Chapter III: Part 3

I remember Ménage,[3] tells a story of Monsieur Racan, who had appointed a day and hour to meet a certain lady of great wit whom he had never seen, in order to make an acquaintance between them. "Two of Racan's friends, who had heard of the appointment, resolved to play him a trick. The first went to the lady two hours before the time, said his name was Racan, and talked with her an hour; they were both mightily pleased, began a great friendship, and parted with much satisfaction. A few minutes after comes the second, and sends up the same name; the lady wonders at the meaning, and tells him, Mr. Racan had just left her. The gentleman says it was some rascally impostor, and that he had been frequently used in that manner. The lady is convinced, and they laugh at the oddness of the adventure. She now calls to mind several passages, which confirm her that the former was a cheat. He appoints a second meeting, and takes his leave. He was no sooner gone, but the true Racan comes to the door, and desires, under that name, to see the lady. She was out of all patience, sends for him up, rates him for an impostor, and, after a thousand injuries, flings a slipper at his head. It was impossible to pacify or disabuse her; he was forced to retire, and it was not without some time, and the intervention of friends, that they could come to an _éclaircissement_." This, as I take it, is exactly the case with Mr. S[tee]le, the pretended "TATLER" from Morphew, and myself, only (I presume) the world will be sooner undeceived than the lady in Ménage. The very day my last paper came out, my printer brought me another of the same date, called "The Tatler," by Isaac Bickerstaff Esq; and, which was still more pleasant, with an advertisement[4] at the end, calling me the "_Female_ TATLER": it is not enough to rob me of my name, but now they must impose a sex on me, when my years have long since determined me to be of none at all. There is only one thing wanting in the operation, that they would renew my age, and then I will heartily forgive them all the rest. In the mean time, whatever uneasiness I have suffered from the little malice of these men, and my retirement in the country, the pleasures I have received from the same occasion, will fairly balance the account. On the one hand, I have been highly delighted to see my name and character assumed by the scribblers of the age, in order to recommend themselves to it; and on the other, to observe the good taste of the town, in distinguishing and exploding them through every disguise, and sacrificing their trifles to the supposed _manes_ of Isaac Bickerstaff Esquire. But the greatest merit of my journey into Staffordshire, is, that it has opened to me a new fund of unreproved follies and errors that have hitherto lain out of my view, and, by their situation, escaped my censure. For, as I have lived generally in town, the images I had of the country were such only as my senses received very early, and my memory has since preserved with all the advantages they first appeared in.

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 Ménage (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 relictâ
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,