I had too much bowels to be insincere
  to a man who came yesterday to know of me, with which of two
  eminent men in the City he should place his son? Their names are
  Paulo and Avaro.<a name='fntag272' id="fntag272"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote272'><sup>272</sup></a> This gave me much
  debate with myself, because not only the fortune of the youth,
  but his virtue also depended upon this choice. The men are
  equally wealthy; but they differ in the use and application of
  their riches, which you immediately see upon entering their
  doors.</p>

  <p>The habitation of Paulo has at once the air of a nobleman and
  a merchant. You see the servants act with affection to their
  master, and satisfaction in themselves: the master meets you with
  an open countenance, full of benevolence and integrity: your
  business is despatched with that confidence and welcome which
  always accompanies honest minds: his table is the image of plenty
  and generosity, supported by justice and frugality. After we had
  dined here, our affair was to visit Avaro: out comes an awkward
  fellow with a careful countenance; "Sir, would you speak with my
  master? May I crave your name?" After the first preambles, he
  leads us into a noble solitude, a great house that seemed
  uninhabited; but from the end of the spacious hall moves towards
  us Avaro, with a suspicious aspect, as if he believed us thieves;
  and as for my part, I approached him as if I knew him a
  cut-purse. <a class="pagenum" name='page212' title='212' id=
  "page212"></a>We fell into discourse of his noble dwelling, and
  the great estate all the world knew he had to enjoy in it: and I,
  to plague him, fell a commending Paulo's way of living. "Paulo,"
  answered Avaro, "is a very good man; but we who have smaller
  estates, must cut our coat according to our cloth." "Nay," says
  I, "every man knows his own circumstance best; you are in the
  right, if you haven't wherewithal." He looked very sour (for it
  is, you must know, the utmost vanity of a mean-spirited rich man
  to be contradicted, when he calls himself poor). But I was
  resolved to vex him, by consenting to all he said; the main
  design of which was, that he would have us find out, he was one
  of the wealthiest men in London, and lived like a beggar. We left
  him, and took a turn on the 'Change. My friend was ravished with
  Avaro. "This," said he, "is certainly a sure man." I contradicted
  him with much warmth, and summed up their different characters as
  well as I could. "This Paulo," said I, "grows wealthy by being a
  common good; Avaro, by being a general evil: Paulo has the art,
  Avaro the craft of trade. When Paulo gains, all men he deals with
  are the better: whenever Avaro profits, another certainly loses.
  In a word, Paulo is a citizen, and Avaro a cit." I convinced my
  friend, and carried the young gentleman the next day to Paulo,
  where he will learn the way both to gain, and enjoy a good
  fortune. And though I cannot say, I have, by keeping him from
  Avaro, saved him from the gallows, I have prevented his deserving
  it every day he lives: for with Paulo he will be an honest man,
  without being so for fear of the law; as with Avaro, he would
  have been a villain within the protection of it.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page213' title='213' id=
  "page213"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 6.</h3>

  <p>We hear from Vienna of the 1st instant, that Baron Imoff, who
  attended her Catholic Majesty with the character of Envoy from
  the Duke of Wolfembuttel, was returned thither. That Minister
  brought an account, that Major-general Stanhope, with the troops
  which embarked at Naples, was returned to Barcelona. We hear from
  Berlin, by advices of the 8th instant, that his Prussian Majesty
  had received intelligence from his Minister at Dresden, that the
  King of Denmark desired to meet his Majesty at Magdeburg. The
  King of Prussia has sent answer, that his present indisposition
  will not admit of so great a journey; but has sent the king a
  very pressing invitation to come to Berlin or Potsdam. These
  advices say, that the Minister of the King of Sweden has produced
  a letter from his master to the King of Poland, dated from
  Batitzau the 30th of March, O.S., wherein he acquaints him, that
  he has been successful against the Muscovites in all the
  occasions which have happened since his march into their country.
  Great numbers have revolted to the Swedes since General Mazeppa
  went over to that side; and as many as have done so, have taken
  solemn oaths to adhere to the interests of his Swedish
  Majesty.</p>

  <p>Advices from the Hague of the 14th instant, N.S., say, that
  all things tended to a vigorous and active campaign; the Allies
  having strong resentments against the late behaviour of the Court
  of France; and the French using all possible endeavours to
  animate their men to defend their country against a victorious
  and exasperated enemy. Monsieur Rouillé had passed through
  Brussels without visiting either the Duke of Marlborough or
  Prince Eugene, who were both there at that time. The States
  <a class="pagenum" name='page214' title='214' id=
  "page214"></a>have met, and publicly declared their satisfaction
  in the conduct of their deputies during the whole treaty. Letters
  from France say, that the Court is resolved to put all to the
  issue of the ensuing campaign. In the meantime, they have ordered
  the preliminary treaty to be published, with observation upon
  each article, in order to quiet the minds of the people, and
  persuade them, that it has not been in the power of the king to
  procure a peace, but to the diminution of his Majesty's glory,
  and the hazard of his dominions. His Grace the Duke of
  Marlborough and Prince Eugene arrived at Ghent on Wednesday last,
  where, at an assembly of all the general officers, it was thought
  proper, by reason of the great rains which have lately fallen, to
  defer forming a camp, or bringing the troops together; but as
  soon as the weather would permit, to march upon the enemy with
  all expedition.<a name='fntag273' id="fntag273"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote273'><sup>273</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag267'>[267]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote267' id="footnote267"></a>For Steele's
      other papers on duelling, see Nos. <a href=
      "#number26">26</a>, <a href="#number28">28</a>, <a href=
      "#number29">29</a>, <a href="#number31">31</a>, <a href=
      "#number38">38</a>, <a href="#number39">39</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag268'>[268]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote268' id="footnote268"></a>Something
      imposed upon us.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag269'>[269]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote269' id="footnote269"></a>"While this
      barbarous custom of duelling is tolerated, we shall never be
      rid of coxcombs, who will defend their understandings by the
      sword, and force us to bear nonsense on pain of
      death."&#8212;(Steele, <i>Theatre</i>, No. 26.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag270'>[270]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote270' id="footnote270"></a>Swift's "Tale
      of a Tub," sect. 4.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag271'>[271]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote271' id="footnote271"></a><i>I.e.</i>,
      hold him in.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag272'>[272]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote272' id="footnote272"></a>Said to be
      Bateman and Heathcote, both eminent
      citizens&#8212;(<i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, lx. 679.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag273'>[273]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote273' id="footnote273"></a>"Mr.
      Bickerstaff has received a letter, dated June 6, with the
      just exceptions against the pretence of persons therein
      mentioned, to the name of Pretty Fellows, which shall be
      taken notice of accordingly: as likewise, the letter from
      Anthony Longtail of Canterbury, concerning the death of
      Thomas à Becket" (folio). See Nos. <a href=
      "#number24">24</a>, <a href="#number26">26</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number26' id="number26"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 26.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, June 7</i>, to <i>Thursday, June 9</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 8.</h3>

  <p>I have read the following letter with delight and approbation,
  and I hereby order Mr. Kidney at St. James's, and Sir Thomas at
  White's<a name='fntag274' id="fntag274"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote274'><sup>274</sup></a> (who are my clerks for
  enrolling all men in their distant classes, before they presume
  to drink tea or chocolate in those places), to take care, that
  the persons within the descriptions in the letter <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page215' title='215' id="page215"></a>be
  admitted, and excluded according to my friend's
  remonstrance.<a name='fntag275' id="fntag275"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote275'><sup>275</sup></a></p>

  <p>"<i>To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.; at Mr. Morphew's near
  Stationers' Hall.</i></p>

  <p>"<i>June 6</i>, 1709.</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"Your paper of Saturday<a name='fntag276' id=
  "fntag276"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote276'><sup>276</sup></a> has raised up in me a noble
  emulation, to be recorded in the foremost rank of worthies
  therein mentioned; and if any regard be had to merit or industry,
  I may hope to succeed in the promotion, for I have omitted no
  toil or expense to be a proficient; and if my friends do not
  flatter, they assure me, I have not lost my time since I came to
  town. To enumerate but a few particulars; there's hardly a
  coachman I meet with, but desires to be excused taking me,
  because he has had me before. I have compounded two or three
  rapes; and let out to hire as many bastards to beggars. I never
  saw above the first act of a play: and as to my courage, it is
  well known, I have more than once had sufficient witnesses of my
  drawing my sword both in tavern and playhouse. Dr. Wall<a name=
  'fntag277' id="fntag277"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote277'><sup>277</sup></a> is my particular friend; and if
  it were any service to the public to compose the difference
  between Marten and Sintilaer<a name='fntag278' id=
  "fntag278"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote278'><sup>278</sup></a> the pearl-driller, I don't know
  a judge of more experience than myself: for in that I may say
  with the poet,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "'Quæ regio in villa nostri non plena laboris?'<a name=
        'fntag279' id="fntag279"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote279'><sup>279</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page216' title='216' id=
  "page216"></a>I omit other less particulars, the necessary
  consequences of greater actions. But my reason for troubling you
  at this present is, to put a stop, if it may be, to an
  insinuating, increasing set of people, who sticking to the letter
  of your treatise, and not to the spirit of it, do assume the name
  of 'pretty fellows'; nay, and even get new names, as you very
  well hint. Some of them I have heard calling to one another, as I
  have sat at White's and St. James's, by the names of Betty,
  Nelly, and so forth. You see them accost each other with
  effeminate airs: they have their signs and tokens like
  freemasons: they rail at women-kind; receive visits on their beds
  in gowns, and do a thousand other unintelligible prettinesses
  that I cannot tell what to make of. I therefore heartily desire
  you would exclude all this sort of animals.</p>

  <p>"There is another matter I am foreseeing an ill consequence
  from, but may be timely prevented by prudence; which is, that for
  the last fortnight, prodigious shoals of volunteers have gone
  over to bully the French, upon hearing the peace was just
  signing; and this is so true, that I can assure you, all
  engrossing work about the Temple is risen above 3<i>s</i>. in the
  pound for want of hands. Now as it is possible some little
  alteration of affairs may have broken their measures, and that
  they will post back again, I am under the last apprehension, that
  these will, at their return, all set up for 'pretty fellows,' and
  thereby confound all merit and service, and impose on us some new
  alteration in our nightcap-wigs<a name='fntag280' id=
  "fntag280"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote280'><sup>280</sup></a> and pockets, unless you can
  provide <a class="pagenum" name='page217' title='217' id=
  "page217"></a>a particular class for them. I cannot apply myself
  better than to you, and I am sure I speak the mind of a very
  great number as deserving as myself."</p>

  <p>The pretensions of this correspondent are worthy a particular
  distinction: he cannot indeed be admitted as a "pretty," but is,
  what we more justly call, a "smart fellow." Never to pay at the
  playhouse, is an act of frugality, that lets you into his
  character. And his expedient in sending his children a-begging
  before they can go, are characteristical instances that he
  belongs to this class. I never saw the gentleman; but I know by
  his letter, he hangs his cane on his button;<a name='fntag281'
  id="fntag281"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote281'><sup>281</sup></a> and by some lines of it, he
  should wear red-heeled shoes;<a name='fntag282' id=
  "fntag282"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote282'><sup>282</sup></a> which are essential parts of
  the habit belonging to the order of "smart fellows."</p>

  <p>My familiar is returned with the following letter from the
  French king:</p>

  <p>"Versailles, <i>June 13</i>, 1709.</p>

  <h4>"<i>Louis XIV. to Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.</i><a name=
  'fntag283' id="fntag283"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote283'><sup>283</sup></a></h4>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"I have your epistle, and must take the liberty to say, that
  there has been a time, when there were generous spirits in Great
  Britain, who would not have suffered my <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page218' title='218' id="page218"></a>name to be treated with
  the familiarity you think fit to use. I thought liberal men would
  not be such time-servers, as to fall upon a man because his
  friends are not in power. But having some concern for what you
  may transmit to posterity concerning me, I am willing to keep
  terms with you, and make a request to you, which is, that you
  would give my service to the nineteenth century (if ever you or
  yours reach to them), and tell them, that I have settled all
  matters between them and me by Monsieur Boileau. I should be glad
  to see you here."</p>

  <p>It is very odd this prince should offer to invite me into his
  dominions, or believe I should accept the invitation. No, no, I
  remember too well how he served an ingenious gentleman, a friend
  of mine,<a name='fntag284' id="fntag284"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote284'><sup>284</sup></a> whom he locked up in the
  Bastille for no reason in the world, but because he was a wit,
  and feared he might mention him with justice in some of his
  writings. His way is, that all men of sense are preferred,
  banished, or imprisoned. He has indeed a sort of justice in him,
  like that of the gamesters; if a stander-by sees one at play
  cheat, he has a right to come in for snares, for knowing the
  mysteries of the game. This is a very wise and just maxim; and if
  I have not left at Mr. Morphew's, directed to me, bank bills for
  £200 on or before this day sevennight, I shall tell how Tom Cash
  got his estate. I expect three hundred pounds of Mr. Soilett, for
  concealing all the money he has lent to himself, and his landed
  friend bound with him, at thirty per cent. at his scrivener's.
  Absolute princes make people pay what they please in deference to
  their power: I do not know why I should not do the same, out of
  fear or respect to my knowledge. I always preserve decorums and
  civilities to the fair sex: therefore if a certain lady,
  <a class="pagenum" name='page219' title='219' id=
  "page219"></a>who left her coach at the New Exchange<a name=
  'fntag285' id="fntag285"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote285'><sup>285</sup></a> door in the Strand, and whipped
  down Durham Yard into a boat with a young gentleman for Fox
  Hall;<a name='fntag286' id="fntag286"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote286'><sup>286</sup></a> I say, if she will send me
  word, that I may give the fan which she dropped, and I found, to
  my sister Jenny, there shall be no more said of it. I expect
  hush-money to be regularly sent for every folly or vice any one
  commits in this whole town; and hope I may pretend to deserve it
  better than a chamber-maid, or <i>valet-de-chambre</i>: they only
  whisper it to the little set of their companions; but I can tell
  it to all men living, or who are to live. Therefore I desire all
  my readers to pay their fines, or mend their lives.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 8.</h3>

  <p>My familiar being come from France, with an answer to my
  letter to Lewis of that kingdom, instead of going on in a
  discourse of what he had seen in that Court, <a class="pagenum"
  name='page220' title='220' id="page220"></a>he put on the
  immediate concern of a guardian, and fell to inquiring into my
  thoughts and adventures since his journey. As short as his stay
  had been, I confessed I had had many occasions for his assistance
  in my conduct; but communicated to him my thoughts of putting all
  my force against the horrid and senseless custom of duels. "If it
  were possible," said he, "to laugh at things in themselves so
  deeply tragical as the impertinent profusion of human life, I
  think I could divert you with a figure I saw just after my death,
  when the philosopher threw me, as I told you some days ago, into
  the pail of water.<a name='fntag287' id="fntag287"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote287'><sup>287</sup></a> You are to know, that
  when men leave the body, there are receptacles for them as soon
  as they depart, according to the manner in which they lived and
  died. At the very instant that I was killed, there came away with
  me a spirit which had lost its body in a duel. We were both
  examined. Me, the whole assembly looked at with kindness and
  pity, but at the same time with an air of welcome, and
  consolation: they pronounced me very happy, who had died in
  innocence; and told me, a quite different place was allotted to
  me, than that which was appointed for my companion; there being a
  great distance from the mansions of fools and innocents: 'though
  at the same time,' said one of the ghosts, there is a great
  affinity between an idiot who has been so for long life, and a
  child who departs before maturity. But this gentleman who has
  arrived with you is a fool of his own making, is ignorant out of
  choice, and will fare accordingly.' The assembly began to flock
  about him, and one said to him, 'Sir, I observed you came into
  the gate of persons murdered, and I desire to know what brought
  you to your untimely end?' He said, he had been a second.
  Socrates (who may be said to have been murdered by the
  commonwealth of Athens) stood by, and <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page221' title='221' id="page221"></a>began to draw near him, in
  order, after his manner, to lead him into a sense of his error by
  concessions in his own discourse. 'Sir,' said that divine and
  amicable spirit, 'what was the quarrel?' He answered, 'We shall
  know very suddenly, when the principal in the business comes, for
  he was desperately wounded before I fell.' 'Sir,' said the sage,
  'had you an estate?' 'Yes, sir,' the new guest answered, 'I have
  left it in a very good condition; I made my will the night before
  this occasion.' 'Did you read it before you signed it?' 'Yes
  sure, sir,' said the newcomer. Socrates replies, could a man that
  would not give his estate without reading the instrument, dispose
  of his life without asking a question? That illustrious shade
  turned from him, and a crowd of impertinent goblins, who had been
  drolls and parasites in their lifetime, and were knocked on the
  head for their sauciness, came about my fellow-traveller, and
  made themselves very merry with questions about the words 'carte'
  and 'terce' and other terms of fencers. But his thoughts began to
  settle into reflection upon the adventure which had robbed him of
  his late being; and with a wretched sigh, said he, 'How terrible
  are conviction and guilt when they come too late for penitence!'"
  Pacolet was going on in this strain, but he recovered from it,
  and told me, it was too soon to give my discourse on this subject
  so serious a turn; you have chiefly to do with that part of
  mankind which must be led into reflection by degrees, and you
  must treat this custom with humour and raillery to get an
  audience, before you come to pronounce sentence upon it. There is
  foundation enough for raising such entertainments from the
  practice on this occasion. Don't you know, that often a man is
  called out of bed to follow implicitly a coxcomb (with whom he
  would not keep company on any other occasion) to ruin and death?
  Then a good list of such as are qualified by the laws of
  <a class="pagenum" name='page222' title='222' id=
  "page222"></a>these uncourteous men of chivalry to enter into
  combat (who are often persons of honour without common honesty):
  these, I say, ranged and drawn up in their proper order, would
  give an aversion to doing anything in common with such as men
  laugh at and contemn. But to go through this work, you must not
  let your thoughts vary, or make excursions from your theme:
  consider at the same time, that the matter has been often treated
  by the ablest and greatest writers; yet that must not discourage
  you; for the properest person to handle it, is one who has roved
  into mixed conversations, and must have opportunities (which I
  shall give you) of seeing these sort of men in their pleasures
  and gratifications; among which, they pretend to reckon fighting.
  It was pleasantly enough said of a bully in France, when duels
  first began to be punished: "The king has taken away gaming, and
  stage-playing, and now fighting too; how does he expect gentlemen
  shall divert themselves?"<a name='fntag288' id=
  "fntag288"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote288'><sup>288</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag274'>[274]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote274' id="footnote274"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number1">1</a>, <a href="#number10">10</a>,
      <a href="#number16">16</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag275'>[275]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote275' id="footnote275"></a>This letter is
      probably by Anthony Henley; see advertisement at end of
      <a href='#number25'>No. 25</a>. At this time Henley was M.P.
      for Weymouth, and a friend of the wits belonging to the Whig
      party. He died in 1711. See Nos. <a href="#number11">11</a>,
      193.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag276'>[276]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote276' id="footnote276"></a>No. 21.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag277'>[277]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote277' id="footnote277"></a>Wall and the
      others named were quack doctors.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag278'>[278]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote278' id="footnote278"></a>Sintelaer, who
      lived in High Holborn, published in Feb. 1709, "The Scourge
      of Venus and Mercury. With an appendix in answer to Mr. John
      Marten's reflections thereupon" (<i>Postman</i>, Feb. 24 to
      26, 1709).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag279'>[279]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote279' id="footnote279"></a>"Æneid," i.
      460. Steele alters Virgil's "terriss" to "villa."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag280'>[280]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote280' id="footnote280"></a>A sort of
      periwig, with a short tie and small round head. See No. 30,
      end. In the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 319), Dorinda describes a
      humble servant of hers who "appeared to me in one of those
      wigs that I think you call a 'night-cap,' which had altered
      him more effectually than before. He afterwards played a
      couple of black riding wigs upon me, with the same
      success."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag281'>[281]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote281' id="footnote281"></a>The elaborate
      canes used by the beaux commonly had a ribbon to enable them
      to be hung on the button of the waistcoat. Thus we find among
      the advertisements for lost canes, "A cane with a silver head
      and a black ribbon in it, the top of it amber, part of the
      head to turn round, and in it a perspective glass."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag282'>[282]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote282' id="footnote282"></a>Men of fashion
      wore very high-heeled shoes, and their red heels are often
      satirised by Steele and Addison (cf. <i>Spectator</i>, No.
      311). In No. 16 of the <i>Spectator</i> Addison said, "It is
      not my intention to sink the dignity of this my paper with
      reflections upon red-heels or topknots."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag283'>[283]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote283' id="footnote283"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number19">19</a>, <a href="#number23">23</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag284'>[284]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote284' id="footnote284"></a>Probably Sir
      John Vanbrugh.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag285'>[285]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote285' id="footnote285"></a>A bazaar on the
      south side of the Strand, between George Court and Durham
      Street, and opposite Bedford Street. There were two long and
      double galleries, one above the other, containing shops, with
      pretty attendants. The New Exchange was a favourite lounge,
      and is frequently mentioned in the Restoration literature; it
      was pulled down in 1737. See <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 96, 155,
      and Steele's "Lying Lover," act ii. sc. 2, where Young
      Bookwit says, "My choice was so distracted among the pretty
      merchants and their dealers, that I knew not where to run
      first." On the other hand, we find complaints that young fops
      hindered business by lolling on the counter an hour longer
      than was necessary, and annoyed the young women who served
      them with ingenious ribaldry.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag286'>[286]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote286' id="footnote286"></a>Vauxhall, or
      Fox-hall, Gardens were formed about 1661, on the Surrey side
      of the Thames, and were at first called the New Spring
      Gardens, to distinguish them from the Old Spring Gardens at
      Charing Cross. At the end of the seventeenth century Vauxhall
      was a favourite place for assignations, and Pepys was
      scandalised at scenes he there witnessed. The gardens were
      reopened in 1732, after being closed, it would seem, for some
      years, and they continued to be a place of fashionable resort
      until the end of the reign of George III.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag287'>[287]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote287' id="footnote287"></a>See <a href=
      '#number15'>No. 15</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag288'>[288]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote288' id="footnote288"></a>"Whereas
      several gentlemen have desired this paper with a blank leaf
      to write business on, and for the convenience of the post;
      this is to give notice, that this day, and for the future, it
      may be had of Mr. Morphew, near Stationers' Hall" (folio,
      advertisement).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number27' id="number27"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 27.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, June 9</i>, to <i>Saturday, June 11,
    1709</i>.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 9.</h3>

  <p>Pacolet being gone a strolling among the men of the sword, in
  order to find out the secret causes of the frequent disputes we
  meet with, and furnish me with material for my treatise on
  duelling; I have room left to go on in my information to my
  country readers, whereby <a class="pagenum" name='page223' title=
  '223' id="page223"></a>they may understand the bright people
  whose memoirs I have taken upon me to write. But in my discourse
  of the 28th of the last month,<a name='fntag289' id=
  "fntag289"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote289'><sup>289</sup></a> I omitted to mention the most
  agreeable of all bad characters; and that is, a Rake.</p>

  <p>A Rake is a man always to be pitied; and if he lives, is one
  day certainly reclaimed; for his faults proceed not from choice
  or inclination, but from strong passions and appetites, which are
  in youth too violent for the curb of reason, good sense, good
  manners, and good nature: all which he must have by nature and
  education, before he can be allowed to be, or have been of this
  order. He is a poor unwieldy wretch, that commits faults out of
  the redundance of his good qualities. His pity and compassion
  make him sometimes a bubble to all his fellows, let them be never
  so much below him in understanding. His desires run away with him
  through the strength and force of a lively imagination, which
  hurries him on to unlawful pleasures, before reason has power to
  come in to his rescue. Thus, with all the good intentions in the
  world to amendment, this creature sins on against heaven,
  himself, his friends, and his country, who all call for a better
  use of his talents. There is not a being under the sun so
  miserable as this: he goes on in a pursuit he himself
  disapproves, and has no enjoyment but what is followed by
  remorse; no relief from remorse, but the repetition of his crime.
  It is possible I may talk of this person with too much
  indulgence; but I must repeat it, that I think this a character
  which is the most the object of pity of any in the world. The man
  in the pangs of the stone, gout, or any acute distempers, is not
  in so deplorable a condition in the eye of right sense, as he
  that errs and repents, and repents and errs on. The fellow with
  broken limbs justly deserves your alms for his impotent
  condition; but he that cannot use his own reason, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page224' title='224' id="page224"></a>is in a
  much worse state; for you see him in miserable circumstances,
  with his remedy at the same time in his own possession, if he
  would or could use it. This is the cause, that of all ill
  characters, the rake has the best quarter in the world; for when
  he is himself, and unruffled with intemperance, you see his
  natural faculties exert themselves, and attract an eye of favour
  towards his infirmities. But if we look round us here, how many
  dull rogues are there, that would fain be what this poor man
  hates himself for? All the noise towards six in the
  evening,<a name='fntag290' id="fntag290"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote290'><sup>290</sup></a> is caused by his mimics and
  imitators. How ought men of sense to be careful of their actions,
  if it were merely from the indignation of feeling themselves ill
  drawn by such little pretenders? not to say, he that leads, is
  guilty of all the actions of his followers: and a rake has
  imitators whom you would never expect should prove so.
  Second-hand vice sure of all is the most nauseous. There is
  hardly a folly more absurd, or which seems less to be accounted
  for (though it is what we see every day) than that grave and
  honest natures give into this way, and at the same time have good
  sense, if they thought fit to use it: but the fatality (under
  which most men labour) of desiring to be what they are not, makes
  them go out of a method, in which they might be received with
  applause, and would certainly excel, into one, wherein they will
  all their life have the air of strangers to what they aim at. For
  this reason, I have not lamented the metamorphosis of any one I
  know so much as of Nobilis, who was born with sweetness of
  temper, just apprehension, and everything else that might make
  him a man fit for his order. But instead of the pursuit of sober
  studies and applications, in which he <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page225' title='225' id="page225"></a>would certainly be capable
  of making a considerable figure in the noblest assembly of men in
  the world; I say, in spite of that good nature, which is his
  proper bent, he will say ill-natured things aloud, put such as he
  was, and still should be, out of countenance, and drown all the
  natural good in him, to receive an artificial ill character, in
  which he will never succeed: for Nobilis is no rake. He may
  guzzle as much wine as he pleases, talk bawdy if he thinks fit;
  but he may as well drink water-gruel, and go twice a day to
  church, for it will never do. I pronounce it again, Nobilis is no
  rake. To be of that order, he must be vicious against his will,
  and not so by study or application. All Pretty Fellows are also
  excluded to a man, as well as all Inamaratos, or persons of the
  epicene gender, who gaze at one another in the presence of
  ladies. This class, of which I am giving you an account, is
  pretended to also by men of strong abilities in drinking; though
  they are such whom the liquor, not the conversation, keeps
  together. But blockheads may roar, fight, and stab, and be never
  the nearer; their labour is also lost; they want sense: they are
  no rakes.</p>

  <p>As a rake among men is the man who lives in the constant abuse
  of his reason, so a coquette among women is one who lives in
  continual misapplication of her beauty. The chief of all whom I
  have the honour to be acquainted with, is pretty Mrs. Toss: she
  is ever in practice of something which disfigures her, and takes
  from her charms; though all she does, tends to a contrary effect.
  She has naturally a very agreeable voice and utterance, which she
  has changed for the prettiest lisp imaginable. She sees what she
  has a mind to see, at half a mile distance; but poring with her
  eyes half shut at every one she passes by, she believes much more
  becoming. The Cupid on her fan and she have their eyes full on
  each other, all the time <a class="pagenum" name='page226' title=
  '226' id="page226"></a>in which they are not both in motion.
  Whenever her eye is turned from that dear object, you may have a
  glance, and your bow, if she is in humour, returned as civilly as
  you make it; but that must not be in the presence of a man of
  greater quality: for Mrs. Toss is so thoroughly well bred, that
  the chief person present has all her regards. And she, who
  giggles at divine service, and laughs at her very mother, can
  compose herself at the approach of a man of a good estate.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, June 9.</h3>

  <p>A fine lady showed a gentleman of this company, for an eternal
  answer to all his addresses, a paper of verses, with which she is
  so captivated, that she professed, the author should be the happy
  man in spite of all other pretenders. It is ordinary for love to
  make men poetical, and it had that effect on this enamoured man:
  but he was resolved to try his vein upon some of her confidantes
  or retinue, before he ventured upon so high a theme as herself.
  To do otherwise than so, would be like making an heroic poem a
  man's first attempt. Among the favourites to the fair one, he
  found her parrot not to be in the last degree: he saw Poll had
  her ear, when his sighs were neglected. To write against him, had
  been a fruitless labour; therefore he resolved to flatter him
  into his interests, in the following manner:</p>

  <h4>"To a Lady on her Parrot.</h4>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "When nymphs were coy, and love could not prevail,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The gods disguised were seldom known to fail,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Leda was chaste, but yet a feathered Jove
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Surprised the fair, and taught her how to love.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        There's no celestial but his heaven would quit,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        For any form which might to thee admit.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page227' title='227' id=
        "page227"></a>See how the wanton bird, at every glance,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Swells his glad plumes, and feels an amorous trance.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The queen of beauty has forsook the dove,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Henceforth the parrot be the bird of love."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>It is indeed a very just proposition, to give that honour
  rather to the parrot than the other volatile. The parrot
  represents us in the state of making love: the dove in the
  possession of the object beloved. But instead of turning the dove
  off, I fancy it would be better if the chaise of Venus had
  hereafter a parrot added (as we see sometimes a third horse to a
  coach) which might intimate, that to be a parrot, is the only way
  to succeed; and to be a dove, to preserve your conquests. If the
  swain would go on successfully, he must imitate the bird he
  writes upon. For he who would be loved by women, must never be
  silent before the favour, or open his lips after it.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 10.</h3>

  <p>I have so many messages from young gentlemen who expect
  preferment and distinction, that I am wholly at a loss in what
  manner to acquit myself. The writer of the following letter tells
  me in a postscript, he cannot go out of town till I have taken
  some notice of him, and is very urgent to be somebody, in town
  before he leaves it, and returns to his commons at the
  university. But take it from himself.<a class="pagenum" name=
  'page228' title='228' id="page228"></a></p>

  <h4>"<i>To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Monitor-General of Great
  Britain.</i></h4>

  <p>"Shire Lane, <i>June 8.</i></p>

  <p>I have been above six months from the university, of age these
  three months, and so long in town. I was recommended to one
  Charles Bubbleboy<a name='fntag291' id="fntag291"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote291'><sup>291</sup></a> near the Temple, who
  has supplied me with all the furniture he says a gentleman ought
  to have. I desired a certificate thereof from him, which he said
  would require some time to consider of; and when I went yesterday
  morning for it, he tells me, upon due consideration, I still want
  some few odd things more, to the value of threescore or fourscore
  pounds, to make me complete. I have bespoke them; and the favour
  I beg of you is, to know, when I am equipped, in what part or
  class of men in this town you will place me. Pray send me word
  what I am, and you shall find me,</p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"Your most humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"JEFFRY NICKNACK."</p>

  <p>I am very willing to encourage young beginners; but <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page229' title='229' id="page229"></a>am
  extremely in the dark how to dispose of this gentleman. I cannot
  see either his person or habit in this letter; but I'll call at
  Charles', and know the shape of his snuff-box, by which I can
  settle his character. Though indeed, to know his full capacity, I
  ought to be informed, whether he takes Spanish or musty.<a name=
  'fntag292' id="fntag292"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote292'><sup>292</sup></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 10.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Low Countries of the 17th instant say, that
  the Duke of Marlborough and the Prince of Savoy intended to leave
  Ghent on that day, and join the army, which lies between Pont
  d'Espiere and Courtray, their headquarters being at Helchin. The
  same day the Palatine foot was expected at Brussels.
  Lieutenant-General Dompre, with a body of eight thousand men, is
  posted at Alost, in order to cover Ghent and Brussels. The
  Marshal de Villars was still on the plains of Lens; and it is
  said, the Duke of Vendôme is appointed to command in conjunction
  with that general. Advices from Paris say, Monsieur Voisin is
  made Secretary of State, upon Monsieur Chamillard's resignation
  of that employment. The want of money in that kingdom is so
  great, that the Court has thought fit to command all the plate of
  private families to be brought into the Mint. They write from the
  Hague of the 18th, that the States of Holland continue their
  session; and that they have approved the resolution of the
  States-General, to publish a second <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page230' title='230' id="page230"></a>edict to prohibit the sale
  of corn to the enemy. Many eminent persons in that assembly have
  declared, that they are of opinion, that all commerce whatsoever
  with France should be wholly forbidden: which point is under
  present deliberation; but it is feared it will meet with powerful
  opposition.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag289'>[289]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote289' id="footnote289"></a><a href=
      '#number21'>No. 21</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag290'>[290]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote290' id="footnote290"></a>People of
      fashion dined at about four o'clock in Queen Anne's time, and
      by six the men, who had often drunk a good deal of wine,
      would be finding their way to the clubs and
      coffee-houses.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag291'>[291]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote291' id="footnote291"></a>Charles Mather,
      a toyman in Fleet Street, next door to Nandoe's Coffee-house,
      over against Chancery Lane. Swift wrote ("Sid Hamet's Rod,"
      1710):</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "No hobby horse with gorgeous top,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            The dearest in Charles Mather's shop;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Or glittering tinsel of Mayfair
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Could with the rod of Sid compare."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>See Nos. 113, 142, and <i>Spectator</i>, Nos. 328, 503
      ("One of Charles Mather's fine tablets"), and 570 ("The
      famous Charles Mather was bred up under him").</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag292'>[292]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote292' id="footnote292"></a>Charles Lillie,
      the perfumer, tells us how snuff came into use. A great
      quantity of musty snuff was captured in the Spanish fleet
      taken at Vigo in 1702, and snuff with this special musty
      flavour became the fashion. In No. 138 of the
      <i>Spectator</i>, Steele humorously announced that "the
      exercise of the snuff-box, according to the most fashionable
      airs and motions, in opposition to the exercise of the fair,
      will be taught with the best plain or perfumed snuff at
      Charles Lillie's, perfumer, at the corner of Beaufort
      Buildings in the Strand."</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number28' id="number28"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 28.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, June 11</i>, to <i>Tuesday, June 14,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 13.</h3>

  <p>I had suspended the business of duelling to a distant time,
  but that I am called upon to declare myself on a point proposed
  in the following letter.</p>

  <p class="right">"<i>June 9, at night.</i></p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"I desire the favour of you to decide this question, whether
  calling a gentleman a 'smart fellow' is an affront or not? A
  youth entering a certain coffee-house, with his cane tied at his
  button, wearing red-heeled shoes, I thought of your
  description,<a name='fntag293' id="fntag293"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote293'><sup>293</sup></a> and could not forbear
  telling a friend of mine next to me, 'There enters a smart
  fellow.' The gentleman hearing it, had immediately a mind to pick
  a quarrel with me, and desired satisfaction: at which I was more
  puzzled than at the other, remembering what mention your familiar
  makes of those that had lost their lives on such occasions. The
  thing is referred to your judgment, and I expect you to be my
  second, since you have been the cause of our quarrel. I am,</p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"Your Friend and humble Servant."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page231' title='231' id=
  "page231"></a>I absolutely pronounce, that there is no occasion
  of offence given in this expression; for a "smart fellow" is
  always an appellation of praise, and is a man of double capacity.
  The true cast or mould in which you may be sure to know him is,
  when his livelihood or education is in the Civil List, and you
  see him express a vivacity or mettle above the way he is in by a
  little jerk in his motion, short trip in his steps, well-fancied
  lining of his coat, or any other indications which may be given
  in a vigorous dress. Now, what possible insinuation can there be,
  that it is a cause of quarrel for a man to say, he allows a
  gentleman really to be, what he, his tailor, his hosier, and his
  milliner, have conspired to make him? I confess, if this person
  who appeals to me had said, he was <i>not</i> a "smart fellow,"
  there had been cause for resentment; but 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<a name='fntag294' id=
  "fntag294"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote294'><sup>294</sup></a> 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 <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page232' title='232' id="page232"></a>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,<a name='fntag295' id=
  "fntag295"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote295'><sup>295</sup></a> 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 <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page233' title='233' id="page233"></a>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,<a name='fntag296' id="fntag296"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote296'><sup>296</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page234' title='234' id=
  "page234"></a>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,<a name='fntag297' id=
  "fntag297"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote297'><sup>297</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page235' title='235' id="page235"></a>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.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page236' title='236' id=
  "page236"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 13.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>We hear from Brussels, by letters, dated the 20th, that on the
  14th in the evening the Duke of Marlborough and <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page237' title='237' id="page237"></a>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 Dauphiné; 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.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag293'>[293]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote293' id="footnote293"></a>See <a href=
      '#number26'>No. 26</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag294'>[294]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote294' id="footnote294"></a>Venice, where
      mercenaries were employed for fighting purposes.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag295'>[295]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote295' id="footnote295"></a>The City
      train-bands were often the subject of ridicule by the wits.
      See "Harleian Misc." i. 206, Cowper's "John Gilpin," and Nos.
      <a href="#number38">38</a>, <a href="#number41">41</a>.
      Tothill Fields, Westminster, and the Artillery Ground,
      Finsbury, were the usual exercising-grounds for the
      train-bands.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag296'>[296]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote296' id="footnote296"></a>The Compter was
      a prison for the city of London, where debtors and others
      were confined.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag297'>[297]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote297' id="footnote297"></a>Steele wrote at
      length in the <i>Spectator</i> (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:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "When thro' the town, with slow and solemn air,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Led by the nostril, walks the muzzled bear;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Behind him moves, majestically dull,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            The pride of Hockley-hole, the surly bull;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Learn hence the periods of the week to name:
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Mondays and Thursdays are the days of game."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>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.
      <i>Vivat Regina</i>."</p>

      <p>"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."</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page238' title='238' id=
    "page238"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number29' id="number29"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 29.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, June 14</i>, to <i>Thursday, June 16,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 14.</h3>

  <p>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:<a name='fntag298' id=
  "fntag298"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote298'><sup>298</sup></a></p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"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.<a name='fntag299'
  id="fntag299"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote299'><sup>299</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page239' title='239' id=
  "page239"></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 <i>belair</i>, 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,<a name='fntag300' id="fntag300"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote300'><sup>300</sup></a> the gallant and heroic spirits
  of these latter times have been under the necessity of creating
  new chimerical monsters to entertain <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page240' title='240' id="page240"></a>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,</p>

  <p>"Your humble Servant,</p>

  <p>"Kinsman and Friend,</p>

  <p class="right">"TIM SWITCH."</p>

  <p>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
  <a class="pagenum" name='page241' title='241' id=
  "page241"></a>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:</p>

  <p>"MADAM,</p>

  <p>"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,</p>

  <p>"Madam,</p>

  <p>"Your most obedient,</p>

  <p>"Most humble Servant."</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 14.</h3>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page242' title='242' id="page242"></a>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 circum<a class="pagenum" name=
  'page243' title='243' id="page243"></a>stances 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<a name='fntag301' id=
  "fntag301"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote301'><sup>301</sup></a> 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,"<a name='fntag302' id="fntag302"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote302'><sup>302</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page244' title='244' id=
  "page244"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 15.</h3>

  <p>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,<a name='fntag303' id="fntag303"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote303'><sup>303</sup></a> 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.<a name='fntag304' id=
  "fntag304"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote304'><sup>304</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page245' title='245' id=
  "page245"></a>SIR,</p>

  <p>"We have read your Majesty's<a name='fntag305' id=
  "fntag305"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote305'><sup>305</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page246' title='246' id=
  "page246"></a>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,<a name='fntag306' id=
  "fntag306"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote306'><sup>306</sup></a> 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,</p>

  <p>"Your Majesty's</p>

  <p>"Truly faithful, and</p>

  <p>"Loyal Subjects, &amp;c."</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag298'>[298]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote298' id="footnote298"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number25">25</a>, <a href="#number26">26</a>,
      <a href="#number28">28</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag299'>[299]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote299' id="footnote299"></a>The
      full-bottomed dress wigs. Another name was "Duvillier," used
      below.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag300'>[300]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote300' id="footnote300"></a>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.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag301'>[301]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote301' id="footnote301"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number3">3</a>, 63.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag302'>[302]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote302' id="footnote302"></a>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."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag303'>[303]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote303' id="footnote303"></a>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.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag304'>[304]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote304' id="footnote304"></a>It was a
      younger brother, an abbé, 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
      <i>Examiner</i>, No. 32. (Nichols.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag305'>[305]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote305' id="footnote305"></a>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.
      <i>Vide</i> the public newspapers of this date. (Steele.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag306'>[306]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote306' id=
      "footnote306"></a>N.B.&#8212;Mons. Bernard and the chief
      bankers of France became bankrupts about this time
      (Steele).&#8212;See news paragraph in Nos. <a href=
      "#number3">3</a>, <a href="#number5">5</a>, <a href=
      "#number9">9</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number30' id="number30"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 30.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, June 16</i>, to <i>Saturday, June 18,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 16.</h3>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name='page247' title=
  '247' id="page247"></a>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,<a name='fntag307' id=
  "fntag307"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote307'><sup>307</sup></a> the tombs,<a name='fntag308'
  id="fntag308"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote308'><sup>308</sup></a> Bedlam,<a name='fntag309' id=
  "fntag309"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote309'><sup>309</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page248' title='248' id=
  "page248"></a>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, <a class="pagenum"
  name='page249' title='249' id="page249"></a>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 <a class="pagenum" name='page250'
  title='250' id="page250"></a>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.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, June 17.</h3>

  <p>The suspension of the playhouse<a name='fntag310' id=
  "fntag310"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote310'><sup>310</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page251' title='251'
  id="page251"></a>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.</p>

  <p>"MADAM,</p>

  <p>"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 <a class="pagenum" name='page252' title='252' id=
  "page252"></a>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,</p>

  <p>"Madam,</p>

  <p>"Your most obedient,</p>

  <p>"Most humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"JOHN CARELESS."</p>

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

  <p>"MADAM,</p>

  <p>"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 Cæsar. I hope, this will be read, as it is writ,
  with tears."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page253' title='253' id=
  "page253"></a>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.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 17.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>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, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page254' title='254' id="page254"></a>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.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag307'>[307]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote307' id="footnote307"></a>At the Tower of
      London. The Tower menagerie was one of the sights of London
      until its removal in 1834. See Addison's <i>Freeholder</i>;
      No. 47.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag308'>[308]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote308' id="footnote308"></a>In Westminster
      Abbey.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag309'>[309]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote309' id="footnote309"></a>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 £17,000. See Hogarth's "Rake's Progress," Plate 8. In
      No. 127, Steele calls Bedlam "that
      magnificent palace."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag310'>[310]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote310' id="footnote310"></a>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.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number31' id="number31"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 31.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, June 18</i>, to <i>Tuesday, June 21,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, June 18.</h3>

  <p>In my dissertation against the custom of single
  combat,<a name='fntag311' id="fntag311"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote311'><sup>311</sup></a> 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<a name='fntag312' id="fntag312"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote312'><sup>312</sup></a> in Cardiganshire. The
  northern Britons and southern Scots are a warm people, and the
  Welsh a nation of gentlemen; <a class="pagenum" name='page255'
  title='255' id="page255"></a>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,"<a name='fntag313' id=
  "fntag313"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote313'><sup>313</sup></a> 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,<a name='fntag314' id=
  "fntag314"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote314'><sup>314</sup></a> 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.<a name='fntag315' id=
  "fntag315"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote315'><sup>315</sup></a> "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 <a class="pagenum" name='page256' title=
  '256' id="page256"></a>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<a name='fntag316' id="fntag316"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote316'><sup>316</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page257' title='257'
  id="page257"></a>in a song of Virgil's, that were famous for
  handling their gauntlets, Dares, and Entellus;<a name='fntag317'
  id="fntag317"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote317'><sup>317</sup></a> 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.<a name=
  'fntag318' id="fntag318"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote318'><sup>318</sup></a> I observe, the Lanistaé 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.<a name='fntag319' id=
  "fntag319"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote319'><sup>319</sup></a> The Spanish nation, it must be
  owned, were devoted to gallantry and chivalry above the rest of
  the world. What <a class="pagenum" name='page258' title='258' id=
  "page258"></a>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!</p>

  <div class="poem italic">
    <div class="line">
      Thy brandished whinyard all the world defies,
    </div>

    <div class="line">
      And kills as sure as del Tobosa's eyes.
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>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<a name='fntag320' id=
  "fntag320"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote320'><sup>320</sup></a>) have made a pass.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 18.</h3>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name='page259' title='259' id=
  "page259"></a>thence, that some have not heard of me, and the
  rest do not understand me. His epistle is as follows:<a name=
  'fntag321' id="fntag321"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote321'><sup>321</sup></a></p>

  <p>"DEAR COUSIN,</p>

  <p>"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 <i>Tatler</i> 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<a name='fntag322' id="fntag322"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote322'><sup>322</sup></a> 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<a name='fntag323' id="fntag323"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote323'><sup>323</sup></a> 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<a name=
  'fntag324' id="fntag324"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote324'><sup>324</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page260' title='260'
  id="page260"></a>silent, and only lay up what excellent things
  pass at such conversations.</p>

  <p>"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,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "'He that will not when he may,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        When he will he shall have nay;'
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>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.'"</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page261' title='261' id=
  "page261"></a>It is so; and hereby you may see how small an
  appearance the prettiest things said in company, make when in
  print.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 20.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>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,"&#8212;"May be not,"&#8212;"By your leave,
  sir,"&#8212;and other terms of provocation, taken up at the door
  of Young Man's Coffee-house,<a name='fntag325' id=
  "fntag325"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote325'><sup>325</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page262' title='262' id=
  "page262"></a>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.<a name=
  'fntag326' id="fntag326"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote326'><sup>326</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag311'>[311]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote311' id="footnote311"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number25">25</a>, <a href="#number26">26</a>,
      <a href="#number28">28</a>, <a href="#number29">29</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag312'>[312]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote312' id="footnote312"></a>Probably meant
      for Llanbadern Vawr, if not a name coined for the
      occasion.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag313'>[313]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote313' id="footnote313"></a>Sir Anthony
      Fitzherbert's book was published in 1514.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag314'>[314]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote314' id="footnote314"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number28">28</a>, 134.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag315'>[315]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote315' id="footnote315"></a>See Selden, "De
      Duello" (1610), p. 19.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag316'>[316]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote316' id="footnote316"></a>A prize-fighter
      mentioned in Lansdowne's epilogue to "The Jew of Venice."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag317'>[317]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote317' id="footnote317"></a>"Æneid," v. 437
      <i>seq.</i></p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag318'>[318]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote318' id="footnote318"></a>Suetonius,
      "Life of Nero," chap. 12.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag319'>[319]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote319' id="footnote319"></a>An allusion to
      the rubrics in Roman missals.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag320'>[320]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote320' id="footnote320"></a>The fields at
      the back of Montague House, Bloomsbury, were a favourite
      place for duels in the first half of the eighteenth century.
      Cf. <i>Spectator</i>, 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."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag321'>[321]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote321' id="footnote321"></a>It has been
      suggested, with some probability, that this letter is by
      Swift.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag322'>[322]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote322' id="footnote322"></a>See <a href=
      '#number4'>No. 4</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag323'>[323]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote323' id="footnote323"></a>Borago was a
      plant formerly used as a cordial.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag324'>[324]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote324' id="footnote324"></a>See <a href=
      '#number21'>No. 21</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag325'>[325]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote325' id="footnote325"></a>Young Man's
      Coffee-house at Charing Cross, had a back door into Spring
      Garden. It seems to have been specially frequented by
      officers.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag326'>[326]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote326' id="footnote326"></a>"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).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number32' id="number32"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 32.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[SWIFT AND STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, June 21</i>, to <i>Thursday, June 23,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 22.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <h4>"<i>To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.</i></h4>

  <p>"<i>June 18</i>, 1709.</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"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,<a name='fntag327' id=
  "fntag327"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote327'><sup>327</sup></a> and More,<a name='fntag328' id=
  "fntag328"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote328'><sup>328</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page263' title='263' id="page263"></a>and Milton,<a name=
  'fntag329' id="fntag329"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote329'><sup>329</sup></a> 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 <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page264' title='264' id="page264"></a>should
  recant, she may then hate me perhaps in the other extreme for my
  tenuity. I am (with impatience) "Your most humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"CHARLES STURDY."</p>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name='page265' title='265' id=
  "page265"></a>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&#8212;" "Sir," she replied, "my name is Susan, at
  your service." "Then I heartily beg your pardon&#8212;" "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,<a name='fntag330' id=
  "fntag330"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote330'><sup>330</sup></a> a lady who had writ a fine book
  concerning <a class="pagenum" name='page266' title='266' id=
  "page266"></a>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
  advance<a class="pagenum" name='page267' title='267' id=
  "page267"></a>ment 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&#8212;" 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."<a name='fntag331' id="fntag331"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote331'><sup>331</sup></a> 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<a name='fntag332' id=
  "fntag332"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote332'><sup>332</sup></a> interview; and, without
  <a class="pagenum" name='page268' title='268' id=
  "page268"></a>entering into further particulars, there was hardly
  one of them but was a mother or father that day twelve-month.</p>

  <p>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.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 22.</h3>

  <p>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.<a name='fntag333' id="fntag333"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote333'><sup>333</sup></a> 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<a name='fntag334' id="fntag334"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote334'><sup>334</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page269' title='269' id=
  "page269"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 22.</h3>

  <p>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 Remières on their right and left, extending itself
  as far as Bethune: La Bassée 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.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag327'>[327]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote327' id="footnote327"></a>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."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag328'>[328]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote328' id="footnote328"></a>Henry More, the
      platonist (1614-87), published "Divine Dialogues,"
      "Conjectura Cabalistica," and many other works.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag329'>[329]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote329' id="footnote329"></a>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.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag330'>[330]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote330' id="footnote330"></a>Swift seems to
      have been the author of this first portion of <a href=
      '#number32'>No. 32</a>, 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," &amp;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
      <i>Tatler</i> a little after the "Enquiry" appeared. But she
      notes that, although the <i>Tatler</i> 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 <i>Ladies'
      Library</i> 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, &amp;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."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag331'>[331]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote331' id="footnote331"></a>This is
      borrowed from Sir Thomas Browne's "Religio Medici," part ii.
      sect. 9.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag332'>[332]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote332' id="footnote332"></a>"Second," in
      original editions.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag333'>[333]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote333' id="footnote333"></a>There is an
      apology for punning in No. 36 of the <i>Guardian</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag334'>[334]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote334' id="footnote334"></a>Swift.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number33' id="number33"></a><a class="pagenum" name=
    'page270' title='270' id="page270"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 33.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By Mrs. JENNY DISTAFF, half-sister to Mr. BICKERSTAFF.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, June 23</i>, to <i>Saturday, June 25</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 23.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"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 <i>Tatlers</i> 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."<a name='fntag335' id="fntag335"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote335'><sup>335</sup></a></p>

  <p>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 <a class="pagenum" name='page271' title=
  '271' id="page271"></a>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, <a class="pagenum"
  name='page272' title='272' id="page272"></a>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;&#8212;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 <a class="pagenum" name='page273' title='273' id=
  "page273"></a>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,<a name='fntag336' id="fntag336"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote336'><sup>336</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page274' title='274'
  id="page274"></a>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,&#8212;You will
  wonder&#8212;For it is certain, you must have
  observed&#8212;though I fear you will misinterpret the
  motives&#8212;But by Heaven, and all that's sacred! If you
  could&#8212;" Here he made a full stand. And I recovered power to
  say, "The consternation I am in you will not, I hope,
  believe&#8212;A helpless innocent maid&#8212;Besides that, the
  place&#8212;" 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&#8212;"My lord, pity me, on my
  knees&#8212;On my knees in the cause of virtue, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page275' title='275' id="page275"></a>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 <a class="pagenum"
  name='page276' title='276' id="page276"></a>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>

  <p>P.S.&#8212;I have ten millions of things more against men, if
  I ever get the pen again.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 24.</h3>

  <p>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.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag335'>[335]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote335' id="footnote335"></a>See No. 31.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag336'>[336]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote336' id="footnote336"></a>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.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page277' title='277' id=
    "page277"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number34' id="number34"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 34.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, June 25</i>, to <i>Tuesday, June 28,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 25.</h3>

  <p>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
  <a class="pagenum" name='page278' title='278' id=
  "page278"></a>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.<a name='fntag337' id="fntag337"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote337'><sup>337</sup></a> 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."<a name='fntag338' id="fntag338"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote338'><sup>338</sup></a> They immediately fell back to
  the lower end of the room (you may be sure they curtsied low
  enough to me): and began. Never <a class="pagenum" name='page279'
  title='279' id="page279"></a>were two in the world so equally
  matched, and both scholars to my namesake Isaac.<a name=
  'fntag339' id="fntag339"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote339'><sup>339</sup></a> 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.<a name='fntag340' id="fntag340"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote340'><sup>340</sup></a> 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&#8212;and she had no
  sooner carried it, but Damia made her utterly forgot by a gentle
  sinking, and a rigadoon step.<a name='fntag341' id=
  "fntag341"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote341'><sup>341</sup></a> 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
  <a class="pagenum" name='page280' title='280' id=
  "page280"></a>loses approbation through too great a sense of
  deserving it."</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 27.</h3>

  <p>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,<a name=
  'fntag342' id="fntag342"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote342'><sup>342</sup></a> where the robbers lie in wait,
  to the coffee-house where the <i>literati</i> sit in council. A
  great ancestor of ours by the mother's side, Mr. Justice Overdo
  (whose history is written by Ben Jonson),<a name='fntag343' id=
  "fntag343"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote343'><sup>343</sup></a> met with more enormities by
  walking <i>incog.</i> 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,<a name='fntag344' id="fntag344"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote344'><sup>344</sup></a> I had not time to salute
  the company, before <a class="pagenum" name='page281' title='281'
  id="page281"></a>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 Gingivistæ,<a name='fntag345' id=
  "fntag345"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote345'><sup>345</sup></a> 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,<a name='fntag346' id="fntag346"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote346'><sup>346</sup></a> instead of playing twenty
  beginnings to tunes, he might before he dies play "Roger de
  Caubly"<a name='fntag347' id="fntag347"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote347'><sup>347</sup></a> quite out. I heard him go
  through his whole round, and indeed I think he does play the
  "Merry Christ-Church Bells"<a name='fntag348' id=
  "fntag348"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote348'><sup>348</sup></a> 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 <a class="pagenum" name='page282' title='282' id=
  "page282"></a>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,<a name='fntag349'
  id="fntag349"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote349'><sup>349</sup></a> 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,"<a name='fntag350' id="fntag350"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote350'><sup>350</sup></a> 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,<a name='fntag351' id="fntag351"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote351'><sup>351</sup></a> 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,<a name='fntag352' id="fntag352"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote352'><sup>352</sup></a> and sword of
  Toledo,<a name='fntag353' id="fntag353"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote353'><sup>353</sup></a> 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
  <a class="pagenum" name='page283' title='283' id=
  "page283"></a>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.<a name=
  'fntag354' id="fntag354"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote354'><sup>354</sup></a> 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.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag337'>[337]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote337' id="footnote337"></a>See p. 273,
      note.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag338'>[338]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote338' id="footnote338"></a>A small violin
      or fiddle. See No. 160.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag339'>[339]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote339' id="footnote339"></a>A
      dancing-master, who either was French, or pretended to be so.
      See No. 109.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag340'>[340]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote340' id="footnote340"></a>A song of
      Waller's begins:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Behold the brand of beauty tost!
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            See, how the motion doth dilate the flame!"
          </div>

          <div class="line right">
            (Dobson).
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag341'>[341]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote341' id="footnote341"></a>The rigadoon
      was a dance for two persons. Cf. <i>Guardian</i>, No. 154: "We danced a rigadoon
      together."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag342'>[342]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote342' id="footnote342"></a>On the site of
      Eaton and Belgrave Squares. See <i>Spectator</i>, No. 137:
      "The Five Fields towards Chelsea."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag343'>[343]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote343' id="footnote343"></a>In "Bartholomew
      Fair," act ii. sc. i. Overdo went to the Fair in disguise,
      and being mistaken for a cutpurse, was well beaten.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag344'>[344]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote344' id="footnote344"></a>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 £50. 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.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag345'>[345]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote345' id="footnote345"></a>From "gingiva,"
      the gum.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag346'>[346]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote346' id="footnote346"></a>Salter played
      very badly on the fiddle.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag347'>[347]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote347' id="footnote347"></a>"Sir Roger de
      Coverley," the famous country-dance tune.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag348'>[348]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote348' id="footnote348"></a>By Dr. Henry
      Aldrich, Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, where Steele
      matriculated.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag349'>[349]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote349' id="footnote349"></a>"De Poematum
      cantu, et viribus Rythmi," 1673.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag350'>[350]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote350' id="footnote350"></a>Master
      Nicholas. See "Don Quixote," chap. v.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag351'>[351]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote351' id="footnote351"></a>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.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag352'>[352]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote352' id="footnote352"></a>A sclopeta or
      sclopetta was a hand-gun used by Spaniards.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag353'>[353]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote353' id="footnote353"></a>Toledo was
      famous for its sword-blades.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag354'>[354]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote354' id="footnote354"></a>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.)</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page284' title='284' id=
    "page284"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number35' id="number35"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 35.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, June 28</i>, to <i>Thursday, June 30</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, June 28.</h3>

  <p>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&#8212;" Then when he should have
  taken a pinch, "As I was saying," says he&#8212;"Has nobody seen
  my box?" His friend beseeches him to finish his narration. Then
  he proceeds, "And so, sir&#8212;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 <a class="pagenum" name='page285' title=
  '285' id="page285"></a>to be an <span lang="el" title="Heurêka"
  xml:lang=
  "el">&#7965;&#965;&#961;&#951;&#954;&#945;</span>,
  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 B&#339;otians, 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.<a name='fntag355' id="fntag355"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote355'><sup>355</sup></a> I have been this three
  years persuading Sagissa<a name='fntag356' id=
  "fntag356"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote356'><sup>356</sup></a> to leave it off; but she talks
  so much, and is so learned, that she is above contradiction.
  However, an <a class="pagenum" name='page286' title='286' id=
  "page286"></a>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.</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 29.</h3>

  <p>I know no manner of news for this place, but that Cynthio,
  having been long in despair for the inexorable Clarissa, lately
  resolved to fall in love the good old way of bargain and sale,
  and has pitched upon a very agreeable young woman.<a name=
  'fntag357' id="fntag357"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote357'><sup>357</sup></a> He will undoubtedly succeed;
  for he accosts her in a strain of familiarity, without breaking
  through the deference that is due to woman whom a man would
  choose for his life. I have hardly ever heard rough truth spoken
  with a better grace than in this his letter.<a name='fntag358'
  id="fntag358"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote358'><sup>358</sup></a></p>

  <p>"MADAM,</p>

  <p>"I writ to you on Saturday by Mrs. Lucy, and give you this
  trouble to urge the same request I made then, which was, that I
  may be admitted to wait upon you. I <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page287' title='287' id="page287"></a>should be very far from
  desiring this, if it were a transgression of the most severe
  rules to allow it: I know you are very much above the little arts
  which are frequent in your sex, of giving unnecessary torments to
  their admirers; therefore hope, you'll do so much justice to the
  generous passion I have for you, as to let me have an opportunity
  of acquainting you upon what motives I pretend to your good
  opinion. I shall not trouble you with my sentiments, till I know
  how they will be received; and as I know no reason why difference
  of sex should make our language to each other differ from the
  ordinary rules of right reason, I shall affect plainness and
  sincerity in my discourse to you, as much as other lovers do
  perplexity and rapture. Instead of saying, 'I shall die for you,'
  I profess I should be glad to lead my life with you: you are as
  beautiful, as witty, as prudent, and as good-humoured, as any
  woman breathing; but I must confess to you, I regard all these
  excellences as you will please to direct them, for my happiness
  or misery. With me, madam, the only lasting motive to love is the
  hope of its becoming mutual. I beg of you to let Mrs. Lucy send
  me word when I may attend you. I promise you, I'll talk of
  nothing but indifferent things; though at the same time I know
  not how I shall approach you in the tender moment of first seeing
  you, after this declaration, of,</p>

  <p>"Madam,</p>

  <p>"Your most obedient,</p>

  <p>"And most faithful</p>

  <p>"Humble Servant, &amp;c."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page288' title='288' id=
  "page288"></a></p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, June 29.</h3>

  <p>Having taken a resolution when plays are acted next winter by
  an entire good company, to publish observations from time to time
  on the performance of the actors, I think it but just to give an
  abstract of the law of action, for the help of the less learned
  part of the audience, that they may rationally enjoy so refined
  and instructive a pleasure as a just representation of human
  life. The great errors in playing are admirably well exposed in
  Hamlet's direction to the actors<a name='fntag359' id=
  "fntag359"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote359'><sup>359</sup></a> who are to play in his supposed
  tragedy; by which we shall form our future judgments on their
  behaviour, and for that reason you have the discourse as
  follows:</p>

  <p>"Speak the speech as I pronounce it to you, trippingly on the
  tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as
  lieve the town-crier had spoke my lines: nor do not saw the air
  too much with your hand thus; but use all gently: for in the very
  torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion,
  you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it
  smoothness. Oh! it offends me to the soul, to see a robustious
  periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to
  split the ears of the groundlings, who (for the most part) are
  capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I could
  have such a fellow whipped for overdoing termagant: it out-Herods
  Herod. Be not too tame neither; but let your own discretion be
  your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action;
  with this special observance, that you overstep not the modesty
  of nature; for anything so overdone, is from the purpose of
  playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to
  hold as it were the mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own
  feature; <a class="pagenum" name='page289' title='289' id=
  "page289"></a>scorn her own image; and the very age and body of
  the time its form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy
  off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the
  judicious grieve. The censures of which one, must, in your
  allowance, oversway a whole theatre of others. Oh! there be
  players, that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that
  highly (not to speak it profanely), that neither having the
  accent of Christian, Pagan, or Norman, have so strutted and
  bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had
  made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so
  abominably. This should be reformed altogether; and let those
  that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them:
  for there be of them that will of themselves laugh, to set on
  some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though in the
  meantime, some necessary question of the play be then to be
  considered; that is villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition
  in the fool that uses it."</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, June 29.</h3>

  <p>It would be a very great obligation, and an assistance to my
  treatise upon Punning,<a name='fntag360' id=
  "fntag360"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote360'><sup>360</sup></a> if any one would please to
  inform in what class, among the learned who play with words, to
  place the author of the following letter.<a name='fntag361' id=
  "fntag361"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote361'><sup>361</sup></a></p>

  <p>"Sir,</p>

  <p>"Not long since you were pleased to give us a chimerical
  account of the famous family of Staffs,<a name='fntag362' id=
  "fntag362"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote362'><sup>362</sup></a> from whence I suppose you would
  insinuate, that it is the most ancient and numerous house in all
  Europe. But I positively deny that it is either; and wonder much
  at your audacious pro<a class="pagenum" name='page290' title=
  '290' id="page290"></a>ceedings in this matter, since it is well
  known, that our most illustrious, most renowned, and most
  celebrated Roman family of Ix, has enjoyed the precedency to all
  others from the reign of good old Saturn. I could say much to the
  defamation and disgrace of your family; as, that your relations
  Distaff and Broomstaff were both inconsiderate mean persons, one
  spinning, the other sweeping the streets, for their daily bread.
  But I forbear to vent my spleen on objects so much beneath my
  indignation. I shall only give the world a catalogue of my
  ancestors, and leave them to determine which hath hitherto had,
  and which for the future ought to have, the preference.</p>

  <p>"First then comes the most famous and popular Lady Meretrix,
  parent of the fertile family of Bellatrix, Lotrix, Netrix,
  Nutrix, Obstetrix, Famulatrix, Coctrix, Ornatrix, Sarcinatrix,
  Fextrix, Balneatrix, Portatrix, Saltatrix, Divinatrix,
  Conjectrix, Comtrix, Debitrix, Creditrix, Donatrix, Ambulatrix,
  Mercatrix, Adsectrix, Assectatrix, Palpatrix, Præceptrix,
  Pistrix.</p>

  <p>"I am yours,</p>

  <p class="right">"ELIZ. POTATRIX."</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, June 29.</h3>

  <p>Letters from Brussels of the 2nd of July, N.S., say, that the
  Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene having received advice,
  that the Marshal Villars had drawn a considerable body out of the
  garrison of Tournay to reinforce his army, marched towards that
  place, and came before it early in the morning of the 27th. As
  soon as they came into that ground, the Prince of Nassau was sent
  with a strong detachment to take post at St. Amand; and at the
  same time my Lord Orkney received orders to possess himself of
  Mortagne; both which were successfully exe<a class="pagenum"
  name='page291' title='291' id="page291"></a>cuted; whereby we are
  masters of the Scheldt and the Scarp. Eight men were drawn out of
  each troop of dragoons and company of foot in the garrison of
  Tournay, to make up the reinforcement which was ordered to join
  Marshal Villars; but upon advice that the Allies were marching
  towards Tournay, they endeavoured to return into the town; but
  were intercepted by the Earl of Orkney, by whom that whole body
  was killed or taken. These letters add, that 1200 dragoons (each
  horseman carrying a foot-soldier behind him) were detached from
  Mons to throw themselves into Tournay; but upon appearance of a
  great body of horse of the Allies, retired towards Condé. We
  hear, that the garrison does not consist of more than 3500 men.
  Of the sixty battalions designed to be employed in this siege,
  seven [<i>sic</i>] are English, viz., two of Guards, and the
  regiments of Argyle, Temple, Evans and Meredith.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag355'>[355]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote355' id="footnote355"></a>See Nos.
      79, 140; and
      Swift's "Journal to Stella," Nov. 3, 1711. A correspondent
      begged the <i>Spectator</i> (No. 344) to "take notice of an
      impertinent custom the women, the fine women, have lately
      fallen into, of taking snuff."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag356'>[356]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote356' id="footnote356"></a>It has been
      suggested that Steele here alludes to Mrs. De la Rivière
      Manley.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag357'>[357]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote357' id="footnote357"></a>Lord
      Hinchinbroke married Elizabeth, only daughter of Alexander
      Popham, Esq. See Nos. <a href="#number1">1</a>, <a href=
      "#number5">5</a>, <a href="#number22">22</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag358'>[358]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote358' id="footnote358"></a>This was one of
      Steele's own letters to Miss Scurlock. (See "Correspondence,"
      1809, vol. i. p. 93.) "Mrs. Lucy" is "Mrs. Warren" in the
      original.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag359'>[359]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote359' id="footnote359"></a>"Hamlet," act
      iii. sc. 2.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag360'>[360]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote360' id="footnote360"></a>See <a href=
      '#number32'>No. 32</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag361'>[361]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote361' id="footnote361"></a>This letter is
      printed in Scott's edition of Swift's works.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag362'>[362]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote362' id="footnote362"></a>See No. II.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number36' id="number36"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 36.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[?STEELE.<a name='fntag363' id=
    "fntag363"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote363'><sup>363</sup></a></h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By Mrs. JENNY DISTAFF, half-sister to Mr. BICKERSTAFF.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, June 30</i>, to <i>Saturday, July 2</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From our own Apartment, June 30.</h3>

  <p>Many affairs calling my brother into the country, the care of
  our intelligence with the town is left to me for some time;
  therefore you must expect the advices you <a class="pagenum"
  name='page292' title='292' id="page292"></a>meet with in this
  paper to be such as more immediately and naturally fall under the
  consideration of our sex: history therefore written by a woman,
  you will easily imagine to consist of love in all its forms, both
  in the abuse of, and obedience to that passion. As to the faculty
  of writing itself, it will not, it is hoped, be demanded, that
  style and ornament shall be so much consulted, as truth and
  simplicity; which latter qualities we may more justly pretend to
  beyond the other sex. While therefore the administration of our
  affairs is in my hands, you shall from time to time have an exact
  account of all false lovers, and their shallow pretences for
  breaking off; of all termagant wives who make wedlock a yoke; of
  men who affect the entertainments and manners suitable only to
  our sex, and women who pretend to the conduct of such affairs as
  are only within the province of men. It is necessary further to
  advertise the reader, that the usual places of resort being
  utterly out of my province or observation, I shall be obliged
  frequently to change the dates of places, as occurrences
  <a class="pagenum" name='page293' title='293' id=
  "page293"></a>come into my way. The following letter I lately
  received from Epsom.<a name='fntag364' id=
  "fntag364"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote364'><sup>364</sup></a></p>

  <h3>Epsom, June 28.</h3>

  <p>"It is now almost three weeks since what you writ about
  happened in this place: the quarrel between my friends did not
  run so high as I find your accounts have made it. The truth of
  the fact you shall have very faithfully. You are to understand,
  that the persons concerned in this scene were, Lady Autumn, and
  Lady Springly:<a name='fntag365' id="fntag365"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote365'><sup>365</sup></a> Autumn is a person of good
  breeding, formality, and a singular way practised in the last
  age; and Lady Springly, a modern impertinent of our sex, who
  affects as improper familiarity, as the other does distance. Lady
  Autumn knows to a hair's-breadth where her place is in all
  assemblies and conversations; but Springly neither gives nor
  takes place of anybody, but understands the place to signify no
  more, than to have room enough to be at ease wherever <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page294' title='294' id="page294"></a>she comes.
  Thus while Autumn takes the whole of this life to consist in
  understanding punctilio and decorum, Springly takes everything to
  be becoming which contributes to her ease and satisfaction. These
  heroines have married two brothers, both knights. Springly is the
  spouse of the elder, who is a baronet; and Autumn, being a rich
  widow, has taken the younger, and her purse endowed him with an
  equal fortune and knighthood of the same order. This jumble of
  titles, you need not doubt, has been an aching torment to Autumn,
  who took place of the other on no pretence, but her carelessness
  and disregard of distinction. This secret occasion of envy
  broiled long in the breast of Autumn; but no opportunity of
  contention on that subject happening, kept all things quiet till
  the accident, of which you demand an account.</p>

  <p>"It was given out among all the gay people of this place, that
  on the 9th instant several damsels, swift of foot, were to run
  for a suit of head-clothes at the Old Wells. Lady Autumn on this
  occasion invited Springly to go with her in her coach to see the
  race. When they came to the place where the governor of Epsom and
  all his court of citizens were assembled, as well as a crowd of
  people of all orders, a brisk young fellow addresses himself to
  the younger of the ladies, viz., Springly, and offers her his
  service to conduct her into the music-room. Springly accepts the
  compliment, and is led triumphantly through the bowing crowd,
  while Autumn is left among the rabble, and has much ado to get
  back into her coach; but she did it at last: and as it is usual
  to see by the horses my lady's present disposition, she orders
  John to whip furiously home to her husband; where, when she
  enters, down she sits, began to unpin her hood, and lament her
  foolish fond heart to marry into a family where she was so
  <a class="pagenum" name='page295' title='295' id=
  "page295"></a>little regarded, she that might&#8212;Here she
  stops; then rises up and stamps, and sits down again. Her gentle
  knight made his approaches with a supple beseeching gesture. 'My
  dear,' said he&#8212;'Tell me no dears,' replied Autumn; in the
  presence of the governor and all the merchants; 'What will the
  world say of a woman that has thrown herself away at this rate?'
  Sir Thomas withdrew, and knew it would not be long a secret to
  him; as well as that experience told him, he that marries a
  fortune, is of course guilty of all faults against his wife, let
  them be committed by whom they will. But Springly, an hour or two
  after, returns from the Wells, and finds the whole company
  together. Down she sat, and a profound silence ensued. You know a
  premeditated quarrel usually begins and works up with the words,
  'Some people.' The silence was broken by Lady Autumn, who began
  to say, 'There are some people who fancy, that if some
  people&#8212;' Springly immediately takes her up; 'There are some
  people who fancy, if other people&#8212;' Autumn repartees,
  'People may give themselves airs; but other people, perhaps, who
  make less ado, may be, perhaps, as agreeable as people who set
  themselves out more.' All the other people at the table sat mute,
  while these two people, who were quarrelling, went on with the
  use of the word 'people,' instancing the very accidents between
  them, as if they kept only in distant hints. 'Therefore,' says
  Autumn, reddening, 'there are some people who will go abroad in
  other people's coaches, and leave those, with whom they went, to
  shift for themselves; and if, perhaps, those people have married
  the younger brother, yet, perhaps, he may be beholden to those
  people for what he is.' Springly smartly answers, 'People may
  bring so much ill humour into a family, as people may repent
  their receiving their money'; and goes <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page296' title='296' id="page296"></a>on&#8212;'Everybody is not
  considerable enough to give her uneasiness.' Upon this, Autumn
  comes up to her, and desired her to kiss her, and never to see
  her again; which her sister refusing, my lady gave her a box on
  the ear. Springly returns; 'Ay, ay,' said she, 'I knew well
  enough you meant me by your "some people,"' and gives her another
  on the other side. To it they went with most masculine fury: each
  husband ran in. The wives immediately fell upon their husbands,
  and tore periwigs and cravats. The company interposed; when
  (according to the slip-knot of matrimony, which makes them return
  to one another when any put in between) the ladies and their
  husbands fell upon all the rest of the company; and having beat
  all their friends and relations out of the house, came to
  themselves time enough to know, there was no bearing the jest of
  the place after these adventures, and therefore marched off the
  next day. It is said, the governor has sent several joints of
  mutton, and has proposed divers dishes very exquisitely dressed,
  to bring them down again. From his address and knowledge in roast
  and boiled, all our hopes of the return of this good company
  depend. I am,</p>

  <p>"Dear Jenny,</p>

  <p>"Your ready Friend</p>

  <p>"And Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"MARTHA TATLER."</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, June 30.</h3>

  <p>This day appeared here a figure of a person, whose services to
  the fair sex have reduced him to a kind of existence, for which
  there is no name. If there be a condition between life and death,
  without being absolutely <a class="pagenum" name='page297' title=
  '297' id="page297"></a>dead or living, his state is that. His
  aspect and complexion in his robust days gave him the illustrious
  title of Africanus:<a name='fntag366' id="fntag366"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote366'><sup>366</sup></a> but it is not only
  from the warm climates in which he has served, nor from the
  disasters which he has suffered, that he deserves the same
  appellation with that renowned Roman; but the magnanimity with
  which he appears in his last moments, is what gives him the
  undoubted character of Hero. Cato stabbed himself, and Hannibal
  drank poison; but our Africanus lives in the continual puncture
  of aching bones and poisoned juices. The old heroes fled from
  torments by death, and this modern lives in death and torments,
  with a heart wholly bent upon a supply for remaining in them. An
  ordinary spirit would sink under his oppressions; but he makes an
  advantage of his very sorrow, and raises an income from his
  diseases. Long has this worthy been conversant in bartering, and
  knows, that when stocks are lowest, it is the time to buy.
  Therefore, with much prudence and tranquillity, he thinks, that
  now he has not a bone sound, but a thousand nodous parts for
  which the anatomists have not words, and more diseases than the
  College ever heard of, it is the only time to purchase an annuity
  for life. Sir <a class="pagenum" name='page298' title='298' id=
  "page298"></a>Thomas<a name='fntag367' id=
  "fntag367"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote367'><sup>367</sup></a> told me, it was an
  entertainment more surprising and pleasant than can be imagined,
  to see an inhabitant of neither world without hand to lift, or
  leg to move, scarce tongue to utter his meaning, so keen upon
  biting the whole world, and making bubbles at his exit. Sir
  Thomas added, that he would have bought twelve shillings a year
  of him, but that he feared there was some trick in it, and
  believed him already dead: "What!" says that knight, "is Mr.
  Partridge, whom I met just now going on both his legs firmer than
  I can, allowed to be quite dead; and shall Africanus, without one
  limb that can do its office, be pronounced alive?" What
  heightened the tragi-comedy of this market for annuities was,
  that the observation of it provoked Monoculus<a name='fntag368'
  id="fntag368"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote368'><sup>368</sup></a> (who is the most eloquent of
  all men) to many excellent reflections, which he spoke with the
  vehemence and language both of a gamester and an orator. "When I
  cast," said that delightful speaker, "my eye upon thee, thou
  unaccountable Africanus, I cannot but call myself as
  unaccountable as thou art; for certainly we were born to show
  what contradictions nature is pleased to form in the same
  species. Here am I, able to eat, to drink, to sleep, and do all
  acts of nature, except begetting my like; and yet by an
  unintelligible force of spleen and fancy, I every moment imagine
  I am dying. It is utter madness in thee to provide for supper;
  for I'll bet you ten to one, you don't live till half an hour
  after four; and yet I am so distracted as to be in fear every
  moment, though I'll lay ten to three, I drink three pints of
  burnt claret at your funeral three nights hence. After all, I
  envy thee; thou who dying hast no sense of death, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page299' title='299' id="page299"></a>art happier
  than one in health that<a name='fntag369' id=
  "fntag369"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote369'><sup>369</sup></a> always fears it." The knight
  had gone on, but that a third man ended the scene by applauding
  the knight's eloquence and philosophy, in a laughter too violent
  for his own constitution, as much as he mocked that of Africanus
  and Monoculus.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 1.</h3>

  <p>This day arrived three mails from Holland, with advices
  relating to the posture of affairs in the Low Countries, which
  say, that the Confederate army extends from Luchin, on the
  causeway between Tournay and Lisle, to Epain near Mortagne on the
  Scheldt. The Marshal Villars remains in his camp at Lens; but it
  is said, he detached ten thousand men under the command of the
  Chevalier de Luxembourg, with orders to form a camp at Crepin on
  the Haine, between Condé and St. Guillain, where he is to be
  joined by the Elector of Bavaria with a body of troops, and after
  their conjunction, to attempt to march into Brabant. But they
  write from Brussels, that the Duke of Marlborough having it
  equally in his power to make detachments to the same parts, they
  are under no apprehensions from these reports for the safety of
  their country. They further add from Brussels, that they have
  good authority for believing that the French troops under the
  conduct of Marshal de Bezons are retiring out of Spain.<a name=
  'fntag370' id="fntag370"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote370'><sup>370</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag363'>[363]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote363' id="footnote363"></a>Nichols argued
      that this and the two following numbers were by Addison. (1)
      At the end of <a href='#number37'>No. 37</a> there is a list
      of errata for the preceding number. It was Addison's frequent
      practice to make verbal alterations in a preceding paper, and
      this Steele never did, except in rare cases, or where there
      was a positive mistake. (2) All the three papers are
      <i>superscribed</i>, as Addison's often were, and appear upon
      the face of them, to be of the nature, and in the number of
      those, for which Steele stood sponsor, and was very patiently
      traduced and calumniated, as he acknowledges to Congreve, in
      the Dedication prefixed to "The Drummer." There is nothing in
      the style or manner of any of the three that appears
      incongruous with such a supposition; and the nature of their
      principal contents seems to support it. They consist chiefly
      of pleasantries and oblique strokes, apparently on persons of
      fashion, in that age, of both sexes. It appears from the
      Dedication to "The Drummer," that Steele had Addison's direct
      injunctions to hide papers which he never did declare to be
      Addison's. The case, in short, seems to be, that as, as
      Steele says, there are communications in the course of this
      work, which Addison's modesty, so there are likewise others,
      which Addison's prudence, "would never have admitted to come
      into daylight, but under such a shelter." According to the
      usual rule where there is uncertainty, Steele's name is
      placed at the head of the papers in this edition. Probably he
      was responsible in any case for part of the contents of each
      of these numbers.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag364'>[364]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote364' id="footnote364"></a>Epsom was
      frequented for its mineral waters, and was also a favourite
      holiday resort. "At the Crown Coffee-house, behind the Royal
      Exchange, fresh Epsom water, with the rest of the purging
      waters, at 2d. per quart, and sold both winter and summer,
      and Epsom salt." (See "British Apollo," vol. iii. <a href=
      '#number15'>No. 15</a>, 1710, and "Post Man," June 11, 1700.)
      "The New Wells at Epsom, with variety of raffling-shops, a
      billiard-table, and a bowling-green, and attended with a new
      set of music, are now open," &amp;c. (<i>Flying Post</i>,
      Aug. 4-6, 1709.) The new Wells were opened on Easter Monday,
      1709 (<i>Daily Courant</i>, April 23, 1709). We can form some
      idea of Epsom some years before, with its wells and
      bowling-green, from Shadwell's play, "Epsom Wells," 1673. See
      also <a href='#number7'>No. 7</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag365'>[365]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote365' id="footnote365"></a>On July 8,
      1709, Peter Wentworth wrote to Lord Raby: "I have not sent
      you the <i>Tatler</i> of last Saturday, because I was told
      'twas dull, but that persons judgement I shall take no more;
      for having since read it I think it diverting enough, the
      news from Epsom is almost matter of fact, wch makes the jest
      the better; the Ladys are city ladys, named Turners"
      ("Wentworth Papers," p. 93). This is confirmed by the MS.
      annotator mentioned in <a href='#number4'>No. 4</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag366'>[366]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote366' id="footnote366"></a>"I like the
      description of Africanus, wch is Sir Scipio Hill ... Sir
      Scipio Hill with his new project of getting money occasions
      some diversion and talk at White's. You may have heard for
      this long while he was dieing of the &#8212;&#8212;; he now
      come abroad and look a divel, or at least a sad <i>memento
      mori</i>. He gives forescore guineas to receive ten guineas a
      quarter for his life, Sir James of the Peak is his agent, and
      runs about offering it all that will take. Boscowen has took
      it, and two or three more, who are of opinion he will not
      live a month. Those he had made his heirs does not approve of
      this whim, for he's resolved to dispose of all his ready
      money this way if he can find substantial fools enough to
      take it; but the crack begins to run as if he may live a
      great while for all he looks so ill, for he has recovered his
      voice to a miracle" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, July 1 and
      8, 1709; "Wentworth Papers," pp. 92-3).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag367'>[367]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote367' id="footnote367"></a>The waiter. See
      <a href='#number16'>No. 16</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag368'>[368]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote368' id="footnote368"></a>Said to be Sir
      Humphrey Monoux, Bart., who was elected M.P. for Tavistock in
      1728, and for Stockbridge in 1734. He succeeded to the
      baronetage in 1707, and died without issue in 1757.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag369'>[369]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote369' id="footnote369"></a>"Thou that hast
      no sense of death, art happier than one that" (folio; altered
      in Errata in <a href='#number37'>No. 37</a>).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag370'>[370]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote370' id="footnote370"></a>"This paper,
      with a blank leaf to write business on, may be had of J.
      Morphew, near Stationers'-hall" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page300' title='300' id=
    "page300"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number37' id="number37"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 37.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[?STEELE.<a name='fntag371' id=
    "fntag371"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote371'><sup>371</sup></a></h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, July 2</i>, to <i>Tuesday, July 5</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 2.</h3>

  <p>It may be thought very unaccountable, that I,<a name=
  'fntag372' id="fntag372"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote372'><sup>372</sup></a> who can never be supposed to go
  to White's, should pretend to talk to you of matters proper for,
  or in the style of, that place. But though I do not go to these
  public haunts, I receive visits from those who do; and for all
  they pretend so much to the contrary, they are as talkative as
  our sex, and as much at a loss to entertain the present company,
  without sacrificing the last, as we ourselves. This reflection
  has led me into the consideration of the use of speech; and made
  me look over in my memory all my acquaintance of both sexes, to
  know to which I may more justly impute the sin of superfluous
  discourse, with regard to conversation, and not entering into it
  as it respects religion. I foresee my acquaintance will
  immediately, upon starting this subject, ask me, how I shall
  celebrate Mrs. Alse Copswood,<a name='fntag373' id=
  "fntag373"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote373'><sup>373</sup></a> the Yorkshire huntress, who is
  come to town lately, and moves as if she were on her nag, and
  going to take a five-bar gate; and is as loud as if she were
  following her dogs. I can easily answer that; for she is as soft
  as Damon, in comparison of her brother-in-law Tom
  Bellfrey,<a name='fntag374' id="fntag374"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote374'><sup>374</sup></a> who is the most accomplished
  man in this kingdom for all gentlemanlike activities and
  accomplishments. It <a class="pagenum" name='page301' title='301'
  id="page301"></a>is allowed, that he is a professed enemy to the
  Italian performers in music. But then for our own native manner,
  according to the customs and known usages of our island, he is to
  be preferred, for the generality of the pleasure he bestows, much
  above those fellows,<a name='fntag375' id=
  "fntag375"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote375'><sup>375</sup></a> though they sing to full
  theatres. For what is a theatrical voice to that of a fox-hunter?
  I have been at a musical entertainment in an open field, where it
  amazed me to hear to what pitches the chief masters would reach.
  There was a meeting near our seat in Staffordshire, and the most
  eminent of all the counties of England were at it. How wonderful
  was the harmony between men and dogs! Robin Cartail of Bucks was
  to answer to Jowler; Mr. Tinbreast of Cornwall was appointed to
  open with Sweetlips, and Beau Slimber, a Londoner, undertook to
  keep up with Trips, a whelp just set in: Tom Bellfrey and
  Ringwood were coupled together, to fill the cry on all occasions,
  and be in at the death of the fox, hare, or stag; for which both
  the dog and the man were excellently suited, and loved one
  another, and were as much together as Banister and King. When
  Jowler first alarmed the field, Cartail repeated every note;
  Sweetlips' treble succeeded, and shook the wood; Tinbreast echoed
  a quarter of a mile beyond it. We were soon after all at a loss,
  till we rid up, and found Trips and Slimber at a default in
  half-notes: but the day and the tune was recovered by Tom
  Bellfrey and Ringwood, to the great joy of us all, though they
  drowned every other voice: for Bellfrey carries a note four
  furlongs, three rood, and six paces, farther than any other in
  England. But I fear the mention of this will be thought a
  digression from my purpose about speech: but I answer, No. Since
  this is used where speech rather should be employed, it may come
  into con<a class="pagenum" name='page302' title='302' id=
  "page302"></a>sideration in the same chapter: for Mr. Bellfrey
  being at a visit where I was, viz., his cousin's (Lady Dainty's)
  in Soho, was asked, what entertainments they had in the country?
  Now Bellfrey is very ignorant, and much a clown; but confident
  withal. In a word, he struck up a fox-chase: Lady Dainty's dog,
  Mr. Sippet, as she calls him, started and jumped out of his
  lady's lap, and fell a barking. Bellfrey went on, and called all
  the neighbouring parishes into the square. Never was woman in
  such confusion as that delicate lady. But there was no stopping
  her kinsman. A room full of ladies fell into the most violent
  laughter: my lady looked as if she was shrieking; Mr. Sippet in
  the middle of the room, breaking his heart with barking, but all
  of us unheard. As soon as Bellfrey became silent, up gets my
  lady, and takes him by the arm to lead him off: Bellfrey was in
  his boots. As she was hurrying him away, his spurs takes hold of
  her petticoat; his whip throws down a cabinet of china: he cries,
  "What! are your crocks rotten? Are your petticoats ragged? A man
  can't walk in your house for trincums." Every county of Great
  Britain has one hundred or more of this sort of fellows, who roar
  instead of speaking. Therefore if it be true, that we women are
  also given to greater fluency of words than is necessary, sure
  one that disturbs but a room or a family is more to be tolerated,
  than one who draws together parishes and counties, and sometimes
  (with an estate that might make him the blessing and ornament of
  the world around him) has no other view and ambition, but to be
  an animal above dogs and horses, without the relish of any one
  enjoyment, which is peculiar to the faculties of human nature.
  But I know it will here be said, that talking of mere country
  squires at this rate, is, as it were, to write against Valentine
  or Orson. To prove anything against the race of men, you must
  take them as <a class="pagenum" name='page303' title='303' id=
  "page303"></a>they are adorned with education, as they live in
  Courts, or have received instructions in colleges.</p>

  <p>But I was so full of my late entertainment by Mr. Bellfrey,
  that I must defer pursuing this subject to another day; and waive
  the proper observations upon the different offenders in this
  kind, some by profound eloquence, on small occasions, others by
  degrading speech upon great circumstances. Expect therefore to
  hear of the whisperer without business, the laugher without wit,
  the complainer without receiving injuries, and a very large
  crowd, which I shall not forestall, who are common (though not
  commonly observed) impertinents, whose tongues are too voluble
  for their brains, and are the general despisers of us women,
  though we have their superiors, the men of sense, for our
  servants.<a name='fntag376' id="fntag376"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote376'><sup>376</sup></a></p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page304' title='304' id=
  "page304"></a></p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 4.</h3>

  <p>There has arrived no mail since our last; so that we have no
  manner of foreign news, except we were to give you, for such, the
  many speculations which are on foot concerning what was imported
  by the last advices. There are, it seems, sixty battalions and
  seventeen squadrons appointed to serve in the siege of Tournay;
  the garrison of which place consists but of eleven battalions and
  four squadrons. Letters of the 29th of the last month from Berlin
  have brought advice, that the Kings of Denmark, Prussia, and his
  Majesty Augustus, were within few days <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page305' title='305' id="page305"></a>to come to an interview at
  Potsdam. These letters mention, that two Polish princes of the
  family of the Sapicha and Lubermirsky, lately arrived from Paris,
  confirm the reports of the misery in France for want of
  provisions, and give a particular instance of it, which is, that
  on the day Monsieur Rouillé returned to Court, the common people
  gathered in crowds about the Dauphin's coach, crying, "Peace and
  bread, bread and peace."</p>

  <p>Mrs. Distaff has taken upon her, while she writes this paper,
  to turn her thoughts wholly to the service of her own sex, and to
  propose remedies against the greatest vexations <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page306' title='306' id="page306"></a>attending
  female life. She has for this end written a small treatise
  concerning the second word, with an appendix on the use of a
  reply, very useful to all such as are married to persons either
  ill-bred or ill-natured. There is in this tract a digression for
  the use of virgins concerning the words, "I will."</p>

  <p>A gentlewoman who has a very delicate ear, wants a maid who
  can whisper, and help her in the government of her family. If the
  said servant can clear-starch, lisp, and tread softly, she shall
  have suitable encouragement in her wages.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag371'>[371]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote371' id="footnote371"></a>See note to
      <a href='#number36'>No. 36</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag372'>[372]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote372' id="footnote372"></a>Jenny
      Distaff.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag373'>[373]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote373' id="footnote373"></a>The Jacobite
      Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sharpe, who died in 1713. See
      <i>Examiner</i>, vol. iv. No. 22.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag374'>[374]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote374' id="footnote374"></a>Dr. Blackall
      (1654-1716), who was made Bishop of Exeter in 1708.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag375'>[375]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote375' id="footnote375"></a>The French
      Prophets, from the Cevennes. Dr. Blackall's sermon against
      them was printed by order of the Queen.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag376'>[376]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote376' id="footnote376"></a>The following
      article appeared only in the folio issue:&#8212;</p>

      <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 3.</h3>

      <p>A very ingenious gentleman was complaining this evening,
      that the players are grown so severe critics, that they would
      not take in his play, though it has as many fine things in it
      as any play that has been writ since the days of Dryden. He
      began his discourse about his play with a preface.</p>

      <p>"There is," said he, "somewhat (however we palliate it) in
      the very frame and make of us, that subjects our minds to
      chagrin and irresolution on any emergency of time or place.
      The difficulty grows on our sickened imagination, under all
      the killing circumstances of danger and disappointment. This
      we see, not only in the men of retirement and fancy, but in
      the characters of the men of action; with this only
      difference, the coward sees the danger, and sickens under it;
      the hero, warmed by the difficulty, dilates, and rises in
      proportion to that, and in some sort makes use of his very
      fears to disarm it. A remarkable instance of this we have in
      the great Cæsar, when he came to the Rubicon, and was
      entering upon a part, perhaps, the most hazardous he ever
      bore (certainly the most ungrateful), a war with his
      countrymen. When his mind brooded over personal affronts,
      perhaps his anger burned with a desire of revenge. But when
      more serious reflections laid before him the hazard of the
      enterprise, with the dismal consequences which were likely to
      attend it, aggravated by a special circumstance, What figure
      it would bear in the world, or how be excused to posterity.
      What shall he do?&#8212;His honour, which was his religion,
      bids him arm; and he sounds the inclinations of his party, by
      this set speech:</p>

      <h4><i>CÆSAR</i> to his Party at the Rubicon.</h4>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Witness with what reluctance I oppose
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            My arms to thine, secure of other foes.
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Traitor!&#8212;For this I conquered on the Rhine,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            I grew by every guilty triumph less;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Impatient of the war, yet fear success.
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            They throw the die of war, to save the state;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            To your bare pity, and the public scorn,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Must lay that honour and his laurel down,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            To serve the vain caprices of the gown;
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Exposed to all indignities, the brave
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Deserve of those they gloried but to save,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            To rods and axes!&#8212;No, the slaves can't dare
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Play with my grief, and tempt my last despair.
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            This shall the honours which it won maintain,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>The reason for cancelling this article when these papers
      were republished in octavo, is obvious; for, being printed by
      Steele, it would naturally be applied to the circumstances in
      which the Duke of Marlborough was at that time: "The Duke
      having his commission under the Great Seal, the order of the
      Queen was not sufficient to dissolve his power. His friends
      advised him to assemble, by his authority as general, all the
      troops in London, in the different squares, and to take
      possession of St. James's, and the person of the Queen.
      Oxford, apprised of this design, suddenly called together the
      Cabinet Council. Though he probably concealed his
      intelligence to prevent their fears, he told them of the
      necessity of superseding Marlborough under the Great Seal.
      This business was soon despatched. His dismission in form was
      sent to the Duke. The Earl of Oxford, no stranger to the
      character of Marlborough, knew that he would not act against
      law, by assembling the troops. The natural diffidence of his
      disposition had made him unfit for enterprises of danger, in
      a degree that furnished his enemies with insinuations against
      his personal courage."&#8212;(Macpherson's "State Papers,"
      quoted by Nichols.)</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number38' id="number38"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 38.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[?STEELE.<a name='fntag377' id=
    "fntag377"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote377'><sup>377</sup></a></h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, July 5</i>, to <i>Thursday, July 7,
    1709.</i></h3>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 6.</h3>

  <p>I find among my brother's papers the following letter
  verbatim, which I wonder how he could suppress so long as he has,
  since it was sent him for no other end, but to show the good
  effect his writings have already had upon the ill customs of the
  age.</p>

  <p class="right">"London, <i>June 23</i>.</p>

  <p>"SIR,</p>

  <p>"The end of all public papers ought to be the benefit and
  instruction, as well as the diversion of the readers: to which I
  see none so truly conducive as your late performances; especially
  those tending to the rooting out from amongst us that
  unchristianlike and bloody custom of duelling; which, that you
  have already in some measure performed, will appear to the public
  in the following no less true than heroic story.</p>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page307' title='307' id=
  "page307"></a>A noble gentleman of this city, who has the honour
  of serving his country as major in the train-bands, being at that
  general mart of stockjobbers called Jonathan's,<a name='fntag378'
  id="fntag378"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote378'><sup>378</sup></a> endeavouring to raise himself
  (as all men of honour ought) to the degree of colonel at least;
  it happened that he bought the 'bear'<a name='fntag379' id=
  "fntag379"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote379'><sup>379</sup></a> of another officer, who, though
  not commissioned in the army, yet no less eminently serves the
  public than the other, in raising the credit of the kingdom, by
  raising that of the stocks. However, having sold the 'bear,' and
  words arising about the delivery, the most noble major, no less
  scorning to be outwitted in the coffee-house, than to run into
  the field, according to method, abused the other with the titles
  of, 'rogue,' 'villain,' 'bearskin-man,' and the like. Whereupon
  satisfaction was demanded, and accepted: so, forth the major
  marched, commanding his adversary to follow. To a most spacious
  room in the sheriff's house, near the place of quarrel, they
  come; where, having due regard to what you have lately published,
  they resolved not to shed one another's blood in that barbarous
  manner you prohibited; yet, not willing to put up affronts
  without satisfaction, they stripped, and in decent manner fought
  full fairly with their wrathful hands. The combat lasted a
  quarter of an hour; in which time victory was often doubtful, and
  many a dry blow was strenuously laid on by each side, till the
  major finding his adversary obstinate, unwilling to give him
  further chastisement, with most shrill voice cried out, 'I am
  satisfied, enough.' Whereupon the combat ceased, and both were
  friends immediately.</p>

  <p>"Thus the world may see, how necessary it is to encourage
  those men who make it their business to instruct <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page308' title='308' id="page308"></a>the people
  in everything necessary for their preservation. I am informed, a
  body of worthy citizens have agreed on an address of thanks to
  you for what you have writ on the foregoing subject, whereby they
  acknowledge one of their highly esteemed officers preserved from
  death.</p>

  <p>"Your humble Servant,</p>

  <p class="right">"A. B."</p>

  <p>I fear the word "bear" is hardly to be understood among the
  polite people; but I take the meaning to be, that one who ensures
  a real value upon an imaginary thing, is said to sell a "bear,"
  and is the same thing as a promise among courtiers, or a vow
  between lovers. I have writ to my brother to hasten to town; and
  hope, that printing the letters directed to him, which I knew not
  how to answer, will bring him speedily; and therefore I add also
  the following:</p>

  <p class="right">"<i>July 5</i>, 1709.</p>

  <p>"MR. BICKERSTAFF,</p>

  <p>You having hinted a generous intention of taking under your
  consideration the whisperers without business, and laughers
  without occasion; as you tender the welfare of your country, I
  entreat you not to forget or delay so public-spirited a work. Now
  or never is the time. Many other calamities may cease with the
  war; but I dismally dread the multiplication of these mortals
  under the ease and luxuriousness of a settled peace, half the
  blessing of which may be destroyed by them. Their mistake lies
  certainly here, in a wretched belief, that their mimicry passes
  for real business, or true wit. Dear sir, convince them, that it
  never was, is, or ever will be, either of them; nor ever did,
  does, or to all futurity ever can, look like either of them; but
  that it is the most cursed <a class="pagenum" name='page309'
  title='309' id="page309"></a>disturbance in nature, which is
  possible to be inflicted on mankind, under the noble definition
  of a sociable creature. In doing this, sir, you will oblige more
  humble servants than can find room to subscribe their names."</p>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 6.</h3>

  <p>In pursuance of my last date from hence, I am to proceed on
  the accounts I promised of several personages among the men,
  whose conspicuous fortunes, or ambition in showing their follies,
  have exalted them above their fellows: the levity of their minds
  is visible in their every word and gesture, and there is not a
  day passes but puts me in mind of Mr. Wycherley's character of a
  coxcomb: "He is ugly all over with the affectation of the fine
  gentleman." Now though the women may put on softness in their
  looks, or affected severity, or impertinent gaiety, or pert
  smartness, their self-love and admiration cannot, under any of
  these disguises, appear so invincible as that of the men. You may
  easily take notice, that in all their actions there is a secret
  approbation, either in the tone of their voice, the turn of their
  body, or cast of their eye, which shows that they are extremely
  in their own favour. Take one of your men of business, he shall
  keep you half an hour with your hat off, entertaining you with
  his consideration of that affair you spoke of to him last, till
  he has drawn a crowd that observes you in this grimace. Then when
  he is public enough, he immediately runs into secrets, and falls
  a whispering. You and he make breaks with adverbs; as, "But
  however, thus far"; and then you whisper again, and so on, till
  they who are about you are dispersed, and your busy man's vanity
  is no longer gratified by the notice taken of what importance he
  is, and how inconsiderable you are; for your pretender to
  business is never in secret, but in public. There is my dear Lord
  <a class="pagenum" name='page310' title='310' id=
  "page310"></a>Nowhere, of all men the most gracious and most
  obliging, the terror of all <i>valets-de-chambre</i>, whom he
  oppresses with good breeding, in inquiring for my good lord, and
  for my good lady's health. This inimitable courtier will whisper
  a privy councillor's lackey with the utmost goodness and
  condescension, to know when they next sit; and is thoroughly
  taken up, and thinks he has a part in a secret, if he knows that
  there is a secret. "What it is," he will whisper you, "that time
  will discover"; then he shrugs, and calls you back
  again&#8212;"Sir, I need not say to you, that these things are
  not to be spoken of&#8212;and hark you, no names, I would not be
  quoted." What adds to the jest is, that his emptiness has its
  moods and seasons, and he will not condescend to let you into
  these his discoveries, except he is in very good humour, or has
  seen somebody in fashion talk to you. He will keep his nothing to
  himself, and pass by and overlook as well as the best of them;
  not observing that he is insolent when he is gracious, and
  obliging when he is haughty. Show me a woman so inconsiderable as
  this frequent character. But my mind (now I am in) turns to many
  no less observable: thou dear Will Shoestring!<a name='fntag380'
  id="fntag380"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote380'><sup>380</sup></a> I profess myself in love with
  thee: how shall I speak thee? How shall I address thee? How shall
  I draw thee? Thou dear outside! Will you be combing your
  wig,<a name='fntag381' id="fntag381"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote381'><sup>381</sup></a> playing with your <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page311' title='311' id="page311"></a>box, or
  picking your teeth? Or choosest thou rather to be speaking; to be
  speaking for thy only purpose in speaking, to show your teeth?
  Rub them no longer, dear Shoestring: do not premeditate murder:
  do not for ever whiten: Oh! that for my quiet and his own they
  were rotten. But I will forget him, and give my hand to the
  courteous Umbra; he is a fine man indeed, but the soft creature
  bows below my apron-string before he takes it; but after the
  first ceremonies, he is as familiar as my physician, and his
  insignificancy makes me half ready to complain to him of all I
  would to my doctor. But he is so courteous, that he carries half
  the messages of ladies' ails in town to their midwives and
  nurses. He understands too the art of medicine as far as to the
  cure of a pimple or a rash. On occasions of the like
  import<a class="pagenum" name='page312' title='312' id=
  "page312"></a>ance, he is the most assiduous of all men living,
  in consulting and searching precedents from family to family; and
  then he speaks of his obsequiousness and diligence in the style
  of real services. If you sneer at him, and thank him for his
  great friendship, he bows, and says, "Madam, all the good offices
  in my power, while I have any knowledge or credit, shall be at
  your service." The consideration of so shallow a being, and the
  intent application with which he pursues trifles, has made me
  carefully reflect upon that sort of men we usually call an
  Impertinent: and I am, upon mature deliberation, so far from
  being offended with him, that I am really obliged to him; for
  though he will take you aside, and talk half an hour to you upon
  matters wholly insignificant with the most solemn air, yet I
  consider, that these things are of weight in his imagination, and
  he thinks he is communicating what is for my service. If
  therefore it be a just rule to judge of a man by his intention,
  according to the equity of good breeding, he that is
  impertinently kind or wise, to do you service, ought in return to
  have a proportionable place both in your affection and esteem; so
  that the courteous Umbra deserves the favour of all his
  acquaintance; for though he never served them, he is ever willing
  to do it, and believes he does it. But as impotent kindness is to
  be returned with all our abilities to oblige, so impotent malice
  is to be treated with all our force to depress it. For this
  reason Flyblow (who is received in all the families in town
  through the degeneracy and iniquity of their manners) is to be
  treated like a knave, though he is one of the weakest of fools:
  he has by rote, and at second-hand, all that can be said of any
  man of figure, wit, and virtue in town. Name a man of worth, and
  this creature tells you the worst passage of his life. Speak of a
  beautiful woman, and this puppy will whisper the next man to him,
  though <a class="pagenum" name='page313' title='313' id=
  "page313"></a>he has nothing to say of her. He is a Fly that
  feeds on the sore part, and would have nothing to live on, if the
  whole body were in health. You may know him by the frequency of
  pronouncing the particle "but"; for which reason I never hear him
  spoke of with common charity, without using my "but" against him:
  for a friend of mine saying the other day, Mrs. Distaff has wit,
  good humour, virtue, and friendship, this oaf added, "'But' she
  is not handsome." Coxcomb! The gentleman was saying what I was,
  not what I was not.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 6.</h3>

  <p>The approaches before Tournay have been carried on with great
  success; and our advices from the camp before that place of the
  11th instant say, that they had already made a lodgment on the
  glacis. Two hundred boats were come up the Scheldt with a heavy
  artillery and ammunition, which would be employed in dismounting
  the enemy's defences, and raised on the batteries the 15th. A
  great body of miners are summoned to the camp to countermine the
  works of the enemy. We are convinced of the weakness of the
  garrison, by a certain account, that they called a council of
  war, to consult whether it was not advisable to march into the
  citadel, and leave the town defenceless. We are assured, that
  when the Confederate army was advancing towards the camp of
  Marshal Villars, that general despatched a courier to his master
  with a letter, giving an account of their approach, which
  concluded with the following words: "The day begins to break, and
  your Majesty's army is already in order of battle. Before noon, I
  hope to have the honour of congratulating your Majesty on the
  success of a great action; and you shall be very well satisfied
  with the Marshal Villars."</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page314' title='314' id=
  "page314"></a>It is to be noted, that when any part of this paper
  appears dull, there is a design in it.<a name='fntag382' id=
  "fntag382"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote382'><sup>382</sup></a></p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag377'>[377]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote377' id="footnote377"></a>See note to
      <a href='#number36'>No. 36</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag378'>[378]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote378' id="footnote378"></a>A coffee-house
      in Change Alley. See <i>Spectator</i>, No. 1, and Mrs.
      Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag379'>[379]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote379' id="footnote379"></a>See <a href=
      '#number7'>No. 7</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag380'>[380]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote380' id="footnote380"></a>Sir William
      Whitlocke, Knt., Member for Oxon, Bencher of the Middle
      Temple. He is the learned knight mentioned in <a href=
      '#number43'>No. 43</a> (Percy). This is confirmed by the MS.
      annotator mentioned in a note to <a href='#number4'>No.
      4</a>. Nichols explains that Whitlocke is called Will
      Shoestring, for his singularity in using shoe-strings, so
      long after the era of shoe-buckles, which commenced in the
      reign of Charles II., although ordinary people, and such as
      affected plainness in their garb, wore strings in their shoes
      after that time.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag381'>[381]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote381' id="footnote381"></a>"Combing the
      peruke, at the time when men of fashion wore large wigs, was
      even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs, for
      this purpose, were of a very large size, of ivory or
      tortoise-shell, curiously chased and ornamented, and were
      carried in the pocket as constantly as the snuff-box. At
      Court, on the Mall, and in the boxes, gentlemen conversed and
      combed their perukes "(Sir John Hawkins' "Hist, of Music,"
      vol. iv. p. 447, note). Cf. Dryden's prologue to "Almanzor
      and Almahide":&#8212;</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "But as when vizard mask appears in pit,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>

      <p>And "The Fortune Hunters," act i. sc. 2 (1689): "He
      looked, indeed, and sighed, and set his cravat-string, and
      sighed again, and combed his periwig: sighed a third time,
      and then took snuff, I guess to show the whiteness of his
      hand." See, too, Wycherley's "Love in a Wood," act iii. sc.
      1:&#8212;</p>

      <p>"DAPPERWIT. Let me prune and flounce my perruque a little
      for her; there's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do
      as much for a mere stranger in the play-house.</p>

      <p>"RANGER. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed
      in the very play-house, or in the presence&#8212;</p>

      <p>"DAPPERWIT. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis
      a greater neglect of her than himself; pray lend me your
      comb.... She comes, she comes; pray, your comb.
      (<i>Snatches</i> RANGER'S <i>comb</i>.)"</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag382'>[382]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote382' id="footnote382"></a>"Mrs. Distaff
      hath received the Dialogue dated Monday evening, which she
      has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead: and in the
      meantime gives her service to the parties" (folio).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number39' id="number39"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 39.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.</h3>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, July 7</i>, to <i>Saturday, July 9</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, July 7.</h3>

  <p>As I am called forth by the immense love I bear to my fellow
  creatures, and the warm inclination I feel within me, to stem, as
  far as I can, the prevailing torrent of vice and ignorance; so I
  cannot more properly pursue that noble impulse, than by setting
  forth the excellence of virtue and knowledge in their native and
  beautiful colours. For this reason I made my late excursion to
  Oxford, where those qualities appear in their highest lustre, and
  are the only pretences to honour and distinction: superiority is
  there given in proportion to men's advancement in wisdom and
  learning; and that just rule of life is so universally received
  among those happy people, that you shall see an earl walk
  bareheaded to the son of the meanest artificer, in respect to
  seven years more worth and knowledge than the nobleman is
  possessed of. In other places they bow to men's fortunes, but
  here to their understandings. It is not to be expressed, how
  pleasing the order, the discipline, the regularity of their
  lives, is to a philosopher, who has, by many years' experience in
  the world, learned to contemn everything but what is revered
  <a class="pagenum" name='page315' title='315' id="page315"></a>in
  this mansion of select and well-taught spirits. The magnificence
  of their palaces, the greatness of their revenues, the sweetness
  of their groves and retirements, seem equally adapted for the
  residence of princes and philosophers; and a familiarity with
  objects of splendour, as well as places of recess, prepares the
  inhabitants with an equanimity for their future fortunes, whether
  humble or illustrious. How was I pleased when I looked round at
  St. Mary's, and could, in the faces of the ingenious youth, see
  ministers of state, chancellors, bishops, and judges. Here only
  is human life! Here only the life of man is a rational being!
  Here men understand and are employed in works worthy their noble
  nature. This transitory being passes away in an employment not
  unworthy a future state, the contemplation of the great decrees
  of Providence. Each man lives as if he were to answer the
  questions made to Job, "Where wast thou when I laid the
  foundations of the earth?... Who shut up the sea with doors, ...
  and said, Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further?"<a name=
  'fntag383' id="fntag383"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote383'><sup>383</sup></a> Such speculations make life
  agreeable, make death welcome, But alas! I was torn from this
  noble society by the business of this dirty mean world, and the
  cares of fortune: for I was obliged to be in town against the 7th
  day of the term, and accordingly governed myself by my Oxford
  Almanack, and came last night; but find, to my great
  astonishment, that this ignorant town began the term on the 24th
  of the last month, in opposition to all the learning and
  astronomy of the famous university of which I have been speaking;
  according to which, the term certainly was to commence on the 1st
  instant.<a name='fntag384' id="fntag384"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote384'><sup>384</sup></a> You may be sure, a man who has
  turned his studies as I have, could not be <a class="pagenum"
  name='page316' title='316' id="page316"></a>mistaken in point of
  time; for knowing I was to come to town in term, I examined the
  passing moments very narrowly, and called an eminent astronomer
  to my assistance. Upon very strict observation we found, that the
  cold has been so severe this last winter (which is allowed to
  have a benumbing quality), that it retarded the earth in moving
  round from Christmas to this season full seven days and two
  seconds. My learned friend assured me further, that the earth had
  lately received a shog from a comet that crossed its vortex,
  which, if it had come ten degrees nearer us, had made us lose
  this whole term. I was indeed once of opinion, that the Gregorian
  computation was the most regular, as being eleven days before the
  Julian; but am now fully convinced, that we ought to be seven
  days after the chancellor and judges, and eighteen before the
  Pope of Rome; and that the Oxonian computation is the best of the
  three. These are the reasons which I have gathered from
  philosophy and nature; to which I can add other circumstances in
  vindication of the account of this learned body who published
  this almanack. It is notorious to philosophers, that joy and
  grief can hasten and delay time. Mr. Locke is of opinion, that a
  man in great misery may so far lose his measure, as to think a
  minute an hour; or in joy, make an hour a minute. Let us examine
  the present case by this rule, and we shall find, that the cause
  of this general mistake in the British nation, has been the great
  success of the last campaign, and the following hopes of peace.
  Stocks ran so high at the 'Change, that the citizens had gained
  three days of the courtiers; and we have indeed been so happy
  this reign, that if the University did not rectify our mistakes,
  we should think ourselves but in the second year of her present
  Majesty. It would be endless to enumerate the many damages that
  have happened by this <a class="pagenum" name='page317' title=
  '317' id="page317"></a>ignorance of the vulgar. All the
  recognisances within the Diocese of Oxford have been forfeited,
  for not appearing on the first day of this fictitious term. The
  University has been nonsuited in their action against the
  booksellers for printing Clarendon in quarto. But indeed what
  gives me the most quick concern, is the case of a poor gentleman
  my friend, who was the other day taken in execution by a set of
  ignorant bailiffs. He should, it seems, have pleaded in the first
  week of term; but being a Master of Arts of Oxford, he would not
  recede from the Oxonian computation. He showed Mr. Broad the
  almanack, and the very day when the term began; but the merciless
  ignorant fellow, against all sense and learning, would hurry him
  away. He went indeed quietly enough; but he has taken exact notes
  of the time of arrest, and sufficient witnesses of his being
  carried into gaol; and has, by advice of the Recorder of Oxford,
  brought his action; and we doubt not but we shall pay them off
  with damages, and blemish the reputation of Mr. Broad. We have
  one convincing proof, which all that frequent the Courts of
  Justice are witnesses of: the dog that comes constantly to
  Westminster on the first day of the term, did not appear till the
  first day according to the Oxford Almanack; whose instinct I take
  to be a better guide than men's erroneous opinions, which are
  usually biased by interest. I judge in this case, as King Charles
  II. victualled his navy, with the bread which one of his dogs
  chose of several pieces thrown before him, rather than trust to
  the asseverations of the victuallers. Mr. Cowper,<a name=
  'fntag385' id="fntag385"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote385'><sup>385</sup></a> and other learned counsel, have
  already urged the authority of this almanack, in behalf of their
  <a class="pagenum" name='page318' title='318' id=
  "page318"></a>clients. We shall therefore go on with all speed in
  our cause; and doubt not, but Chancery will give at the end what
  we lost in the beginning, by protracting the term for us till
  Wednesday come se'nnight: and the University orator shall for
  ever pray, &amp;c.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 7.</h3>

  <p>The subject of duels<a name='fntag386' id=
  "fntag386"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote386'><sup>386</sup></a> has, I find, been started with
  so good success, that it has been the frequent subject of
  conversation among polite men; and a dialogue of that kind has
  been transmitted to me verbatim, as follows. The persons
  concerned in it are men of honour, and experience in the manners
  of men, and have fallen upon the truest foundation, as well as
  searched the bottom, of this evil.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. If it were in my power, every man that drew his
  sword, unless in the Service, or purely to defend his life,
  person, or goods, from violence (I mean abstracted from all
  punctos or whims of honour) should ride the wooden horse in the
  Tilt Yard<a name='fntag387' id="fntag387"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote387'><sup>387</sup></a> for such first offence, for the
  second stand in the pillory, and for the third be prisoner in
  Bedlam for life.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. I remember, that a rencounter or duel was so far
  from being in fashion among the officers that served in the
  Parliament army, that on the contrary, it was as disreputable,
  and as great an impediment to advancement in the Service, as
  being bashful in time of action.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. Yet I have been informed by some old Cavaliers, of
  famous reputation for brave and gallant men, that they were much
  more in mode among their party, than they have been during this
  last war.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. That is true too, sir. <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page319' title='319' id="page319"></a>Mr. SAGE. By what you say,
  gentlemen, one should think that our present military officers
  are compounded of an equal proportion of both those tempers;
  since duels are neither quite discountenanced, nor much in
  vogue.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. That difference of temper, in regard to duels, which
  appears to have been between the Court and Parliament-men of the
  sword, was not (I conceive) for want of courage in the latter,
  nor of a liberal education; because there were some of the best
  families in England engaged in that party; but gallantry and
  mode, which glitter agreeably to the imagination, were encouraged
  by the Court, as promoting its splendour; and it was as natural
  that the contrary party (who were to recommend themselves to the
  public for men of serious and solid parts) should deviate from
  everything chimerical.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. I have never read of a duel among the Romans; and
  yet their nobility used more liberty with their tongues than one
  may do now without being challenged.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. Perhaps the Romans were of opinion, that ill
  language, and brutal manners, reflected only on those who were
  guilty of them; and that a man's reputation was not at all
  cleared by cutting the person's throat who had reflected upon it:
  but the custom of those times had fixed the scandal in the
  action; whereas now it lies in the reproach.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. And yet the only sort of duel that one can conceive
  to have been fought upon motives truly honourable and allowable,
  was that between the Horatii and Curiatii.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. Colonel Plume, pray what was the method of single
  combat in your time among the Cavaliers? I suppose, that as the
  use of clothes continues, though the <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page320' title='320' id="page320"></a>fashion of them has been
  mutable; so duels, though still in use, have had in all times
  their particular modes of performance.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. We had no constant rule, but generally conducted
  our dispute and tilt according to the last that had happened
  between persons of reputation among the very top fellows for
  bravery and gallantry.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. If the fashion of quarrelling and tilting was so
  often changed in your time, Colonel Plume, a man might fight, yet
  lose his credit for want of understanding the fashion.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Why, Sir Mark, in the beginning of July, a man
  would have been censured for want of courage, or been thought
  indigent of the true notions of honour, if he had put up [with]
  words, which in the end of September following, one could not
  resent without passing for a brutal and quarrelsome fellow.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. But, Colonel, were duels or rencounters most in
  fashion in those days?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Your men of nice honour, sir, were for avoiding
  all censure of advantage which they supposed might be taken in a
  rencounter; therefore they used seconds, who were to see that all
  was upon the square, and make a faithful report of the whole
  combat; but in a little time it became a fashion for the seconds
  to fight, and I'll tell you how it happened.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. Pray do, Colonel Plume, and the method of a duel at
  that time, and give us some notion of the punctos upon which your
  nice men quarrelled in those days.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. I was going to tell you, Mr. Sage, that one Cornet
  Modish had desired his friend, Captain Smart's, opinion in some
  affair, but did not follow it; upon which Captain Smart sent
  Major Adroit (a very <a class="pagenum" name='page321' title=
  '321' id="page321"></a>topping fellow of those times) to the
  person that had slighted his advice. The Major never inquired
  into the quarrel, because it was not the manner then among the
  very topping fellows; but got two swords of an equal length, and
  then waited upon Cornet Modish, desiring him to choose his sword,
  and meet his friend Captain Smart. Cornet Modish came with his
  friend to the place of combat; there the principals put on their
  pumps, and stripped to their shirts, to show they had nothing but
  what men of honour carry about them, and then engaged.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. And did the seconds stand by, sir?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. It was a received custom till that time; but the
  swords of those days being pretty long, and the principals acting
  on both sides upon the defensive, and the morning being frosty,
  Major Adroit desired that the other second, who was also a very
  topping fellow, would try a thrust or two only to keep them warm,
  till the principals had decided the matter, which was agreed to
  by Modish's second, who presently whipped Adroit through the
  body, disarmed him, and then parted the principals, who had
  received no harm at all.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. But was not Adroit laughed at?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. On the contrary, the very topping fellows were
  ever after of opinion, that no man who deserved that character,
  could serve as a second, without fighting; and the Smarts and
  Modishes finding their account in it, the humour took without
  opposition.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. Pray, Colonel, how long did that fashion
  continue?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME, Not long neither, Mr. Sage; for as soon as it
  became a fashion, the very topping fellows thought their honour
  reflected upon, if they did not proffer themselves as seconds
  when any of their friends had a quarrel; so that sometimes there
  were a dozen of a side.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page322' title='322' id=
  "page322"></a>Sir MARK. Bless me! If that custom had continued,
  we should have been at a loss now for our very pretty fellows;
  for they seem to be the proper men to officer, animate, and keep
  up an army: but, pray, sir, how did that sociable manner of
  tilting grow out of mode?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Why, sir, I'll tell you; it was a law among the
  combatants, that the party which happened to have the first man
  disarmed or killed, should yield as vanquished; which some people
  thought might encourage the Modishes and Smarts in quarrelling,
  to the destruction of only the very topping fellows; and as soon
  as this reflection was started, the very topping fellows thought
  it an incumbrance upon their honour to fight at all themselves.
  Since that time, the Modishes and the Smarts, throughout all
  Europe, have extolled the French king's edict.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. Our very pretty fellows, whom I take to be the
  successors of the very topping fellows, think a quarrel so little
  fashionable, that they will not be exposed to it by another man's
  vanity, or want of sense.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. But, Colonel, I have observed in your account of
  duels, that there was a great exactness in avoiding all advantage
  that might possibly be between the combatants.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. That's true, sir; for the weapons were always
  equal.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. Yes, sir; but suppose an active, adroit, strong man,
  had insulted an awkward, or a feeble, or an unpractised
  swordsman.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Then, sir, they fought with pistols.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. But, sir, there might be a certain advantage that
  way; for a good marksman will be sure to hit his man at twenty
  yards distance; and a man whose hand shakes (which is common to
  men that debauch in pleasures, <a class="pagenum" name='page323'
  title='323' id="page323"></a>or have not used pistols out of
  their holsters) won't venture to fire, unless he touches the
  person he shoots at. Now, sir, I am of opinion, that one can get
  no honour in killing a man (if one has it all rug,<a name=
  'fntag388' id="fntag388"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote388'><sup>388</sup></a> as the gamesters say), when
  they have a trick to make the game secure, though they seem to
  play upon the square.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. In truth, Mr. Sage, I think such a fact must be
  murder in a man's own private conscience, whatever it may appear
  to the world.</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. I have known some men so nice, that they would not
  fight but upon a cloak without pistols.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. I believe a custom, well established, would outdo
  the Grand Monarch's edict.<a name='fntag389' id=
  "fntag389"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote389'><sup>389</sup></a></p>

  <p>Sir MARK. And bullies would then leave off their long swords;
  but I don't find that a very pretty fellow can stay to change his
  sword, when he is insulted by a bully with a long diego,<a name=
  'fntag390' id="fntag390"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote390'><sup>390</sup></a> though his own at the same time
  be no longer than a penknife; which will certainly be the case,
  if such little swords are in mode. Pray, Colonel, how was it
  between the hectors of your time and the very topping
  fellows?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Sir, long swords happened to be generally worn in
  those times.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. In answer to what you were saying, Sir Mark, give me
  leave to inform you, that your knights-errant (who were the very
  pretty fellows of those ancient times) thought they could not
  honourably yield, though they <a class="pagenum" name='page324'
  title='324' id="page324"></a>had fought their own trusty weapons
  to the stumps; but would venture as boldly with the page's leaden
  sword, as if it had been of enchanted metal. Whence I conceive,
  there must be a spice of romantic gallantry in the composition of
  that very pretty fellow.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. I am of opinion, Mr. Sage, that fashion governs a
  very pretty fellow; nature, or common sense, your ordinary
  persons, and sometimes men of fine parts.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. But what is the reason, that men of the most
  excellent sense and morals (in other points) associate their
  understandings with the very pretty fellows in that chimæra of a
  duel?</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. There's no disputing against so great a
  majority.</p>

  <p>Mr. SAGE. But there is one scruple (Colonel Plume) and I have
  done: don't you believe there may be some advantage even upon a
  cloak with pistols, which a man of nice honour would scruple to
  take?</p>

  <p>Col. PLUME. Faith, I can't tell, sir; but since one may
  reasonably suppose, that (in such a case) there can be but one so
  far in the wrong as to occasion matters to come to that
  extremity, I think the chance of being killed should fall but on
  one; whereas by their close and desperate manner of fighting, it
  may very probably happen to both.</p>

  <p>Sir MARK. Why, gentlemen, if they are men of such nice honour
  (and must fight), there will be no fear of foul play, if they
  threw up cross or pile<a name='fntag391' id=
  "fntag391"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote391'><sup>391</sup></a> who should be shot.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag383'>[383]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote383' id="footnote383"></a>Job xxxviii. 4,
      8, 11.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag384'>[384]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote384' id="footnote384"></a>There was a
      difference between the University terms and the Law
      terms.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag385'>[385]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote385' id="footnote385"></a>Spencer Cowper
      (1669-1727), brother of Earl Cowper, and afterwards a judge
      of the Common Pleas. He was one of the managers of the
      impeachment of Sacheverell in 1710.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag386'>[386]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote386' id="footnote386"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number25">25</a>, <a href="#number26">26</a>,
      <a href="#number29">29</a>, <a href="#number31">31</a>,
      <a href="#number38">38</a>, 205.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag387'>[387]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote387' id="footnote387"></a>At
      Whitehall.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag388'>[388]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote388' id="footnote388"></a><i>Cf.</i>
      "Wentworth Papers," p. 394: "June 29, 1714. The changes at
      Court does not go so rug as some people expected and gave
      out, that 'twas to be all intire Tory with the least seeming
      mixture of Whigs."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag389'>[389]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote389' id="footnote389"></a>See
      <i>Spectator</i>, No. 97.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag390'>[390]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote390' id="footnote390"></a>A sword. Don
      Diego was a familiar name for a Spaniard with both English
      and French writers in the seventeenth century. San Diego is a
      corruption of Santiago (St. James), the patron saint of
      Spain.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag391'>[391]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote391' id="footnote391"></a>A pillar, the
      design on one side of a coin, bearing on the other a cross.
      Swift says, "This I humbly conceive to be perfect boys' play;
      cross, I win, and pile, you lose."</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page325' title='325' id=
    "page325"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number40' id="number40"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 40.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, July 9</i>, to <i>Tuesday, July 12</i>,
    1709.</h3>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 11.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the city of London give an account of a very
  great consternation that place is in at present, by reason of a
  late inquiry made at Guildhall, whether a noble person<a name=
  'fntag392' id="fntag392"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote392'><sup>392</sup></a> has parts enough to deserve the
  enjoyment of the great estate of which he is possessed. The city
  is apprehensive that this precedent may go further than was at
  first imagined. The person against whom this inquisi<a class=
  "pagenum" name='page326' title='326' id="page326"></a>tion is set
  up by his relations, is a peer of a neighbouring kingdom, and has
  in his youth made some few bulls, by which it is insinuated, that
  he has forfeited his goods and chattels. This is the more
  astonishing, in that there are many persons in the said city who
  are still more guilty than his lordship, and who, though they are
  idiots, do not only possess, but have also themselves acquired
  great estates, contrary to the known laws of this realm, which
  vests their possessions in the Crown. There is a gentleman of
  this coffee-house at this time exhibiting a bill in Chancery
  against his father's younger brother, who by some strange magic
  has arrived at the value of half a plum, as the citizens call a
  hundred thousand pounds; and in all the time of growing up to
  that wealth, was never known in any of his ordinary words or
  actions to discover any proof of reason. Upon this foundation my
  friend has set forth, that he is illegally master of his coffers,
  and has writ two epigrams to signify his own pretensions and
  sufficiency for spending that estate. He has inserted in his plea
  some things which I fear will give offence; for he pretends to
  argue, that though a man has a little of the knave mixed with the
  fool, he is nevertheless liable to the loss of goods; and makes
  the abuse of reason as just an avoidance of an estate as the
  total absence of it. This is what can never pass; but witty men
  are so full of themselves, that there is no persuading them; and
  my friend will not be convinced, but that upon quoting Solomon,
  who always used the word "fool" as a term of the same
  signification with "unjust," and makes all deviation from
  goodness and virtue to come under the notion of folly&#8212;I
  say, he doubts not, but by the force of this authority, let his
  idiot uncle appear never so great a knave, he shall prove him a
  fool at the same time. This affair led the company here into an
  examination of these points; and none coming here <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page327' title='327' id="page327"></a>but wits,
  what was asserted by a young lawyer, that a lunatic is in the
  care of the Chancery, but a fool in that of the Crown, was
  received with general indignation. "Why that?" says old Renault.
  "Why that? Why must a fool be a courtier more than a madman? This
  is the iniquity of this dull age: I remember the time when it
  went on the mad side; all your top wits were scowrers,<a name=
  'fntag393' id="fntag393"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote393'><sup>393</sup></a> rakes, roarers, and demolishers
  of windows. I remember a mad lord who was drunk five years
  together, and was the envy of that age, and is faintly imitated
  by the dull pretenders to vice and madness in this. Had he lived
  to this day, there had not been a fool in fashion in the whole
  kingdom." When Renault had done speaking, a very worthy man
  assumed the discourse: "This is," said he, "Mr. Bickerstaff, a
  proper argument for you to treat in your article from this place;
  and if you would send your Pacolet into all our brains, you would
  find, that a little fibre or valve, scarce discernible, makes the
  distinction between a politician and an idiot. We should
  therefore throw a veil upon those unhappy instances of human
  nature, who seem to breathe without the direction of reason and
  understanding, as we should avert our eyes with abhorrence from
  such as live in perpetual abuse and contradiction to these noble
  faculties. Shall this unfortunate man be divested of his estate,
  because he is tractable and indolent, runs in no man's debt,
  invades no man's bed, nor spends the estate he owes his children
  and his character; when one who shows no sense above him, but
  <a class="pagenum" name='page328' title='328' id="page328"></a>in
  such practices, shall be esteemed in his senses, and possibly may
  pretend to the guardianship of him who is no ways his inferior,
  but in being less wicked? We see old age brings us indifferently
  into the same impotence of soul, wherein nature has placed this
  lord. There is something very fantastical in the distribution of
  civil power and capacity among men. The law certainly gives these
  persons into the ward and care of the Crown, because that is best
  able to protect them from injuries, and the impositions of craft
  and knavery; that the life of an idiot may not ruin the entail of
  a noble house, and his weakness may not frustrate the industry or
  capacity of the founder of his family. But when one of bright
  parts, as we say, with his eyes open, and all men's eyes upon
  him, destroys those purposes, there is no remedy. Folly and
  ignorance are punished! Folly and guilt are tolerated! Mr. Locke
  has somewhere made a distinction between a madman and a
  fool:<a name='fntag394' id="fntag394"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote394'><sup>394</sup></a> a fool is he that from right
  principles makes a wrong conclusion; but a madman is one who
  draws a just inference from false principles. Thus the fool who
  cut off the fellow's head that lay asleep, and hid it, and then
  waited to see what he would say when he awakened and missed his
  headpiece, was in the right in the first thought, that a man
  would be surprised to find such an alteration in things since he
  fell asleep; but he was a little mistaken to imagine he could
  awake at all after his head was off. A madman fancies himself a
  prince; but upon his mistake, he acts suitably to that character;
  and though he is out in supposing he has principalities, while he
  drinks gruel, and lies in straw, yet you shall see him keep the
  port of a distressed monarch in all his words and actions. These
  two persons are equally taken into custody: but what must be done
  to half this good com<a class="pagenum" name='page329' title=
  '329' id="page329"></a>pany, who every hour of their life are
  knowingly and wittingly both fools and madmen, and yet have
  capacities both of forming principles, and drawing conclusions,
  with the full use of reason?"</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 11.</h3>

  <p>This evening some ladies came to visit my sister Jenny; and
  the discourse, after very many frivolous and public matters,
  turned upon the main point among the women, the passion of
  love.<a name='fntag395' id="fntag395"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote395'><sup>395</sup></a> Sappho, who always leads on
  this occasion, began to show her reading, and told us, that Sir
  John Suckling and Milton had, upon a parallel occasion, said the
  tenderest things she had ever read. "The circumstance," said she,
  "is such as gives us a notion of that protecting part which is
  the duty of men in their honourable designs upon, or possession
  of, women. In Suckling's tragedy of 'Brennoralt' he makes the
  lover steal into his mistress's bedchamber, and draw the
  curtains; then, when his heart is full of her charms, as she lies
  sleeping, instead of being carried away by the violence of his
  desires into thoughts of a warmer nature, sleep, which is the
  image of death, gives this generous lover reflections of a
  different kind, which regard rather her safety than his own
  passion. For, beholding her as she lies sleeping, he utters these
  words:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "So misers look upon their gold,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Which, while they joy to see, they fear to lose:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The pleasure of the sight scarce equalling
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The jealousy of being dispossessed by others.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Her face is like the Milky Way i' th' sky,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A meeting of gentle lights without name!
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "<a class="pagenum" name='page330' title='330' id=
        "page330"></a>Heavens I shall this fresh ornament of the
        world,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        These precious love-lines, pass with other common things
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Amongst the wastes of time? what pity 'twere!<a name=
        'fntag396' id="fntag396"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote396'><sup>396</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"When Milton makes Adam leaning on his arm, beholding Eve, and
  lying in the contemplation of her beauty, he describes the utmost
  tenderness and guardian affection in one word:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Adam with looks of cordial love
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Hung over her enamoured.<a name='fntag397' id=
        "fntag397"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote397'><sup>397</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"This is that sort of passion which truly deserves the name of
  'love,' and has something more generous than friendship itself;
  for it has a constant care of the object beloved, abstracted from
  its own interests in the possession of it." Sappho was proceeding
  on the subject, when my sister produced a letter sent to her in
  the time of my absence, in celebration of the marriage state,
  which is the condition wherein only this sort of passion reigns
  in full authority. The epistle is as follows:</p>

  <p>"DEAR MADAM,</p>

  <p>"Your brother being absent, I dare take the liberty of writing
  to you my thoughts of that state, which our whole sex either is
  or desires to be in: you'll easily guess I mean matrimony, which
  I hear so much decried, that it was with no small labour I
  maintained my ground against two opponents; but, as your brother
  observed of Socrates, I drew them into my conclusion from their
  own concessions; thus:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "In marriage are two happy things allowed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A wife in wedding-sheets, and in a shroud.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        How can a marriage state then be accursed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Since the last day's as happy as the first?
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"<a class="pagenum" name='page331' title='331' id=
  "page331"></a>If you think they were too easily confuted, you may
  conclude them not of the first sense, by their talking against
  marriage.</p>

  <p>"Yours,</p>

  <p class="right">"MARIANA."</p>

  <p>I observed Sappho began to redden at this epistle; and turning
  to a lady, who was playing with a dog she was so fond of as to
  carry him abroad with her; "Nay," says she, "I cannot blame the
  men if they have mean ideas of our souls and affections, and
  wonder so many are brought to take us for companions for life,
  when they see our endearments so triflingly placed: for, to my
  knowledge, Mr. Truman would give half his estate for half the
  affection you have shown to that Shock: nor do I believe you
  would be ashamed to confess, that I saw you cry, when he had the
  colic last week with lapping sour milk. What more could you do
  for your lover himself?" "What more!" replied the lady, "there is
  not a man in England for whom I could lament half so much." Then
  she stifled the animal with kisses, and called him, Beau, Life,
  Dear, Monsieur, Pretty Fellow, and what not, in the hurry of her
  impertinence. Sappho rose up; as she always does at anything she
  observes done, which discovers in her own sex a levity of mind,
  which renders them inconsiderable in the opinion of others.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 11.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 16th instant, N.S., say, that
  the siege of Tournay went on with all imaginable success; and
  that there has been no manner of stop given to the attempts of
  the Confederates since they undertook it, except that by an
  accident of firing a piece of ordnance, it burst, and killed
  fifteen or sixteen men. The French army <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page332' title='332' id="page332"></a>is still in the camp of
  Lens, and goes on in improving their entrenchments. When the last
  advices came away, it was believed the town of Tournay would be
  in the hands of the Confederates by the end of this month.
  Advices from Brussels inform us, that they have an account of a
  great action between the malcontents in the Vivarez, and the
  French king's forces under the command of the Duke of Roquelaure,
  in which engagement there were eighteen hundred men killed on the
  spot. They add, that all sorts of people who are under any
  oppression or discontent do daily join the Vivarois; and that
  their present body of men in arms consisted of six thousand. This
  sudden insurrection has put the Court of France under great
  difficulties; and the king has given orders, that the main body
  of his troops in Spain shall withdraw into his own dominions,
  where they are to be quartered in such countries as have of late
  discovered an inclination to take up arms: the calamities of that
  kingdom being such, that the people are not by any means to be
  kept in obedience, except by the terror of military execution.
  What makes the distresses still greater, is, that the Court
  begins to be doubtful of their troops, some regiments in the
  action in the Cevennes having faced about against their officers;
  and after the battle was over, joined the malcontents. Upon
  receiving advice of this battle, the Duke of Berwick detached
  twelve battalions into those parts, and began to add new works to
  his entrenchments near Briançon, in order to defend his camp,
  after being weakened by sending so great a reinforcement into the
  Cevennes. Letters from Spain say, that the Duchess of Anjou was
  lately delivered of a second son. They write from Madrid of the
  25th of June, that the blockade of Olivenza was continued; but
  acknowledge, that the late provisions which were thrown into the
  place, make them <a class="pagenum" name='page333' title='333'
  id="page333"></a>doubt whether they shall be masters of it this
  campaign; though it is at present so closely blocked up, that it
  appears impracticable to send in any more stores or succours.
  They are preparing with all expedition to repair the
  fortifications of Alicante, for the security of the kingdom of
  Valencia.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag392'>[392]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote392' id="footnote392"></a>It appears from
      Luttrell's "Brief Relation," that in Feb. 1707, Commissioners
      sat in the Exchequer Room at Westminster to try whether
      Viscount Wenman, "aged 19, of £5000 per annum estate in
      Oxfordshire," were an idiot or not. On the 14th February the
      Commission was superseded. In June 1709, a new Commission
      passed the Great Seal for inquiring into the Viscount's
      idiocy, and on July 29 they found that he was no idiot. On
      July 12, Peter Wentworth wrote thus to Lord Raby: "The
      prosecution of Lord Wainman is now order'd again, upon wch
      the <i>Tatler</i> is to day; the accation I am told is this,
      that last year when there was a stopt put to't 'twas upon the
      intercession lady Wainman the mother made to the Queen, and
      that she designed to marry her son, the fool, to Sir John
      Packington's daughter, 'twas then said that my Lady her self
      had married her Butler, wch the Queen desired her to tell the
      truth, and she did assure the Queen upon her word and
      honour,'twas false, and she never intended any such thing,
      but of late she has own her marriage to that same Butler, and
      put off the match with Sir John P&#8212;&#8212;daughter, and
      married him to her husband's sister, wch they say the Queen
      is angry at and therefore this fresh prosecution is order'd"
      ("Wentworth Papers," p. 93). Lord Wenman, the fifth Viscount,
      was born in 1687, married Susannah, daughter of Seymour
      Wroughton, Esq., in 1709, and died in 1729. Lord Wenman's
      brother-in-law, Francis Wroughton, was also his
      father-in-law, for he had married, in 1699, as her third
      husband, the Viscount's mother, the Countess of Abingdon.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag393'>[393]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote393' id="footnote393"></a>The Scowrers
      and Roarers were the forerunners of the Mohocks of 1712.
      Shadwell wrote a play called "The Scowrers," and often
      alludes to the window-breakers of his time. See Gay's
      "Trivia," iii. 325:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Who has not heard the Scowrer's midnight fame?
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name?"
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag394'>[394]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote394' id="footnote394"></a>"Essay
      concerning Human Understanding," chap. xii. sect. 14.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag395'>[395]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote395' id="footnote395"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number6">6</a>, <a href="#number35">35</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag396'>[396]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote396' id="footnote396"></a>"Brennoralt,"
      act iii.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag397'>[397]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote397' id="footnote397"></a>"Paradise
      Lost," iv. 12, 13.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number41' id="number41"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 41.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, July 12</i>, to <i>Thursday, July 14</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Celebrare domestica facta.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 12.</h3>

  <p>There is no one thing more to be lamented in our nation, than
  their general affectation of everything that is foreign; nay, we
  carry it so far, that we are more anxious for our own countrymen
  when they have crossed the seas, than when we see them in the
  same dangerous condition before our eyes at home: else how is it
  possible, that on the 29th of the last month, there should have
  been a battle fought in our very streets of London, and nobody at
  this end of the town have heard of it? I protest, I, who make it
  my business to inquire after adventures, should never have known
  this, had not the following account been sent me enclosed in a
  letter. This, it seems, is the way of giving out of orders in the
  Artillery Company;<a name='fntag398' id="fntag398"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote398'><sup>398</sup></a> and they prepare for
  a day of action with so little concern, as only to call it, "An
  Exercise of Arms."</p>

  <p>"An Exercise at Arms of the Artillery Company, to be performed
  on Wednesday, June 29, 1709, under the command of Sir Joseph
  Woolfe, Knight and Alderman, General; <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page334' title='334' id="page334"></a>Charles Hopson, Esquire,
  present Sheriff, Lieutenant-General; Captain Richard Synge,
  Major; Major John Shorey, Captain of Grenadiers; Captain William
  Grayhurst, Captain John Buttler, Captain Robert Carellis,
  Captains.</p>

  <p>"The body march from the Artillery Ground through Moorgate,
  Coleman Street, Lothbury, Broad Street, Finch Lane, Cornhill,
  Cheapside, St. Martin's, St. Anne's Lane, halt the pikes under
  the wall in Noble Street, draw up the firelocks facing the
  Goldsmiths' Hall, make ready and face to the left, and fire, and
  so ditto three times. Beat to arms, and march round the hall, as
  up Lad Lane, Gutter Lane, Honey Lane, and so wheel to the right,
  and make your salute to my lord, and so down St. Anne's Lane, up
  Aldersgate Street, Barbican, and draw up in Red Cross Street, the
  right at St. Paul's Alley in the rear. March off
  Lieutenant-General with half the body up Beech Lane: he sends a
  subdivision up King's Head Court, and takes post in it, and
  marches two divisions round into Red Lion Market, to defend that
  pass, and succour the division in King's Head Court, but keeps in
  White Cross Street, facing Beech Lane, the rest of the body ready
  drawn up. Then the General marches up Beech Lane, is attacked,
  but forces the division in the court into the market, and enters
  with three divisions while he presses the Lieutenant-General's
  main body; and at the same time, the three divisions force those
  of the revolters out of the market, and so all the
  Lieutenant-General's body retreats into Chiswell Street, and
  lodges two divisions in Grub Street; and as the General marches
  on, they fall on his flank, but soon made to give way; but having
  a retreating place in Red Lion Court, but could not hold it,
  being put to flight through Paul's Alley, and pursued by the
  General's grenadiers, while he marches up and <a class="pagenum"
  name='page335' title='335' id="page335"></a>attacks their main
  body, but are opposed again by a party of men as lay in Black
  Raven Court; but they are forced also to retire soon in the
  utmost confusion; and at the same time those brave divisions in
  Paul's Alley ply their rear with grenadiers, that with
  precipitation they take to the rout along Bunhill Row: so the
  General marches into the Artillery Ground, and being drawn up,
  finds the revolting party to have found entrance, and makes a
  show as if for a battle, and both armies soon engage in form, and
  fire by platoons."</p>

  <p>Much might be said for the improvement of this system; which,
  for its style and invention, may instruct generals and their
  historians, both in fighting a battle, and describing it when it
  is over. These elegant expressions, "Ditto," "And so," "But
  soon," "But having," "But could not," "But are," "But they,"
  "Finds the party to have found," &amp;c., do certainly give great
  life and spirit to the relation. Indeed I am extremely concerned
  for the Lieutenant-General, who, by his overthrow and defeat, is
  made a deplorable instance of the fortune of war, and
  vicissitudes of human affairs. He, alas! has lost in Beech Lane
  and Chiswell Street, all the glory he lately gained in and about
  Holborn and St. Giles's. The art of subdividing first, and
  dividing afterwards, is new and surprising; and according to this
  method, the troops are disposed in King's Head Court and Red Lion
  Market: nor is the conduct of these leaders less conspicuous in
  their choice of the ground or field of battle. Happy was it, that
  the greatest part of the achievements of this day was to be
  performed near Grub Street,<a name='fntag399' id=
  "fntag399"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote399'><sup>399</sup></a> that there might not be
  <a class="pagenum" name='page336' title='336' id=
  "page336"></a>wanting a sufficient number of faithful historians,
  who being eye-witnesses of these wonders, should impartially
  transmit them to posterity: but then it can never be enough
  regretted, that we are left in the dark as to the name and title
  of that extraordinary hero who commanded the divisions in Paul's
  Alley; especially because those divisions are justly styled
  brave, and accordingly were to push the enemy along Bunhill Row,
  and thereby occasion a general battle. But Pallas appeared in the
  form of a shower of rain, and prevented the slaughter and
  desolation which were threatened by these extraordinary
  preparations.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Hi motus animorum atque hæc certamina tanta
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescunt.<a name=
        'fntag400' id="fntag400"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote400'><sup>400</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 13.</h3>

  <p>Some part of the company keep up the old way of conversation
  in this place, which usually turned upon the examination of
  nature, and an inquiry into the manners of men. There is one in
  the room so very judicious, that he manages impertinents with the
  utmost dexterity. It was diverting this evening to hear a
  discourse between him and one of these gentlemen. He told me
  before that person joined us, that he was a questioner, who,
  according to his description, is one who asks questions, not with
  a design to receive information, but an affectation to show his
  uneasiness for want of it. He went on in asserting, that there
  are crowds of that modest ambition, as to aim no farther than to
  demonstrate that they are in doubt. But by this time Will Why-not
  was sat down by <a class="pagenum" name='page337' title='337' id=
  "page337"></a>us. "So, gentlemen," says he, "in how many days,
  think you, shall we be masters of Tournay? Is the account of the
  action of the Vivarois to be depended upon? Could you have
  imagined England had so much money in it, as you see it has
  produced? Pray, sirs, what do you think? Will the Duke of Savoy
  make an eruption into France? But," says he, "time will clear all
  these mysteries." His answer to himself gave me the altitude of
  his head, and to all his questions I thus answered very
  satisfactorily: "Sir, have you heard that this
  Slaughterford<a name='fntag401' id="fntag401"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote401'><sup>401</sup></a> never owned the fact for
  which he died? Have the newspapers mentioned that matter? But,
  pray, can you tell me what method will be taken to provide for
  these Palatines?<a name='fntag402' id="fntag402"></a><a class=
  'fn' href='#footnote402'><sup>402</sup></a> But this, as you say,
  time will clear." "Ay, ay," says he, and whispers me, "they will
  never let us into these things beforehand." I whispered him
  again, "We shall know it as soon as there is a proclamation." He
  tells me in the other ear, "You are in the right of it." Then he
  whispered my friend to know what my name was; then made an
  obliging bow, and went to examine another table. This led my
  friend and me to weigh this wandering manner in many other
  incidents, and he took out of his pockets several little notes or
  tickets to solicit for votes to employments: as, "Mr. John
  Taplash having served all offices, and being reduced to great
  poverty, desires your vote for singing clerk of this parish."
  Another "has had ten children, all whom his wife has suckled
  herself; therefore humbly desires to be a schoolmaster." There is
  nothing so frequent as this way of application for offices. It is
  not that you are fit for the place, but because the place would
  be convenient for you, that you claim a merit to it. But commend
  me to the great Kirleus,<a name='fntag403' id=
  "fntag403"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote403'><sup>403</sup></a> who has <a class="pagenum"
  name='page338' title='338' id="page338"></a>lately set up for
  midwifery, and to help childbirth, for no other reason, but that
  he is himself the Unborn Doctor. The way is to hit upon something
  that puts the vulgar upon the stare, or that touches their
  compassion, which is often the weakest part about us. I know a
  good lady, who has taken her daughters from their old
  dancing-master, to place them with another, for no other reason,
  but because the new man has broke his leg, which is so ill set,
  that he can never dance more.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 13.</h3>

  <p>As it is a frequent mortification to me to receive letters,
  wherein people tell me, without a name, they know I meant them in
  such and such a passage; so that very accusation is an argument,
  that there are such beings in human life, as fall under our
  description and our discourse, is not altogether fantastical and
  groundless. But in this case I am treated as I saw a boy was the
  other day, who gave out poxy bills: every plain fellow took it
  that passed by, and went on his way without further notice: at
  last came one with his nose a little abridged; who knocks the lad
  down, with a, "Why, you son of a w&#8212;&#8212;e, do you think I
  am p&#8212;&#8212;d?" But Shakespeare has made the best apology
  for this way of talking against the public errors: he makes
  Jaques, in the play called "As You Like It," express himself
  thus:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Why, who cries out on pride,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That can therein tax any private party?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        What woman in the city do I name,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        When that I say the city woman bears
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Who can come in and say that I mean her,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Or, what is he of basest function,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That says his bravery is not on my cost?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page339' title='339' id=
        "page339"></a>Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        His folly to the mettle of my speech.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        There then! How then? Then let me see wherein
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        My tongue hath wronged him: if it do him right,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Then he hath wronged himself: if he be free,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Unclaimed of any man.<a name='fntag404' id=
        "fntag404"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote404'><sup>404</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 13.</h3>

  <p>We have received, by letters of the 18th instant from the camp
  before Tournay, an account, that we were in a fair prospect of
  being masters of the town within seven days after that date. Our
  batteries had utterly overthrown those of the enemy. On the 16th
  instant, N.S., General Schuylemburg had made a lodgment on the
  counterscarp of the Tenaille; which post was so weakly defended,
  that we lost but six men in gaining it. So that there seems
  reason to hope, that the citadel will also be in the hands of the
  Confederates about the 6th of August, O.S. These advices inform
  us further, that Marshal Villars had ordered large detachments to
  make motions towards Douay and Condé. The swift progress of this
  siege has so much alarmed the other frontier towns of France,
  that they were throwing down some houses in the suburbs of
  Valenciennes, which they think may stand commodiously for the
  enemy in case that place should be invested. The Elector of
  Cologne is making all imaginable haste to remove from thence to
  Rheims.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag398'>[398]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote398' id="footnote398"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number28">28</a>, <a href="#number38">38</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag399'>[399]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote399' id="footnote399"></a>Grub Street,
      Cripplegate (now Milton Street), became, towards the end of
      the seventeenth century, the abode of what Johnson calls
      "writers of small histories, dictionaries and temporary
      poems; whence any mean production is called Grub Street."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag400'>[400]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote400' id="footnote400"></a>Virgil,
      "Georgics," iv. 86.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag401'>[401]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote401' id="footnote401"></a>The <i>Flying
      Post</i> records that one Slaughterford was sentenced to
      death on July 2, 1709, for murdering his sweetheart.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag402'>[402]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote402' id="footnote402"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number24">24</a>, 51.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag403'>[403]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote403' id="footnote403"></a>See <a href=
      '#number14'>No. 14</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag404'>[404]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote404' id="footnote404"></a>"As You Like
      It," act ii. sc. 7.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page340' title='340' id=
    "page340"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number42' id="number42"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 42.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE AND ADDISON.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, July 14, to Saturday, July 16</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Celebrare domestica facta.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 15.</h3>

  <p>Looking over some old papers, I found a little treatise,
  written by my great-grandfather, concerning bribery, and thought
  his manner of treating that subject not unworthy my remark. He
  there has a digression concerning a possibility, that in some
  circumstances a man may receive an injury, and yet be conscious
  to himself that he deserves it. There are abundance of fine
  things said on the subject; but the whole wrapped up in so much
  jingle and pun (which was the wit of those times) that it is
  scarce intelligible; but I thought the design was well enough in
  the following sketch of the old gentleman's poetry: for in this
  case, where two are rivals for the same thing, and propose to
  attain it by presents, he that attempts the judge's honesty, by
  making him offers of reward, ought not to complain when he loses
  his cause for a better bidder. But the good old doggerel runs
  thus:<a name='fntag405' id="fntag405"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote405'><sup>405</sup></a></p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        A poor man once a judge besought,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        To judge aright his cause,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And with a pot of oil salutes
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        This judger of the laws.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "My friend" quoth he, "thy cause is good":
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        He glad away did trudge;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Anon his wealthy foe did come
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Before this partial judge.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page341' title='341' id=
        "page341"></a>An hog well fed this churl presents,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        And craves a strain of law;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The hog received, the poor man's right
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Was judged not worth a straw.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Therewith he cried, "O! partial judge,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Thy doom has me undone;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        When oil I gave, my cause was good,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        But now to ruin run."
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "Poor man" quoth he, "I thee forgot,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        And see thy cause of foil;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        An hog came since into my house,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        And broke thy pot of oil."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 15.</h3>

  <p>The discourse happened this evening to fall upon characters
  drawn in plays, and a gentleman remarked, that there was no
  method in the world of knowing the taste of an age, or period of
  time so good, as by the observations of the persons represented
  in their comedies. There were several instances produced, as Ben
  Jonson's bringing in a fellow smoking as a piece of
  foppery;<a name='fntag406' id="fntag406"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote406'><sup>406</sup></a> "But," said the gentleman who
  entertained us on this subject, "this matter is nowhere so
  observable as in the difference of the characters of women on the
  stage in the last age, and in this. It is not to be supposed that
  it was a poverty of genius in Shakespeare, that his women made so
  small a figure in his dialogues; but it certainly is, that he
  drew women as they then were in life; for that sex had not in
  those days that freedom in conversation; and their characters
  were only, that they were mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives.
  There were not then among the ladies, shining wits, politicians,
  virtuosas, free-thinkers, and disputants; nay, there was then
  hardly such <a class="pagenum" name='page342' title='342' id=
  "page342"></a>a creature even as a coquette: but vanity had quite
  another turn, and the most conspicuous woman at that time of day
  was only the best housewife. Were it possible to bring into life
  an assembly of matrons of that age, and introduce the learned
  Lady Woodby into their company, they would not believe the same
  nation could produce a creature so unlike anything they ever saw
  in it. But these ancients would be as much astonished to see in
  the same age so illustrious a pattern to all who love things
  praiseworthy, as the divine Aspasia.<a name='fntag407' id=
  "fntag407"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote407'><sup>407</sup></a> Methinks, I now see her walking
  in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected charms,
  before beauty had spectators, and bearing celestial conscious
  virtue in her aspect. Her countenance is the lively picture of
  her mind, which is the seat of honour, truth, compassion,
  knowledge, and innocence.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        There dwells the scorn of vice and pity too.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all
  that behold and know her, without the least affectation,
  <a class="pagenum" name='page343' title='343' id=
  "page343"></a>she consults retirement, the contemplation of her
  own being, and that supreme power which bestowed it. Without the
  learning of schools, or knowledge of a long course of arguments,
  she goes on in a steady course of uninterrupted piety and virtue,
  and adds to the severity and privacy of the last age all the
  freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of a Court she is
  possessed of in the highest degree; but the simplicity and humble
  thoughts of a cottage, are her more welcome entertainments.
  Aspasia is a female philosopher, who does not only live up to the
  resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, but
  also to the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful,
  though inimitable. This lady is the most exact economist, without
  appearing busy; the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the
  praise of it; and shuns applause with as much industry, as others
  do <a class="pagenum" name='page344' title='344' id=
  "page344"></a>reproach. This character is so particular, that it
  will very easily be fixed on her only, by all that know her: but
  I daresay, she will be the last that finds it out. But, alas! if
  we have one or two such ladies, how many dozens are there like
  the restless Poluglossa, who is acquainted with all the world but
  herself; who has the appearance of all, and possession of no one
  virtue: she has indeed in her practice the absence of vice; but
  her discourse is the continual history of it; and it is apparent,
  when she speaks of the criminal gratifications of others, that
  her innocence is only a restraint, with a certain mixture of
  envy. She is so perfectly opposite to the character of Aspasia,
  that as vice is terrible to her only as it is the object of
  reproach, so virtue is agreeable only as it is attended with
  applause.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 15.</h3>

  <p>It is now twelve o'clock at noon, and no mail come in;
  therefore I am not without hopes, that the town will allow me the
  liberty which my brother news-writers take, in giving them what
  may be for their information in another kind, and indulge me in
  doing an act of friendship, by publishing the following account
  of goods and movables.<a name='fntag408' id=
  "fntag408"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote408'><sup>408</sup></a></p>

  <p>This is to give notice, that a magnificent palace, with great
  variety of gardens, statues, and waterworks, may be bought cheap
  in Drury Lane; where there are likewise several castles to be
  disposed of, very delightfully situated; as also groves, woods,
  forests, fountains, and country seats, with very pleasant
  prospects on all sides of <a class="pagenum" name='page345'
  title='345' id="page345"></a>them; being the movables of
  Ch&#8212;&#8212;r R&#8212;&#8212;ch,<a name='fntag409' id=
  "fntag409"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote409'><sup>409</sup></a> Esq.; who is breaking up
  housekeeping, and has many curious pieces of furniture to dispose
  of, which may be seen between the hours of six and ten in the
  evening.</p>

  <h4>The INVENTORY.</h4>

  <ul>
    <li>Spirits of right Nantes brandy, for lambent flames and
    apparitions.</li>

    <li>Three bottles and a half of lightning.</li>

    <li>One shower of snow in the whitest French paper.</li>

    <li>Two showers of a browner sort.</li>

    <li>A sea, consisting of a dozen large waves; the tenth bigger
    than ordinary, and a little damaged.</li>

    <li>A dozen and a half of clouds, trimmed with black, and well
    conditioned.</li>

    <li>A rainbow a little faded.</li>

    <li>A set of clouds after the French mode, streaked with
    lightning, and furbelowed.</li>

    <li>A new-moon, something decayed.</li>

    <li>A pint of the finest Spanish wash, being all that is left
    of two hogsheads sent over last winter.</li>

    <li>A coach very finely gilt, and little used, with a pair of
    dragons, to be sold cheap.</li>

    <li>A setting sun, a pennyworth.<a name='fntag410' id=
    "fntag410"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote410'><sup>410</sup></a></li>

    <li>An imperial mantle, made for Cyrus the Great, and worn by
    Julius Cæsar, Bajazet, King Harry the Eighth, and Signior
    Valentin.<a name='fntag411' id="fntag411"></a><a class='fn'
    href='#footnote411'><sup>411</sup></a></li>

    <li>A basket-hilt sword, very convenient to carry milk in.</li>

    <li>Roxana's night-gown.</li>

    <li>Othello's handkerchief.</li>

    <li><a class="pagenum" name='page346' title='346' id=
    "page346"></a>The imperial robes of Xerxes, never worn but
    once.</li>

    <li>A wild-boar, killed by Mrs. Tofts<a name='fntag412' id=
    "fntag412"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote412'><sup>412</sup></a> and Dioclesian.</li>

    <li>A serpent to sting Cleopatra.</li>

    <li>A mustard-bowl to make thunder with.</li>

    <li>Another of a bigger sort, by Mr. D&#8212;&#8212;is's
    directions, little used.<a name='fntag413' id=
    "fntag413"></a><a class='fn' href=
    '#footnote413'><sup>413</sup></a></li>

    <li>Six elbow-chairs, very expert in country-dances, with six
    flower-pots for their partners.</li>

    <li>The whiskers of a Turkish bassa.</li>

    <li>The complexion of a murderer in a band-box; consisting of a
    large piece of burnt cork, and a coal-black peruke.</li>

    <li>A suit of clothes for a ghost, viz., a bloody shirt, a
    doublet curiously pinked, and a coat with three great
    eyelet-holes upon the breast.</li>

    <li>A bale of red Spanish wool.</li>

    <li>Modern plots, commonly known by the name of trapdoors,
    ladders of ropes, vizard-masks, and tables with broad carpets
    over them.</li>

    <li>Three oak cudgels, with one of crab-tree; all bought for
    the use of Mr. Pinkethman.</li>

    <li>Materials for dancing; as masks, castanets, and a ladder of
    ten rounds.</li>

    <li>Aurengezebe's scimitar, made by Will Brown in
    Piccadilly.</li>

    <li>A plume of feathers, never used but by Oedipus and the Earl
    of Essex.</li>
  </ul>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page347' title='347' id=
  "page347"></a>There are also swords, halberts, sheep-hooks,
  cardinals' hats, turbans, drums, gallipots, a gibbet, a cradle, a
  rack, a cart-wheel, an altar, a helmet, a back-piece, a
  breast-plate, a bell, a tub, and a jointed baby.<a name=
  'fntag414' id="fntag414"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote414'><sup>414</sup></a></p>

  <p>These are the hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to;
  therefore our readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind
  blowing for a fortnight together, generally fills every paper
  with an order of battle; when we show our martial skill in each
  line, and, according to the space we have to fill, we range our
  men in squadrons and battalions, or draw out company by company,
  and troop by troop; ever observing, that no muster is to be made,
  but when the wind is in a cross point, which often happens at the
  end of a campaign, when half the men are deserted or killed. The
  <i>Courant</i> is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close: the
  <i>Postboy</i><a name='fntag415' id="fntag415"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote415'><sup>415</sup></a> is generally in files, for
  greater exactness; and the <i>Postman</i> comes down upon you
  rather after the Turkish way, sword in hand, pell-mell, without
  form or discipline; but sure to bring men enough into the field;
  and wherever they are raised, never to lose a battle for want of
  numbers.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag405'>[405]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote405' id="footnote405"></a>From George
      Whetstone's "English Mirror," 1586.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag406'>[406]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote406' id="footnote406"></a>See "Every Man
      out of his Humour," act ii. sc. 1.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag407'>[407]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote407' id="footnote407"></a>Lady Elizabeth
      Hastings, unquestionably one of the most accomplished and
      virtuous characters of the age in which she lived, was the
      daughter of Theophilus Hastings, the 7th Earl of Huntingdon,
      and of Elizabeth, eldest daughter and co-heiress to John
      Lewes, of Ledstone, in Yorkshire, Knt. and Bart. Her father
      succeeded to the honours and estate of the family, Feb. 13,
      1655, and was in 1687 Lord Chief Justice, and Justice in Eyre
      of all the King's forests, &amp;c., beyond Trent; Lord
      Lieutenant of the counties of Leicester and Derby; Captain of
      the Band of Gentlemen Pensioners, and of the Privy Council to
      King James II. He died suddenly at his lodgings in Charles
      Street, St. James's, May 13, 1701, and was succeeded in his
      honours and estate by his son, and her brother, Charles, who
      died unmarried, Feb. 22, 1704. Lady Elizabeth Hastings was
      born April 19, 1682, and died Dec. 22, 1739. It is said, with
      great probability, that since the commencement of the
      Christian era, scarce any age has produced a lady of such
      high birth and superior accomplishments, that was a greater
      blessing to many, or a brighter pattern to all. There is an
      admirable sketch of this illustrious lady's character, drawn
      soon after her death, in the tenth volume of the
      <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, p. 36, probably by Samuel
      Johnson. See also "An historical Character relating to the
      holy and exemplary Life of the Right Honourable the Lady
      Elisabeth Hastings, &amp;c. By Thomas Barnard, A.M. Printed
      at Leeds, in 1742, 12mo" (Nichols).&#8212;Lady Elizabeth
      Hastings, who came into a fortune upon the death of her
      brother George, Earl of Huntingdon, settled at Ledstone
      House, where she was the Lady Bountiful of the neighbourhood.
      Her whole estate, however, is said to have been less than
      £3000 a year. The best of the clergy of the day were among
      her friends. She helped Berkeley in his Bermuda Mission
      scheme, and she befriended Miss Mary Astell. Ralph Thoresby,
      who visited her, was "extremely pleased with the most
      agreeable conversation of the pious and excellent Lady
      Elizabeth Hastings." ("Diary," ii. 82). She was one of the
      numerous eligible ladies that the friends of Lord Raby,
      afterwards Earl of Strafford, suggested to him as a suitable
      wife ("Wentworth Papers," pp. 29, 56). The character of
      Aspasia in this paper has been attributed to Congreve, on the
      ground, apparently, that he knew Lady Elizabeth Hastings'
      half-brother, Theophilus, afterwards Earl of Huntingdon. See
      <a href='#number49'>No. 49</a>, note.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag408'>[408]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote408' id="footnote408"></a>The remainder
      of this paper is by Addison; see Steele's Preface. Drury Lane
      Theatre was closed by an order of the Lord Chamberlain, as
      mentioned in <a href='#number30'>No. 30</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag409'>[409]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote409' id="footnote409"></a>Christopher
      Rich.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag410'>[410]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote410' id="footnote410"></a>A bargain.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag411'>[411]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote411' id="footnote411"></a>Valentini
      Urbani sang in Italian in the opera of "Camilla," in 1707.
      His acting seems to have been better than his voice (Burney's
      "History of Music," iv. 208).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag412'>[412]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote412' id="footnote412"></a>See <a href=
      '#number20'>No. 20</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag413'>[413]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote413' id="footnote413"></a>John Dennis's
      unsuccessful tragedy of "Appius and Virginia" was produced in
      1709. On that occasion he introduced a new method of making
      thunder (see "Dunciad," ii. 226), which was found useful by
      managers. Afterwards, when Dennis found his invention being
      used in "Macbeth," he exclaimed, "'Sdeath! that's my thunder.
      See how the fellows use me, they have silenced my tragedy,
      and they roar out my thunder" (Oldys, MS. notes on
      Langbaine).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag414'>[414]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote414' id="footnote414"></a>"Baby" was
      often used for "doll."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag415'>[415]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote415' id="footnote415"></a>See <a href=
      '#number18'>No. 18</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number43' id="number43"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 43.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, July 16</i>, to <i>Tuesday, July 19</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Bene nummatum decorat suadela Venusque,
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Hor. 1 Ep. vi. 38.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 18.</h3>

  <p>I write from hence at present to complain, that wit and merit
  are so little encouraged by people of rank and quality, that the
  wits of the age are obliged to run within <a class="pagenum"
  name='page348' title='348' id="page348"></a>Temple Bar for
  patronage. There is a deplorable instance of this in the case of
  Mr. D&#8212;&#8212;y,<a name='fntag416' id=
  "fntag416"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote416'><sup>416</sup></a> who has dedicated his
  inimitable comedy, called, "The Modern Prophets," to a worthy
  knight,<a name='fntag417' id="fntag417"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote417'><sup>417</sup></a> to whom, it seems, he had
  before communicated his plan, which was, to ridicule the
  ridiculous of our established doctrine. I have elsewhere
  celebrated the contrivance of this excellent drama; but was not,
  till I read the dedication, wholly let into the religious design
  of it. I am afraid it has suffered discontinuance at this gay end
  of the town, for no other reason but the piety of the purpose.
  There is however in this epistle the true life of panegyrical
  performance; and I do not doubt but, if the patron would part
  with it, I can help him to others with good pretensions to it;
  viz., of uncommon understanding, who would give him as much as he
  gave for it. I know perfectly well a noble person to whom these
  words (which are the body of the panegyric) would fit to a
  hair.</p>

  <p>"Your easiness of humour, or rather your harmonious
  disposition, is so admirably mixed with your composure, that the
  rugged cares and disturbance that public affairs brings with it,
  which does so vexatiously affect the heads of other great men of
  business, &amp;c. does scarce ever ruffle your unclouded brow so
  much as with a frown. And what above all is praiseworthy, you are
  so far from thinking yourself better than others, that a
  flourishing and opulent fortune, which by a certain natural
  corruption in its <a class="pagenum" name='page349' title='349'
  id="page349"></a>quality, seldom fails to infect other possessors
  with pride, seems in this case as if only providentially disposed
  to enlarge your humility.</p>

  <p>"But I find, sir, I am now got into a very large field, where
  though I could with great ease raise a number of plants in
  relation to your merit of this plauditory nature; yet for fear of
  an author's general vice, and that the plain justice I have done
  you should, by my proceeding and others' mistaken judgment, be
  imagined flattery, a thing the bluntness of my nature does not
  care to be concerned with, and which I also know you
  abominate."</p>

  <p>It is wonderful to see how many judges of these fine things
  spring up every day by the rise of stocks, and other elegant
  methods of abridging the way to learning and criticism. But I do
  hereby forbid all dedications to any persons within the city of
  London, except Sir Francis, Sir Stephen,<a name='fntag418' id=
  "fntag418"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote418'><sup>418</sup></a> and the Bank, will take
  epigrams and epistles as value received for their notes; and the
  East India Companies accept of heroic poems for their sealed
  bonds. Upon which bottom, our publishers have full power to treat
  with the city in behalf of us authors, to enable traders to
  become patrons and Fellows of the Royal Society, as well as
  receive certain degrees of skill in the Latin and Greek tongues,
  according to the quantity of the commodities which they take off
  our hands.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page350' title='350' id=
  "page350"></a></p>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, July 18.</h3>

  <p>The learned have so long laboured under the imputation of
  dryness and dulness in their accounts of their phenomena, that an
  ingenious gentleman of our society has resolved to write a system
  of philosophy in a more lively method, both as to the matter and
  language, than has been hitherto attempted. He read to us the
  plan upon which he intends to proceed. I thought his account, by
  way of fable of the worlds about us, had so much vivacity in it,
  that I could not forbear transcribing his hypothesis, to give the
  reader a taste of my friend's treatise, which is now in the
  press.<a name='fntag419' id="fntag419"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote419'><sup>419</sup></a></p>

  <p>"The inferior deities having designed on a day to play a game
  at football, knead together a numberless collection of dancing
  atoms into the form of seven rolling globes: and that nature
  might be kept from a dull inactivity, each separate particle is
  endued with a principle of motion, or a power of attraction,
  whereby all the several parcels of matter draw each other
  proportionately to their magnitudes and distances, into such a
  remarkable variety of different forms, as to produce all the
  wonderful appearances we now observe in empire, philosophy, and
  religion. To proceed; at the beginning of the game, each of the
  globes being struck forward with a vast violence, ran out of
  sight, and wandered in a straight line through the infinite
  <a class="pagenum" name='page351' title='351' id=
  "page351"></a>spaces. The nimble deities pursue, breathless
  almost, and spent in the eager chase; each of them caught hold of
  one, and stamped it with his name; as, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, and
  so of the rest. To prevent this inconvenience for the future, the
  seven are condemned to a precipitation, which in our inferior
  style we call 'gravity.' Thus the tangential and centripetal
  forces, by their counter-struggle, make the celestial bodies
  describe an exact ellipsis."</p>

  <p>There will be added to this an appendix, in defence of the
  first day of the term according to the Oxford Almanac,<a name=
  'fntag420' id="fntag420"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote420'><sup>420</sup></a> by a learned knight of this
  realm, with an apology for the said knight's manner of dress;
  proving, that his habit, according to this hypothesis, is the
  true modern and fashionable; and that buckles are not to be worn,
  by this system, till the 10th of March, in the year 1714, which,
  according to the computation of some of our greatest divines, is
  to be the first year of the Millennium<a name='fntag421' id=
  "fntag421"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote421'><sup>421</sup></a>; in which blessed age, all
  habits will be reduced to a primitive simplicity; and whoever
  shall be found to have persevered in a constancy of dress, in
  spite of all the allurements of profane and heathen habits, shall
  be rewarded with a never-fading doublet of a thousand years. All
  points in the system which are doubted, shall be attested by the
  knight's extemporary oath, for the satisfaction of his
  readers.</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 18.</h3>

  <p>We were upon the heroic strain this evening, and the question
  was, What is the True Sublime? Many very good discourses happened
  thereupon; after which a gentleman at the table, who is, it
  seems, writing on that <a class="pagenum" name='page352' title=
  '352' id="page352"></a>subject, assumed the argument; and though
  he ran through many instances of sublimity from the ancient
  writers, said, he had hardly known an occasion wherein the true
  greatness of soul, which animates a general in action, is so well
  represented, with regard to the person of whom it was spoken, and
  the time in which it was writ, as in a few lines in a modern
  poem: "there is," continued he, "nothing so forced and
  constrained, as what we frequently meet with in tragedies; to
  make a man under the weight of a great sorrow, or full of
  meditation upon what he is soon to execute, cast about for a
  simile to what he himself is, or the thing which he is going to
  act: but there is nothing more proper and natural than for a
  poet, whose business is to describe, and who is spectator of one
  in that circumstance when his mind is working upon a great image,
  and that the ideas hurry upon his imagination&#8212;I say, there
  is nothing so natural, as for a poet to relieve and clear himself
  from the burthen of thought at that time, by uttering his
  conception in simile and metaphor. The highest act of the mind of
  man, is to possess itself with tranquillity in imminent danger,
  and to have its thoughts so free, as to act at that time without
  perplexity. The ancient poets have compared this sedate courage
  to a rock that remains immovable amidst the rage of winds and
  waves; but that is too stupid and inanimate a similitude, and
  could do no credit to the hero. At other times they are all of
  them wonderfully obliged to a Lybian lion, which may give indeed
  very agreeable terrors to a description; but is no compliment to
  the person to whom it is applied: eagles, tigers, and wolves, are
  made use of on the same occasion, and very often with much
  beauty; but this is still an honour done to the brute, rather
  than the hero. Mars, Pallas, Bacchus, and Hercules, have each of
  them furnished very good similes in their time, and made,
  <a class="pagenum" name='page353' title='353' id=
  "page353"></a>doubtless, a greater impression on the mind of a
  heathen, than they have on that of a modern reader. But the
  sublime image that I am talking of, and which I really think as
  great as ever entered into the thought of man, is in the poem
  called, 'The Campaign';<a name='fntag422' id=
  "fntag422"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote422'><sup>422</sup></a> where the simile of a
  ministering angel sets forth the most sedate and the most active
  courage, engaged in an uproar of nature, a confusion of elements,
  and a scene of divine vengeance. Add to all, that these lines
  compliment the General and his Queen at the same time, and have
  all the natural horrors, heightened by the image that was still
  fresh in the mind of every reader.<a name='fntag423' id=
  "fntag423"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote423'><sup>423</sup></a></p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Examined all the dreadful scenes of war;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        So when an angel by divine command,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"The whole poem is so exquisitely noble and poetic, that I
  think it an honour to our nation and language." The gentleman
  concluded his critique on this work, by saying, that he esteemed
  it wholly new, and a wonderful attempt to keep up the ordinary
  ideas of a march of an army, just <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page354' title='354' id="page354"></a>as they happened in so
  warm and great a style, and yet be at once familiar and heroic.
  Such a performance is a chronicle as well as a poem, and will
  preserve the memory of our hero, when all the edifices and
  statues erected to his honour are blended with common dust.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 18.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 23rd instant, N.S., say, that
  the Allies were so forward in the siege of Tournay, that they
  were preparing for a general assault, which, it was supposed,
  would be made within a few days. Deserters from the town gave an
  account, that the garrison was carrying their ammunition and
  provisions into the citadel, which occasioned a tumult among the
  inhabitants of the town. The French army had laid bridges over
  the Scarp, and made a motion as if they intended to pass that
  river; but though they are joined by the reinforcement expected
  from Germany, it was not believed they should make any attempt
  towards relieving Tournay. Letters from Brabant say, there has
  been a discovery made of a design to deliver up Antwerp to the
  enemy. The States of Holland have agreed to a general
  naturalisation of all Protestants who shall fly into their
  dominions; to which purpose, a proclamation was to be issued
  within few days.</p>

  <p>They write from France, that the great misery and want under
  which that nation has so long laboured, has ended in a
  pestilence, which began to appear in Burgundy and Dauphiné. They
  add, that in the town of Mazon, three hundred persons had died in
  the space of ten days. Letters from Lille of the 24th instant
  advise, that great numbers of deserters came daily into that
  city, the most part of whom are dragoons. We are advised from
  France, that the Loire having overflowed its banks, hath laid the
  country under water for three hundred miles together.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag416'>[416]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote416' id="footnote416"></a>See Nos.
      <a href="#number1">1</a> and <a href="#number11">11</a>. In
      No. 29 of the <i>Guardian</i> Steele accused the world of
      ingratitude in not properly "rewarding the jocose labours of
      my friend, Mr. Durfey"; and in No. 67
      Addison urged the town to go to a performance at the theatre
      given for Durfey's benefit. "He has made the town merry, and
      I hope they will make him easy, so long as he stays among
      us."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag417'>[417]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote417' id="footnote417"></a>Sir William
      Scawen, a merchant who was knighted in 1692.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag418'>[418]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote418' id="footnote418"></a>Probably Sir
      Francis Child and Sir Stephen Evance, the bankers. The latter
      was ruined at the time of the South Sea mania. The following
      advertisement appeared in the <i>Postman</i> for Jan. 1,
      1709: "Lost or mislaid, some time the last summer, at
      Winchester House, in Chelsea, a gold snuff-box, a cypher
      graved on the cover, with trophies round it, and over the
      cypher these words, 'DD. Illust. Princ. Jac. Duci Ormond.'
      Whoever brings it to Sir Stephen Evance, at the Black Boy in
      Lombard Street, shall have ten guineas reward, and be asked
      no questions."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag419'>[419]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote419' id="footnote419"></a>This seems to
      be a banter upon Mr. Whiston's book intituled, "Prælectiones
      Physicæ Mathematicæ; sive Philosophia clarissimi Newtoni
      Mathematica illustrata, 1710"; wherein he explained the
      Newtonian philosophy, which now began to grow into vogue.
      Both Addison and Steele, however, very much befriended
      Whiston; and after his banishment from Cambridge, promoted a
      subscription for his astronomical lectures at Button's
      Coffee-house (Nichols).&#8212;See No.
      251.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag420'>[420]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote420' id="footnote420"></a>See <a href=
      '#number39'>No. 39</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag421'>[421]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote421' id="footnote421"></a>Whiston had
      fixed that day for the destruction of Anti-Christ and the
      beginning of the Millennium.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag422'>[422]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote422' id="footnote422"></a>Written by
      Addison in 1705, in celebration of the victory at
      Blenheim.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag423'>[423]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote423' id="footnote423"></a>The great storm
      of November 1703 formed the subject of a volume published by
      Defoe in 1704.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page355' title='355' id=
    "page355"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number44' id="number44"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 44.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, July 19</i>, to <i>Thursday, July 21</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          &#8212;Nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Ovid, Met. i. 523.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 19.</h3>

  <p>This day, passing through Covent Garden, I was stopped in the
  Piazza by Pacolet, to observe what he called the "triumph of love
  and youth." I turned to the object he pointed at; and there I saw
  a gay gilt chariot drawn by fresh prancing horses; the coachman
  with a new cockade, and the lackeys with insolence and plenty in
  their countenances. I asked immediately, what young heir or lover
  owned that glittering equipage? But my companion interrupted: "Do
  not you see there the mourning Æsculapius?"<a name='fntag424' id=
  "fntag424"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote424'><sup>424</sup></a> "The mourning!" said I.
  "<a class="pagenum" name='page356' title='356' id=
  "page356"></a>Yes, Isaac," said Pacolet, "he is in deep mourning,
  and is the languishing hopeless lover of the divine Hebe, the
  emblem of youth and beauty. The excellent and learned sage you
  behold in that furniture, is the strongest instance imaginable,
  that love is the most powerful of all things. You are not so
  ignorant as to be a stranger to the character of Æsculapius, as
  the patron and most successful of all who profess the art of
  medicine. But as most of his operations are owing to a natural
  sagacity or impulse, he has very little troubled himself with the
  doctrine of drugs; but has always given Nature more room to help
  herself, than any of her learned assistants; and consequently has
  done greater wonders than is in the power of art to
  perform;<a name='fntag425' id="fntag425"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote425'><sup>425</sup></a> for which reason, he is half
  deified by the people; and has ever been justly courted by all
  the world, as if he were a seventh son. It happened, that the
  charming Hebe was reduced, by a long and violent fever, to the
  most extreme danger of death; and when all skill failed, they
  sent for Æsculapius. The renowned artist was touched <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page357' title='357' id="page357"></a>with the
  deepest compassion to see the faded charms and faint bloom of
  Hebe; and had a generous concern in beholding a struggle, not
  between life, but rather between youth, and death. All his skill
  and his passion tended to the recovery of Hebe, beautiful even in
  sickness: but, alas! the unhappy physician knew not, that in all
  his care he was only sharpening darts for his own destruction. In
  a word, his fortune was the same with that of the statuary, who
  fell in love with the image of his own making; and the
  unfortunate Æsculapius is become the patient of her whom he
  lately recovered. Long before this disaster, Æsculapius was far
  gone in the unnecessary and superfluous amusements of old age, in
  increasing unwieldy stores, and providing, in the midst of an
  incapacity of enjoyment of what he had, for a supply of more
  wants than he had calls for in youth itself. But these low
  considerations are now no more, and love has taken place of
  avarice, or rather has become an avarice of another kind, which
  still urges him to pursue what he does not want. But behold the
  metamorphosis; the anxious mean cares of an usurer are turned
  into the languishments and complaints of a lover. 'Behold,' says
  the aged Æsculapius, 'I submit, I own, great Love, thy empire:
  pity, Hebe, the fop you have made: what have I to do with gilding
  but on pills? Yet, O fair! For thee I sit amidst a crowd of
  painted deities on my chariot, buttoned in gold, clasped in gold,
  without having any value for that beloved metal, but as it adorns
  the person, and laces the hat of thy dying lover. I ask not to
  live, O Hebe! Give me but gentle death: euthanasia, euthanasia,
  that is all I implore.'" When Æsculapius had finished his
  complaint, Pacolet went on in deep morals on the uncertainty of
  riches, with this remarkable exclamation; "O wealth! How impotent
  art thou! And how little dost thou supply us with real happiness,
  <a class="pagenum" name='page358' title='358' id=
  "page358"></a>when the usurer himself can forget thee for the
  love of what is as foreign to his felicity as thou art?"</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 19.</h3>

  <p>The company here, who have all a delicate taste of theatrical
  representations, had made a gathering to purchase the movables of
  the neighbouring playhouse,<a name='fntag426' id=
  "fntag426"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote426'><sup>426</sup></a> for the encouragement of one
  which is setting up in the Haymarket. But the proceedings at the
  auction (by which method the goods have been sold this evening)
  have been so unfair, that this generous design has been
  frustrated; for the Imperial Mantle made for Cyrus was missing,
  as also the Chariot and Two Dragons: but upon examination it was
  found, that a gentleman of Hampshire<a name='fntag427' id=
  "fntag427"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote427'><sup>427</sup></a> had clandestinely bought them
  both, and is gone down to his country seat; and that on Saturday
  last he passed through Staines attired in that robe, and drawn by
  the said Dragons, assisted by two only of his own horses. This
  theatrical traveller has also left orders with Mr. Hall<a name=
  'fntag428' id="fntag428"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote428'><sup>428</sup></a> to send the faded rainbow to
  the scourers, and when it comes home, to despatch it after him.
  At the same time C&#8212;&#8212; R&#8212;&#8212;<a name=
  'fntag429' id="fntag429"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote429'><sup>429</sup></a> Esq. is invited to bring down
  himself his Setting Sun, and be box-keeper to a theatre erected
  by this gentleman near Southampton. Thus there has been nothing
  but artifice in the management of this affair; for which reason I
  beg <a class="pagenum" name='page359' title='359' id=
  "page359"></a>pardon of the town, that I inserted the inventory
  in my paper and solemnly protest, I knew nothing of this artful
  design of vending these rarities: but I meant only the good of
  the world in that and all other things which I divulge. And now I
  am upon this subject, I must do myself justice in relation to an
  article in a former paper, wherein I made mention of a person who
  keeps a puppet-show in the town of Bath;<a name='fntag430' id=
  "fntag430"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote430'><sup>430</sup></a> I was tender of naming names,
  and only just hinted, that he makes larger promises, when he
  invites people to his dramatic representations, than he is able
  to perform: but I am credibly informed, that he makes a profane
  lewd jester, which he calls Punch, speak to the dishonour of
  Isaac Bickerstaff with great familiarity; and before all my
  learned friends in that place, takes upon him to dispute my title
  to the appellation of Esquire. I think I need not say much to
  convince all the world, that this Mr. Powell (for that is his
  name) is a pragmatical and vain person to pretend to argue with
  me on any subject. <i>Mecum certasse feretur</i><a name=
  'fntag431' id="fntag431"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote431'><sup>431</sup></a>; that is to say, it will be an
  honour to him to have it said he contended with me; but I would
  have him to know, that I can look beyond his wires, and <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page360' title='360' id="page360"></a>know very
  well the whole trick of his art, and that it is only by these
  wires that the eye of the spectator is cheated, and hindered from
  seeing that there is a thread on one of Punch's chops, which
  draws it up, and lets it fall at the discretion of the said
  Powell, who stands behind and plays him, and makes him speak
  saucily of his betters. He! to pretend to make prologues against
  me! But a man never behaves himself with decency in his own case;
  therefore I shall command myself, and never trouble me further
  with this little fellow, who is himself but a tall puppet, and
  has not brains enough to make even wood speak as it ought to do:
  and I, that have heard the groaning board,<a name='fntag432' id=
  "fntag432"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote432'><sup>432</sup></a> can despise all that his
  puppets shall be able to speak as long as they live. But, <i>Ex
  quovis ligno non fit Mercurius</i><a name='fntag433' id=
  "fntag433"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote433'><sup>433</sup></a>. He has pretended to write to
  me also from the Bath, and says, he thought to have deferred
  giving me an answer till he came to his books<a name='fntag434'
  id="fntag434"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote434'><sup>434</sup></a>; but that my writings might do
  well with the <a class="pagenum" name='page361' title='361' id=
  "page361"></a>waters: which are pert expressions that become a
  schoolboy, better than one that is to teach others: and when I
  have said a civil thing to him, he cries, "Oh! I thank you for
  that&#8212;I am your humble servant for that."<a name='fntag435'
  id="fntag435"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote435'><sup>435</sup></a> Ah! Mr. Powell, these smart
  civilities will never run down men of learning: I know well
  enough your design is to have all men automata, like your
  puppets; but the world is grown too wise, and can look through
  these thin devices. I know you design to make a reply to this;
  but be sure you stick close to my words; for if you bring me into
  discourses concerning the government of your puppets, I must tell
  you, I neither am, nor have been, nor will be, at leisure to
  answer you. It is really a burning shame this man should be
  tolerated in abusing the world with such representations of
  things: but his parts decay, and he is not much more alive than
  Partridge.</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 14.</h3>

  <p>I must beg pardon of my readers that for this time I have, I
  fear, huddled up my discourse, having been very busy in helping
  an old friend of mine out of town. He has a very good estate, is
  a man of wit; but he had been three years absent from town, and
  cannot bear a jest; for <a class="pagenum" name='page362' title=
  '362' id="page362"></a>which reason I have, with some pains,
  convinced him, that he can no more live here than if he were a
  downright bankrupt. He was so fond of dear London, that he began
  to fret only inwardly; but being unable to laugh and be laughed
  at, I took a place in the northern coach for him and his family;
  and hope he is got to-night safe from all sneerers in his own
  parlour.</p>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 20.</h3>

  <p>This morning we received by express, the agreeable news of the
  surrender of the town of Tournay on the 28th instant, N.S. The
  place was assaulted at the attacks of General Schuylemburg, and
  that of General Lottum, at the same time. The action at both
  those parts of the town was very obstinate, and the Allies lost a
  considerable number at the beginning of the dispute; but the
  fight was continued with so great bravery, that the enemy
  observing that we were masters of all the posts which were
  necessary for a general attack, beat the chamade,<a name=
  'fntag436' id="fntag436"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote436'><sup>436</sup></a> and hostages were received from
  the town, and others sent from the besiegers, in order to come to
  a formal capitulation for the surrender of the place. We have
  also this day received advice, that Sir John Leake, who lies off
  of Dunkirk, had intercepted several ships laden with corn from
  the Baltic; and that the Dutch privateers had fallen in with
  others, and carried them into Holland. The French letters advise,
  that the young son to the Duke of Anjou lived but eight days.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag424'>[424]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote424' id="footnote424"></a>Dr. John
      Radcliffe, the physician (1650-1714), was disappointed in
      love when about sixty. The matter is referred to again in
      Nos. <a href="#number46">46</a>, <a href="#number47">47</a>,
      50 and 67.
      Radcliffe became rich, but was considered to be a quack by
      many other doctors. "The last <i>Tatler</i> is upon Dr.
      Ratclif who they say is desparately in love with Dutchess of
      Bolton, his passion runs so high as to declare he'll make her
      eldest son his heir, upon wch account they say the Duke of
      B&#8212;&#8212; is not at all alarm'd, but gives the Old
      amorist opportunity to make his Court, the Dr. lately gave
      the Dutchess and some other Ladys an entertainm' of musick
      upon the water, and a fine supper in the Barge" ("Wentworth
      Papers," p. 97). This identification of Hebe with the Duchess
      of Bolton is corroborated by the MS. annotator mentioned in a
      note to <a href='#number4'>No. 4</a>. According to another
      account she was a Miss Tempest, a maid of honour to the
      Queen. The writer of the article on Radcliffe in the "Biog.
      Britannica" says: "The lady, who made the doctor, at this
      advanced age, stand in need of a physician himself, was of
      great beauty, wealth, and quality; and too attractive not to
      inspire the coldest heart with the warmest sentiments. After
      he had made a cure of her, he could not but imagine, as
      naturally he might, that her ladyship would entertain a
      favourable opinion of him. But the lady, however grateful she
      might be for the care he had taken of her health, divulged
      the secret, and one of her confidants revealed it to Steele,
      who, on account of party, was so ill-natured as to write the
      ridicule of it in the <i>Tatler</i>" Radcliffe never
      married.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag425'>[425]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote425' id="footnote425"></a>I have a
      pamphlet called "The <i>Tatler's</i> Character (July 21) of
      Æsculapius guessing diseases, without the knowledge of drugs;
      applied to the British Physicians and Surgeons: or, The
      difficult diseases of the Royal Family, Nobility and Gentry
      will never be understood and recover'd, when the populace are
      oppress'd and destroy'd by the Practising-Apothecaries and
      Empiricks confess'd by the College and Mr. Bernard the
      Surgeon. By a Consultation of Gentlemen of Quality." London,
      8vo, 1709. The pamphlet contains some interesting remarks on
      the physicians, apothecaries and hospitals of the time. Mr.
      Bickerstaff is called "the most ingenious physician of our
      vices and follies."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag426'>[426]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote426' id="footnote426"></a>See <a href=
      '#number42'>No. 42</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag427'>[427]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote427' id="footnote427"></a>A friend of
      Nichols said, "I have seen somewhere, but cannot immediately
      refer to the book, an account of a theatre built at
      Southwick, in the county of Hants, by a Mr. Richard Norton,
      whose will is in the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, 1733, p.
      57. He is the person, I believe, who wrote a play called
      'Pausanias' (1696). Cibber dedicated his first play to him."
      The MS. annotator mentioned in <a href='#number4'>No. 4</a>
      also identifies the gentleman of Hampshire with "Mr.
      N&#8212;&#8212;n."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag428'>[428]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote428' id="footnote428"></a>An
      auctioneer.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag429'>[429]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote429' id="footnote429"></a>Christopher
      Rich, the manager.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag430'>[430]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote430' id="footnote430"></a>Under the name
      of Powell, the puppet-show man, Steele attacked Dr. Blackall,
      Bishop of Exeter (see <a href='#number37'>No. 37</a>), who
      was engaged in a controversy with Benjamin Hoadly. In March
      1709, Blackall preached before the Queen a sermon laying down
      the doctrine of passive obedience in its most extreme form,
      but in 1704 he had preached obedience limited by the laws of
      the State. Hoadly wrote against the sermon of 1709, and
      brought against the Bishop the sermon of 1704. The Bishop,
      angry at this mode of refutation, answered haughtily, and
      dwelt on the superiority of his rank as compared with that of
      Hoadly, then simply rector of a London parish. Bickerstaff
      here reproaches Blackall for the pride and rudeness of his
      answer, and then, under the guise of Powell, proprietor of
      the puppet-show, satirises the extreme doctrine of divine
      right taught by the Bishop, a doctrine which would make the
      subjects mere automata, to be moved only at the will of the
      prince.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag431'>[431]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote431' id="footnote431"></a>Ovid, "Met."
      xiii. 20.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag432'>[432]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote432' id="footnote432"></a>The following
      printed advertisement appeared in 1682: "At the sign of the
      wool-sack, in Newgate-market, is to be seen, a strange and
      wonderful thing, which is an elm-board, being touched with a
      hot iron, doth express itself, as if it were a man dying with
      groans, and trembling, to the great admiration of all the
      hearers. It hath been presented before the King and his
      nobles, and hath given great satisfaction. <i>Vivat
      Rex</i>."&#8212;(MSS. Sloan. 958.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag433'>[433]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote433' id="footnote433"></a>"Ne e quovis
      ligno Mercurius fiat" is one of the proverbs in the "Adagia"
      of Erasmus. But its history, as originally from the Greek, is
      thus given in a note of Andr. Schottus, quoted by Gaisford in
      his "Parcemiographia Græci," p. 39, Ox. 1836:&#8212;"Illiud
      adagium <span lang="el" title=
      "ouk ek pantòs zýlon Hermês àn génoito" xml:lang=
      "el">&#8000;&#965;&#954; &#7952;&#954;
      &#960;&#945;&#957;&#964;&#8056;&#962;
      &#958;&#8059;&#955;&#959;&#965;
      &#7965;&#961;&#956;&#951;&#962;
      &#7938;&#957;
      &#947;&#8051;&#957;&#959;&#953;&#964;&#959;</span>,
      quod a Pythagora primum profectum auctor est Apuleius
      'Apol.'" [t. ii. p. 499] (Ed. Marshall, "Notes and Queries,"
      March 26, 1887). See Apuleius, "Apologia," 476: "Non enim ex
      omni ligno, ut Pythagoras dicebat, debet Mercurius
      exsculpi."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag434'>[434]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote434' id="footnote434"></a>In the Bishop's
      answer to Hoadly's letter, 1709, there is this passage: "I
      have no books here; and being under these circumstances, I
      hope I may be excused, if, in citing Scripture, I should not
      always name chapter and verse, nor hit exactly upon the very
      words of the translation" (Lord Bishop of Exeter's Answer,
      &amp;c., pp. 2 and 3).&#8212;"As to the <i>Tatlers</i>
      relating to Powell's puppets, and the doctrines of passive
      obedience and absolute non-resistance, and to Bishop
      Blackall, I know it gave my father some uneasiness, that
      there is a reference to a fact, which, as he resolved himself
      never to take notice of, thinking it ungenerous, so he was
      sorry to see any friend of the cause had; which is, that the
      Bishop had said inadvertently, he was at Bath, and had not a
      Bible in his family. It is worth remarking, that all the
      arguments used by Powell about his power over Punch,
      'lighting his pipe with one of his legs,' &amp;c., are a good
      burlesque of those used by the advocates of
      non-resistance."&#8212;(Dr. John Hoadly.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag435'>[435]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote435' id="footnote435"></a>The Bishop,
      after quoting a respectful expression of Hoadly's, says,
      "Your servant, sir, for that."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag436'>[436]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote436' id="footnote436"></a>A beat of the
      drum or sound of a trumpet, which summons the enemy to a
      parley. In <i>Spectator</i>, No. 165, Addison ridiculed the
      use of this and other French war terms by English
      writers.</p>
    </blockquote><a class="pagenum" name='page363' title='363' id=
    "page363"></a>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number45' id="number45"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 45.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, July 21, to Saturday, July 23</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam
        </div>

        <div class="line">
          In terris.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Juv., Sat. vi. I.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 22.</h3>

  <p>The other day I took a walk a mile or two out of town and
  strolling wherever chance led me, I was insensibly carried into a
  by-road, along which was a very agreeable quickset, of an
  extraordinary height, which surrounded a very delicious seat and
  garden. From one angle of the hedge, I heard a voice cry, "Sir,
  sir&#8212;" This raised my curiosity, and I heard the same voice
  say, but in a gentle tone, "Come forward, come forward." I did
  so, and one through the hedge called me by my name, and bade me
  go on to the left, and I should be admitted to visit an old
  acquaintance in distress. The laws of knight-errantry made me
  obey the summons without hesitation; and I was let in at the back
  gate of a lovely house by a maid-servant, who carried me from
  room to room, until I came into a gallery; at the end of which, I
  saw a fine lady dressed in the most sumptuous habit, as if she
  were going to a ball, but with the most abject and disconsolate
  sorrow in her face that I ever beheld. As I came near, she burst
  into tears, and cried, "Sir, do not you know the unhappy
  Teraminta?" I soon recollected her whole person: "But," said I,
  "madam, the simplicity of dress, in which I have ever seen you at
  your good father's house, and the cheerfulness of countenance
  with which you always appeared, are so unlike the fashion and
  temper you are now in, that I did not easily recover the
  <a class="pagenum" name='page364' title='364' id=
  "page364"></a>memory of you. Your habit was then decent and
  modest, your looks serene and beautiful: whence then this
  unaccountable change? Nothing can speak so deep a sorrow as your
  present aspect; yet your dress is made for jollity and
  revelling." "It is," said she, "an unspeakable pleasure to meet
  with one I know, and to bewail myself to any that is not an utter
  stranger to humanity. When your friend my father died, he left me
  to a wide world, with no defence against the insults of fortune,
  but rather, a thousand snares to entrap me in the dangers to
  which youth and innocence are exposed, in an age wherein honour
  and virtue are become mere words, and used only as they serve to
  betray those who understand them in their native sense, and obey
  them as the guides and motives of their being. The wickedest of
  all men living, the abandoned Decius, who has no knowledge of any
  good art or purpose of human life, but as it tends to the
  satisfaction of his appetites, had opportunities of frequently
  seeing and entertaining me at a house where mixed company
  boarded, and where he placed himself for the base intention which
  he has since brought to pass. Decius saw enough in me to raise
  his brutal desires, and my circumstances gave him hopes of
  accomplishing them. But all the glittering expectations he could
  lay before me, joined by my private terrors of poverty itself,
  could not for some months prevail upon me; yet, however I hated
  his intention, I still had a secret satisfaction in his
  courtship, and always exposed myself to his solicitations. See
  here the bane of our sex! Let the flattery be never so apparent,
  the flatterer never so ill thought of, his praises are still
  agreeable and we contribute to our own deceit. I was therefore
  ever fond of all opportunities and pretences of being in his
  company. In a word, I was at last ruined by him, and brought to
  this place, where I have been ever since <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page365' title='365' id="page365"></a>immured; and from the
  fatal day after my fall from innocence, my worshipper became my
  master and my tyrant. Thus you see me habited in the most
  gorgeous manner, not in honour of me as a woman he loves, but as
  this attire charms his own eye, and urges him to repeat the
  gratification he takes in me, as the servant of his brutish lusts
  and appetites. I know not where to fly for redress; but am here
  pining away life in the solitude and severity of a nun, but the
  conscience and guilt of a harlot. I live in this lewd practice
  with a religious awe of my minister of darkness, upbraided with
  the support I receive from him, for the inestimable possession of
  youth, of innocence, of honour, and of conscience. I see, sir, my
  discourse grows painful to you; all I beg of you is, to paint in
  so strong colours, as to let Decius see I am discovered to be in
  his possession, that I may be turned out of this detestable scene
  of regular iniquity, and either think no more, or sin no more. If
  your writings have the good effect of gaining my enlargement, I
  promise you I will atone for this unhappy step, by preferring an
  innocent laborious poverty, to all the guilty affluence the world
  can offer me."</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 21.</h3>

  <p>To show that I do not bear an irreconcilable hatred to my
  mortal enemy, Mr. Powell at Bath, I do his function the honour to
  publish to the world, that plays represented by puppets are
  permitted in our universities,<a name='fntag437' id=
  "fntag437"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote437'><sup>437</sup></a> and that sort of drama is not
  wholly thought unworthy the critic of learned heads: but as I
  have been conversant rather with the greater Ode, as I think the
  critics call it, I must be so humble as to make a request to Mr.
  Powell, <a class="pagenum" name='page366' title='366' id=
  "page366"></a>and desire him to apply his thoughts to answering
  the difficulties with which my kinsman, the author of the
  following letter, seems to be embarrassed.</p>

  <h4>"<i>To my Honoured Kinsman, Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.</i></h4>

  <p>"DEAR COUSIN,</p>

  <p>"Had the family of the Beadlestaffs,<a name='fntag438' id=
  "fntag438"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote438'><sup>438</sup></a> whereof I, though unworthy, am
  one, known of your being lately at Oxon, we had in our own name,
  and in the Universities' (as it is our office), made you a
  compliment: but your short stay here robbed us of an opportunity
  of paying our due respects, and you of receiving an ingenious
  entertainment, with which we at present divert ourselves and
  strangers. A puppet-show at this time supplies the want of an
  Act.<a name='fntag439' id="fntag439"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote439'><sup>439</sup></a> And since the nymphs of this
  city are disappointed of a luscious music-speech, and the country
  ladies of hearing their sons or brothers speak verses; yet the
  vocal machines, like them, by the help of a prompter, say things
  as much to the benefit of the audience, and almost as properly
  their own. The licence of a Terræ-Filius<a name='fntag440' id=
  "fntag440"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote440'><sup>440</sup></a> is refined to the well-bred
  satire of Punchinello. Now, Cousin Bickerstaff, though Punch has
  neither a French nightcap, nor long pockets, yet you must own him
  to be a pretty fellow, a 'very' pretty fellow: nay, since he
  <a class="pagenum" name='page367' title='367' id=
  "page367"></a>seldom leaves the company, without calling, 'Son of
  a whore,' demanding satisfaction, and duelling, he must be owned
  a smart fellow too. Yet, by some indecencies towards the ladies,
  he seems to be of a third character, distinct from any you have
  yet touched upon. A young gentleman who sat next me (for I had
  the curiosity of seeing this entertainment), in a tufted gown,
  red stockings, and long wig (which I pronounce to be tantamount
  to red heels and a dangling cane<a name='fntag441' id=
  "fntag441"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote441'><sup>441</sup></a>) was enraged when Punchinello
  disturbed a soft love-scene with his ribaldry. You would oblige
  us mightily by laying down some rules for adjusting the
  extravagant behaviour of this Almanzor<a name='fntag442' id=
  "fntag442"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote442'><sup>442</sup></a> of the play, and by writing a
  treatise on this sort of dramatic poetry, so much favoured, and
  so little understood, by the learned world. From its being
  conveyed in a cart after the Thespian manner, all the parts being
  recited by one person, as the custom was before Æschylus, and the
  behaviour of Punch as if he had won the goal, you may possibly
  deduce its antiquity, and settle the chronology, as well as some
  of our modern critics. In its natural transitions, from mournful
  to merry; as, from the hanging of a lover, to dancing upon the
  rope; from the stalking of a ghost, to a lady's presenting you
  with a jig; you may discover such a decorum, as is not to be
  found elsewhere than in our tragi-comedies. But I forget myself;
  it is not for me to dictate: I thought fit, dear cousin, to give
  you these hints, to show you that the Beadlestaffs don't walk
  before men of letters to no purpose; and that though we do but
  hold up the train of arts and sciences, yet like other <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page368' title='368' id="page368"></a>pages, we
  are now and then let into our ladies' secrets. I am,</p>

  <p>"Your most</p>

  <p>"Affectionate Kinsman,</p>

  <p class="right">"BENJAMIN BEADLESTAFF.</p>

  <p>"From Mother Gourdon's, at Hedington,<a name='fntag443' id=
  "fntag443"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote443'><sup>443</sup></a> near Oxon, <i>June 18</i>."</p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 22.</h3>

  <p>I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so little
  satisfaction as this evening; for you must know, I was five hours
  with three Merry, and two Honest Fellows. The former sang
  catches; and the latter even died with laughing at the noise they
  made. "Well," says Tom Belfrey, "you scholars, Mr. Bickerstaff,
  are the worst company in the world." "Ay," says his opposite,
  "you are dull to-night; prithee be merry." With that I huzzaed,
  and took a jump across the table, then came clever upon my legs,
  and fell a-laughing. "Let Mr. Bickerstaff alone," says one of the
  Honest Fellows, "when he's in a good humour, he's as good company
  as any man in England." He had no sooner spoke, but I snatched
  his hat off his head, and clapped his upon my own, and burst out
  a-laughing again; upon which we all fell a-laughing for half an
  hour. One of the Honest Fellows got behind me in the interim, and
  hit me a sound slap on the back; upon which he got the laugh out
  of my hands, and it was such a twang on my shoulders, that I
  confess he was much merrier than I. I was half angry; but
  resolved <a class="pagenum" name='page369' title='369' id=
  "page369"></a>to keep up the good humour of the company; and
  after holloing as loud as I could possibly, I drank off a bumper
  of claret, that made me stare again. "Nay," says one of the
  Honest Fellows, "Mr. Isaac is in the right, there is no
  conversation in this; what signifies jumping, or hitting one
  another on the back? Let's drink about." We did so from seven
  o'clock till eleven; and now I am come hither, and, after the
  manner of the wise Pythagoras, begin to reflect upon the passages
  of the day. I remember nothing, but that I am bruised to death;
  and as it is my way to write down all the good things I have
  heard in the last conversation to furnish my paper, I can from
  this only tell you my sufferings and my bangs. I named Pythagoras
  just now, and I protest to you, as he believed men after death
  entered into other species, I am now and then tempted to think
  other animals enter into men, and could name several on two legs,
  that never discover any sentiment above what is common with the
  species of a lower kind; as we see in these bodily wits whom I
  was with to-night, whose parts consist in strength and activity;
  but their boisterous mirth gives me great impatience for the
  return of such happiness as I enjoyed in a conversation last
  week. Among others in that company, we had Florio, who never
  interrupted any man living when he was speaking, or ever ceased
  to speak, but others lamented that he had done. His discourse
  ever arises from a fulness of the matter before him, and not from
  ostentation or triumph of his understanding; for though he seldom
  delivers what he need fear being repeated, he speaks without
  having that end in view; and his forbearance of calumny or
  bitterness, is owing rather to his good nature than his
  discretion; for which reason, he is esteemed a gentleman
  perfectly qualified for conversation, in whom a general goodwill
  to mankind takes off the necessity of caution and circum<a class=
  "pagenum" name='page370' title='370' id="page370"></a>spection.
  We had at the same time that evening the best sort of companion
  that can be, a good-natured old man. This person meets in the
  company of young men, veneration for his benevolence, and is not
  only valued for the good qualities of which he is master, but
  reaps an acceptance from the pardon he gives to other men's
  faults: and the ingenuous sort of men with whom he converses,
  have so just a regard for him, that he rather is an example, than
  a check to their behaviour. For this reason, as Senecio never
  pretends to be a man of pleasure before youth, so young men never
  set up for wisdom before Senecio; so that you never meet, where
  he is, those monsters of conversation, who are grave or gay above
  their years. He never converses but with followers of nature and
  good sense, where all that is uttered is only the effect of a
  communicable temper, and not of emulation to excel their
  companions; all desire of superiority being a contradiction to
  that spirit which makes a just conversation, the very essence of
  which is mutual goodwill. Hence it is, that I take it for a rule,
  that the natural, and not the acquired man, is the companion.
  Learning, wit, gallantry, and good breeding, are all but
  subordinate qualities in society, and are of no value, but as
  they are subservient to benevolence, and tend to a certain manner
  of being or appearing equal to the rest of the company; for
  conversation is composed of an assembly of men, as they are men,
  and not as they are distinguished by fortune: therefore he that
  brings his quality with him into conversation, should always pay
  the reckoning; for he came to receive homage, and not to meet his
  friends&#8212;But the din about my ears from the clamour of the
  people I was with this evening, has carried me beyond my intended
  purpose, which was to explain upon the Order of Merry Fellows;
  but I think I may pronounce of them, as I heard good Senecio,
  with a <a class="pagenum" name='page371' title='371' id=
  "page371"></a>spice of wit of the last age, say, viz. that a
  Merry Fellow is the Saddest Fellow in the world.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag437'>[437]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote437' id="footnote437"></a>See <a href=
      '#number44'>No. 44</a>. Blackall was a bishop; and the
      University of Oxford had declared publicly in his favour.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag438'>[438]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote438' id="footnote438"></a>See <a href=
      '#number11'>No. 11</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag439'>[439]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote439' id="footnote439"></a>A meeting for
      conferring degrees, when speeches, &amp;c., are
      delivered.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag440'>[440]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote440' id="footnote440"></a>An
      undergraduate who made extempore speeches at the Act, often
      of a very satirical kind. Sometimes there were two <i>terræ
      filii</i>, who carried on a dialogue. In 1721, Amberst
      published a periodical with the title "Terræ-Filius: or, The
      Secret History of the University of Oxford," and these papers
      were reprinted in two volumes in 1726, with a curious
      engraving of the Theatre at Oxford, by Hogarth, as
      frontispiece.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag441'>[441]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote441' id="footnote441"></a>See <a href=
      '#number26'>No. 26</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag442'>[442]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote442' id="footnote442"></a>In an Essay "Of
      Heroic Plays," prefixed to his play, "Almanzor and Almahide;
      or, The Conquest of Granada," Dryden defended at length the
      character of Almanzor.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag443'>[443]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote443' id="footnote443"></a>This village is
      the scene of Dr. William King's play, "Joan of Hedington"
      ("Works," 1776, vol. iii. p. 16).</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number46' id="number46"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 46.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, July 23</i>, to <i>Tuesday, July 26</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur,
        </div>

        <div class="line">
          Majestas et amor.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Ovid, Met. ii. 846.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 25.</h3>

  <p>We see every day volumes written against that tyrant of human
  life called Love, and yet there is no help found against his
  cruelties, or barrier against the inroads he is pleased to make
  into the mind of man. After this preface, you will expect I am
  going to give particular instances of what I have asserted. That
  expectation cannot be raised too high for the novelty of the
  history, and manner of life, of the Emperor Aurengezebe,<a name=
  'fntag444' id="fntag444"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote444'><sup>444</sup></a> who has resided for some years
  in the cities of London and Westminster, with the air and mien
  indeed of his imperial quality, but the equipage and appointment
  only of a private gentleman. This potentate, for a long series of
  time, appeared from the hour of twelve till that of two at
  <a class="pagenum" name='page372' title='372' id="page372"></a>a
  coffee-house near the 'Change, and had a seat (though without a
  canopy) sacred to himself, where he gave diurnal audiences
  concerning commerce, politics, tare and tret, usury and
  abatement, with all things necessary for helping the distressed,
  who were willing to give one limb for the better maintenance of
  the rest; or such joyous youths, whose philosophy is confined to
  the present hour, and were desirous to call in the revenue of
  next half-year to double the enjoyment of this. Long did this
  growing monarch employ himself after this manner: and as
  alliances are necessary to all great kingdoms, he took
  particularly the interests of Lewis XIV. into his care and
  protection. When all mankind were attacking that unhappy monarch,
  and those who had neither valour nor wit to oppose against him
  would be still showing their impotent malice by laying wagers in
  opposition to his interests, Aurengezebe ever took the part of
  his contemporary, and laid immense treasures on his side in
  defence of his important magazine of Toulon. Aurengezebe also had
  all this while a constant intelligence with India, and his
  letters were answered in jewels, which he soon made brilliant,
  and caused to be affixed to his imperial castor, which he always
  wears cocked in front, to show his defiance; with a heap of
  imperial snuff in the middle of his ample visage, to show his
  sagacity. The zealots for this little spot called Great Britain
  fell universally into this emperor's policies, and paid homage to
  his superior genius, in forfeiting their coffers to his treasury:
  but wealth and wisdom are possessions too solemn not to give
  weariness to active minds, without the relief (in vacant hours)
  of wit and love, which are the proper amusements of the powerful
  and the wise: this emperor therefore, with great regularity,
  every day at five in the afternoon, leaves his money-changers,
  his publicans, and little hoarders of <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page373' title='373' id="page373"></a>wealth, to their low
  pursuits, and ascends his chariot to drive to Will's; where the
  taste is refined, and a relish given to men's possessions, by a
  polite skill in gratifying their passions and appetites. There it
  is that the emperor has learned to live and to love, and not,
  like a miser, to gaze only on his ingots or his treasures; but
  with a nobler satisfaction, to live the admiration of others, for
  his splendour and happiness in being master of them. But a prince
  is no more to be his own caterer in his love, than in his food;
  therefore Aurengezebe has ever in waiting two purveyors for his
  dishes, and his wenches for his retired hours, by whom the scene
  of his diversion is prepared in the following manner:</p>

  <p>There is near Covent Garden a street known by the name of
  Drury, which, before the days of Christianity, was purchased by
  the Queen of Paphos, and is the only part of Great Britain where
  the tenure of vassalage is still in being. All that long course
  of building is under particular districts or ladyships, after the
  manner of lordships in other parts, over which matrons of known
  abilities preside, and have, for the support of their age and
  infirmities, certain taxes paid out of the rewards for the
  amorous labours of the young. This seraglio of Great Britain is
  disposed into convenient alleys and apartments, and every house,
  from the cellar to the garret, inhabited by nymphs of different
  orders, that persons of every rank may be accommodated with an
  immediate consort, to allay their flames, and partake of their
  cares. Here it is, that when Aurengezebe thinks fit to give a
  loose to dalliance, the purveyors prepare the entertainments; and
  what makes it more august is, that every person concerned in the
  interlude has his set part, and the prince sends beforehand word
  what he designs to say, and directs also the very answer which
  shall be made to him.</p>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page374' title='374' id=
  "page374"></a>It has been before hinted, that this emperor has a
  continual commerce with India; and it is to be noted, that the
  largest stone that rich earth has produced, is in our
  Aurengezebe's possession.</p>

  <p>But all things are now disposed for his reception. At his
  entrance into the seraglio, a servant delivers him his bever of
  state and love, on which is fixed this inestimable jewel as his
  diadem. When he is seated, the purveyors, Pandarus and Nuncio,
  marching on each side of the matron of the house, introduce her
  into his presence. In the midst of the room, they bow altogether
  to the diadem.</p>

  <p>When the matron:</p>

  <p>"Whoever thou art (as thy awful aspect speaks thee a man of
  power), be propitious to this mansion of love, and let not the
  severity of thy wisdom disdain, that by the representation of
  naked innocence, or pastoral figures, we revive in thee the
  memory at least of that power of Venus, to which all the wise and
  the brave are some part of their lives devoted." Aurengezebe
  consents by a nod, and they go out backward.</p>

  <p>After this, an unhappy nymph, who is to be supposed just
  escaped from the hands of a ravisher, with her tresses
  dishevelled, runs into the room with a dagger in her hand, and
  falls before the emperor.</p>

  <p>"Pity, oh! pity! whoever thou art, an unhappy virgin, whom one
  of thy train has robbed of her innocence; her innocence, which
  was all her portion&#8212;Or rather, let me die like the
  memorable Lucretia&#8212;" Upon which she stabs herself. The body
  is immediately examined after the manner of our coroners.
  Lucretia recovers by a cup of right Nantes; and the matron, who
  is her next relation, stops all process at law.</p>

  <p>This unhappy affair is no sooner over, but a naked mad woman
  breaks into the room, calls for her duke, her lord, <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page375' title='375' id="page375"></a>her
  emperor. As soon as she spies Aurengezebe, the object of all her
  fury and love, she calls for petticoats, is ready to sink with
  shame, and is dressed in all haste in new attire at his charge.
  This unexpected accident of the mad woman makes Aurengezebe
  curious to know, whether others who are in their senses can guess
  at his quality. For which reason the whole convent is examined
  one by one. The matron marches in with a tawdry country girl:
  "Pray, Winifred," says she, "who do you think that fine man with
  those jewels and pearls is?" "I believe," says Winifred, "it is
  our landlord. It must be the squire himself." The emperor laughs
  at her simplicity. "Go, fool," says the matron: then turning to
  the emperor, "Your greatness will pardon her ignorance!" After
  her, several others of different characters are instructed to
  mistake who he is in the same manner: then the whole sisterhood
  are called together, and the emperor rises, and cocking his hat,
  declares, he is the Great Mogul, and they his concubines. A
  general murmur goes through the assembly, and Aurengezebe
  certifying, that he keeps them for state rather than use, tells
  them, they are permitted to receive all men into their
  apartments; then proceeds through the crowd, among whom he throws
  medals shaped like half-crowns, and returns to his chariot.</p>

  <p>This being all that passed the last day in which Aurengezebe
  visited the women's apartments, I consulted Pacolet concerning
  the foundation of such strange amusements in old age: to which he
  answered; "You may remember, when I gave you an account of my
  good fortune in being drowned on the thirtieth day of my human
  life, I told you of the disasters I should otherwise have met
  with before I arrived at the end of my stamen, which was sixty
  years. I may now add an observation to you, that all who exceed
  that period, except the latter part of it is spent in the
  <a class="pagenum" name='page376' title='376' id=
  "page376"></a>exercise of virtue and contemplation of futurity,
  must necessarily fall into an indecent old age, because, with
  regard to all the enjoyments of the years of vigour and manhood,
  childhood returns upon them: and as infants ride on sticks, build
  houses in dirt, and make ships in gutters, by a faint idea of
  things they are to act hereafter; so old men play the lovers,
  potentates, and emperors, from the decaying image of the more
  perfect performances of their stronger years: therefore be sure
  to insert Æsculapius and Aurengezebe in your next bill of
  mortality of the metaphorically defunct."</p>

  <h3>Will's Coffee-house, July 24.</h3>

  <p>As soon as I came hither this evening, no less than ten people
  produced the following poem, which they all reported was sent to
  each of them by the penny post from an unknown hand. All the
  battle-writers in the room were in debate, who could be the
  author of a piece so martially written; and everybody applauded
  the address and skill of the author, in calling it a Postscript:
  it being the nature of a postscript to contain something very
  material which was forgotten, or not clearly expressed in the
  letter itself. Thus, the verses being occasioned by a march
  without beat of drum, and that circumstance being no ways taken
  notice of in any of the stanzas, the author calls it a
  postscript; not that it is a postscript, but figuratively,
  because it wants a postscript. Common writers, when what they
  mean is not expressed in the book itself, supply it by a preface;
  but a postscript seems to me the more just way of apology;
  because otherwise a man makes an excuse before the offence is
  committed. All the heroic poets were guessed at for its author;
  but though we could not find out his name, yet one repeated a
  couplet in "Hudibras" which spoke his qualifications:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <a class="pagenum" name='page377' title='377' id=
      "page377"></a>

      <div class="line">
        "I' th' midst of all this warlike rabble,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Crowdero marched, expert and able"<a name='fntag445' id=
        "fntag445"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote445'><sup>445</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>The poem is admirably suited to the occasion: for to write
  without discovering your meaning, bears a just resemblance to
  marching without beat of drum.</p>

  <h4>On the March to Tournay without Beat of Drum.</h4>

  <h4>The Brussels POSTSCRIPT.<a name='fntag446' id=
  "fntag446"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote446'><sup>446</sup></a></h4>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        Could I with plainest words express
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        That great man's wonderful address,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        His penetration, and his towering thought;
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        It would the gazing world surprise,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        To see one man at all times wise,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To view the wonders he with ease has wrought.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        Refining schemes approach his mind,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Like breezes of a southern wind,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To temperate a sultry glorious day;
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Whose fannings, with an useful pride,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Its mighty heat doth softly guide,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And having cleared the air, glide silently away.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        Thus his immensity of thought
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Is deeply formed, and gently wrought,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        His temper always softening life's disease;
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        That Fortune, when she does intend
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        To rudely frown, she turns his friend,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Admires his judgment, and applauds his ease.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page378' title='378' id=
        "page378"></a>His great address in this design,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Does now, and will for ever shine,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And wants a Waller but to do him right:
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        The whole amusement was so strong,
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Like fate he doomed them to be wrong,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And Tournay's took by a peculiar sleight.
      </div>
    </div>

    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        Thus, madam, all mankind behold
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Your vast ascendant, not by gold,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But by your wisdom, and your pious life;
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        Your aim no more than to destroy
      </div>

      <div class="line i2">
        That which does Europe's ease annoy,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And supersede a reign of shame and strife.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house, July 24.</h3>

  <p>My brethren of the quill, the ingenious society of
  news-writers, having with great spirit and elegance already
  informed the world, that the town of Tournay capitulated on the
  28th instant, there is nothing left for me to say, but to
  congratulate the good company here, that we have reason to hope
  for an opportunity of thanking Mr. Withers<a name='fntag447' id=
  "fntag447"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote447'><sup>447</sup></a> next winter in this place, for
  the service he has done his country. No man deserves better of
  his friends than that gentleman, whose distinguishing character
  it is, that he gives his orders with the familiarity, and enjoys
  his fortune with the generosity, of a fellow-soldier. His Grace
  the Duke of Argyle had also an eminent part in the reduction of
  this important place. That illustrious youth<a name='fntag448'
  id="fntag448"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote448'><sup>448</sup></a> <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page379' title='379' id="page379"></a>discovers the peculiar
  turn of spirit and greatness of soul which only make men of high
  birth and quality useful to their country; and considers nobility
  as an imaginary distinction, unless accompanied with the practice
  of those generous virtues by which it ought to be obtained.
  But<a name='fntag449' id="fntag449"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote449'><sup>449</sup></a> that our military glory is
  arrived at its present height, and that men of all ranks so
  passionately affect their share in it, is certainly owing to the
  merit and conduct of our glorious general; for as the great
  secret in chemistry, though not in nature, has occasioned many
  useful discoveries; and the fantastic notion of being wholly
  disinterested in friendship, has made men do a thousand generous
  actions above themselves; so, though the present grandeur and
  fame of the Duke of Marlborough is a station of glory to which no
  one hopes to arrive, yet all carry their actions to a higher
  pitch, by having that great example laid before them.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag444'>[444]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote444' id="footnote444"></a>"Aurenzeb is
      Tom Colson, who never had any friendship with anybody but S'r
      Edward Seymour, who brought him into Parliament" (Peter
      Wentworth to Lord Raby, 29 July 1709; "Wentworth Papers," p.
      97). Thomas Coulson was elected M.P. for Totnes, with Sir
      Edward Seymour, Bart., in 1698. He was re-elected in 1701,
      1702, and in 1705. At the election of 1708, Sir Edward
      Seymour, previously member for Exeter, was elected for
      Totnes; but in 1710, Sir Edward having transferred himself to
      Great Bedwyn, Coulson again became member for Totnes. In
      1715, Coulson's arrest was sought in the neighbourhood of
      Bristol for joining in the rising on behalf of the Pretender;
      see a letter of Addison's in Hist. MSS. Comm., Second Report,
      p. 250.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag445'>[445]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote445' id="footnote445"></a>"Hudibras,"
      part i. canto ii. 105-6. Butler wrote, "I' the head,"
      &amp;c.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag446'>[446]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote446' id="footnote446"></a>"I should have
      given you a key to the two <i>Tatlers</i> I sent you last,
      the Brussels Postscript are verses of Crowders. He show'd
      them me in manuscript" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, 29 July
      1709; "Wentworth Papers," p. 97). See <a href='#number17'>No.
      17</a> note on Brigadier Crowther.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag447'>[447]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote447' id="footnote447"></a>General Henry
      Withers commanded at the capitulation of Tournay. On his
      death in 1729, he was buried in Westminster Abbey. Pope wrote
      an epitaph beginning:</p>

      <div class='poem'>
        <div class='stanza'>
          <div class="line">
            "Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
          </div>

          <div class="line">
            Thy country's friend, but more of human-kind."
          </div>
        </div>
      </div>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag448'>[448]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote448' id="footnote448"></a>John, second
      Duke of Argyle (1678-1743), took an active part in the
      battles of Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet, and at the
      siege of Tournay.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag449'>[449]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote449' id="footnote449"></a>There was a
      long-standing hostility between the Duke of Marlborough and
      the Duke of Argyle.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number47' id="number47"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 47.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Tuesday, July 26</i>, to <i>Thursday, July 28</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Juv., Sat. i. 85, 86.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, July 27.</h3>

  <p>My friend Sir Thomas<a name='fntag450' id=
  "fntag450"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote450'><sup>450</sup></a> has communicated to me his
  letters from Epsom of the 25th instant, which give, in general, a
  very good account of the posture of affairs at present in that
  place; but that the tranquillity and correspondence<a name=
  'fntag451' id="fntag451"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote451'><sup>451</sup></a> of the company begins to be
  interrupted by the <a class="pagenum" name='page380' title='380'
  id="page380"></a>arrival of Sir Taffety Trippet,<a name=
  'fntag452' id="fntag452"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote452'><sup>452</sup></a> a fortune-hunter, whose follies
  are too gross to give diversion; and whose vanity is too stupid
  to let him be sensible that he is a public offence. But if people
  will indulge a splenetic humour, it is impossible to be at ease,
  when such creatures as are the scandal of our species, set up for
  gallantry and adventures. It will be much more easy therefore to
  laugh him into reason, than convert him from his foppery by any
  serious contempt. I knew a gentleman that made it a maxim to open
  his doors, and ever run into the way of bullies, to avoid their
  insolence. The rule will hold as well with coxcombs: they are
  never mortified, but when they see you receive, and despise them;
  otherwise they rest assured, that it is your ignorance makes them
  out of your good graces; or, that it is only want of admittance
  prevents their being amiable where they are shunned and avoided.
  But Sir Taffety is a fop of so sanguine complexion, that I fear
  it will be very hard for the fair one he at present pursues to
  get rid of the chase, without being so tired, as for her own ease
  to fall into the mouth of the mongrel she runs from. But the
  history of Sir Taffety is as pleasant as his character. It
  happened, that when he first set up for a fortune-hunter, he
  chose Tunbridge for the scene of action; where were at that time
  two sisters upon the same design. <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page381' title='381' id="page381"></a>The knight believed of
  course the elder must be the better prize; and consequently makes
  all his sail that way. People that want sense, do always in an
  egregious manner want modesty, which made our hero triumph in
  making his amour as public as was possible. The adored lady was
  no less vain of his public addresses. An attorney with one cause
  is not half so restless as a woman with one lover. Wherever they
  met, they talked to each other aloud, chose each other partner at
  balls, saluted at the most conspicuous parts of the service at
  church, and practised in honour of each other all the remarkable
  particularities which are usual for persons who admire one
  another, and are contemptible to the rest of the world. These two
  lovers seemed as much made for each other as Adam and Eve, and
  all pronounced it a match of Nature's own making; but the night
  before the nuptials (so universally approved), the younger
  sister, envious of the good fortune even of her sister, who had
  been present at most of their interviews, and had an equal taste
  for the charms of a fop (as there are a set of women made for
  that order of men); the younger, I say, unable to see so rich a
  prize pass by her, discovered to Sir Taffety, that a coquette
  air, much tongue, and three suits, was all the portion of his
  mistress. His love vanished that moment, himself and equipage the
  next morning. It is uncertain where the lover has been ever since
  engaged; but certain it is, he has not appeared in his character
  as a follower of love and fortune till he arrived at Epsom, where
  there is at present a young lady of youth, beauty, and fortune,
  who has alarmed<a name='fntag453' id="fntag453"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote453'><sup>453</sup></a> all the vain and the
  impertinent to infest that quarter. At the head of this assembly,
  Sir Taffety shines in the brightest manner, with all the
  accomplishments which usually ensnare the heart of woman; with
  this particular merit (which often is of <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page382' title='382' id="page382"></a>great service), that he is
  laughed at for her sake. The friends of the fair one are in much
  pain for the sufferings she goes through from the perseverance of
  this hero; but they may be much more so from the danger of his
  succeeding, toward which they give him a helping hand, if they
  dissuade her with bitterness; for there is a fantastical
  generosity in the sex, to approve creatures of the least merit
  imaginable, when they see the imperfections of their admirers are
  become the marks of derision for their sakes; and there is
  nothing so frequent, as that he who was contemptible to a woman
  in her own judgment, has won her by being too violently opposed
  by others.</p>

  <h3>Grecian Coffee-house, July 27.</h3>

  <p>In the several capacities I bear, of astrologer, civilian, and
  physician, I have with great application studied the public
  emolument: to this end serve all my lucubrations, speculations,
  and whatever other labours I undertake, whether nocturnal or
  diurnal. On this motive am I induced to publish a never-failing
  medicine for the spleen: my experience in this distemper came
  from a very remarkable cure on my ever worthy friend Tom
  Spindle,<a name='fntag454' id="fntag454"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote454'><sup>454</sup></a> who, through excessive gaiety,
  had exhausted that natural stock of wit and spirits he had long
  been blessed with: he was sunk and flattened to the lowest degree
  imaginable, sitting whole hours over the "Book of Martyrs," and
  "Pilgrim's Progress"; his other contemplations never rising
  higher than the colour of his urine, or regularity of his pulse.
  In this condition I found him, accompanied by the learned
  <a class="pagenum" name='page383' title='383' id=
  "page383"></a>Dr. Drachm, and a good old nurse. Drachm had
  prescribed magazines of herbs, and mines of steel. I soon
  discovered the malady, and descanted on the nature of it, till I
  convinced both the patient and his nurse, that the spleen is not
  to be cured by medicine, but by poetry. Apollo, the author of
  physic, shone with diffusive rays the best of poets as well as of
  physicians; and it is in this double capacity that I have made my
  way, and have found, sweet, easy, flowering numbers, are oft
  superior to our noblest medicines. When the spirits are low, and
  nature sunk, the muse, with sprightly and harmonious notes, gives
  an unexpected turn with a grain of poetry, which I prepare
  without the use of mercury. I have done wonders in this kind; for
  the spleen is like the tarantula,<a name='fntag455' id=
  "fntag455"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote455'><sup>455</sup></a> the effects of whose malignant
  poison are to be prevented by no other remedy but the charms of
  music: for you are to understand, that as some noxious animals
  carry antidotes for their own poisons; so there is something
  equally unaccountable in poetry: for though it is sometimes a
  disease, it is to be cured only by itself. Now I knowing Tom
  Spindle's constitution, and that he is not only a pretty
  gentleman, but also a pretty poet, found the true cause of his
  distemper was a violent grief that moved his affections too
  strongly: for during the late Treaty of Peace, he had written a
  most excellent poem on that subject; and when he wanted but two
  lines in the last stanza for finishing the whole piece, there
  comes news that the French tyrant would not sign. Spindle in few
  days took his bed, and had lain there still, had not I been sent
  for. I immediately told him, there was great probability the
  French would now sue to us for peace. I saw immediately a new
  life in his eyes; and knew, that nothing could help him forward
  <a class="pagenum" name='page384' title='384' id="page384"></a>so
  well, as hearing verses which he would believe worse than his
  own; I read him therefore the "Brussels Postscript";<a name=
  'fntag456' id="fntag456"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote456'><sup>456</sup></a> after which I recited some
  heroic lines of my own, which operated so strongly on the
  tympanum of his ear, that I doubt not but I have kept out all
  other sounds for a fortnight; and have reason to hope, we shall
  see him abroad the day before his poem. This you see, is a
  particular secret I have found out, viz., that you are not to
  choose your physician for his knowledge in your distemper, but
  for having it himself. Therefore I am at hand for all maladies
  arising from poetical vapours, beyond which I never pretend. For
  being called the other day to one in love, I took indeed their
  three guineas, and gave them my advice; which was, to send for
  Æsculapius.<a name='fntag457' id="fntag457"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote457'><sup>457</sup></a> Æsculapius, as soon as he
  saw the patient, cries out, "'Tis love! 'tis love! Oh! the
  unequal pulse! these are the symptoms a lover feels; such sighs,
  such pangs, attend the uneasy mind; nor can our art, or all our
  boasted skill, avail&#8212;Yet O fair! for thee&#8212;" Thus the
  sage ran on, and owned the passion which he pitied, as well as
  that he felt a greater pain than ever he cured. After which he
  concluded, "All I can advise, is marriage: charms and beauty will
  give new life and vigour, and turn the course of nature to its
  better prospect." This is the new way; and thus Æsculapius has
  left his beloved powders, and writes a recipe for a wife at
  sixty. In short, my friend followed the prescription, and married
  youth and beauty in its perfect bloom.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        Supine in Silvia's snowy arms he lies,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And all the busy care of life defies:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Each happy hour is filled with fresh delight,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        While peace the day, and pleasure crowns the night.
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p><a class="pagenum" name='page385' title='385' id=
  "page385"></a></p>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 27.</h3>

  <p>Tragical passion was the subject of the discourse where I last
  visited this evening; and a gentleman who knows that I am at
  present writing a very deep tragedy, directed his discourse in a
  particular manner to me. "It is the common fault," said he, "of
  you, gentlemen, who write in the buskin style, that you give us
  rather the sentiments of such who behold tragical events, than of
  such who bear a part in them themselves. I would advise all who
  pretend this way, to read Shakespeare with care, and they will
  soon be deterred from putting forth what is usually called
  'tragedy.' The way of common writers in this kind, is rather the
  description, than the expression of sorrow. There is no medium in
  these attempts; and you must go to the very bottom of the heart,
  or it is all mere language; and the writer of such lines is no
  more a poet, than a man is a physician for knowing the names of
  distempers, without the causes of them. Men of sense are
  professed enemies to all such empty labours: for he who pretends
  to be sorrowful, and is not, is a wretch yet more contemptible
  than he who pretends to be merry, and is not. Such a tragedian is
  only maudlin drunk." The gentleman went on with much warmth; but
  all he could say had little effect upon me: but when I came
  hither, I so far observed his counsel, that I looked into
  Shakespeare. The tragedy I dipped into was, "Harry the Fourth."
  In the scene where Morton is preparing to tell Northumberland of
  his son's death, the old man does not give him time to speak, but
  says,</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "The whiteness of thy cheeks
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        <a class="pagenum" name='page386' title='386' id=
        "page386"></a>Drew Priam's curtain at the dead of night,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And would have told him half his Troy was burnt:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And I my Percy's death ere thou reportest it"<a name=
        'fntag458' id="fntag458"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote458'><sup>458</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>The image in this place is wonderfully noble and great; yet
  this man in all this is but rising towards his great affliction,
  and is still enough himself, as you see, to make a simile: but
  when he is certain of his son's death, he is lost to all
  patience, and gives up all the regards of this life; and since
  the last of evils is fallen upon him, he calls for it upon all
  the world.</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line i2">
        "Now let not Nature's hand
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Keep the wild flood confined; let Order die,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And let the world no longer be a stage,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        To feed contention in a lingering act;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        On bloody courses, the wide scene may end,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And darkness be the burier of the dead."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>Reading but this one scene has convinced me, that he who
  describes the concern of great men, must have a soul as noble,
  and as susceptible of high thoughts, as they whom he represents:
  I shall therefore lay by my drama for some time, and turn my
  thoughts to cares and griefs, somewhat below that of heroes, but
  no less moving. A misfortune proper for me to take notice of, has
  too lately happened: the disconsolate Maria<a name='fntag459' id=
  "fntag459"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote459'><sup>459</sup></a> has three days kept her chamber
  for the loss of the beauteous Fidelia, her <a class="pagenum"
  name='page387' title='387' id="page387"></a>lap-dog. Lesbia
  herself<a name='fntag460' id="fntag460"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote460'><sup>460</sup></a> did not shed more tears for her
  sparrow. What makes her the more concerned, is, that we know not
  whether Fidelia was killed or stolen; but she was seen in the
  parlour window when the train-bands went by, and never since.
  Whoever gives notice of her, dead or alive, shall be rewarded
  with a kiss of her lady.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag450'>[450]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote450' id="footnote450"></a>See <a href=
      '#number16'>No. 16</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag451'>[451]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote451' id=
      "footnote451"></a>Intercourse.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag452'>[452]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote452' id="footnote452"></a>Henry Cromwell
      (died 1728) was a correspondent of Pope's, and a friend of
      Wycherley's. "I cannot choose," wrote Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas,
      "but be pleased with the conquest of a person whose fame our
      incomparable Tatler has rendered immortal, by the three
      distinguishing titles of 'Squire Easy the amorous bard'; 'Sir
      Timothy the critic'; and 'Sir Taffety Trippet the
      fortune-hunter'" ("Pylades and Corinna," i. 96, 194). See
      also Nos. <a href="#number49">49</a>, 165. Cromwell was a man about town, of
      private means, with property in Lincolnshire, who had
      contributed verses to Tonson's "Miscellany." Gay ("Mr. Pope's
      Welcome from Greece," st. xvii.) speaks of "Honest, hatless
      Cromwell, with red breeches."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag453'>[453]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote453' id="footnote453"></a>Called forth,
      drawn as with an alarum.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag454'>[454]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote454' id="footnote454"></a>Henry Cromwell;
      see note on p. 380. According to another suggestion, Spindle
      is intended for Thomas Tickell, who published a poem, "The
      Prospect of Peace," in 1713; but it is not probable that in
      1709 either Addison or Steele would have satirised him; and
      Cromwell may very likely have written verses on the same
      subject.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag455'>[455]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote455' id="footnote455"></a>A spider named
      from Tarentum, in Apulia. Strange stories were told of the
      effects of its bite, and of their cure by music and
      dancing.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag456'>[456]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote456' id="footnote456"></a>See <a href=
      '#number46'>No. 46</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag457'>[457]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote457' id="footnote457"></a>Dr. Radcliffe.
      See <a href='#number44'>No. 44</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag458'>[458]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote458' id="footnote458"></a>2 Henry IV.,
      act i. sc. I.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag459'>[459]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote459' id="footnote459"></a>"This
      <i>Tatler</i> I know nothing of, only they say the Dutchess
      of Montague has lately lost a bitch she call'd fidel, and has
      had it cry'd."&#8212;(Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby;
      "Wentworth Papers," p. 97.)</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag460'>[460]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote460' id="footnote460"></a>See Catullus,
      passim.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number48' id="number48"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 48.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Thursday, July 28</i>, to <i>Saturday, July 30</i>,
    1709.</h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          &#8212;Virtutem verba putant, et
        </div>

        <div class="line">
          Lucum ligna.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Hor., 1 Ep. vi. 31.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>From my own Apartment, July 29.</h3>

  <p>This day I obliged Pacolet to entertain me with matters which
  regarded persons of his own character and occupation. We chose to
  take our walk on Tower Hill; and as we were coming from thence in
  order to stroll as far as Garraway's,<a name='fntag461' id=
  "fntag461"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote461'><sup>461</sup></a> I observed two men, who had but
  just landed, coming from the waterside. I thought there was
  something uncommon in their mien and aspect; but though they
  seemed by their visage to be related, yet was there a warmth in
  their manner, as if they differed very much in their sentiments
  of the subject on which they were talking. One of them seemed to
  have a natural confidence, mixed with an ingenious freedom in his
  gesture, his dress very plain, but very graceful and
  becom<a class="pagenum" name='page388' title='388' id=
  "page388"></a>ing: the other, in the midst of an overbearing
  carriage, betrayed (by frequently looking round him) a suspicion
  that he was not enough regarded by those he met, or that he
  feared they would make some attack upon him. This person was much
  taller than his companion, and added to that height the advantage
  of a feather in his hat, and heels to his shoes so monstrously
  high, that he had three or four times fallen down, had he not
  been supported by his friend. They made a full stop as they came
  within a few yards of the place where we stood. The plain
  gentleman bowed to Pacolet; the other looked on him with some
  displeasure: upon which I asked him, who they both were, when he
  thus informed me of their persons and circumstances.</p>

  <p>"You may remember, Mr. Isaac, that I have often told you,
  there are beings of a superior rank to mankind, who frequently
  visit the habitations of men, in order to call them from some
  wrong pursuits in which they are actually engaged, or divert them
  from methods which will lead them into errors for the future. He
  that will carefully reflect upon the occurrences of his life,
  will find he has been sometimes extricated out of difficulties,
  and received favours where he could never have expected such
  benefits; as well as met with cross events from some unseen hand,
  which have disappointed his best laid designs. Such accidents
  arrive from the interventions of aërial beings, as they are
  benevolent or hurtful to the nature of man, and attend his steps
  in the tracts of ambition, of business, and of pleasure. Before I
  ever appeared to you in the manner I do now, I have frequently
  followed you in your evening walks, and have often, by throwing
  some accident in your way, as the passing by of a funeral, or the
  appearance of some other solemn object, given your imagination a
  new turn, and changed a night you had destined to mirth and
  jollity, into an exercise of study and contemplation. I <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page389' title='389' id="page389"></a>was the old
  soldier who met you last summer in Chelsea Fields, and pretended
  that I had broken my wooden leg, and could not get home; but I
  snapped it short off on purpose, that you might fall into the
  reflections you did on that subject, and take me into your hack.
  If you remember, you made yourself very merry on that fracture,
  and asked me, whether I thought I should next winter feel cold in
  the toes of that leg? As is usually observed, that those who lose
  limbs, are sensible of pains in the extreme parts, even after
  those limbs are cut off. However, my keeping you then in the
  story of the battle of the Boyne, prevented an assignation, which
  would have led you into more disasters than I then related.</p>

  <p>"To be short; those two persons you see yonder, are such as I
  am; they are not real men, but are mere shades and figures: one
  is named Alethes; the other, Verisimilis. Their office is to be
  the guardians and representatives of Conscience and Honour. They
  are now going to visit the several parts of the town, to see how
  their interests in the world decay or flourish, and to purge
  themselves from the many false imputations they daily meet with
  in the commerce and conversation of men. You observed Verisimilis
  frowned when he first saw me. What he is provoked at, is, that I
  told him one day, though he strutted and dressed with so much
  ostentation, if he kept himself within his own bounds, he was but
  a lackey, and wore only that gentleman's livery whom he is now
  with. This frets him to the heart; for you must know, he has
  pretended a long time to set up for himself, and gets among a
  crowd of the more unthinking part of mankind, who take him for a
  person of the first quality; though his introduction into the
  world was wholly owing to his present companion."</p>

  <p>This encounter was very agreeable to me, and I was <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page390' title='390' id="page390"></a>resolved to
  dog them, and desired Pacolet to accompany me. I soon perceived
  what he told me in the gesture of the persons: for when they
  looked at each other in discourse, the well-dressed man suddenly
  cast down his eyes, and discovered that the other had a painful
  superiority over him. After some further discourse, they took
  leave. The plain gentleman went down towards Thames Street, in
  order to be present, at least, at the oaths taken at the
  Custom-house; and the other made directly for the heart of the
  city. It is incredible how great a change there immediately
  appeared in the man of honour when he got rid of his uneasy
  companion: he adjusted the cock of his hat anew, settled his
  sword-knot, and had an appearance that attracted a sudden
  inclination for him and his interests in all who beheld him. "For
  my part," said I to Pacolet, "I cannot but think you are mistaken
  in calling this person, of the lower quality; for he looks much
  more like a gentleman than the other. Don't you observe all eyes
  are upon him as he advances: how each sex gazes at his stature,
  aspect, address, and motion?" Pacolet only smiled, and shaked his
  head; as leaving me to be convinced by my own further
  observation. We kept on our way after him till we came to
  Exchange Alley, where the plain gentleman again came up to the
  other; and they stood together after the manner of eminent
  merchants, as if ready to receive application; but I could
  observe no man talk to either of them. The one was laughed at as
  a fop; and I heard many whispers against the other, as a
  whimsical sort of fellow, and a great enemy to trade. They
  crossed Cornhill together, and came into the full 'Change, where
  some bowed, and gave themselves airs in being known to so fine a
  man as Verisimilis, who, they said, had great interests in all
  princes' courts; and the other was taken notice of by several as
  one they had seen <a class="pagenum" name='page391' title='391'
  id="page391"></a>somewhere long before. One more particularly
  said, he had formerly been a man of consideration in the world;
  but was so unlucky, that they who dealt with him, by some strange
  infatuation or other, had a way of cutting off their own bills,
  and were prodigiously slow in improving their stock. But as much
  as I was curious to observe the reception these gentlemen met
  with upon 'Change, I could not help being interrupted by one that
  came up towards us, to whom everybody made their compliments. He
  was of the common height, and in his dress there seemed to be
  great care to appear no way particular, except in a certain exact
  and feat<a name='fntag462' id="fntag462"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote462'><sup>462</sup></a> manner of behaviour and
  circumspection. He was wonderfully careful that his shoes and
  clothes should be without the least speck upon them; and seemed
  to think, that on such an accident depended his very life and
  fortune. There was hardly a man on 'Change who had not a note
  upon him; and each seemed very well satisfied that their money
  lay in his hands, without demanding payment. I asked Pacolet,
  what great merchant that was, who was so universally addressed
  to, yet made too familiar an appearance to command that
  extraordinary deference? Pacolet answered, "This person is the
  demon or genius of credit: his name is Umbra. If you observe, he
  follows Alethes and Verisimilis at a distance; and indeed has no
  foundation for the figure he makes in the world, but that he is
  thought to keep their cash; though at the same time, none who
  trust him would trust the others for a groat." As the company
  rolled about, the three spectres were jumbled into one place:
  when they were so, and all thought there was an alliance between
  them, they immediately drew upon them the business of the whole
  'Change. But their affairs soon increased to such an unwieldy
  bulk, that Alethes took his <a class="pagenum" name='page392'
  title='392' id="page392"></a>leave, and said, he would not engage
  further than he had an immediate fund to answer. Verisimilis
  pretended that though he had revenues large enough to go on his
  own bottom, yet it was below one of his family to condescend to
  trade in his own name; therefore he also retired. I was extremely
  troubled to see the glorious mart of London left with no other
  guardian, but him of credit. But Pacolet told me, that traders
  had nothing to do with the honour or conscience of their
  correspondents, provided they supported a general behaviour in
  the world, which could not hurt their credit or their purses:
  "for," said he, "you may in this one tract of building of London
  and Westminster see the imaginary motives on which the greatest
  affairs move, as well as in rambling over the face of the earth.
  For though Alethes is the real governor, as well as legislator of
  mankind, he has very little business but to make up quarrels, and
  is only a general referee, to whom every man pretends to appeal;
  but is satisfied with his determinations no further than they
  promote his own interest. Hence it is, that the soldier and the
  courtier model their actions according to Verisimilis' manner,
  and the merchant according to that of Umbra. Among these men,
  honour and credit are not valuable possessions in themselves, or
  pursued out of a principle of justice; but merely as they are
  serviceable to ambition and to commerce. But the world will never
  be in any manner of order or tranquillity, till men are firmly
  convinced, that conscience, honour, and credit, are all in one
  interest; and that without the concurrence of the former, the
  latter are but impositions upon ourselves and others. The force
  these delusive words have, is not seen in the transactions of the
  busy world only, but also have their tyranny over the fair sex.
  Were you to ask the unhappy Lais, what pangs of reflection,
  preferring the consideration of her honour to <a class="pagenum"
  name='page393' title='393' id="page393"></a>her conscience, has
  given her? She could tell you, that it has forced her to drink up
  half a gallon this winter of Tom Dassapas' potions; that she
  still pines away for fear of being a mother; and knows not, but
  the moment she is such, she shall be a murderess: but if
  conscience had as strong a force upon the mind, as honour, the
  first step to her unhappy condition had never been made; she had
  still been innocent, as she's beautiful. Were men so enlightened
  and studious of their own good, as to act by the dictates of
  their reason and reflection, and not the opinion of others,
  Conscience would be the steady ruler of human life; and the
  words, Truth, Law, Reason, Equity, and Religion, would be but
  synonymous terms for that only guide which makes us pass our days
  in our own favour and approbation."</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag461'>[461]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote461' id="footnote461"></a>A coffee-house
      in Exchange Alley, Cornhill, with an auction-room on the
      first floor, where wine and other things were sold (see No,
      147). Thomas Garway was originally a tobacconist and
      coffee-man. Defoe ("Journey through England") says that this
      coffee-house was frequented by "the people of quality who
      have business in the City, and the most considerable and
      wealthy citizens."</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag462'>[462]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote462' id="footnote462"></a>Adroit.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <div class="numberheader">
    <a name='number49' id="number49"></a>

    <h2 class="leftheader">No. 49.</h2>

    <h2 class="rightheader">[STEELE.</h2>

    <h2> </h2>

    <h3>From <i>Saturday, July 30</i>, to <i>Tuesday, August 2,
    1709.</i></h3>

    <div class='poem'>
      <div class='stanza'>
        <div class="line">
          Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
        </div>

        <div class="line right">
          Juv., Sat. i. 85, 86.
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>White's Chocolate-house, August 1.</h3>

  <p>The imposition of honest names and words upon improper
  subjects, has made so regular a confusion amongst us, that we are
  apt to sit down with our errors, well enough satisfied with the
  methods we are fallen into, without attempting to deliver
  ourselves from the tyranny under which we are reduced by such
  innovations. Of all the laudable motives of human life, none has
  suffered so much in this kind as love; under which revered name,
  a <a class="pagenum" name='page394' title='394' id=
  "page394"></a>brutal desire called lust is frequently concealed
  and admitted; though they differ as much as a matron from a
  prostitute, or a companion from a buffoon. Philander<a name=
  'fntag463' id="fntag463"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote463'><sup>463</sup></a> the other day was bewailing
  this misfortune with much indignation, and upbraided me for
  having some time since quoted those excellent lines of the
  satirist:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        To an exact perfection they have brought
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        The action love, the passion is forgot.<a name='fntag464'
        id="fntag464"></a><a class='fn' href=
        '#footnote464'><sup>464</sup></a>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <p>"How could you," said he, "leave such a hint so coldly? How
  could Aspasia<a name='fntag465' id="fntag465"></a><a class='fn'
  href='#footnote465'><sup>465</sup></a> and Sempronia<a name=
  'fntag466' id="fntag466"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote466'><sup>466</sup></a> enter into your imagination at
  the same time, and you never declare to us the different
  reception you gave them? The figures which the ancient
  mythologists and poets put upon love and lust in their writings,
  are very instructive. Love is a beauteous blind child, adorned
  with a quiver and a bow, which he plays with, and shoots around
  him, without design or direction; to intimate to us, that the
  person beloved has no intention to give us the anxieties we meet
  with; but that the beauties of a worthy object are like the
  charms of a lovely infant: they cannot but attract your concern
  and fondness, though the child so regarded is as insensible of
  the value you put upon it, as it is that it deserves your
  benevolence. On the other side, the sages figured Lust in the
  form of a satyr; of shape, part human, part bestial; to signify,
  that the followers of it prostitute the reason of a man to pursue
  the appetites of a beast. This satyr is made to haunt the paths
  and coverts of the wood-nymphs and shepherdesses, to lurk on the
  banks of rivulets, and watch the purling streams (as the resorts
  of retired virgins), to show, that lawless desire tends chiefly
  to <a class="pagenum" name='page395' title='395' id=
  "page395"></a>prey upon innocence, and has something so unnatural
  in it, that it hates its own make, and shuns the object it loved,
  as soon as it has made it like itself. Love therefore is a child
  that complains and bewails its inability to help itself, and
  weeps for assistance, without an immediate reflection of
  knowledge of the food it wants: Lust, a watchful thief which
  seizes its prey, and lays snares for its own relief; and its
  principal object being innocence, it never robs, but it murders
  at the same time. From this idea of a Cupid and a Satyr, we may
  settle our notion of these different desires, and accordingly
  rank their followers. Aspasia must therefore be allowed to be the
  first of the beauteous Order of Love, whose unaffected freedom,
  and conscious innocence, give her the attendance of the graces in
  all her actions. That awful distance which we bear towards her in
  all our thoughts of her, and that cheerful familiarity with which
  we approach her, are certain instances of her being the truest
  object of love of any of her sex. In this accomplished lady, love
  is the constant effect, because it is never the design. Yet,
  though her mien carries much more invitation than command, to
  behold her is an immediate check to loose behaviour; and to love
  her is a liberal education:<a name='fntag467' id=
  "fntag467"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote467'><sup>467</sup></a> for, it being the nature of all
  love to create an imitation of the beloved person in the lover, a
  regard for Aspasia naturally produces decency of manners, and
  good conduct of life in her admirers. If therefore the giggling
  Lucippe could but see her train of fops <a class="pagenum" name=
  'page396' title='396' id="page396"></a>assembled, and Aspasia
  move by them, she would be mortified at the veneration with which
  she is beheld, even by Lucippe's own unthinking equipage, whose
  passions have long taken leave of their understandings. But as
  charity is esteemed a conjunction of the good qualities necessary
  to a virtuous man, so love is the happy composition of all the
  accomplishments that make a fine gentleman. The motive of a man's
  life is seen in all his actions; and such as have the beauteous
  boy for their inspirer have a simplicity of behaviour, and a
  certain evenness of desire, which burns like the lamp of life in
  their bosoms; while they who are instigated by the satyr are ever
  tortured by jealousies of the object of their wishes; often
  desire what they scorn, and as often consciously and knowingly
  embrace where they are mutually indifferent.</p>

  <p>Florio, the generous husband, and Limberham, the "kind
  keeper,"<a name='fntag468' id="fntag468"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote468'><sup>468</sup></a> are noted examples of the
  different effects which these desires produce in the mind.
  Amanda, who is the wife of Florio, lives in the continual
  enjoyment of new instances of her husband's friendship, and sees
  it the end of all his ambition to make her life one series of
  pleasure and satisfaction; and Amanda's relish of the goods of
  life, is all that makes them pleasing to Florio: they behave
  themselves to each other when present with a certain apparent
  benevolence, which transports above rapture; and they think of
  each other in absence with a confidence unknown to the highest
  friendship: their satisfactions are doubled, their sorrows
  lessened by participation. On the other hand, Corinna, who is the
  mistress of Limberham,<a name='fntag469' id=
  "fntag469"></a><a class='fn' href=
  '#footnote469'><sup>469</sup></a> lives in constant torment: her
  equipage is, an old woman, who was what Corinna is now; <a class=
  "pagenum" name='page397' title='397' id="page397"></a>an
  antiquated footman, who was pimp to Limberham's father; and a
  chambermaid, who is Limberham's wench by fits, out of a principle
  of politics to make her jealous and watchful of Corinna. Under
  this guard, and in this conversation, Corinna lives in state: the
  furniture of her habitation, and her own gorgeous dress, make her
  the envy of all the strolling ladies in the town; but Corinna
  knows she herself is but part of Limberham's household stuff, and
  is as capable of being disposed of elsewhere, as any other
  movable. But while her keeper is persuaded by his spies, that no
  enemy has been within his doors since his last visit, no Persian
  prince was ever so magnificently bountiful: a kind look or
  falling tear is worth a piece of brocade, a sigh is a jewel, and
  a smile is a cupboard of plate. All this is shared between
  Corinna and her guard in his absence. With this great economy and
  industry does the unhappy Limberham purchase the constant
  tortures of jealousy, the favour of spending his estate, and the
  opportunity of enriching one by whom he knows he is hated and
  despised. These are the ordinary and common evils which attend
  keepers, and Corinna is a wench but of common size of wickedness.
  Were you to know what passes under the roof where the fair
  Messalina reigns with her humble adorer! Messalina is the
  professed mistress of mankind; she has left the bed of her
  husband and her beauteous offspring, to give a loose to want of
  shame and fulness of desire. Wretched Nocturnus, her feeble
  keeper! How the poor creature fribbles in his gait, and scuttles
  from place to place to despatch his necessary affairs in painful
  daylight, that he may return to the constant twilight preserved
  in that scene of wantonness, Messalina's bedchamber. How does he,
  while he is absent from thence, consider in his imagination the
  breadth of his porter's shoulders, the spruce nightcap of his
  valet, <a class="pagenum" name='page398' title='398' id=
  "page398"></a>the ready attendance of his butler! Any of all whom
  he knows she admits, and professes to approve of. This, alas! is
  the gallantry; this the freedom of our fine gentlemen: for this
  they preserve their liberty, and keep clear of that bugbear,
  marriage. But he does not understand either vice or virtue, who
  will not allow, that life without the rules of morality is a
  wayward uneasy being, with snatches only of pleasure; but under
  the regulation of virtue, a reasonable and uniform habit of
  enjoyment. I have seen in a play of old Heywood's, a speech at
  the end of an act, which touched this point with much spirit. He
  makes a married man in the play, upon some endearing occasion,
  look at his spouse with an air of fondness, and fall into the
  following reflection on his condition:</p>

  <div class='poem'>
    <div class='stanza'>
      <div class="line">
        "O Marriage! happiest, easiest, safest state;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Let debauchees and drunkards scorn thy rights,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Who, in their nauseous draughts and lusts, profane
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Both thee and Heaven by whom thou wert ordained.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        How can the savage call it loss of freedom,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Thus to converse with, thus to gaze at
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        A faithful, beauteous friend?
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Blush not, my fair one, that thy love applauds thee,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Nor be it painful to my wedded wife,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        That my full heart overflows in praise of thee.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Thou art by law, by interest, passion, mine:
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Passion and reason join in love of thee.
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        Thus, through a world of calumny and fraud,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        We pass both unreproached, both undeceived;
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        While in each other's interest and happiness,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        We without art all faculties employ,
      </div>

      <div class="line">
        And all our senses without guilt enjoy."
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>

  <h3>St. James's Coffee-house August 1.</h3>

  <p>Letters from the Hague of the 6th instant, N.S., say, that
  there daily arrive at our camp deserters in con<a class="pagenum"
  name='page399' title='399' id="page399"></a>siderable numbers;
  and that several of the enemy concealed themselves in the town of
  Tournay when the garrison marched into the citadel; after which,
  they presented themselves to the Duke of Marlborough; some of
  whom were commissioned officers. The Earl of Albemarle is
  appointed governor of the town. Soon after the surrender, there
  arose a dispute about a considerable work, which was asserted by
  the Allies to be part of the town, and by the French to belong to
  the citadel. It is said, Monsieur de Surville was so ingenious as
  to declare, he thought it to be comprehended within the limits of
  the town; but Monsieur de Mesgrigny, governor of the citadel, was
  of a contrary opinion. It is reported, that this affair
  occasioned great difficulties, which ended in a capitulation for
  the citadel itself; the principal article of which is, that it
  shall be surrendered on the 5th of September next, in case they
  are not in the meantime relieved. This circumstance gives
  foundation to believe, that the enemy have acted in this manner,
  rather from some hopes they conceive of a treaty of peace before
  that time, than any expectation from their army, which has
  retired towards their former works between Lens and La Bassée.
  These advices add, that his Excellency the Czarish Ambassador has
  communicated to the States-General, and the foreign Ministers
  residing at the Hague, a copy of a letter from his master's camp,
  which gives an account of the entire defeat of the Swedish army.
  They further say, that Count Piper is taken prisoner, and that it
  is doubted whether the King of Sweden himself was not killed in
  the action. We hear from Savoy, that Count Thaun having amused
  the enemy by a march as far as the Tarantaise, had suddenly
  repassed Mount Cenis, and moved towards Briançon. This unexpected
  disposition <a class="pagenum" name='page400' title='400' id=
  "page400"></a>is apprehended by the enemy as a piece of the Duke
  of Savoy's dexterity; and the French adding this circumstance to
  that of the Confederate squadron's lying before Toulon, convince
  themselves, that his royal highness has his thoughts upon the
  execution of some great design in those parts.</p>

  <div class='footnotes'>
    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag463'>[463]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote463' id="footnote463"></a>See <a href=
      '#number13'>No. 13</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag464'>[464]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote464' id="footnote464"></a>See <a href=
      '#number5'>No. 5</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag465'>[465]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote465' id="footnote465"></a>Lady Elizabeth
      Hastings (see <a href='#number42'>No. 42</a>).</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag466'>[466]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote466' id="footnote466"></a>See <a href=
      '#number33'>No. 33</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag467'>[467]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote467' id="footnote467"></a>In the
      <i>Spectator</i> for March 29, 1884, Mr. Swinburne published
      a letter saying that Steele was not the author of these
      famous words,&#8212;"the most exquisite tribute ever paid to
      the memory of a noble woman"; for the article in <a href=
      '#number42'>No. 42</a> was by Congreve. But Mr. Justin
      McCarthy afterwards pointed out that these words occur in
      <a href='#number49'>No. 49</a>, not <a href='#number42'>No.
      42</a>; and whether or no Congreve wrote the paper in
      <a href='#number42'>No. 42</a> which is at least
      doubtful&#8212;the article in <a href='#number49'>No. 49</a>
      is certainly Steele's.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag468'>[468]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote468' id="footnote468"></a>The title of
      one of Dryden's plays.</p>
    </blockquote>

    <blockquote class='footnote'>
      <div class='label'>
        <a href='#fntag469'>[469]</a>
      </div>

      <p><a name='footnote469' id="footnote469"></a>Henry Cromwell
      and Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas. See <a href='#number47'>No.
      47</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>
  </div>

  <h2>END OF VOL. I.</h2>

  <h3>Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON &amp; Co. London &amp;
  Edinburgh.</h3>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13645 ***</div>
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