No. 188.] Thursday, June 22, 1710. From my own Apartment, June 21. I was this morning looking over my letters, that I have lately received from my several correspondents; some of which, referring to my late papers, I have laid aside, with an intent to give my reader a sight of them. The first criticises upon my green-house, and is as follows: South Wales, June 7. MR. BICKERSTAFF,-This letter comes to you from my orangery, which I intend to reform as much as I can, according to your ingenious model; and shall only beg of you to communicate to me your secret of preserving grass plots in a covered room; for, in the climate where my country-seat lies, they require rain and dews as well as sun and fresh air, and cannot live upon such fine food as your sifted weather. I must likewise desire you to write over your green-house the following motto: Hic ver perpetuum, atque alienis mensibus æstas. Instead of your their own wills in a business like marriage. It is a matter in which neither I myself, nor any of my kindred, were ever humoured. My wife and I never pretended to love one another like your Sylvias and Philanders; and yet, if you saw our fire-side, you would be satisfied we are not always a squabbling. For my part, I think that where man and woman come together by their own good liking, there is so much fondling and fooling, that it hinders young people from minding their business. I must therefore desire you to change your note; and instead of advising us old folks, who perhaps have more wit than yourself, to let Sylvia know, that she ought to act like a dutiful daughter, and marry the man that she does not care for. Our greatgrandmothers were all bid to marry first, and love would come afterwards; and I do not see why their daughters should follow their own inventions. I am resolved Winifred shall not. 'Yours, &c.' This letter is a natural picture of ordinary contracts, and of the sentiments of those minds that lie under a kind of intellectual rusticity. This trifling occasion made me run over in my imagination the many scenes I have observed of the marriage condition, wherein the quintessence of pleasure and pain are represented, as they accompany that state, and no other. It is certain, there are many thousands like the abovementioned yeoman and his wife, who are never highly pleased or distasted in their whole lives. But when we consider the more informed part of mankind, and look upon their behaviour, it then appears that very little of their time is indifferent, but generally spent in the most anxious Some god, convey me to the cooling shades vexation, or the highest satisfaction. Shakspeare Of dewy Hamnus!has admirably represented both the aspects of 'Which, under favour, is the panting of one this state in the most excellent tragedy of Othel in summer after cool shades, and not of one inlo. In the character of Desdemona, he runs winter after a summer-house. The rest of your plan is very beautiful; and that your friend, who has so well described it, may enjoy it many winters, is the hearty wish of O! quis me gelidis sub montibus Hæmi R. Wynne. His and your unknown, &c. This oversight of a grass-plot in my friend's green-house, puts me in mind of a like inconsistency in a celebrated picture; where Moses represented as striking a rock, and the children of Israel quenching their thirst at the waters that flow from it, and run through a beautiful landscape of groves and meadows, which could not flourish in a place where water was to have been found only by a miracle. The next letter comes to me from a Kentish yeoman, who is very angry with me for my advice to parents, occasioned by the amours of Sylvia and Philander, as related in my paper, No. 185. SQUIRE BICKERSTAFF, I do not know by what chance one of your Tatlers is got into my family, and has almost turned the brains of my eldest daughter, Winifred; who has been so undutiful as to fall in love of her own head, and tells me a foolish heathen story that she has read in your paper, to persuade me to give my consent. I am too wise to let children have through all the sentiments of a virtuous maid, -I think the sun where he was born This opinion of him is so just, that his noblo and tender heart beats itself to pieces, before he can affront her with the mention of his jealousy; and he owns, this suspicion has blotted out all it was possessed with, when he laments himself the sense of glory and happiness which before in the warm allusions of a mind accustomed to I had been happy, if the general camp, Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, Pride, pomp, and circumstance, of glorious war! I believe I may venture to say, there is not in any other part of Shakspeare's works more strong and lively pictures of nature than in this. I shall therefore steal incognito to see it, out of curiosity to observe how Wilks and Cibber touch those places, where Betterton and Sandford so very highly excelled. But now I am got into discourse of acting, with which I am so professedly pleased, I shall conclude this paper with a note I have just received from the two ingenious friends, Mr. Penkethman and Mr. Bullock. 'SIR,-Finding by your paper, No. 182, that you are drawing parallels between the greatest actors of the age; as you have already begun with Mr. Wilks and Mr. Cibber, we desire you would do the same justice to your humble servants, WM. BULLOCK AND WM. PENKETHMAN.' For the information of posterity, I shall comply with this letter, and set these two great men in such a light as Sallust has placed his Cato and Cæsar. Mr. William Bullock and Mr. William Penkethman are of the same age, profession, and sex. They both distinguish themselves in a very particular manner under the discipline of the crab-tree, with this only difference, that Mr. Bullock has the more agreeable squall, and Mr. Penkethman the more graceful shrug. Penkethman devours a cold chick with great applause; Bullock's talent lies chiefly in asparagus. Penkethman is very dexterous at conveying himself under a table; Bullock is no less active at jumping over a stick. Mr. Penkethman has a great deal of money; but Mr. Bullock is the taller man. In steers laborious, and in generous steeds From my own Apartment, June 23. HAVING lately turned my thoughts upon the considerations of the behaviour of parents to children in the great affair of marriage, I took much delight in turning over a bundle of let ters, which a gentleman's steward in the country had sent me some time ago. This parcel is a collection of letters written by the children of the family, to which he belongs, to their father; and contains all the little passages of their lives, and the new ideas they received as their years advanced. There is in them an account of their diversions as well as their exercises; and what I thought very remarkable is, that two sons of the family, who now make considerable figures in the world, gave omens of that sort of character which they now bear, in the first rudiments of thought which they show in their letters. Were one to point out a method of education, one could not, methinks, frame one more pleasing or improving than this; where the children get a habit of communicating their thoughts and inclinations to their best friend with so much freedom, that he can form schemes for their future life and conduct from an observation of their tempers; and by that means be early enough in choosing their way of life, to make them forward in some art or science at an age when others have not determined what profession to follow. As to the persons concerned in this packet I am speaking of, they have given great proofs of the force of this conduct of their father in the effect it has upon their lives and manners. The elder, who. is a scholar, showed from his infancy a propensity to polite studies, but his learning is so well woven into his mind, and has made a suitable progress in literature; that from the impression of it, he seems rather to have contracted a habit of life, than manner of discourse. To his books he seems to owe a good economy in his affairs, and a complacency in his manners, though in others that way of education has commonly a quite different effect. The epistles of the other son are full of accounts of what he thought most remarkable in his reading. He sends his father for news the last noble story he had read. I observe, he is particularly touched with the conduct of Codrus, who plotted his own death, because the oracle had said, if he were not killed, the enemy should prevail over his country. Many other, incidents in his little letters give omens of a soul capable of generous undertakings; and what makes it the more particular is, that this gentleman had, in the present war, the honour and happiness of doing an action, for which only it was worth coming into the world. Their father is the most intimate friend they have; and they always consult him rather than any other, when any error has happened in their conduct through youth and inadvertency. The behaviour of this gentleman to his sons has made his life pass away with the pleasures of second youth; for, as the vexations which men receive from their children hasten the approach of age, and double the force of years; so the comforts, which they reap from them, are balm to all other sorrows, and disappoint the injuries of time. Parents of children repeat their lives in their offspring; and their concern for them is so near, that they feel all their sufferings and enjoyments as much as if they regarded their own proper persons. But it is generally so far otherwise, that the common race of esquires in this kingdom use their sons as persons that are waiting only for their funerals, and spies upon their health and happiness; as indeed they are, by their own making them such. In cases where a man takes the liberty after this manner to reprehend others, it is commonly said, let him look at home. I am sorry to own it; but there is one branch of the house of the Bickerstaffs, who have been as erroneous in their conduct this way as any other family whatsoever. The head of this branch is now in town, and has brought up with him his keep an exact account of your linen. Write down what you give out to your laundress, and what she brings home again. Go as little as possible to the other end of the town; but if you do, come home early. I believe I was as sharp as you for your years; and I had my hat snatched off my head coming home late at a stop by St. Clement's church, and I do not know from that day to this who took it. I do not care if you learn to fence a little; for I would not have you be made a fool of. Let me have an account of every thing, every post; I am willing to be at that charge, and I think you need not spare your pains. As for you, daughter Molly, do not mind one word that is said to you in London; for it is only for your money.' son and daughter, who are all the children he has, in order to be put some way into the world, and see fashions. They are both very ill-bred cubs; and having lived together from their infancy, without knowledge of the distinctions and decencies that are proper to be paid to each other's sex, they squabble like two brothers. The father is one of those who knows no better than that all pleasure is debauchery; and ima. gines, when he sees a man become his estate, that he will certainly spend it. This branch are a people who never had among them one man eminent either for good or ill; however, have all along kept their heads just above water, not by a prudent and regular economy, but by expedients in the matches they have made into their house. When one of the family has, in the pursuit of foxes, and in the entertainment of clowns, run out the third part of the value of his estate, such a spendthrift has dressed up his eldest son, and married what they call a good fortune; who has supported the father as a ty. rant over them, during his life, in the same house or neighbourhood. The son, in succession, has just taken the same method to keep up his dignity, until the mortgages he has ate and drunk himself into, have reduced him to the ne-gard to a man's self is the most pitiful and concessity of sacrificing his son also, in imitation temptible of all passions; and such a time cer. of his progenitor. This had been, for many ge- tainly is when the true public spirit of a nation nerations, the whole that had happened in the is run into a faction against their friends and family of Sam Bickerstaff, until the time of my benefactors. present cousin Samuel, the father of the young people we have just now spoken of. Samuel Bickerstaff, esquire, is so happy, as that by several legacies from distant relations, deaths of maiden sisters, and other instances of good fortune, he has besides his real estate, a great sum of ready money. His son at the same time knows he has a good fortune, which the father cannot alienate; though he strives to make him believe, he depends only on his will for maintenance. Tom is now in his nineteenth year, Mrs. Mary in her fifteenth. Cousin Samuel, who understands no one point of good behaviour as it regards all the rest of the world, is an exact critic in the dress, the motion, the looks, and gestures of his children. What adds to their misery is, that he is excessively fond of them, and the greatest part of their time is spent in the presence of this nice observer. Their life is one continued constraint. The girl never turns her head, but she is warned not to follow the proud minxes of the town. The boy is not to turn fop, or be quarrelsome; at the same time, not to take an affront. I had the good fortune to dine with him to-day, and heard his fatherly table-talk as we sat at dinner, which, if my me. mory does not fail me, for the benefit of the world, I shall set down as he spoke it; which was much as follows, and may be of great use to those parents, who seem to make it a rule, that their children's turn to enjoy the world is not to commence, until they themselves have left it. Now, Tom, I have bought you chambers in the inns of court. I allow you to take a walk once or twice a-day round the garden. If you mind your business, you need not study to be as great a lawyer as Coke upon Littleton. I have that that will keep you; but be sure you 2 T No. 190.] Tuesday, June 27, 1710. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. Virg. Æn. ii. 48. Trojans all Greeks and Grecian gifts distrust. Sheer-lane, June 26. THERE are some occasions in life, wherein re I have hinted heretofore some things which discover the real sorrow I am in at the observation, that it is now very much so in Great Britain, and have had the honour to be pelted with several epistles to expostulate with me on that subject. Among others, one from a person of the number of those they call Qua. kers, who seems to admonish me out of pure zeal and good-will. But as there is no character so unjust as that of talking in party upon all occasions, without respect to merit or worth on the contrary side; so there is no part we can act so justifiable as to speak our mind when we see things urged to extremity, against all that is praise-worthy or valuable in life, upon general and groundless suggestions. But if I have talked too frankly upon such reflections, my correspondent has laid before me, after his way, the error of it in a manner that makes me indeed thankful for his kindness, but the more inclinable to repeat the imprudence from the necessity of the circumstance. The twenty-third of the sixth month, which is the month June. 'FRIEND ISAAC,-Forasmuch as I love thee, I cannot any longer refrain declaring my mind unto thee concerning some things. Thou didst thyself indite the epistle inserted in one of thy late lucubrations, as thou wouldst have us call them: for verily thy friend of stone, and I speak according to knowledge, hath no fingers; and though he hath a mouth, yet speaketh he not therewith; nor yet did that epistle at all come unto thee from the mansion-house of the scarlet whore. It is plain therefore, that the truth is not in thee: but since thou wouldst lie, couldst not thou lie with more discretion? Wherefore shouldst thou insult over the afflicted, ge. Sheer-lane, June 24. 'SIR,-You have by the fine a plain right, in which none else of your family can be your competitor; for which reason, by all means demand vassalage upon that title. The contrary advice can be given for no other purpose in nature but to betray you, and favour other pretenders, by making you place a right which is in you only, upon a level with a right which you have in common with others. I am, Sir, your I. B.' most faithful servant, until death, or add sorrow unto the heavy of heart? Truly | to whom any deviation from the line of succesthis gall proceedeth not from the spirit of meek- sion is always invidious. Yours, &c.' ness. I tell thee moreover, the people of this land be marvellously given to change; insomuch that it may likely come to pass, that before thou art many years nearer to thy dissolution, thou mayest behold him sitting on a high place whom thou now laughest to scorn: and then how wilt thou be glad to humble thyself to the ground, and lick the dust of his feet, that thou mayest find favour in his sight? If thou didst meditate as much upon the word, as thou dost upon the profane scribblings of the wise ones of this neration, thou wouldst have remembered what happened unto Shimei, the son of Gera the Benjamnite, who cursed the good inan David in his distress. David pardoned his transgression; yet was he afterwards taken as in a snare by the words of his own mouth, and fell by the sword of Solomon the chief ruler. Further more, I do not remember to have heard in the days of my youth and vanity, when, like thine, my conversation was with the Gentiles, that the men of Rome, which is Babylon, ever sued unto the men of Carthage, for tranquillity, as thou dost aver. Neither was Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar, called home by his countrymen, until these saw the sword of their enemies at their gates; and then was it not time for him, thinkest thou, to return? It appeareth therefore that thou dost prophesy backwards; thou dost row one way, and look another; and indeed in all things art thou too much a time-server; yet seemest thou not to consider what a day may bring forth. Think of this, and take tobacco. Thy friend, AMINADAB.' If the zealous writer of the above letter has any meaning, it is of too high a nature to be the subject of my lucubrations. I shall therefore wave such high points, and be as useful as I can to persons of less moment than any he hints at. When a man runs into a little fame in the world, as he meets with a great deal of reproach which he does not deserve, so does he also a great deal of esteem to which he has in himself no pretensions. Were it otherwise, I am sure no one would offer to put a law-case to me: but because I am an adept in physic and astrology, they will needs persuade me that I am no less a proficient in all other sciences. However, the point mentioned in the following letter is so plain a one, that I think I need not trouble myself to cast a figure to be able to discuss it. 'MR. BICKERSTAFF, It is some years ago since the entail of the estate of our family was altered, by passing a fine in favour of me, who now am in possession of it, after some others deceased. The heirs-general, who lived beyond sea, were excluded by this settlement, and the whole estate is to pass in a new channel after me and my heirs. But several tenants of the lordship persuade me to let them hereafter hold their lands of me according to the old customs of the barony, and not oblige them to act by the limitations of the last settlement. This, they say, will make me more popular among my dependants, and the ancient vassals of the estate, There is nothing so dangerous or so pleasing, as compliments made to us by our enemies: and several of those who give him this counsel were my correspondent tells me, that though he knows at first against passing the fine in favour of him; yet he is so touched with their homage to him, that he can hardly believe they have a mind to set it aside, in order to introduce the heirsgeneral into his estate. These are great evils; but since there is no proceeding with success in this world, without complying with the arts of it, I shall use the with him, in relation to one whom I never had same method as my correspondent's tenants did a kindness for; but shall, notwithstanding, presume to give my advice. Isaac Bickerstaff, Esquire, of Great Britain, to 'SIR,-Your majesty will pardon me while I take the liberty to acquaint you, that some passages written from your side of the water do very much obstruct your interest. We take it very unkindly, that the prints of Paris are so very partial in favour of one set of men among us, and treat the others as irreconcileable to your interests. Your writers are very large in recounting any thing which relates to the figure and power of one party, but are dumb when they should represent the actions of the other. This is a trifling circumstance which many here are apt to lay some stress upon; and therefore I thought fit to offer it to your consideration before you despatch the next courier. I. B' The sacred cause for which they're born, betray, From my own Apartment, June 28. immediately kills all thoughts of humanity and goodness, and gives men a sense of the soft af. fections and impulses of the mind, which are imprinted in us for our mutual advantage and succour, as of mere weaknesses and follies. According to the men of cunning, you are to put off the nature of a man as fast as you can, and acquire that of a dæmon; as if it were a more eligible character to be a powerful enemy, than an able friend. But it ought to be a mortification to men affected this way, that there wants but little more than instinct to be considerable generosity of temper. When a person gives himself the liberty to range and run over in his thoughts the different geniuses of men, which he meets in the world, one cannot but observe, that most of the indirection and artifice, which is used among men, does not proceed so much from a degeneracy in nature, as an affectation of appearing men of consequence by such prac. tices. By this means it is, that a cunning man is so far from being ashamed of being esteemed such, that he secretly rejoices in it. It has been a sort of maxim, that the greatest art is to conceal art; but I know not how, among some peo-in it; for when a man has arrived at being very ple we meet with, their greatest cunning is bad in his inclination, he has not much more to to appear cunning. There is Polypragmon do but to conceal himself, and he may revenge, makes it the whole business of his life to be cheat, and deceive, without much employment thought a cunning fellow, and thinks it a much for understanding, and go on with great cheergreater character to be terrible than agreeable. fulness with the high applause of being a prodi When it has once entered into a man's head to gious cunning fellow. But indeed, when we arhave an ambition to be thought crafty, all other rive at that pitch of false taste, as not to think evils are necessary consequences. To deceive cunning a contemptible quality, it is, methinks, is the immediate endeavour of him who is proud a very great injustice that pick-pockets are had of the capacity of doing it. It is certain, Poly-in so little veneration; who must be admirably pragmon does all the ill he possibly can, but well turned, not only for the theoretic, but also pretends to much more than he performs. He the practical behaviour of cunning fellows. After is contented in his own thoughts, and hugs him- all the endeavours of this family of men whom self in his closet, that though he is locked up we call cunning, their whole work falls to pieces, there, and doing nothing, the world does not if others trample down all esteem for such arti know but that he is doing mischief. To favour fices; and treat it as an unmanly quality, which this suspicion, he gives half looks and shrugs in they forbear to practice only because they abhor his general behaviour, to give you to understand it. When the spider is ranging in the different that you do not know what he means. He is apartments of his web, it is true, that he only also wonderfully adverbial in his expressions, can weave so fine a thread ; but it is in the power and breaks off with a 'Perhaps' and a nod of the of the merest drone that has wings, to fly head, upon matters of the most indifferent na- through and destroy it. ture. It is a mighty practice with men of this genius to avoid frequent appearance in public, and to be as mysterious as possible when they Though the taste of wit and pleasure is at do come into company. There is nothing to present but very low in this town, yet there are be done, according to them, in the common way; some that preserve their relish undebauched and let the matter in hand be what it will, it with common impressions, and can distinguish must be carried with an air of importance, and between reality and imposture. A gentleman transacted, if we may so speak, with an osten- was saying here this evening, that he would go tatious secrecy. These are your persons of long to the play to-morrow night, to see heroism as it heads, who would fain make the world believe has been represented by some of our tragedians, their thoughts and ideas are very much superior represented in burlesque. It seems, the play of to their neighbours; and do not value what these Alexander is to be then turned into ridicule for their neighbours think of them, provided they its bombast, and other false ornaments in the do not reckon them fools. These have such a thoughts as well as the language. The bluster romantic touch in business, that they hate to Alexander makes is as much inconsistent with perform any thing like other men. Were it in the character of a hero, as the roughness of Cly. their choice, they had rather bring their pur- tus, an instance of the sincerity of a bold artless poses to bear by over-reaching the persons they soldier. To be plain is not to be rude, but ra deal with, than by a plain and simple manner. ther inclines a man to civility and deference; They make difficulties for the honour of sur- not indeed to show it in the gestures of the body, mounting them. Polypragmon is eternally bu- but in the sentiments of the mind. It is, among sied after this manner, with no other prospect, other things, from the impertinent figures unthan that he is in hopes to be thought the most skilful dramatists draw of the characters of men, cunning of all men, and fears the imputation of that youth are bewildered and prejudiced in want of understanding much more than that of their sense of the world, of which they have no the abuse of it. But alas! how contemptible is notions but what they draw from books and such such an ambition, which is the very reverse of representations. Thus, talk to a very young all that is truly laudable, and the very contradic-man, let him be of never so good sense, and he tion to the only means to a just reputation, simplicity of manners! Cunning can in no circumstance imaginable be a quality worthy a man, except in his own defence, and merely to conceal himself from such as are so; and in such cases, it is no longer craft, but wisdom. The monstrous affectation of being thought artful, Will's Coffee-house, June 28 shall smile when you speak of sincerity in a courtier, good sense in a soldier, or honesty in a politician. The reason of this is, that you hardly see one play wherein each of these ways of life is not drawn by hands that know nothing of any one of them; and the truth is so far of the opposite side to what they paint, that it is |