Hence it was that I thought our parish church the noblest structure in
England, and the Squire's Place-House, as we called it, a most
magnificent palace. I had the same opinion of the alms-house in the
churchyard, and of a bridge over the brook that parts our parish from the
next. It was the common vogue of our school, that the master was the best
scholar in Europe, and the usher the second. Not happening to correct
these notions, by comparing them with what I saw when I came into the
world, upon returning back, I began to resume my former imaginations, and
expected all things should appear in the same view as I left them when
I was a boy: but to my utter disappointment I found them wonderfully
shrunk, and lessened almost out of my knowledge. I looked with contempt
on the tribes painted on the church walls, which I once so much admired,
and on the carved chimneypiece in the Squire's Hall. I found my old
master to be a poor ignorant pedant; and, in short, the whole scene to be
extremely changed for the worse. This I could not help mentioning,
because though it be of no consequence in itself, yet it is certain, that
most prejudices are contracted and retained by this narrow way of
thinking, which, in matters of the greatest moment are hardly shook off:
and which we only think true, because we were made to believe so, before
we were capable to distinguish between truth and falsehood. But there was
one prepossession which I confess to have parted with, much to my regret:
I mean the opinion of that native honesty and simplicity of manners,
which I had always imagined to be inherent in country-people. I soon
observed it was with them and us, as they say of animals; That every
species at land has one to resemble it at sea; for it was easy to
discover the seeds and principles of every vice and folly that one meets
with in the more known world, though shooting up in different forms. I
took a fancy out of the several inhabitants round, to furnish the camp,
the bar, and the Exchange, and some certain chocolate and coffeehouses,
with exact parallels to what, in many instances, they already produce.
There was a drunken quarrelsome smith, whom I have a hundred times
fancied at the head of a troop of dragoons. A weaver, within two doors of
my kinsman, was perpetually setting neighbours together by the ears. I
lamented to see how his talents were misplaced, and imagined what a
figure he might make in Westminster-Hall. Goodman Crop of Compton Farm,
wants nothing but a plum and a gold chain to qualify him for the
government of the City. My kinsman's stable-boy was a gibing companion
that would always have his jest. He would often put cow-itch in the
maids' beds, pull stools from under folks, and lay a coal upon their
shoes when they were asleep. He was at last turned off for some notable
piece of roguery, and when I came away, was loitering among the
ale-houses. Bless me, thought I, what a prodigious wit would this have
been with us! I could have matched all the sharpers between St. James's
and Covent Garden, with a notable fellow in the same neighbourhood,
(since hanged for picking pockets at fairs) could he have had the
advantages of their education. So nearly are the corruptions of the
country allied to those of the town, with no further difference than what
is made by another turn of thought and method of living!
[Footnote 1: "A reverend aspect, and a countenance formed to command,
have power to restrain some people; while others, who pay no regard to
those, are prevailed upon by the dint of writing, and the authority of a
great name." [T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: _I.e._ 1710-11. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: Gilles MГ©nage (1613-1692). The story is given in "Menagiana"
(vol. ii. pp. 49-51, second edition, 1695). C. Sorel, however, in his
"Francion" (1623) tells a similar story of a poet named Saluste, who
was fooled in like manner. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: Morphew's "Tatler" for January 13th, 1710 (No. 276),
contains the following: "Whereas an advertisement was yesterday delivered
out by the author of the late 'Female Tatler,' insinuating, [according to
his custom] that he is Isaac Bickerstaff Esq.; This is to give notice,
that this paper is continued to be sold by John Morphew as formerly,"
etc.
"The Female Tatler, by Mrs. Crackenthorpe, a Lady that knows every thing,"
had been begun July 8th, 1709, but was now defunct. [T.S.]]
THE TATLER, No. 5.
----_Laceratque, trahitque_
_Molle pecus_ VIR.[1]
FROM TUESDAY JAN. 23. TO SATURDAY JAN. 27. 1710.[2]
Amongst other severities I have met with from some critics, the cruellest
for an old man is, that they will not let me be at quiet in my bed, but
pursue me to my very dreams. I must not dream but when they please, nor
upon long continued subjects, however visionary in their own natures;
because there is a manifest moral quite through them, which to produce as
a dream is improbable and unnatural. The pain I might have had from this
objection, is prevented by considering they have missed another, against
which I should have been at a loss to defend myself. They should have
asked me, whether the dreams I publish can properly be called
Lucubrations, which is the name I have given to all my papers, whether in
volumes or half-sheets: so manifest a contradiction _in terminis_, that I
wonder no sophister ever thought of it: But the other is a cavil. I
remember when I was a boy at school, I have often dreamed out the whole
passages of a day; that I rode a journey, baited, supped, went to bed,
and rose the next morning: and I have known young ladies who could dream
a whole contexture of adventures in one night large enough to make a
novel. In youth the imagination is strong, not mixed with cares, nor
tinged with those passions that most disturb and confound it, such as
avarice, ambition, and many others. Now as old men are said to grow
children again, so in this article of dreaming, I am returned to my
childhood. My imagination is at full ease, without care, avarice, or
ambition, to clog it; by which, among many others, I have this advantage
of doubling the small remainder of my time, and living four-and-twenty
hours in the day. However, the dream I am now going to relate, is as wild
as can well be imagined, and adapted to please these refiners upon sleep,
without any moral that I can discover.
"It happened that my maid left on the table in my bedchamber, one of her
story books (as she calls them) which I took up, and found full of
strange impertinences, fitted to her taste and condition; of poor
servants that came to be ladies, and serving-men of low degree, who
married kings' daughters. Among other things, I met this sage
observation, 'That a lion would never hurt a true virgin.' With this
medley of nonsense in my fancy I went to bed, and dreamed that a friend
waked me in the morning, and proposed for pastime to spend a few hours in
seeing the parish lions, which he had not done since he came to town; and
because they showed but once a week, he would not miss the opportunity. I
said I would humour him; though, to speak the truth, I was not fond of
those cruel spectacles; and if it were not so ancient a custom, founded,
as I had heard, upon the wisest maxims, I should be apt to censure the
inhumanity of those who introduced it." All this will be a riddle to the
waking reader, till I discover the scene my imagination had formed upon
the maxim, "That a lion would never hurt a true virgin." "I dreamed, that
by a law of immemorial time, a he-lion was kept in every parish at the
common charge, and in a place provided, adjoining to the churchyard:
that, before any one of the fair sex was married, if she affirmed herself
to be a virgin, she must on her wedding day, and in her wedding clothes,
perform the ceremony of going alone into the den, and stay an hour with
the lion let loose, and kept fasting four-and-twenty hours on purpose. At
a proper height, above the den, were convenient galleries for the
relations and friends of the young couple, and open to all spectators. No
maiden was forced to offer herself to the lion; but if she refused, it
was a disgrace to marry her, and every one might have liberty of calling
her a whore. And methought it was as usual a diversion to see the parish
lions, as with us to go to a play or an opera. And it was reckoned
convenient to be near the church, either for marrying the virgin if she
escaped the trial, or for burying the bones when the lion had devoured
the rest, as he constantly did."
To go on therefore with the dream: "We called first (as I remember) to
see St. Dunstan's lion, but we were told they did not shew to-day: From
thence we went to that of Covent-Garden, which, to my great surprise, we
found as lean as a skeleton, when I expected quite the contrary; but the
keeper said it was no wonder at all, because the poor beast had not got
an ounce of woman's flesh since he came into the parish. This amazed me
more than the other, and I was forming to myself a mighty veneration for
the ladies in that quarter of the town, when the keeper went on, and
said, He wondered the parish would be at the charge of maintaining a lion
for nothing. Friend, (said I) do you call it nothing, to justify the
virtue of so many ladies, or has your lion lost his distinguishing
faculty? Can there be anything more for the honour of your parish, than
that all the ladies married in your church were pure virgins? That is
true, (said he) and the doctor knows it to his sorrow; for there has not
been a couple married in our church since his worship has been amongst
us. The virgins hereabouts are too wise to venture the claws of the lion;
and because nobody will marry them, have all entered into vows of
virginity. So that in proportion we have much the largest nunnery in
the whole town. This manner of ladies entering into a vow of virginity,
because they were not virgins, I easily conceived; and my dream told me,
that the whole kingdom was full of nunneries, plentifully stocked from
the same reason.
"We went to see another lion, where we found much company met in the
gallery; the keeper told us, we should see sport enough, as he called it;
and in a little time, we saw a young beautiful lady put into the den, who
walked up towards the lion with all imaginable security in her
countenance, and looked smiling upon her lover and friends in the
gallery; which I thought nothing extraordinary, because it was never
known that any lion had been mistaken. But, however, we were all
disappointed, for the lion lifted up his right paw, which was the fatal
sign, and advancing forward, seized her by the arm, and began to tear it:
The poor lady gave a terrible shriek, and cried out, 'The lion is just, I
am no true virgin! Oh! Sappho, Sappho.' She could say no more, for the
lion gave her the _coup de grace_, by a squeeze in the throat, and she
expired at his feet. The keeper dragged away her body to feed the animal
when the company was gone, for the parish-lions never used to eat in
public. After a little pause, another lady came on towards the lion in
the same manner as the former; we observed the beast smell her with great
diligence, he scratched both her hands with lifting them to his nose, and
clapping a claw on her bosom, drew blood; however he let her go, and at
the same time turned from her with a sort of contempt, at which she was
not a little mortified, and retired with some confusion to her friends in
the gallery. Methought the whole company immediately understood the
meaning of this, that the easiness of the lady had suffered her to admit
certain imprudent and dangerous familiarities, bordering too much upon
what is criminal; neither was it sure whether the lover then present
had not some sharers with him in those freedoms, of which a lady can
never be too sparing.
"This happened to be an extraordinary day, for a third lady came into the
den, laughing loud, playing with her fan, tossing her head, and smiling
round on the young fellows in the gallery. However, the lion leaped on
her with great fury, and we gave her for gone; but on a sudden he let go
his hold, turned from her as if he were nauseated, then gave her a lash
with his tail; after which she returned to the gallery, not the least out
of countenance: and this, it seems, was the usual treatment of coquettes.
"I thought we had now seen enough, but my friend would needs have us go
and visit one or two lions in the city. We called at two or three dens
where they happened not to shew, but we generally found half a score
young girls, between eight and eleven years old, playing with each lion,
sitting on his back, and putting their hands into his mouth; some of them
would now and then get a scratch; but we always discovered, upon
examining, that they had been hoydening with the young apprentices. One
of them was calling to a pretty girl of about twelve years, that stood by
us in the gallery, to come down to the lion, and upon her refusal, said,
'Ah! Miss Betty, we could never get you to come near the lion, since you
played at hoop and hide with my brother in the garret.'
"We followed a couple, with the wedding-folks, going to the church of St.
Mary-Axe. The lady, though well stricken in years, extremely crooked and
deformed, was dressed out beyond the gaiety of fifteen; having jumbled
together, as I imagined, all the tawdry remains of aunts, godmothers, and
grandmothers, for some generations past: One of the neighbours whispered
me, that she was an old maid, and had the clearest reputation of any in
the parish. There is nothing strange in that, thought I, but was much
surprised, when I observed afterwards that she went towards the lion with
distrust and concern. The beast was lying down, but upon sight of her,
snuffed up his nose two or three times, and then giving the sign of
death, proceeded instantly to execution. In the midst of her agonies, she
was heard to name the words, 'Italy' and 'artifices,' with the utmost
horror, and several repeated execrations: and at last concluded, 'Fool
that I was, to put so much confidence in the toughness of my skin.'
"The keeper immediately set all in order again for another customer,
which happened to be a famous prude, whom her parents after long
threatenings, and much persuasion, had with the extremest difficulty
prevailed on to accept a young handsome goldsmith, that might have
pretended to five times her fortune. The fathers and mothers in the
neighbourhood used to quote her for an example to their daughters. Her
elbows were rivetted to her sides, and her whole person so ordered as to
inform everybody that she was afraid they should touch her. She only
dreaded to approach the lion, because it was a he one, and abhorred to
think an animal of that sex should presume to breathe on her. The sight
of a man at twenty yards distance made her draw back her head. She always
sat upon the farther corner of the chair, though there were six chairs
between her and her lover, and with the door wide open, and her little
sister in the room. She was never saluted but at the tip of her ear, and
her father had much ado to make her dine without her gloves, when there
was a man at table. She entered the den with some fear, which we took to
proceed from the height of her modesty, offended at the sight of so many
men in the gallery. The lion beholding her at a distance, immediately
gave the deadly sign; at which the poor creature (methinks I see her
still) miscarried in a fright before us all. The lion seemed to be
surprised as much as we, and gave her time to make her confession, 'That
she was four months gone, by the foreman of her father's shop, that this
was her third big belly;' and when her friends asked, why she would
venture the trial? she said, 'Her nurse assured her, that a lion would
never hurt a woman with child.'" Upon this I immediately waked, and could
not help wishing, that the deputy-censors of my late institution were
endued with the same instinct as these parish-lions were.
[Footnote 1:
"Manditque, trahitque
Molle pecus."
_Aeneid_, ix. 340-341.
"Devours and tears the peaceful flock."
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: _I.e._ 1710-11. [T.S.]]
THE TATLER, NUMB. 298.[1]
_Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes,
Emollit mores._ OVID.[2]
FROM SATURDAY MARCH 3. TO TUESDAY MARCH 6. 1710.[3]
_From my own Apartment in Channel-Row, March 5_.
Those inferior duties of life which the French call _les petites
morales,_ or the smaller morals, are with us distinguished by the name of
good manners,[4] or breeding. This I look upon, in the general notion of
it, to be a sort of artificial good sense, adapted to the meanest
capacities, and introduced to make mankind easy in their commerce
with each other. Low and little understandings, without some rules of
this kind, would be perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies and
irregularities in behaviour, and in their ordinary conversation fall into
the same boisterous familiarities that one observes amongst them, when a
debauch has quite taken away the use of their reason. In other instances,
it is odd to consider, that for want of common discretion the very end of
good breeding is wholly perverted, and civility, intended to make us
easy, is employed in laying chains and fetters upon us, in debarring us
of our wishes, and in crossing our most reasonable desires and
inclinations. This abuse reigns chiefly in the country, as I found to my
vexation, when I was last there, in a visit I made to a neighbour about
two miles from my cousin. As soon as I entered the parlour, they forced
me into the great chair that stood close by a huge fire, and kept me
there by force till I was almost stifled. Then a boy came in great hurry
to pull off my boots, which I in vain opposed, urging that I must return
soon after dinner. In the mean time the good lady whispered her eldest
daughter, and slipped a key into her hand. She returned instantly with
a beer glass half full of _aqua mirabilis_ and syrup of gillyflowers.
I took as much as I had a mind for; but Madam vowed I should drink it
off, (for she was sure it would do me good after coming out of the cold
air) and I was forced to obey, which absolutely took away my stomach.
When dinner came in, I had a mind to sit at a distance from the fire; but
they told me, it was as much as my life was worth, and set me with my
back just against it. Though my appetite was quite gone, I resolved to
force down as much as I could, and desired the leg of a pullet. "Indeed,
Mr. Bickerstaff," says the lady, "you must eat a wing to oblige me," and
so put a couple upon my plate. I was persecuted at this rate during the
whole meal. As often as I called for small beer, the master tipped the
wink, and the servant brought me a brimmer of October. Some time after
dinner, I ordered my cousin's man who came with me to get ready the
horses; but it was resolved I should not stir that night; and when I
seemed pretty much bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to be
locked, and the children hid away my cloak and boots. The next question
was, what I would have for supper? I said I never eat anything at
night, but was at last in my own defence obliged to name the first thing
that came into my head. After three hours spent chiefly in apology for my
entertainment, insinuating to me, "That this was the worst time of the
year for provisions, that they were at a great distance from any market,
that they were afraid I should be starved, and they knew they kept me to
my loss," the lady went, and left me to her husband (for they took
special care I should never be alone.) As soon as her back was turned,
the little misses ran backwards and forwards every moment; and constantly
as they came in or went out, made a curtsy directly at me, which in good
manners I was forced to return with a bow, and "Your humble servant
pretty Miss." Exactly at eight the mother came up, and discovered by the
redness of her face, that supper was not far off. It was twice as large
as the dinner, and my persecution doubled in proportion. I desired at
my usual hour to go to my repose, and was conducted to my chamber by the
gentleman, his lady, and the whole train of children. They importuned me
to drink something before I went to bed, and upon my refusing, at last
left a bottle of stingo, as they called it, for fear I should wake and be
thirsty in the night. I was forced in the morning to rise and dress
myself in the dark, because they would not suffer my kinsman's servant to
disturb me at the hour I had desired to be called. I was now resolved to
break through all measures to get away, and after sitting down to a
monstrous breakfast of cold beef, mutton, neats'-tongues, venison-pasty,
and stale beer, took leave of the family; but the gentleman would needs
see me part of my way, and carry me a short cut through his own grounds,
which he told me would save half a mile's riding. This last piece of
civility had like to have cost me dear, being once or twice in danger of
my neck, by leaping over his ditches, and at last forced to alight in the
dirt, when my horse, having slipped his bridle, ran away, and took us up
more than an hour to recover him again.
It is evident that none of the absurdities I met with in this visit
proceeded from an ill intention, but from a wrong judgment of
complaisance, and a misapplication of the rules of it. I cannot so easily
excuse the more refined critics upon behaviour, who having professed no
other study, are yet infinitely defective in the most material parts of
it. Ned Fashion has been bred all his life about Court, and understands
to a tittle all the punctilios of a drawing-room. He visits most of the
fine women near St. James's, and upon all occasions says the civilest and
softest things to them of any man breathing. To Mr. Isaac[5] he owes an
easy slide in his bow, and a graceful manner of coming into a room. But
in some other cases he is very far from being a well-bred person: He
laughs at men of far superior understanding to his own, for not being as
well dressed as himself, despises all his acquaintance that are not
quality, and in public places has on that account often avoided taking
notice of some of the best speakers in the House of Commons. He rails
strenuously at both Universities before the members of either, and never
is heard to swear an oath, or break in upon morality or religion, but in
the company of divines. On the other hand, a man of right sense has all
the essentials of good breeding, though he may be wanting in the forms of
it. Horatio has spent most of his time at Oxford. He has a great deal of
learning, an agreeable wit, and as much modesty as serves to adorn
without concealing his other good qualities. In that retired way of
living, he seems to have formed a notion of human nature, as he has found
it described in the writings of the greatest men, not as he is like to
meet with it in the common course of life. Hence it is, that he gives no
offence, that he converses with great deference, candour, and humanity.
His bow, I must confess, is somewhat awkward; but then he has an
extensive, universal, and unaffected knowledge, which makes some amends
for it. He would make no extraordinary figure at a ball; but I can
assure the ladies in his behalf, and for their own consolation, that he
has writ better verses on the sex than any man now living, and is
preparing such a poem for the press as will transmit their praises and
his own to many generations.
[Footnote 1: In the reprint of "The Tatler," volume v., this number was
called No. 20. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: _Epist. ex Ponto_, II. ix. 47-48.
"An understanding in the liberal arts
Softens men's manners."
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: _I.e._ 1710-11. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: Compare Swift's "Treatise on Good Manners and Good
Breeding." [T.S.]]
[Footnote 5: A famous dancing-master in those days. [FAULKNER.] He died
in 1740. [T.S.]]
THE TATLER, NUMB, 302.[1]
_O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nostri,
(Quod numquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli
Diceret, Haec mea sunt, veteres migrate coloni._
VIRG.[2]
FROM TUESDAY MARCH 13. TO THURSDAY MARCH 15. 1710.[3]
_From my own Apartment in Channel-Row, March 14._
The dignity and distinction of men of wit is seldom enough considered,
either by themselves or others; their own behaviour, and the usage they
meet with, being generally very much of a piece. I have at this time in
my hands an alphabetical list of the _beaux esprits_ about this town,
four or five of whom have made the proper use of their genius, by gaining
the esteem of the best and greatest men, and by turning it to their own
advantage in some establishment of their fortunes, however unequal to
their merit; others satisfying themselves with the honour of having
access to great tables, and of being subject to the call of every man
of quality, who upon occasion wants one to say witty things for the
diversion of the company. This treatment never moves my indignation so
much, as when it is practised by a person, who though he owes his own
rise purely to the reputation of his parts, yet appears to be as much
ashamed of it, as a rich city knight to be denominated from the trade
he was first apprenticed to, and affects the air of a man born to his
titles, and consequently above the character of a wit, or a scholar. If
those who possess great endowments of the mind would set a just value
upon themselves, they would think no man's acquaintance whatsoever a
condescension, nor accept it from the greatest upon unworthy or
ignominious terms. I know a certain lord that has often invited a set
of people, and proposed for their diversion a buffoon player, and an
eminent poet, to be of the party; and which was yet worse, thought them
both sufficiently recompensed by the dinner, and the honour of his
company. This kind of insolence is risen to such a height, that I my self
was the other day sent to by a man with a title, whom I had never seen,
desiring the favour that I would dine with him and half a dozen of his
select friends. I found afterwards, the footman had told my maid below
stairs, that my lord having a mind to be merry, had resolved right or
wrong to send for honest Isaac. I was sufficiently provoked with the
message; however I gave the fellow no other answer, than that "I believed
he had mistaken the person, for I did not remember that his lord had ever
been introduced to me." I have reason to apprehend that this abuse hath
been owing rather to a meanness of spirit in men of parts, than to the
natural pride or ignorance of their patrons. Young students coming up
to town from the places of their education, are dazzled with the grandeur
they everywhere meet, and making too much haste to distinguish their
parts, instead of waiting to be desired and caressed, are ready to pay
their court at any rate to a great man, whose name they have seen in a
public paper, or the frontispiece of a dedication. It has not always been
thus: wit in polite ages has ever begot either esteem or fear. The hopes
of being celebrated, or the dread of being stigmatized, procured an
universal respect and awe for the persons of such as were allowed to have
the power of distributing fame or infamy where they pleased. Aretine had
all the princes of Europe his tributaries, and when any of them had
committed a folly that laid them open to his censure, they were forced by
some present extraordinary to compound for his silence; of which there is
a famous instance on record. When Charles the Fifth had miscarried
in his African expedition, which was looked upon as the weakest
undertaking of that great Emperor, he sent Aretine[4] a gold chain, who
made some difficulty of accepting it, saying, "It was too small a present
in all reason for so great a folly." For my own part, in this point I
differ from him, and never could be prevailed upon, by any valuable
consideration to conceal a fault or a folly since I first took the
censorship upon me.
Having long considered with my self the ill application that some make of
their talents, I have this day erected a Court of Alienation, by the
statutes of which the next a kin is empowered to _beg_ the parts and
understanding of any such person as can be proved, either by embezzling,
making a wrong use, or no use at all of the said parts and understanding,
not to know the true value thereof: who shall immediately be put out of
possession, and disqualified for ever; the said kinsman giving sufficient
security that he will employ them as the court shall direct. I have set
down under certain heads the several ways by which men prostitute and
abuse their parts, and from thence have framed a table of rules, whereby
the plaintiff may be informed when he has a good title to eject the
defendant. I may in a following paper give the world some account of the
proceedings of this court. I have already got two able critics for my
assessors upon the bench, who, though they have always exercised their
pens in taking off from the wit of others, have never pretended to
challenge any themselves, and consequently are in no danger of being
engaged in making claims, or of having any suits commence against them.
Every writer shall be tried by his peers, throughly versed in that point
wherein he pretends to excel; for which reason the jury can never consist
of above half the ordinary number. I shall in general be very tender how
I put any person out of his wits; but as the management of such
possessions is of great consequence to the world, I shall hold my self
obliged to vest the right in such hands as will answer the great purposes
they were intended for, and leave the former proprietors to seek their
fortune in some other way.
[Footnote 1: Called No. 24 in the reprint of "The Tatler," vol. v. [T.
S.]]
[Footnote 2: _Eclogues_, ix. 2-4.
"O Lycidas,
We never thought, yet have we lived to see
A stranger seize our farm, and say, 'Tis mine,
Begone, ye old inhabitants."--C.R. KENNEDY.
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: _I.e._ 1710-11. Under date March 14th Swift writes to
Stella: "Little Harrison the 'Tatler' came to me, and begged me to
dictate a paper to him, which I was forced in charity to do." [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: Pietro Aretino (1492-1557), called "the scourge of Princes."
His prose is fiercely satirical, and his poetry as strongly obscene. His
works were condemned for their indecency and impiety. He received
numerous and valuable gifts from those who were afraid of his criticisms.
His sonnets, written to accompany engravings by Marc Antonio, from
designs by Giulio Romano (1524), largely contributed to his reputation
for obscenity. [T.S.]]
THE TATLER, NUMB. 306.[1]
_Morte carent animae; semperque, priore relictГў
Sede, novis domibus habitant vivuntque receptae.
Ipse ego (nam memini) Trojani tempore belli
Panthoides Euphorbus eram_--
OVID. MET.[2]
FROM THURSDAY MARCH 22, TO SATURDAY MARCH 24, 1710.[3]
_From my own Apartment, March 22._
My other correspondents will excuse me if I give the precedency to a
lady, whose letter, amongst many more, is just come to hand.
"DEAR ISAAC,
"I burn with impatience to know what and who you are. The curiosity of my
whole sex is fallen upon me, and has kept me waking these three nights. I
have dreamed often of you within this fortnight, and every time you
appeared in a different form. As you value my repose, tell me in which of
them I am to be
"Your admirer,
"SYLVIA."
It is natural for a man who receives a favour of this kind from an
unknown fair, to frame immediately some idea of her person, which being
suited to the opinion we have of our own merit, is commonly as beautiful
and perfect as the most lavish imagination can furnish out. Strongly
possessed with these notions, I have read over Sylvia's billet; and
notwithstanding the reserve I have had upon this matter, am resolved to
go a much greater length, than I yet ever did, in making my self known to
the world, and, in particular, to my charming correspondent. In order to
it I must premise, that the person produced as mine in the play-house
last winter, did in nowise appertain to me. It was such a one however as
agreed well with the impression my writings had made, and served the
purpose I intended it for; which was to continue the awe and reverence
due to the character I was vested with, and, at the same time, to let my
enemies see how much I was the delight and favourite of this town. This
innocent imposture, which I have all along taken care to carry on, as
it then was of some use, has since been of singular service to me, and by
being mentioned in one of my papers, effectually recovered my egoity out
of the hands of some gentlemen who endeavoured to wrest it from me. This
is saying, in short, what I am not: what I am, and have been for many
years, is next to be explained. Here it will not be improper to remind
Sylvia, that there was formerly such a philosopher as Pythagoras, who,
amongst other doctrines, taught the transmigration of souls, which, if
she sincerely believes, she will not be much startled at the following
relation.
I will not trouble her, nor my other readers, with the particulars of all
the lives I have successively passed through since my first entrance into
mortal being, which is now many centuries ago. It is enough that I have
in every one of them opposed myself with the utmost resolution to the
follies and vices of the several ages I have been acquainted with, that I
have often rallied the world into good manners, and kept the greatest
princes in awe of my satire. There is one circumstance which I shall not
omit, though it may seem to reflect on my character, I mean that infinite
love of change which has ever appeared in the disposal of my existence.
Since the days of the Emperor Trajan, I have not been confined to the
same person for twenty years together; but have passed from one abode to
another, much quicker than the Pythagorean system generally allows. By
this means, I have seldom had a body to myself, but have lodged up and
down wherever I found a genius suitable to my own. In this manner I
continued, some time with the top wit of France, at another with that of
Italy, who had a statue erected to his memory in Rome. Towards the end of
the 17th century, I set out for England; but the gentleman I came over in
dying as soon as he got to shore, I was obliged to look out again for a
new habitation. It was not long before I met with one to my mind, for
having mixed myself invisibly with the _literati_ of this kingdom, I
found it was unanimously agreed amongst them, That nobody was endowed
with greater talents than Hiereus;[4] or, consequently, would be better
pleased with my company. I slipped down his throat one night as he was
fast asleep, and the next morning, as soon as he awaked, he fell to
writing a treatise that was received with great applause, though he had
the modesty not to set his name to that nor to any other of our
productions. Some time after, he published a paper of predictions,
which were translated into several languages, and alarmed some of the
greatest princes in Europe. To these he prefixed the name of Isaac
Bickerstaff, Esq; which I have been extremely fond of ever since, and
have taken care that most of the writings I have been concerned in should
be distinguished by it; though I must observe, that there have been many
counterfeits imposed upon the public by this means. This extraordinary
man being called out of the kingdom by affairs of his own, I resolved,
however, to continue somewhat longer in a country where my works had
been so well received, and accordingly bestowed myself with Hilario.[5]
His natural wit, his lively turn of humour, and great penetration into
human nature, easily determined me to this choice, the effects of which
were soon after produced in this paper, called "The Tatler." I know not
how it happened, but in less than two years' time Hilario grew weary of
my company, and gave me warning to be gone. In the height of my
resentment, I cast my eyes on a young fellow,[6] of no extraordinary
qualifications, whom, for that very reason, I had the more pride in
taking under my direction, and enabling him, by some means or other, to
carry on the work I was before engaged in. Lest he should grow too vain
upon this encouragement, I to this day keep him under due mortification.
I seldom reside with him when any of his friends are at leisure to
receive me, by whose hands, however, he is duly supplied. As I have
passed through many scenes of life, and a long series of years, I choose
to be considered in the character of an old fellow, and take care that
those under my influence should speak consonantly to it. This account, I
presume, will give no small consolation to Sylvia, who may rest assured,
that Isaac Bickerstaff is to be seen in more forms than she dreamt of;
out of which variety she may choose what is most agreeable to her fancy.
On Tuesdays, he is sometimes a black, proper, young gentleman, with a
mole on his left cheek. On Thursdays, a decent well-looking man, of a
middle stature, long flaxen hair, and a florid complexion. On Saturdays,
he is somewhat of the shortest, and may be known from others of that size
by talking in a low voice, and passing through the streets without much
precipitation.
[Footnote 1: No. 28 in the reprint of "The Tatler," vol. v. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: _Metamorphoses_, xv. 158-161.
"Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.
Ev'n I, who these mysterious truths declare,
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war."
J. DRYDEN.
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: I.e. 1710-11. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: Swift. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 5: Steele. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 6: Harrison. [T.S.]]
* * * * * *
CONTRIBUTIONS TO "THE EXAMINER."
NOTE.
The new ministry, which came into power on the fall of the able
administration of Godolphin in 1710, was the famous Oxford ministry
headed by Harley and St. John. The new leaders were well aware that they
would have to use all the means in their power not only to justify
themselves to the English nation, but successfully to defeat the strong
opposition which had such a man as Marlborough for its moving spirit. The
address to Queen Anne from the Commons, showing undoubted evidences of
St. John's hand, was the first employment of a means by which this
ministry hoped to appeal to the public. But this remarkable literary
effort had already been preceded by the establishment of a weekly
political paper, entitled "The Examiner," a few weeks before
Godolphin's fall. During the months of August, September, and
October, in which were issued twelve papers, Dr. Freind, Atterbury,
Prior and St. John, were the men employed to arouse the nation to a
necessary condition of discontent. Now that the ministry was in
power, the necessity for continuing these public appeals was felt to be
all the stronger; and Harley's shrewdness in selecting Swift to take
this important matter in hand shows his ability as a party leader.
The first number of "The Examiner" was issued on August 3rd, 1710,
and the paper was continued until July 26th, 1711. On December 6th,
1711, William Oldisworth revived it, and issued it weekly until December
18th, 1712, after which date it was published twice a week until
July 26th, 1714, though it occasionally happened that only one was
issued in a week. The last number was No. 19 of the sixth volume, so
that Oldisworth edited vols. ii., iii., iv., v., and what was published
of vol. vi. The death of the Queen put an end to the publication.
Swift was called to his work about the middle of October of 1710,
and his first paper appeared in No. 14. From that number to No. 45,
Swift continued with unabated zeal and with masterly effect to carry
out the policy of his friends. He also wrote a part of No. 46, and Nos.
16 and 21 of the third volume, which appeared on January 16th and
February 2nd, 1712-13. These two last numbers are not included in
the present volume; since they have been printed in the fifth volume
of this edition of Swift's works with the titles "An Appendix to the
Conduct of the Allies" and "The Vindication of Erasmus Lewis."
The appearance of "The Examiner" had brought an opposition paper into the
field, entitled "The Whig Examiner," a periodical that ably maintained
its party's stand in the face of St. John's attacks. But this paper only
lasted for five weeks, and when Swift took charge of the Tory organ, the
position of "The Examiner" was entirely altered. As Mr. Churton Collins
ably remarks: "It became a voice of power in every town and in every
hamlet throughout England. It was an appeal made, not to the political
cliques of the metropolis, but to the whole kingdom; and to the whole
kingdom it spoke.... No one who will take the trouble to glance at
Swift's contributions to 'The Examiner' will be surprised at their
effect. They are masterpieces of polemical skill. Every sentence--every
word--comes home. Their logic, adapted to the meanest capacity, smites
like a hammer. Their statements, often a tissue of mere sophistry and
assumption, appear so plausible, that it is difficult even for the cool
historian to avoid being carried away by them. At a time when party
spirit was running high, and few men stopped to weigh evidence, they must
have been irresistible." ("Jonathan Swift," 1893, p. 81.)
In his "Memoirs relating to that Change" (vol. v., p 384), Swift gives
the following explanation of the foundation of this paper. "Upon the rise
of this ministry the principal persons in power thought it necessary that
some weekly paper should be published, with just reflections upon former
proceedings, and defending the present measures of Her Majesty. This was
begun about the time of the Lord Godolphin's removal, under the name of
'The Examiner.' ... The determination was that I should continue it,
which I did accordingly for about eight months."
Gay remarks in his pamphlet, "The Present State of Wit, in a Letter to a
Friend in the Country," 1711: "'The Examiner' is a paper which all men,
who speak without prejudice, allow to be well writ. Though his subject
will admit of no great variety, he is continually placing it on so many
different lights, and endeavouring to inculcate the same thing by so many
beautiful changes of expressions, that men who are concerned in no party,
may read him with pleasure. His way of assuming the question in debate is
extremely artful; and his 'Letter to Crassus' [No. 28] is, I think, a
masterpiece.... I presume I need not tell you that 'The Examiner' carries
much the more sail as 'tis supposed to be writ by the direction, and
under the eye of some great persons who sit at the helm of affairs, and
is consequently looked on as a sort of public notice which way they are
steering us. The reputed author is Dr. S[wif]t, with the assistance
sometimes of Dr. Att[erbur]y and Mr. P[rio]r." With the fall of
Bolingbroke on the death of Queen Anne and the accession of George I.,
"The Examiner" collapsed. [T.S.]
THE EXAMINER.
NUMB. 14.[1]
FROM THURSDAY OCTOBER 26 TO THURSDAY NOVEMBER 2, 1710.
--_Longa est injuria, longae
Ambages, sed summa sequar fastigia rerum_.[2]
It is a practice I have generally followed, to converse in equal freedom
with the deserving men of both parties; and it was never without some
contempt, that I have observed persons wholly out of employment, affect
to do otherwise: I doubted whether any man could owe so much to the side
he was of, though he were retained by it; but without some great point of
interest, either in possession or prospect, I thought it was the mark of
a low and narrow spirit.
It is hard, that, for some weeks past, I have been forced in my own
defence, to follow a proceeding that I have so much condemned in others.
But several of my acquaintance among the declining party, are grown so
insufferably peevish and splenetic, profess such violent apprehensions
for the public, and represent the state of things in such formidable
ideas, that I find myself disposed to share in their afflictions, though
I know them to be groundless and imaginary, or, which is worse, purely
affected. To offer them comfort one by one, would be not only an
endless, but a disobliging task. Some of them, I am convinced would be
less melancholy, if there were more occasion. I shall therefore, instead
of hearkening to further complaints, employ some part of this paper for
the future, in letting such men see, that their natural or acquired fears
are ill-grounded, and their artificial ones as ill-intended. That all
our present inconveniencies,[3] are the consequence of the very counsels
they so much admire, which would still have increased, if those had
continued: and that neither our constitution in Church or State, could
probably have been long preserved, without such methods as have been
lately taken.
The late revolutions at court, have given room to some specious
objections, which I have heard repeated by well-meaning men, just as they
had taken them up on the credit of others, who have worse designs. They
wonder the Queen would choose to change her ministry at this juncture,[4]
and thereby give uneasiness to a general who has been so long successful
abroad; and might think himself injured, if the entire ministry were not
of his own nomination. That there were few complaints of any consequence
against the late men in power, and none at all in Parliament; which on
the contrary, passed votes in favour of the chief minister. That if her
Majesty had a mind to introduce the other party, it would have been more
seasonable after a peace, which now we have made desperate, by spiriting
the French, who rejoice at these changes, and by the fall of our credit,
which unqualifies us for continuing the war. That the Parliament so
untimely dissolved,[5] had been diligent in their supplies, and dutiful
in their behaviour. That one consequence of these changes appears already
in the fall of the stocks: that we may soon expect more and worse: and
lastly, that all this naturally tends to break the settlement of the
Crown, and call over the Pretender.
These and the like notions are plentifully scattered abroad, by the
malice of a ruined party, to render the Queen and her administration
odious, and to inflame the nation. And these are what, upon occasion, I
shall endeavour to overthrow, by discovering the falsehood and absurdity
of them.
It is a great unhappiness, when in a government constituted like ours, it
should be so brought about, that the continuance of a war, must be for
the interest of vast numbers (peaceable as well as military) who would
otherwise have been as unknown as their original. I think our present
condition of affairs, is admirably described by two verses in Lucan,
_Hinc usura vorax, avidumque in tempore foenus,
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum_,[6]
which without any great force upon the words, may be thus translated,
"Hence are derived those exorbitant interests and annuities; hence those
large discounts for advances and prompt payment; hence public credit is
shaken, and hence great numbers find their profit in prolonging the war."
It is odd, that among a free trading people, as we take ourselves to be,
there should so many be found to close in with those counsels, who have
been ever averse from all overtures towards a peace. But yet there is no
great mystery in the matter. Let any man observe the equipages in this
town; he shall find the greater number of those who make a figure, to be
a species of men quite different from any that were ever known before the
Revolution, consisting either of generals and colonels, or of such whose
whole fortunes lie in funds and stocks: so that power, which according to
the old maxim, was used to follow land, is now gone over to money; and
the country gentleman is in the condition of a young heir, out of whose
estate a scrivener receives half the rents for interest, and hath a
mortgage on the whole, and is therefore always ready to feed his vices
and extravagancies while there is any thing left. So that if the war
continues some years longer, a landed man will be little better than a
farmer at a rack rent, to the army, and to the public funds.
It may perhaps be worth inquiring from what beginnings, and by what steps
we have been brought into this desperate condition: and in search of
this, we must run up as high as the Revolution.
Most of the nobility and gentry who invited over the Prince of Orange, or
attended him in his expedition, were true lovers of their country and its
constitution, in Church and State; and were brought to yield to those
breaches in the succession of the crown, out of a regard to the necessity
of the kingdom, and the safety of the people, which did, and could only,
make them lawful; but without intention of drawing such a practice into
precedent, or making it a standing measure by which to proceed in all
times to come; and therefore we find their counsels ever tended to keep
things as much as possible in the old course. But soon after, an under
set of men, who had nothing to lose, and had neither borne the burthen
nor heat of the day, found means to whisper in the king's ear, that the
principles of loyalty in the Church of England, were wholly inconsistent
with the Revolution.[7] Hence began the early practice of caressing
the dissenters, reviling the universities, as maintainers of arbitrary
power, and reproaching the clergy with the doctrines of divine-right,
passive obedience and non-resistance.[8] At the same time, in order to
fasten wealthy people to the new government, they proposed those
pernicious expedients of borrowing money by vast _premiums_, and at
exorbitant interest: a practice as old as Eumenes,[9] one of Alexander's
captains, who setting up for himself after the death of his master,
persuaded his principal officers to lend him great sums, after which they
were forced to follow him for their own security.
