complaining to the board, of the affronts he had | very true,' said Socrates; but you forget that met with among the Roman historians, who you have likewise been a very great harlot in attempted,' says he, to carry me into the sub- your time.' This exclusion made way for Arterraneous apartment; and, perhaps, would have chimedes, who came forward with a scheme of done it, had it not been for the impartiality of mathematical figures in his hand; among which this gentleman,' pointing to Polybius, who I observed a cone and a cylinder. was the only person, except my own countrymen, that was willing to conduct me hither.'

·

Seeing this table full, I desired my guide, for variety, to lead me to the fabulous apartment, the roof of which was painted with Gorgons, Chimeras, and Centaurs, with many other emblematical figures, which I wanted both time and skill to unriddle. The first table was almost full: at the upper end sat Hercules, leaning an arm upon his club; on his right hand were Achilles and Ulysses, and between them Æneas; on his left were Hector, Theseus, and Jason: the lower end had Orpheus, Æsop, Phalaris, and Musæus. The ushers seemed at a loss for a twelfth man, when, methought, to my great joy and surprise, I heard some at the lower end of the table mention Isaac Bickerstaff; but those of the upper end received it with disdain; and said, if they must have a British worthy, they would have Robin Hood.' While I was

The Carthaginian took his seat, and Pompey entered with great dignity in his own person, and preceded by several historians. Lucan the poet was at the head of them, who, observing Homer and Virgil at the table, was going to sit down himself, had not the latter whispered him, that whatever pretence he might otherwise have had, he forfeited his claim to it, by coming in as one of the historians. Lucan was so exasperated with the repulse, that he muttered something to himself; and was heard to say, that since he could not have a scat among them himself, he would bring in one who alone had more merit than their whole assembly:' upon which he went to the door, and brought in Cato of Utica. That great man approached the company with such an air, that showed he contemned the ho-transported with the honour that was done me, nour which he laid a claim to. Observing the seat opposite to Cæsar was vacant, he took possession of it, and spoke two or three smart sentences upon the nature of precedency, which, according to him, consisted not in place, but in intrinsic merit to which he added, that the most virtuous man, wherever he was seated, was always at the upper end of the table.' Socrates, who had a great spirit of raillery with his wisdom, could not forbear smiling at a virtue which took so little pains to make itself agreeable. Cicero took the occasion to make a long discourse in praise of Cato, which he uttered with much vehemence. Cæsar answered him with a great deal of seeming temper; but, as I stood at a great distance from them, I was not able to hear one word of what they said. But I could not forbear taking notice, that, in all the dis- it is sometimes better to be joined in death, than sepa course which passed at the table, a word or nod from Homer decided the controversy.

After a short pause, Augustus appeared, looking round him with a serene and affable countenance upon all the writers of his age, who strove among themselves which of them should show him the greatest marks of gratitude and respect. Virgil rose from the table to meet him; and though he was an acceptable guest to all, he appeared more such to the learned than the military worthies.

and burning with envy against my competitor, I was awakened by the noise of the cannon which were then fired for the taking of Mons. I should have been very much troubled at being thrown out of so pleasing a vision on any other occasion; but thought it an agreeable change, to have my thoughts diverted from the greatest among the dead and fabulous heroes, to the most famous among the real and the living.

No. 82.]

Tuesday, October 18, 1709.

Ubi idem et maximus et honestissimus amor est, aliquando præstat morte jungi, quam vità distrahi-Val.

Max.

Where there is the greatest and most honourable love, rated in life.

From my own Apartment, October 17.

AFTER the mind has been employed on contemplations suitable to its greatness, it is unnatural to run into sudden mirth or levity; but we must let the soul subside, as it rose, by proper degrees. My late considerations of the ancient heroes impressed a certain gravity upon my mind, which is much above the little gratification received from starts of humour and fancy, The next man astonished the whole table with and threw me into a pleasing sadness. In this his appearance. He was slow, solemn, and si- state of thought I have been looking at the fire, lent in his behaviour, and wore a raiment cu- and in a pensive manner reflecting upon the riously wronght with hieroglyphics. As he great misfortunes and calamities incident to hucame into the middle of the room, he threw back man life; among which there are none that the skirt of it, and discovered a golden thigh. touch so sensibly as those which befall persons Socrates, at the sight of it, declared against who eminently love, and meet with fatal interrup keeping company with any who were not made tions of their happiness when they least expect of flesh and blood; and, therefore, desired Dio-it. The picty of children to parents, and the af. genes the Laertian to lead him to the apartment allotted for fabulous heroes, and worthies of dubious existence. At his going out, he told them, 'that they did not know whom they dismissed; that he was now Pythagoras, the first of philosophers, and that formerly he had been a very brave man at the siege of Troy.'-'That may be

fection of parents to their children, are the effects of instinct; but the affection between lovers and friends is founded on reason and choice, which has always made me think the sorrows of the latter much more to be pitied than those of the former. The contemplation of distresses of this sort softens the mind of man, and makes the

heart better. It extinguishes the seeds of envy and ill-will towards mankind, corrects the pride of prosperity, and beats down all that fierceness and insolence which are apt to get into the minds of the daring and fortunate.

the waves, which gently rolled towards them, and broke at their feet; when at a distance her kinswoman saw something float on the waters, which she fancied was a chest ; and with a smile told her, she saw it first, and if it came ashore full of jewels, she had a right to it.' They both fixed their eyes upon it, and entertained themselves with the subject of the wreck, the cousin still asserting her right; but promising, ‘if it was a prize, to give her a very rich coral for the child of which she was then big, provided she might be god-mother.' Their mirth soon abated, when they observed, upon the nearer approach, that it was a human body. The young lady, who had a heart naturally filled with pity and compassion, made many melancholy reflections on the occasion. Who knows,' said she, but this man may be the only hope and heir of a wealthy house; the darling of indulgent parents, who are now in impertinent mirth, and pleasing themselves with the thoughts of offering him a

For this reason the wise Athenians, in their theatrical performances, laid before the eyes of the people the greatest afflictions which could befall human life, and insensibly polished their tempers by such representations. Among the moderns, indeed, there has arisen a chimerical method of disposing the fortune of the persons represented, according to what they call poetical justice; and letting none be unhappy but those who deserve it. In such cases an intelligent spectator, if he is concerned, knows he ought not to be so; and can learn nothing from such a tenderness, but that he is a weak creature, whose passions cannot follow the dictates of his understanding. It is very natural, when one is got into such a way of thinking, to recollect those examples of sorrow which have made the strong-bride they have got ready for him? or, may he est impression upon our imaginations. An instance or two of such you will give me leave to communicate.

not be the master of a family that wholly depended upon his life? There may, for aught we know, be half a dozen fatherless children, and a tender wife, now exposed to poverty by his death. What pleasure might he have promised himself in the different welcome he was to have from her and them! But let us go away; it is a dreadful sight! The best office we can do, is to take care that the poor man, whoever he is, may be decently buried.' She turned away, when a wave threw the carcass on the shore.

The

A young gentleman and lady of ancient and honourable houses in Cornwall had, from their childhood, entertained for each other a generous and noble passion, which had been long opposed by their friends, by reason of the inequality of their fortunes; but their constancy to each other, and obedience to those on whom they depended, wrought so much upon their relations, that these celebrated lovers were at length joined in mar-kinswoman immediately shrieked out, 'Oh my riage. Soon after their nuptials, the bridegroom cousin!' and fell upon the ground. The nhappy was obliged to go into a foreign country, to take wife went to help her friend, when she saw her care of a considerable fortune, which was left own husband at her feet, and dropped in a swoon him by a relation, and came very opportunely to upon the body. An old woman, who had been improve their moderate circumstances. They the gentleman's nurse, came out about this time received the congratulations of all the country to call the ladies in to supper, and found her on this occasion; and I remember it was a com- child, as she always called him, dead on the mon sentence in every one's mouth, You see shore, her mistress and kinswoman both lying how faithful love is rewarded.'* dead by him. Her loud lamentations, and calling her young master to life, soon awaked the friend from her trance; but the wife was gone for ever.

He took this agreeable voyage, and sent home every post fresh accounts of his success in his affairs abroad; but at last, though he designed to return with the next ship, he lamented, in his letters, that business would detain him some time longer from home,' because he would give himself the pleasure of an unexpected arrival.

When the family and neighbourhood got together round the bodies, no one asked any question; but the objects before them told the story

Incidents of this nature are the more moving The young lady, after the heat of the day, when they are drawn by persons concerned in walked every evening on the sea-shore, near the catastrophe, notwithstanding they are often which she lived, with a familiar friend, her hus-oppressed beyond the power of giving them in band's kinswoman; and diverted herself with a distinct light, except we gather their sorrow what objects they met there, or upon discourses from their inability to speak it. of the future methods of life, in the happy change of their circumstances. They stood one evening on the shore together in a perfect tranquillity, observing the setting of the sun, the calm face of the deep, and the silent heaving of

* This melancholy relation concerning these Cornish lovers seems to have been founded on a real story, not very remote from the original date of the paper. The writer, whoever he was, afficins that he remembered a common sentence in every one's mouth' on the occasion of the gentleman's succession to an unexpected fortune. The reader may compare this with Gay's much admired relation of John Hewitt and Sarah Drew; 'Pope's

Works, vol. iv. p. 9. Lond. Ed. 1770.

I have two original letters, written both on the same day, which are to me exquisite in their different kinds. The occasion was this:-A gentleman who had courted a most agreeable young woman, and won her heart, obtained also the consent of her father, to whom she was an only child. The old man had a fancy that they should be married in the same church where he himself was, in a village in Westmoreland, and made them set out while he was laid up with the gout at London. The bridegroom took only his man, the bride her maid: they had the most agreeable journey imaginable to the place of

marriage; from whence the bridegroom writ the following letter to his wife's father.

March 18, 1672.

'SIR,-After a very pleasant journey hither, we are preparing for the happy hour in which I am to be your son. I assure you the bride carries it, in the eye of the vicar who married you, much beyond her mother; though he says, your open sleeves, pantaloons, and shoulderknot, made a much better show than the finical dress I am in. However, I am contented to be the second fine man this village ever saw, and shall make it very merry before night, because I shall write myself from thence, your most dutiful son,

་

T. D.'

The bride gives her duty, and is as handsome as an angel.I am the happiest man breathing.'

No. 83.]

Thursday, October 20, 1709.

Senilis stultitia quæ deliratio appellari solet, senum levium est, non omnium. M. T. Cic.

That which is usually called dotage, is not the foible

of all old men, but only of such as are remarkable for their levity and inconstancy.

From my own Apartment, October 19.

Ir is my frequent practice to visit places of resort in this town where I am least known, to observe what reception my works meet with in the world, and what good effects I may promise myself from my labours; and it being a privilege asserted by monsieur Montaigne, and others of vain-glorious memory, that we writers of essays may talk of ourselves; I take the liberty to give an account of the remarks which I find are made by some of my gentle readers upon these my dissertations.

house near the Exchange, where two persons I happened this evening to fall into a coffeewere reading my account of the 'Table of Fame.' and explaining who was meant by this and the other worthy as he passed on. I observed the person over against him wonderfully intent and satisfied with his explanation. When he came to Julius Cæsar, who is said to have refused any conductor to the table; 'No, no,' said he, he is in the right of it; he has money enough to be welcome wherever he comes; and then whisbands. Upon reading that Aristotle made his pered, he means a certain colonel of the trainclaim with some rudeness, but great strength of reason; Who can that be, so rough and so

The one of these was commenting as he read,

The villagers were assembling about the church, and the happy couple took a walk in a private garden. The bridegroom's man knew his master would leave the place on a sudden after the wedding, and, seeing him draw his pistols the night before, took this opportunity to go into his chamber and charge them. Upon their return from the garden, they went into that room; and, after a little fond raillery on the subject of their courtship, the lover took up a pistol, which he knew he had unloaded the night before, and presenting it to her, said, with the most graceful air, whilst she looked pleased at his agrecable flattery; Now, madam, repent of all those cruelties you have been guilty of to me; consider, before you die, how often you have made a poor wretch freeze under your casement; you shall die, you tyrant, you shall reasonable? It must be some whig, I warrant die, with all those instruments of death and destruction about you, with that enchanting smile, those killing ringlets of your hair Give fire!' said she, laughing. He did so: and shot her dead. Who can speak his condition? but he bore it so patiently as to call up his man. The poor wretch entered, and his master locked the door upon him. Will,' said he, did you charge these pistols?' He answered, 'Yes.' Upon which he shot him dead with that remaining. After this, amidst a thousand broken sobs, piercing groans, and distracted motions, he writ the following letter to the father of his dead mistress.

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·

you. There is nothing but party in these public papers. Where Pythagoras is said to have a golden thigh, Ay, ay,' said he, he has money enough in his breeches; that is the alderman of our ward,' you must know. Whatever he of life and acquaintance. I am glad my readers read, I found he interpreted from his own way but, for the benefit of posterity, I design, when can construe for themselves these difficult points; make it an explanation of all my former. In I come to write my last paper of this kind, to with their proper names. The faulty characters that piece you shall have all I have commended, must be left as they are, because we live in an age wherein vice is very general, and virtue very particular; for which reason the latter only wants explanation.

'SIR,-I, who two hours ago told you truly I was, the happiest man alive, am now the most miserable. Your daughter lies dead at my feet, is of yet greater regard to me than the care of But I must turn my present discourse to what killed by my hand, through a mistake of my man's charging my pistols unknown to me. my writings; that is to say, the preservation of Him have I murdered for it. Such is my wed-a lady's heart. Little did I think I should ever ding day.I will immediately follow my wife to her grave; but before I throw myself upon my sword, I command my distraction so far as to explain my story to you. I fear my heart will not keep together until I have stabbed it. Poor, good old man!-Remember, he that killed your daughter died for it. In the article of death I give you my thanks, and pray for you, though I dare not for myself. If it be possible, do not curse me.'

have business of this kind on my hands more; believe it, there is a lady at this time who pro but, as little as any one who knows me would fesses love to me. Her passion and good humour you shall have in her own words.

MR. BICKERSTAFF,-I had formerly a very good opinion of myself; but it is now withdrawn, and I have placed it upon you, Mr. Bickerstaff, for whom I am not ashamed to declare I have

*Tatler, No. 81.

No. 83.]

THE TATLER.

a very great passion and tenderness. It is not | which was fit for inviting our approach, and for your face, for that I never saw: your shape commanding our respect; that a smile sat on and height I am equally a stranger to; but your her lips, which prefaced her expressions before understanding charms me, and I am lost if you she uttered them, and her aspect prevented her do not dissemble a little love for me. I am not speech. All she could say, though she had an without hopes; because I am not like the tawdry infinite deal of wit, was but a repetition of what gay things that are fit only to make bone lace. was expressed by her form; her form! which I am neither childish-young, nor beldam-old, struck her beholders with ideas more moving and forcible than ever were inspired by music, but, the world says, a good agreeable woman. 'Speak peace to a troubled heart, troubled painting, or eloquence.' At this rate I panted in those days; but, ah! sixty-three! I am very only for you; and in your next paper let me sorry I can only return the agreeable Maria a find your thoughts of me. passion expressed rather from the head than the heart.

'Do not think of finding out who I am; for, notwithstanding your interest in dæmons, they cannot help you either to my name, or a sight of my face; therefore, do not let them deceive

you.

I can bear no discourse, if you are not the subject; and, believe me, I know more of love than you do of astronomy.

pen

Pray, say some civil things in return to my generosity, and you shall have my very best employed to thank you, and I will confirm it. MARIA.' admirer,

I

am your

There is something wonderfully pleasing in the favour of women: and this letter has put me in so good a humour, that nothing could displease me since I received it. My boy breaks glasses and pipes; and instead of giving him a knock on the pate, as my way is, for I hate scolding at servants, I only say, Ah, Jack! thou hast a head, and so has a pin,' or some But, alas! how am I such merry expression. mortified when he is putting on my fourth pair of stockings on these poor spindles of mine? The fair one understands love better than I astronomy?' I am sure, without the help of that art, this poor meagre trunk of mine is a very ill habitation for love. She is pleased to speak civilly of my sense, but Ingenium male habitat is an invincible difficulty in cases of this nature. I had always, indeed, from a passion to please the eyes of the fair, a great pleasure in dress. Add to this, that I have writ songs since I was sixty, and have lived with all the circumspection of an old beau, as I am. But my friend Horace has very well said, 'Every year takes something from us; and instructed me to form my pursuits and desires according to the stage of my life: therefore, I have no more to value myself upon, than that I can converse with young people without peevishness, or wishing myself a moment younger. For which reason, when I am amongst them, I rather moderate than interrupt their diversions. But though I have this complacency, I must not pretend to write to a lady civil things, as Maria desires. Time was, when I could have told her, 'I had received a letter from her fair hands; and, that if this paper trembled as she read it, it then best expressed its author, or some other gay conceit. Though I never saw her, I could have told her, 'that good sense and good humour smiled in her eyes: that constancy and good-nature dwelt in her heart: that beauty and good breeding appeared in all her actions.' When I was five-and-twenty, upon sight of one syllable, even wrong spelt, by a lady I never saw I could tell her, that her height was that

DEAR MADAM,-You have already seen the best of me, and I so passionately love you, that I desire we may never meet. If you will examine your heart, you will find that you join the man with the philosopher : and if you have that kind opinion of my sense as you pretend, I question not you add to it complexion, air, and macteric is of no sex. Be a good girl; and conshape: but, dear Molly, a man in his grand cliduct yourself with honour and virtue, when you love one younger than myself. I am, with the greatest tenderness, your innocent lover.

Will's Coffee-house, October 19.

I. B.

There is nothing more common than the weakness mentioned in the following epistle; and I believe there is hardly a man living who has not been more or less injured by it.

'Land's End, October 12. 'SIR,-I have left the town some time; and much the sooner, for not having had the advantage, when I lived there, of so good a pilot as you are to the present age. Your cautions to the young men against the vices of the town are well: but there is one not less needful, very which I think you have omitted. I had from the Rough Diamond (a gentleman so called from an honest blunt wit he had) not long since dead, this obseravtion, That a young man must be at least three or four years in London before he dares say, No.

"You will easily see the truth and force of this observation; for, I believe more people are drawn away against their inclinations, than with them. A young man is afraid to deny any body going to a tavern to dinner; or, after being gorged there, to repeat the same with another company at supper, or to drink excessively, if desired, or go to any other place, or commit any other extravagancy proposed. The fear of being thought covetous, to have no money, or to be under the dominion or fear of his parents and friends, hinder him from the free exercise of his understanding, and affirming boldly the true reason, which is, his real dislike of what is desired. If you could cure this slavish facility, it would save abundance at their first entrance into the world.-I am, sir, yours,

6 SOLOMON AFTERWIT.

This epistle has given an occasion to a treatise on this subject, wherein I shall lay down rules when a young stripling is to say, No; and a young virgin, Yes.

there is nothing in woman so graceful and becoming as modesty. It adds charms to their beauty, and gives a new softness to their sex. Without it, simplicity and innocence appear rude; reading and good sense, masculine; wit and humour, lascivious. This is so necessary a qualification for pleasing, that the loose part of womankind, whose study it is to ensnare men's hearts, never fail to support the appearance of what they know is so essential to that end; and I have heard it reported by the young fellows in my time as a maxim of the celebrated madam Bennet,* that a young wench, though never so beautiful, was not worth her board when she was past her blushing. This discourse naturally brings into my thoughts a letter I have received from the virtuous lady Whittlestick, on the subject of Lucretia.

From my tea-table, Oct. 17. 'COUSIN ISAAC,-I read your Tatler of Saturday last, and was surprised to see you so partial to your own sex, as to think none of ours worthy to sit at your first table; for sure you cannot but own Lucretia as famous as any you have placed there, who first parted with her virtue, and af terwards with her life, to preserve her fame.'

Mrs. Biddy Twig has written me a letter to the same purpose; but, in answer to both my pretty correspondents and kinswomen, I must tell them, that although I know Lucretia would have made a very graceful figure at the upper end of the table, I did not think it proper to place her there because I knew she would not care for being in the company of so many men without her husband. At the same time, I must own, that Tarquin himself was not a greater lover and admirer of Lucretia than I myself am in an honest way. When my sister Jenny was in her sampler, I made her get the whole story without book, and tell it me in needle-work. This illustrious lady stands up in history as the glory of her own sex, and the reproach of ours; and the circumstances under which she fell were so very particular, that they seem to make adultery and

I HAVE received a letter subscribed A. B. wherein it has been represented to me as an enormity, that there are more than ordinary crowds of women at the Old Baily when a rape is to be tried. But by Mr. A. B.'s favour, I cannot tell who are so much concerned in that part of the law as the sex he mentions, they being the only persons liable to such insults. Nor, indeed, do I think it more unreasonable that they should be inquisitive on such occasions than men of honour, when one is tried for killing another in a duel. It is very natural to inquire how the fatal pass was made, that we may the better defend ourselves when we come to be attacked. Several eminent ladies appeared lately at the court of justice on such an occasion, and, with great patience and attention, staid the whole trials of two persons for the above-said crime. The law to me, indeed, seems a little defective in this point; and it is a very great hardship, that this crime, which is committed by men only, should have men only on their jury. I humbly, therefore, propose, that on future trials of this sort, half of the twelve may be women; and those such whose faces are well known to have taken notes, or may be supposed to remember what happened in former trials in the same place. There is the learned Androgyne, that transcendant virtue, that her beauty, which was would make a good fore-woman of the pannel, the greatest of the age and country in which who, by long attendance, understands as much she lived, and is generally celebrated as the law and anatomy as is necessary in this case. highest of praise in other women, is never men. But it would Until this is taken care of, I am humbly of opi- tioned as a part of her character. nion, it would be much more expedient that the be declaiming to dwell upon so celebrated a fair were wholly absent; for to what end can it story, which I mentioned only in respect to my be that they should be present at such examina-kinswoman; and to make reparation for the tions, when they can only be perplexed with a fellow-feeling for the injured, without any power to avenge their sufferings? It is an unnecessary pain which the fair ones give themselves on these occasions. I have known a young woman shrick out at some parts of the evidence; and have frequently observed, that when the proof grew particular and strong, there has been such a universal flutter of fans, that one would think the whole female audience were falling into fits. Nor, indeed, can I see how men themselves can be wholly unmoved at such tragical

relations.

In short, I must tell my female readers, and they may take an old man's word for it, that

murder meritorious. She was a woman of such

omission they complain of, do further promise to fill it, there shall be a small tea-table set apart them, that if they can furnish me with instances in my Palace of Fame for the reception of all of

her character.

Grecian Coffee-house, October 21.

I was this evening communicating my design of producing obscure merit into public view; and proposed to the learned, that they would please to assist me in the work. For the same end I publish my intention to the world that all

* A notorious bawd in the reign of Charles II. called Mistress, and Madam and Mother Bennet.