No. 85.] THE TATLER. No. 85.] Tuesday, October 25, 1709. From my own Apartment, October 24. men of liberal thoughts may know they have an | I found the disagreeableness of giving advice opportunity of doing justice to such worthy per- without being asked, by my own impatience of sons as have come within their respective ob- what he was about to say: in a word, I begged servation, and who, by misfortune, modesty, or him to give me the hearing of a short fable." 'A gentleman,' says I, 'who was one day want of proper writers to recommend them, have escaped the notice of the rest of mankind. slumbering in an arbour, was on a sudden If, therefore, any one can bring any tale or ti-awakened by the gentle biting of a lizard, a little dings of illustrious persons, or glorious actions, animal remarkable for its love to mankind. He that are not commonly known, he is desired to threw it from his hand with some indignation, send an account thereof to me, at J. Morphew's, and was rising up to kill it, when he saw a huge and they shall have justice done them. At the venemous serpent sliding towards him on the same time that I have this concern for men and other side, which he soon destroyed; reflecting things that deserve reputation, and have it not, afterwards with gratitude upon his friend that I am resolved to examine into the claims of saved him, and with anger against himself, that such ancients and moderns as are in possession had shown so little sense of a good office.' of it, with a design to displace them, in case I find their titles defective. The first whose merits I shall inquire into, are some merry gentlemen of the French nation, who have written very advantageous histories of their exploits in war, love, and politics, under the title of Memoirs. I am afraid I shall find several of these gentlemen tardy, because I hear of them in no writings but their own. To read the narrative of one of these authors, you would fancy that there was not an action in a whole campaign which he did not contrive or execute; yet, if you consult the history or gazettes of those times, you do not find him so much as at the head of a party from one end of the summer to the other. But it is the way of these great men, when they lie behind their lines, and are in a time of inaction, as they call it, to pass away their time in writing their exploits. By this means, several who are either unknown or despised in the present age, will be famous in the next, unless a sudden stop be put to such pernicious practices. There are others of that gay people, who, as I am informed, will live half a year together in a garret, and write a history of their intrigues in the court of France. As for politicians, they do not abound with that species of men so much as we; but as ours are not so famous for writing, as for extemporary dissertations in coffee-houses, they are more annoyed with memoirs of this nature also than we are. The most immediate remedy that I can apply to prevent this growing evil, is, That I do hereby give notice to all booksellers and translators whatsoever, that the word Me-Nay, Jenny,' said I, 'I beg your pardon, for it is moir is French for a novel; and to require of them that they sell and translate it accordingly. Will's Coffee-house, October 21. Coming into this place to night, I met an old friend of mine, who, a little after the restoration, writ an epigram with some applause, which he has lived upon ever since; and by virtue of it, has been a constant frequenter of this coffeehouse for forty years. He took me aside, and with a great deal of friendship told me he was glad to see me alive, 'for,' said he, 'Mr. Bickerstaff, I am sorry to find you have raised many enemies by your lucubrations. There are, indeed, some, says he, whose enmity is the greatest honour they can show a man ; but have you lived to these years, and do not know that the ready way to disoblige is to give advice? you may endeavour to guard your children, as you call them; but He was going on; but Z My brother Tranquillus, who is a man of business, came to me this morning into my study, and after very many civil expressions in return for what good offices I had done him, told me, 'he desired to carry his wife, my sister, that very morning to his own house.' I readily told him, I would wait upon him,' without asking why he was so impatient to rob us of his good company. He went out of my chamber, and I thought seemed to have a little heaviness upon him, which gave me some disquiet. Soon after, my sister came to me, with a very matron-like air, and most sedate satisfaction in her looks, which spoke her very much at ease; but the traces of her countenance seemed to discover that she had been lately in a passion, and that air of content to flow from a certain triumph upon some advantage obtained. She no sooner sat down by me, but I perceived she was one of those ladies who begin to be managers within the time of their being brides. Without letting her speak, which I saw she had a mighty incli nation to do, I said, 'Here has been your husband, who tells me he has a mind to go home this very morning, and I have consented to it.' 'It is well,' said she, for you must know you must know-You are to understand, that "Sister,' said I, I will not enter into the dis pute between you, which I find his prudence | looked so many soft things at one glance, that put an end to before it came to extremity; but I could see he was glad I had been talking to charge you to have a care of the first quarrel, her, sorry she had been troubled, and angry at as you tender your happiness; for then it is that himself that he could not disguise the concern the mind will reflect harshly upon every circum- he was in an hour before. After which, he says stance that has ever passed between you. If to me, with an air awkward enough, but mesuch an accident is ever to happen, which I thought not unbecoming 'I have altered my hope never will, be sure to keep to the circum- mind, brother; we will live upon you a day or stance before you; make no allusions to what is two longer.' I replied, That is what I have passed, or conclusions referring to what is to been persuading Jenny to ask of you, but she come: do not show a hoard of matter for dissen- is resolved never to contradict your inclination, sion in your breast; but, if it is necessary, lay and refused me.' before him the thing as you understand it, candidly, without being ashamed of acknowledging an error, or proud of being in the right. If a young couple be not careful in this point, they will get into a habit of wrangling; and when to displease is thought of no consequence, to please is always of as little moment. There is a play, Jenny, I have formerly been at when I was a 'student: we got into a dark corner with a porringer of brandy, and threw raisins into it, then set it on fire. My chamber-fellow and I diverted ourselves with the sport of venturing our fingers for the raisins; and the wantonness of the thing was, to see each other look like a dæmon, as we burnt ourselves, and snatched out the fruit. This fantastical mirth was called snapdragon. You may go into many a family, where you see the man and wife at this sport: every word at their table alludes to some passage between themselves; and you see by the paleness and emotion in their countenances, that it is for your sake, and not their own, that they forbear playing out the whole game in burning each other's fingers. In this case, the whole purpose of life is inverted, and the ambition turns upon a certain contention, who shall contradict best, and not upon an inclination to excel in kindness and good offices. Therefore, dear Jenny, remember me, and avoid snapdragon.' I thank you brother,' said she, 'but you do not know how he loves me; I find I can do any thing with him.'-'If you can so, why should you desire to do any thing but please him? but I have a word or two more before you go out of the room; for I see you do not like the subject I am upon let nothing provoke you to fall upon an imperfection he cannot help; for, if he has a resenting spirit, he will think your aversion as immoveable as the imperfection with which you upbraid him. But above all, dear Jenny, be careful of one thing and you will be something more than woman; that is, a levity you are almost all guilty of, which is, to take a pleasure in your power to give pain. It is even in a mistress an argument of meanness of spirit, but in a wife it is injustice and ingratitude. When a sensible man once observes this in a woman, he must have a very great or very little spirit to overlook it. A woman ought, therefore, to consider very often, how few men there are who will regard a meditated offence as a weakness of temper.' I was going on in my confabulation, when Tranquillus entered. She cast all her eyes upon him with much shame and confusion, mixed with great complacency and love, and went up to him. He took her in his arms, and We were going on in that way which one hardly knows how to express; as when two people mean the same thing in a nice case, but come at it by talking as distantly from it as they can; when very opportunely came in upon us an honest inconsiderable fellow. Tim Dapper,* a gentleman well known to us both. Tim is one of those who are very necessary, by being very inconsiderable. Tim dropped in at an incident, when we knew not how to fall into either a grave or a merry way. My sister took this occasion to make off, and Dapper gave us an account of all the company he had been in today, who was, and who was not at home, where he visited. This Tim is the head of a species: he is a little out of his element in this town; but he is a relation of Tranquillus, and his neighbour in the country, which is the true place of residence for this species. The habit of a Dapper, when he is at home, is a light broad cloth, with calamanco or red waistcoat and breeches; and it is remarkable, that their wigs seldom hide the collar of their coats. They have always a peculiar spring in their arms, a wriggle in their bodies, and a trip in their gait. All which motions they express at once in their drinking, bowing, or saluting ladies; for a distant imitation of a forward fop, and a resolution to overtop him in his way, are the distinguishing marks of a Dapper. These under-characters of men, are parts of the sociable world by no means to be neglected: they are like pegs in a building; they make no figure in it, but hold the structure together, and are as absolutely necessary as the pillars and columns. I am sure we found it so this morning; for Tranquillus and I should, perhaps, have looked cold at each other the whole day, but Dapper fell in with his brisk way, shook us both by the hand, rallied the bride, mistook the acceptance he met with amongst us for extraordinary perfection in himself, and heartily pleased, and was pleased, all the while he staid. His company left us all in good humour, and we were not such fools as to let it sink, before we confirmed it by great cheerfulness and openness in our carriage the whole evening. White's Chocolate-house, October 24. I have been this evening to visit a lady who is a relation of the enamoured Cynthio, and there heard the melancholy news of his death. I was in hopes, that fox-hunting and October *The following account of Tim Dapper seems to be given as a true picture of the character and dress of a country beau or smart in 1709. would have recovered him from his unhappy passion. He went into the country with a design to leave behind him all thoughts of Clarissa; but he found that place only more convenient to think of her without interruption. The country gentlemen were very much puzzled upon his case, and never finding him merry or loud in their company, took him for a Roman Catholic, and immediately upon his death seized his French valet-de-chambre for a priest; and it is generally thought in the country, it will go hard with him next session. Poor Cynthio never held up his head after having received a letter of Clarissa's marriage. The lady who gave me this account, being far gone in poetry and romance, told me, if I would give her an epitaph, she would take care to have it placed on his tomb; which she herself had devised in the following manner. It is to be made of black marble, and every corner to be crowned with weeping cupids. Their quivers are to be hung up upon two tall cypress-trees which are to grow on each side on the monument, and their arrows to be laid in a great heap, after the manner of a funeral pile, on which is to lie the body of the deceased. On the top of each cypress is to stand the figure of a moaning turtle-dove. On the uppermost part of the monument, the goddess, to whom these birds are sacred, is to sit in a dejected posture, as weeping for the death of her votary.' I need not tell you this lady's head is a little turned: however, to be rid of importunities, I promised her an epitaph, and told her I would take for my pattern that of Don Alonzo, who was no less famous in his age than Cynthio is in ours. I received this message with less surprise than I believe Mr. Thrifty imagined; for I knew the good company too well to feel any palpitations at their approach; but I was in very great concern how I should adjust the ceremo nial, and demean myself to all these great men, who perhaps had not seen any thing above themselves for these twenty years last past. I am sure that is the case of sir Harry. Besides which, I was sensible that there was a great point in adjusting my behaviour to the simple squire, so as to give him satisfaction, and not disoblige the justice of the quorum. The hour of nine was come this morning, and I had no sooner set chairs, by the steward's letter, and fixed my tea-equipage, but I heard a knock at my door, which was opened, but no one entered; after which followed a long silence, which was broke at last by, 'Sir, I beg your pardon; I think I know better' and another voice, nay, good sir Giles' I looked out from my window, and saw the good company all with their hats off, and arms spread, offering the door to each other. After many offers, they entered with much solemnity, in the order Mr. Thrifty was so kind as to name them to me. But they are now got to my chamber door, and I saw my old friend sir Harry enter. I met him with all the respect due to so reverend a vegetable; for, you are to know, that is my sense of a person who remains idle in the same place for half a century. I got him with great success into his chair by the fire, without throwing down any of my cups. The knight-bachelor told me he had a great respect for my whole family, and would, with my leave, place himself next to sir Harry, at whose right hand he had sat at every quarter sessions these thirty years, unless he was sick.' The steward in the rear whispered the young Templar, 'That is true, to my knowledge.' I had the misfortune, as they stood cheek-by-jowl, to desire the squire to sit down before the justice of the quorum, to the no small satisfaction of the former, and resentment of the latter. But I saw my error too late, and got them as soon as I could into their seats. 'Well,' said I, 'gentlemen, after I have told you how glad I am of this great honour, I am to desire you to drink a dish of tea.' They answered one and all, that they never drank tea in a morning.'-Not in a morning!' said I, staring round me. Upon which the pert jackanapes, Nic Doubt, tipped me the wink, and put out his tongue at his grandfather. Here followed a profound silence, when the steward in his boots and whip proposed, that we should adjourn to some public-house, where every body might call for what they pleased, and enter upon the Will's Coffee-house, October 26. business.' We all stood up in an instant, and 'that the place was too public for business; but sir Harry filed off from the left, very discreetly, he would call upon me again to morrow morning countermarching behind the chairs towards the at my own lodgings, and bring some friends door. After him, sir Giles in the same manner. | with him.' The simple squire made a sudden start to follow: but the justice of the quorum whipped between upon the stand of the stairs. A maid, going up with coals, made us halt, and put us into such confusion, that we stood all in a heap, without any visible possibility of recovering our order; for the young jackanapes seemed to make a jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing amongst us, under pretence of making way, that his grandfather was got into the middle, and he knew nobody was of quality to stir a step, until sir Harry moved first. We were fixed in this perplexity for some time, until we heard a very loud noise in the street; and sir Harry asking what it was, I, to make them move, said, it was fire.' Upon this, all ran down as fast as they could, without order or ceremony, until we got into the street, where we drew up in very good order, and filed off down Sheer-lane; the impertinent templar driving us before him, as in a string, and pointing to his acquaintance who passed by. Though this place is frequented by a more mixed company than it used to be formerly; yet you meet very often some whom one cannot leave without being the better for their conversation. A gentleman this evening, in a dictating manner, talked, I thought, very pleasingly in praise of modesty, in the midst of ten or twelve libertines, upon whom it seemed to have had a good effect. He represented it as the certain indication of a great and noble spirit. Modesty,' said he, ‘is the virtue which makes men prefer the public to their private interest, the guide of every honest undertaking, and the great guardian of innocence. It makes men amiable to their friends, and respected by their very enemies. In all places, and on all occasions, it attracts benevolence, and demands approbation.' One might give instances, out of antiquity, of the irresistible force of this quality in great minds; Cicereius, and Cneius Scipio, the son of the great Africanus, were competitors for the office of prætor. The crowd followed Cicereius, and left Scipio unattended. Cicereius saw this with much concern; and desiring an audience of the people, he descended from the place where the candidates were to sit, in the eye of the multitude; pleaded for his adversary; and, with an ingenuous modesty, which it is impossible to feign, represented to them, 'how much it was to their dishonour, that a virtuous son cf Africanus should not be preferred to him, or any other man whatsoever.' This immediately gained the election for Scipio; but all the compliments and congratulations upon it were made to Cicereius. It is easier in this case to say who had the office, than the honour. There is no occurrence in life where this quality is not more ornamental than any other. After the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey marching towards Larissus, the whole people of that place came out in procession to do him honour. He thanked the magistrates for their respect to him; but desired them to perform these ceremonies to the conqueror.' This gallant submission to his fortune, and disdain of making any appearance but like Pompey, was owing to his modesty, which would not permit him to be so disingenuous, as to give himself the air of prosperity, when he was in the contrary condition. I must confess, I love to use people according to their own sense of good breeding, and therefore whipped in between the justice and the simple squire. He could not properly take this ill; but I overheard him whisper the steward, that he thought it hard, that a common conjurer should take place of him, though an elder squire.' In this order we marched down Sheerlane, at the upper end of which I lodge. When we came to Temple-bar, sir Harry and sir Giles got over; but a run of the coaches kept the rest of us on this side of the street; however, we all at last landed, and drew up in very good order before Ben Tooke's shop, who favoured our rallying with great humanity; from whence we proceeded again, until we came to Dick's coffee-house, where I designed to carry them. Here we were at our old difficulty, and took up the street upon the same ceremony. We proceeded through the entry, and were so necessarily kept in order by the situation, that we were now got into the coffee-house itself, where, as soon as we arrived, we repeated our civilities to each other; after which we marched up to the high table, which has an ascent to it inclosed in the middle of the room. The whole house was alarmed at this entry, made up of persons of so much state and rusticity. Sir Harry called for a mug of ale and Dyer's Letter. The boy brought the ale in an instant; but said, 'they did not take in the Letter.' 'No,' says sir Harry, then take back your mug; we are This I say of modesty, as it is the virtue like indeed to have good liquor at this house!' which preserves a decorum in the general Here the templar tipped me a second wink, course of our life; but, considering it also as it and, if I had not looked very grave upon him, regards our mere bodies, it is the certain chaI found he was disposed to be very familiar racter of a great mind. It is memorable of the with me. In short, I observed, after a long pause, mighty Cæsar, that when he was murdered in that the gentlemen did not care to enter upon the capitol, at the very moment in which he business until after their morning draught, for expired he gathered his robe about him, that which reason I called for a bottle of mum; and he might fall in a decent posture. In this finding that had no effect upon them, I ordered manner, says my author, he went off, not like a second, and a third, after which sir Harry a man that departed out of life, but a deity that reached over to me, and told me in a low voice, returned to his abode. Arthur is very well; but I can give you no account of Elms; he was in the hospital before I came into the field. I will not pretend to give you an account of the battle, knowing you have a better in the prints. Pray give my service to Mrs. Cook and her daughter, to Mr. Stoffet and his wife, and to Mr. Lyver, and Thomas Hogsdon, and to Mr. Ragdell, and to all my friends and acquaintance in general who do ask after me. My love to Mrs. Stevenson. I am sorry for the sending such ill news. Her husband was gathering a little money together to send to his wife, and put it into my hands. I have seven shillings and three pence, which I shall take care to send her. Wishing your wife a safe delivery, and both of you all happiness, rest your assured friend and comrade, JOHN HALL. 'We had but an indifferent breakfast; but the mounseers never had such a dinner in all their lives. THERE is nothing which I contemplate with greater pleasure than the dignity of human na. ture, which often shows itself in all conditions of life. For, notwithstanding the degeneracy and meanness that is crept into it, there are a thousand occasions in which it breaks through its original corruption, and shows what it once was, and what it will be hereafter. I consider the soul of man as the ruin of a glorious pile of building; where, amidst great heaps of rubbish, you meet with noble fragments of sculpture, broken pillars and obelisks, and a magnificence in confusion. Virtue and wisdom are continually employed in clearing the ruins, removing these disorderly heaps, recovering the noble pieces that lie buried under them, and adjusting them as well as possible according to their ancient symmetry and beauty. A happy educa. tion, conversation with the finest spirits, looking abroad into the works of nature, and observa. tions upon mankind, are the great assistances to this necessary and glorious work. But even among those who have never had the happiness of any of these advantages, there are sometimes such exertions of the greatness that is natural to the mind of man, as show capaci. ties and abilities, which only want these accidental helps to fetch them out, and show them in a proper light. A plebeian soul is still the ruin of this glorious edifice, though encumbered with all its rubbish. This reflection rose in me from a letter which my servant dropped as he was dressing me, and which he told me was communicated to him, as he is an acquaintance I saw the critics prepared to nibble at my letof some of the persons mentioned in it. The ter; therefore examined it myself, partly in their. epistle is from one serjeant Hall of the foot-way, and partly my own. This is, said I, truly guards. It is directed; To serjeant Cabe, in the Coldstream regiment of foot-guards, at the Red-lettice, in the Butcher-row, near Templebar.' I was so pleased with several touches in it, that I could not forbear showing it to a cluster of critics, who, instead of considering it in the light I have done, examined it by the rules of epistolary writing. For as these gentlemen are seldom men of any great genius, they work altogether by mechanical rules, and are able to discover no beauties that are not pointed out by Bouhours and Rapin. The letter is as follows: My kind love to my comrade Hinton, and Mrs. Morgan, and to John Brown and his wife. I sent two shillings, and Stevenson sixpence, to drink with you at Mr. Cook's; but I have heard nothing from him. It was by Mr. Edgar. 'Corporal Hartwell desires to be remembered to you, and desires you to inquire of Edgar, what is become of his wife Pegg; and when you write, to send word in your letter what trade she drives. 'We have here very bad weather, which I doubt will be a hindrance to the siege; but I am in hopes we shall be masters of the town in a little time, and then, I believe, we shall go to garrison.' a letter, and an honest representation of that cheerful heart which accompanies the poor soldier in his warfare. Is not there in this all the topic of submitting to our destiny as well discussed as if a greater man had been placed, like Brutus, in his tent at midnight, reflecting on all the occurrences of past life, and saying fine things on Being itself? What serjeant Hall knows of the matter is, that he wishes there had not been so many killed; and he had himself a very bad shot in the head, and should recover if it pleased God. But be that as it will, he takes care, like a man of honour, as he certainly is, to let the widow Stevenson know, that he had seven From the camp before Mons, September 26. and threepence for her, and that, if he lives, he 'COMRADE, I received yours, and am glad is sure he shall go into garrison at last. I doubt yourself and your wife are in good health, with not but all the good company at the Red-lettice all the rest of my friends. Our battalion suffer- drank his health with as much real esteem as ed more than I could wish in the action. But we do of any of our friends. All that I am conwho can withstand fate? Poor Richard Steven-cerned for is, that Mrs. Peggy Hartwell may be son had his fate with a great many more. He offended at showing this letter, because her con was killed dead before we entered the trenches. duct in Mr. Hartwell's absence is a little inWe had above two hundred of our battalion kill-quired into. But I could not sink that circumed and wounded. We lost ten serjeants, six are stance, because you critics would have lost one as followeth: Jennings, Castles, Roach, Sher- of the parts which I doubt not but you have much ring, Meyrick, and my son Smith. The rest to say upon, whether the familiar way is well are not your acquaintance. I have received a hit in this style or not? As for myself, I take very bad shot in my head myself, but_am in a very particular satisfaction in seeing any lethopes, and please God, I shall recover. I conti- ter that is fit only for those to read who are con nue in the field, and lie at my colonel's quarters.cerned in it, but especially on such a subject, |