Puslapio vaizdai
PDF
„ePub“

companion, as he who will please you against your will, and resolves to be a wit.

This man, upon all occasions, and whoever he falls in company with, talks in the same circle, and in the same round of chat which he has learned at one of the tables of this coffee-house. As poetry is in itself an elevation above ordinay and common sentiments; so there is no fop so very near a madman in indifferent company as a poetical one. He is not apprehensive that the generality of the world are intent upon the business of their own fortune and profession, and have as little capacity as curiosity to enter into matters of ornament or speculation. I remember at a full table in the city, one of these ubiquitary wits was entertaining the company with a soliloquy, for so I call it when a man talks to those who do not understand him, concerning wit and humour. An honest gentleman who sat next to me, and was worth half a plumb, stared at him, and observing there was some sense, as he thought, mixed with his impertinence, whispered me, 'Take my word for it, this fellow is more knave than fool.' This was all my good friend's applause of the wittiest man of talk that I was ever present at, which wanted nothing to make it excellent, but that there was no occasion for it.

The pedant is so obvious to ridicule, that it would be to be one to offer to explain him. He is a gentleman so well known, that there is none but those of his own class who do not laugh at and avoid him. Pedantry proceeds from much reading and little understanding. A pedant among men of learning and sense, is like an ignorant servant giving an account of a polite conversation. You may find he has brought with him more than could have entered into his head without being there, but still that he is not a bit wiser than if he had not been there at all.

eight night-shifts, four pair of silk stockings curiously darned, six pair of laced shoes, new and old, with the heels of half two inches higher than their fellows; a quilted petticoat of the largest size, and one of canvas with whale-bone hoops; three pair of stays, bolstered below the left shoulder, two pair of hips of the newest fashion, six round-about aprons with pockets, and four striped muslin night-rails very little frayed; a silver pot for coffee or chocolate, the lid much bruised; a broad brimmed flat silver plate for sugar with Rhenish wine; a silver ladle for plumb-porridge; a silver cheese-toaster with three tongues, an ebony handle, and silvering at the end; a silver posnet to butter eggs; one caudle and two cordial-water cups, two cocoa-cups, and an ostrich's egg, with rims and feet of silver, a marrow-spoon with a scoop at the other end, a silver orange-strainer, eight sweet-meat spoons made with forks at the end, an agate handle knife and fork in a sheath, a silver tongue-scraper, a silver tobacco-box, with a tulip graved on the top; and a bible bound in shagreen, with gilt leaves and clasps, never opened but once. Also a small cabinet, with six drawers inlaid with red tortoise-shell, and brass gilt ornaments at the four corners, in which were two leather forehead-cloths, three pair of oiled dog-skin gloves, seven cakes of superfine Spanish wool, half-a-dozen of Portugal dishes, and a quire of paper from thence; two pair of bran-new plumpers, four black-lead combs, three pair of fashionable eye-brows, two sets of ivory teeth, little the worse for wearing, and one pair of box for common use; Adam and Eve in bugle work, without fig-leaves, upon canvas, curiously wrought with her ladyship's own hand; several filigrane curiosities; a crotchet of one hundred and twenty-two diamonds, set strong and deep in silver, with a rump-jewel after the same fashion; bracelets of braided hair, pomander and seed-pearl; a large old purple velvet purse, embroidered, and shutting with a spring, containing two pictures in miniature, the features visible; a broad thick gold ring with a hand-in-hand engraved upon it, and within this poesy, While life does last, I'll hold thee fast; another, set round with of Turkey stone, cracked through the middle; small rubies and sparks, six wanting; another an Elizabeth and four Jacobus's, one guinea, the first of the coin, an angel with a hole bored through, a broken half of a Spanish piece of gold, a crown piece with the breeches, an old nine-pence bent both ways by Lilly the almaWhereas Bridget Howd'ye, late servant to the nack maker, for luck at langteraloo, and twelve Lady Fardingale, a short, thick, lively, hard- of the shells called blackmoor's teeth; one small favoured wench of about twenty-nine years of amber box with apoplectic balsam, and one silage, her eyes small and bleared, and nose very ver gilt of a larger size for cashu and carraway broad at bottom, and turning up at the end, her comfits, to be taken at long sermons, the lid mouth wide, and lips of an unusual thickness, enamelled, representing a cupid fishing for two teeth out before, the rest black and uneven, hearts, with a piece of gold on his hook; over the tip of her left ear being of a mouse colour, his head this rhyme, Only with gold, you me her voice loud and shrill, quick of speech, and shall hold.' In the lower drawer was a large something of a Welsh accent, withdrew herself new gold repeating watch made by a Frenchon Wednesday last from her ladyship's dwell-man; a gold chain, and all the proper appurte ing-house, and, with the help of her consorts, carried off the following goods of her said lady; viz. a thick wadded calico wrapper, a muskcoloured velvet mantle lined with squirrel skins,

No. 245.]

Thursday, November 2, 1710.

From my own Apartment, November 1.

THE lady hereafter-mentioned, having come to me in very great haste, and paid me much above the usual fee, as a cunning-man, to find her stolen goods, and also having approved my late discourse of advertisements, obliged me to draw up this, and insert it in the body of my

paper.

ADVERTISEMENT.

·

nances hung upon steel swivels, to wit, lockets with the hair of dead and living lovers, seals with arms, emblems, and devices cut in cornelian, agate, and onyx, with cupids, hearts, darts,

altars, flames, rocks, pickaxes, roses, thorns, and sun-flowers; as also variety of ingenious French mottos; together with gold etuys for quills, scissars, needles, thimbles, and a sponge dipped in Hungary water, left but the night before by a young lady going upon a frolic incog. There was also a bundle of letters, dated between the years one thousand six hundred and seventy, and one thousand six hundred and eighty-two, most of them signed Philander, the rest Strephon, Amyntas, Corydon, and Adonis; together with a collection of receipts to make paste for the hands, pomatums, lip-salves, white-pots, beautifying creams, water of talc, and frog spawn water; decoctions for clearing the complexion, and an approved medicine to procure abortion.

Whoever can discover the aforesaid goods, so that they may be had again, shall have fifty guineas for the whole, or proportionably for any part.

N. B. Her Ladyship is pleased to promise ten pounds for the pacquet of letters over and above, or five for Philander's only, being her first love. • My lady bestows those of Strephon to the finder, being so written, that they may serve to any woman who reads them.'

P. S. As I am a patron of persons who have no other friend to apply to, I cannot suppress the following complaint:

SIR,-I am a blackmoor boy, and have, by my lady's order, been christened by the chaplain. The good man has gone further with me, and told me a great deal of good news; as, that I am as good as my lady herself, as I am a Christian, and many other things: but for all this, the parrot, who came over with ine from our country, is as much esteemed by her as I am. Besides this, the shock-dog has a collar that cost almost as much as mine. I desire also to know, whether, now I am a Christian, I am obliged to dress like a Turk, and wear a turbant.-I am, sir, your most humble servant, 'POMPEY.'

[blocks in formation]

From my own Apartment, November 3.

WHEN one considers the turn which conversation takes in almost every set of acquaintance, club, or assembly, in this town or kingdom, one cannot but observe, that in spite of what I am every day saying, and all the moral writers since the beginning of the world have said, the subject of discourse is generally upon one another's faults. This in a great measure proceeds from self-conceit, which were to be endured in one or other individual person; but the folly has spread itself almost over all the species; and one cannot only say, Tom, Jack, or Will, but in general, that man is a cox

comb. From this source it is, that any excellence is faintly received, any imperfection unmercifully exposed. But if things were put in a true light, and we would take time to consider, that man, in his very nature, is an imperfect being, our sense of this matter would be immediately altered, and the word imperfec tion would not carry an unkinder idea than the word humanity. It is a pleasant story that e forsooth, who are the only imperfect creatures in the universe, are the only beings that will not allow of imperfection. Somebody has taken notice that we stand in the middle of existences, and are by this one circumstance, the most unhappy of all others. The brutes are guided by instinct, and know no sorrow; the angels have knowledge, and they are happy; but men are governed by opinion, which is I know not what mixture of instinct and knowledge, and are neither indolent nor happy. It is very observable, that critics are a people between the learned and the ignorant, and by that situation enjoy the tranquillity of neither. As critics stand among men, so do men in general between brutes and angels. Thus every man, as he is a critic and a coxcomb, until improved by rea son and speculation, is ever forgetting himself, and laying open the faults of others.

cruelty of urging people's faults with severity, At the same time that I am talking of the I cannot but bewail some which men are guilty of for want of admonition. These are such as for which reason I shall make use of the penny they can easily mend, and nobody tells them of, post (as I have with success to several young ladies about turning their eyes, and holding up their heads) to certain gentlemen, whom I remark habitually guilty of what they may reform in a moment. There is a fat fellow, whom

have long remarked wearing his breast open in the midst of winter, out of an affectation of youth. I have therefore sent him just now the following letter in my physical capacity:

'SIR,-From the twentieth instant to the first of May next, both days inclusive, I beg of you to button your waistcoat from your collar to your waistband. I am your most humble servant,

ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Philomath.'

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

These little intimations do great service, and | and we have not learned half the knowledge of are very useful, not only to the persons them selves, but to inform others how to conduct themselves towards them.

Instead of this honest private method, or a friendly one face to face, of acquainting people with things in their power to explain or amend, the usual way among people is to take no notice of things you can help, and nevertheless expose you for those you cannot.

this world before we are dropping into another. Thus, instead of the raptures and contemplations which naturally attend a well-spent life from the approach of eternity, even we old fellows are afraid of the ridicule of those who are born since us, and ashamed not to understand, as well as peevish to resign, the mode, the fashion, the ladies, the fiddles, the balls, and what not. Dick Reptile, who does not want humour, is very pleasant at our club when he sees an old fellow touchy at being laughed at for any thing that is not in the mode; and bawls in his ear, Pr'ythee do not mind him; tell him thou art mortal.'

No. 247.]

Tuesday, November 7, 1710.

Edepol, na nos æque sumus omnes invise viris
Propter pancas, qua omnes faciunt digna ut videamur

malo.

Ter. Hecyr. II. iii. 1. How unjustly

Do husbands stretch their censure to all wives
For the offences of a few, whose vices
Reflect dishonour on the rest.

Colman.

BY MRS. JENNY DISTAFF, HALF-SISTER TO
MR. BICKERSTAFF.

From my own Apartment, November 6.

Plumbeus and Levis are constantly in each other's company: they would, if they took proper methods, bo very agreeable companions; but they so extravagantly aim at what they are unfit for, and each of them rallies the other so much in the wrong place, that instead of doing each other the offices of friends, they do but instruct the rest of the world to laugh at them with more knowledge and skill. Plumbeus is of a saturnine and sullen complexion; Levis of a mercurial and airy disposition. Both these gentlemen have but very slow parts, but would make a very good figure did they pursue what they ought. If Pluinbeus would take to business, he would, in a few years, know the forms of order so well as to direct and dictate with so much ease, as to be thought a solid, able, and, at the same time, a sure man of despatch. Levis, with a little reading, and coming more into company, would soon be able to write a song, or lead up a country-dance. Instead of these My brother having written the above piece proper pursuits, in obedience to their respective geniuses, Plumbeus endeavours to be a man of of Latin, desired me to take care of the rest of pleasure, and Levis the man of business. This the ensuing paper. Towards this he bid me appears in their speech, and in their dress; answer the following letter, and said, nothing I Plumbeus is ever egregiously fine, and talking could write properly on the subject of it would something like wit; Levis is ever extremely be disagreeable to the motto. It is the cause of grave, and, with a silly face, repeating maxims.my sex, and I therefore enter upon it with great These two pardon each other for affecting what alacrity. The epistle is literally thus: each is incapable of, the one to be wise, and the other gay; but are extremely critical in their judgments of each other in their way towards what they pretend to. Plumbeus acknowledges Levis to be a man of great reach, because it is what Plumbeus never cared for being thought himself, and Levis allows Plumbeus to be an agreeable rake for the same reason. Now, were these dear friends to be free with each other, as they ought to be, they would change characters, and be both as commendable, instead of being as ridiculous, as their capacities will admit of.

Were it not too grave, all that I would urge on this subject is, that men are bewildered when they consider themselves in any other view than that of strangers, who are in a place where it is no great matter whether they can, or unreasonable to expect they should, have every thing about them as well as at their own home. This way of thinking is, perhaps, the only one that can put this being in a proper posture for the ease of society. It is certain, that this would reduce all faults into those which proceed from malice, or dishonesty: it would quite change our manner of beholding one another, and nothing that was not below a man's nature, would be below his character. The arts of this life would be proper advances towards the next; and a very good man would be a very fine gentleman. As it is now, human life is inverted,

[ocr errors]

Edenburgh, Oct. 23. MR. BICKERSTAFF,-I presume to lay before you an affair of mine, and begs you'le be very sinceir in giving me your judgment and advice in this matter, which is as follows:

A very agreeable young gentleman, who is endowed with all the good qualities that can make a man complete, has this long time maid love to me in the most passionate manner that was posable. He has left nothing unsaid to make me believe his affections real; and, in his letters, expressed himself so hansomly and so tenderly, that I had all the reason imaginable to believe him sinceir. In short, he positively has promised me he would marry me: but I find all he said nothing; for when the question was put to him, he would not; but still would continue my humble servant, and would go on at the ould rate, repeating the assurances of his fidelity, and at the same time has none in him. He now writs to me in the same endearing style he ust to do, would have me speak to no man but himself. His estate is in his own hand, his father being dead. My fortune at my own disposal, mine being also dead, and to the full answers his estate. Pray, sir, be ingeinous, and tell me cordially, if you don't think I shall do myself an injury if I keep company, or a corraspondance any longer with this gentleman. I hope you will favour an honest North-Britain, as I am, with your advice in this amour; for I

am resolved just to follow your directions. Sir, |
you will do me a sensable pleasure, and very
great honour, if you will please to insert this
poor scrole, with your answer to it, in your
Tatler. Pray fail not to give me your answer;
for on it depends the happiness of disconsalat
'ALMEIRA.'

upon the nauseous rogues that pretend to deceive us. Wretches, that can never have it in their power to overreach any thing living but their mistresses! In the name of goodness, if we are designed by nature as suitable compa. nions to the other sex, why are we not treated accordingly? If we have merit, as some allow, why is it not as base in men to injure us, as one another? If we are the insignificants that others call us, where is the triumph in deceiv. ing us? But, when I look at the bottom of this disaster, and recollect the many of my acquaint

ance whom I have known in the same condi tion with the Northern Lass' that occasions

addresses, we do not keep ourselves enough disengaged to be judges of their merit; and we seldom give our judgment of our lover, until we have lost our judgment for him.

MADAM,—I have frequently read over your letter, and am of opinion, that, as lamentable as it is, it is the most common of any evil that at tends our sex. I am very much troubled for the tenderness you express towards your lover, but rejoice at the same time that you can so far surmount your inclination for him, as to resolve to dismiss him when you have my brother's opinion this discourse, I must own I have ever found for it. His sense of the matter he desired me to the perfidiousness of men has been generally communicate to you. Oh Almeira! the comowing to ourselves, and we have contributed to mon failing of our sex is to value the merit of our own deceit. The truth is, we do not conour lovers rather from the grace of their address, duct ourselves as we are courted, but as we are than the sincerity of their hearts. He has ex- this unbridled swing, it is not he that acts best inclined. When we let our imaginations take pressed himself so handsomely! Can you say that, after you have reason to doubt his truth? is most lovely, but he that is most lovely acts It is a melancholy thing, that in this circum-best. When our humble servants make their stance of love, which is the most important of all others in female life, we women, who are, they say, always weak, are still weakest. The true way of valuing a man, is to consider his reputation among the men. For want of this While Clarinda was passionately attended necessary rule towards our conduct, when it is and addressed to by Strephon, who is a man of too late, we find ourselves married to the outsense and knowledge in the world, and Cassio, cast of that sex; and it is generally from being who has a plentiful fortune, and an excellent disagreeable among men, that fellows endeavour understanding, she fell in love with Damon at a to make themselves pleasing to us. The little ball. From that moment, she that was before accomplishments of coming into a room with a the most reasonable creature of all my acquaintgood air, and telling, while they are with us, ance, cannot hear Strephon speak, but it is what we cannot hear among ourselves, usually something so out of the way of ladies' conver make up the whole of a woman's man's merit. sation:' and Cassio has never since opened his But if we, when we began to reflect upon our mouth before us, but she whispers me, 'How lovers, in the first place, considered what figures seldom do riches and sense go together! The they make in the camp, at the bar, on the ex-issue of all this is, that for the love of Damon, change, in their country, or at court, we should who has neither experience, understanding, nor behold them in quite another view than at pre-other two which she finds wanting in her lover; wealth, she despises those advantages in the

sent.

Were we to behave ourselves according to this rule, we should not have the just imputation of favouring the silliest of mortals, to the great scandal of the wisest, who value our favour as it advances their pleasure, not their reputation. In a word, madam, if you would judge aright in love, you must look upon it as in a case of friendship. Were this gentleman treating with you for any thing but yourself, when you had consented to his offer, if he fell off, you would call him a cheat and an impostor. There is, therefore, nothing left for you to do but to despise him, and yourself for doing it with regret. I am, madam, &c.'

I have heard it often argued in conversation, that this evil practice is owing to the perverted taste of the wits in the last generation. A libertine on the throne could very easily make the language and the fashion turn his own way. Hence it is that woman is treated as a mistress, and not a wife. It is from the writings of those times, and the traditional accounts of the debauches of their men of pleasure, that the coxcombs now-a-days take upon them, forsooth, to be false swains, and perjured lovers. Methinks I feel all the woman rise in me, when I reflect

6

or else thinks he has them for no other reason

but because he is her lover. This and many other instances, may be given in this town; but I hope thus much may suffice to prevent the growth of such evils at Edinburgh.

[blocks in formation]

-Media sese tulit obvia silvia,
Virginis os habitumque gerens. Virg. Æn. i. 318.
Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood
Before my eyes a beauteous form appears,
A virgin's dress and modest looks she wears.
R. Wynne.

BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQUIRE.

From my own Apartment, November 8. Ir may perhaps appear ridiculous, but I must confess, this last summer, as I was riding in Enfield-chase, I met a young lady whom I could hardly get out of my head, and for ought I know, my heart, ever since. She was mounted on a pad, with a very well-fancied furniture: she set her horse with a very graceful air; and, when I saluted her with my hat, she bowed to me so obligingly, that whether it was her civility or

beauty that touched me so much, I know not; but I am sure I shall never forget her. She dwells in my imagination in a figure so much to her advantage, that if I were to draw a pic. ture of youth, health, beauty, or modesty, I should represent any, or all of them, in the person of that young woman.

It is with great indignation that I see such crowds of the female world lost to human society, and condemned to a laziness, which makes life pass away with less relish than in the hardest labour. Palestris, in her drawingroom, is supported by spirits to keep off the returns of spleen and melancholy, before she can get over half of the day for want of something to do, while the wench in the kitchen sings and scours from morning to night.

The next disagrecable thing to a lazy lady, is a very busy one. A man of business in good company, who gives an account of his abilities and despatches, is hardly more insupportable than her they call a notable woman, and a manager. Lady Good-day, where I visited the other day, at a very polite circle, entertained a great lady with a recipe for a poultice, and gave us to understand, that she had done extraordi

I do not find that there are any descriptions in the ancient poets so beautiful as those they draw of nymphs in their pastoral dresses and exercises. Virgil gives Venus the habit of a Spartan huntress when she is to put Æneas in his way, and relieve his cares with the most agreeable object imaginable. Diana and her train are always described as inhabitants of the woods, and followers of the chase. To be well diverted, is the safest guard to innocence; and, methinks, it should be one of the first things to be regarded among people of condition, to find out proper amusements for young ladies.nary cures since she was last in town. It seems I cannot but think this of riding might easily be revived among them, when they consider how much it must contribute to their beauty. This would lay up the best portion they could bring into a family, a good stock of health, to transmit to their posterity. Such a charming bloom as this gives the countenance, is very much preferable to the real or affected feebleness or softness, which appear in the faces of our modern beauties.

gance.

The comedy, called 'The Ladies' Curc,' represents the affectation of wan looks and languid glances to a very entertaining extravaThere is, as the lady in the play complains, something so robust in perfect health, that it is with her a point of breeding and delicacy, to appear in public with a sickly air. But the natural gayety and spirit which shine in the complexion of such as form to themselves a sort of diverting industry, by choosing recreations that are exercises, surpass all the false ornaments and graces that can be put on, by applying the whole dispensary of a toilet. A healthy body, and a cheerful mind, give charms as irresistible as inimitable. The beauteous Dyetinna, who came to town last week, has, from the constant prospect in a delicious country, and the moderate excrcise and journeys in the visits she made round it, contracted a certain life in her countenance, which will in vain employ both the painters and the poets to represent. The becoming negligence in her dress, the severe sweetness of her looks, and a certain innocent boldness in all her behaviour, are the effect of the active recreations I am talking of.

But instead of such, or any other as innocent and pleasing method of passing away their time with alacrity, we have many in town who spend their hours in an indolent state of body and mind, without either recreations or reflections. I am apt to believe there are some parents imagine their daughters will be accomplished enough, if nothing interrupts their growth, or their shape. According to this method of education, I could name you twenty families, where all the girls hear of, in this life, is, that it is time to rise and to come to dinner, as if | they were so insignificant as to be wholly pro-. vided for when they are fed and clothed. 3 E

a countryman had wounded himself with his scythe as he was mowing; and we were obliged to hear of her charity, her medicine, and her humility, in the harshest tone and coarsest language imaginable.

What I would request in all this prattle is, that our females would either let us have their persons, or their minds, in such perfection as nature designed them.

The way to this is, that those who are in the quality of gentlewomen, should propose to themselves some suitable method of passing away their time. This would furnish them with reflections and sentiments proper for the companions of reasonable men, and prevent the unnatural marriages which happen every day between the most accomplished women and the vériest oafs, the worthiest men and the most insignificant females. Were the general turn of women's education of another kind than it is at present, we should want one another for more reasons than we do, as the world now goes. The common design of parents, is to get their girls off as well as they can; and they male no conscience of putting into our hands a bargain for our whole life, which will make our hearts ache every day of it. I shall, therefore, take this matter into serious consideration, and will propose, for the better improvement of the fair sex, a Female Library. This collection of books shall consist of such authors as do not corrupt while they divert, but shall tend wore immediately to improve them as they are women. They shall be such as shall not hunt a feature by the austerity of their reflections, nor cause one impertinent glance by the wantonnesa of them. They shall all tend to advance the value of their innocence as virgins, improve their understanding as wives, and regulate their tenderness as parents. It has been very often said in these lucubrations, that the ideas which most frequently pass through our imagination, leave traces of themselves in our countenances. There shall be a strict regard had to this in my Female Library, which shall be furnished with nothing that shall give supplies to octeatation or impertinence; but the whole shall be so digested for the use of my students, that they * Steele, in 1714, published three volume in evo. 4.der the title of The Lady's Library." 31*

« AnkstesnisTęsti »