CHAPTER XIV.

THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE EARLY ESSAYISTS--_Continued._

Characteristic Passages from the Works of The 'Humourists,' from Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand, with Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text -- THE 'WORLD,' 1753 -- Introduction -- Its Difference from the Earlier Essays -- Distinguished Authors who contributed to the 'World' -- Paragraphs and Pencillings.

The 'World'--writes Dr. Chalmers, in his historical and biographical preface to this series--differs from its predecessors in the general plan, although the ultimate tendency is similar. We have here no philosophy of morals, no indignant censure of the grosser vices, no critical disquisitions, and, in general, scarcely anything serious. Irony is the predominant feature. This caustic species of wit is employed in the 'World' to execute purposes which other methods had failed to accomplish.

The authors of these essays affected to consider the follies of their day as beneath their notice, and therefore tried what good might be done by turning them into ridicule, under the mask of defence or apology, and thus ingeniously demonstrated that every defence of what is in itself absurd and wrong, must either partake of the ridiculous, or be intolerable and repugnant to common sense and reason. With such intentions, notwithstanding their apparent good humour, they may, perhaps, in the apprehension of many readers, appear more severe censors of the foibles of the age than any who have gone before them.

The design, as professed in the first paper, was to ridicule, with novelty and good humour, the fashions, foibles, vices, and absurdities of that part of the human species which calls itself 'The World;' and this the principal writers were enabled to execute with facility, from the knowledge incidental to their rank in life, the elevated sphere in which they moved, their intercourse with a part of society not easily accessible to authors in general, and the good sense which prevented them from being blinded by the glare or enslaved by the authority of fashion.

The 'World' was projected by Edward Moore[25]--in conjunction with Robert Dodsley, the eminent publisher of Johnson's 'Dictionary'--who fixed upon the name; and by defraying the expense, and rewarding Moore, became, and for many years continued to be, the sole proprietor of the work.

Edward Moore's abilities, his modest demeanour, inoffensive manners, and moral conduct, recommended him to the men of genius and learning of the age, and procured him the patronage of Lord Lyttleton, who engaged his friends to assist him in the way which a man not wholly dependent would certainly prefer. Dodsley, the publisher, stipulated to pay Moore three guineas for every paper of the 'World' which he should write, or which might be sent for publication and approved of. Lord Lyttleton, to render this bargain effectual, and an easy source of emolument to his _protégé_, solicited the assistance of such men as are not often found willing to contribute the labours of the pen, men of high rank in the state, and men of fame and fashion, who cheerfully undertook to supply the paper, while Moore reaped the emolument, and perhaps for a time enjoyed the reputation of the whole. But when it became known, as the information soon circulated in whispers, that such men as the Earls of Chesterfield, Bath, and Cork--that Horace Walpole, Richard Owen Cambridge, and Soame Jenyns--besides other persons of both distinction and parts--were leagued in a scheme of authorship to amuse the town, and that the 'World' was the bow of Ulysses, in which it was 'the fashion for men of rank and genius to try their strength,' we may easily suppose that it would excite the curiosity of the public in an uncommon degree.

The first paper was published January 24, 1753; it was consequently contemporary with the 'Adventurer,' which began November 7, 1752; but as the 'World' was published only once a week, it outlived the 'Adventurer' nearly two years, during which time it ran its course also with the 'Connoisseur.' It was of the same size and type and at the same price with the 'Rambler' and 'Adventurer,' but the sale in numbers was superior to either. In No. 3, Lord Chesterfield states that the number sold weekly was two thousand, which number, he adds, 'exceeds the largest that was ever printed, even of the "Spectator."' In No. 49, he hints that 'not above _three_ thousand were sold.' The sale was probably not regular, and would be greater on the days when rumour announced his lordship as the writer. The usual number printed was two thousand five hundred, as stated in a letter from Moore to Dr. Warton. Notwithstanding the able assistance of his right honourable friends, Moore wrote sixty-one of these papers, and part of another. He excelled principally in assuming the serious manner for the purposes of ridicule, or of raising idle curiosity; his irony is admirably concealed. However trite his subject, he enlivens it by original turns of thought.

In the last paper, the conclusion of the work is made to depend on a fictitious accident which is supposed to have happened to the author and occasioned his death. When the papers were collected in volumes, Moore superintended the publication, and actually died while this last paper was in the press: a circumstance somewhat singular, when we look at the contents of it, and which induces us to wish that death may be less frequently included among the topics of wit.

It has been the general opinion, for the honour of rank, that the papers written by men of that description in the 'World' are superior to those of Moore, or of his assistants of 'low degree.' It may be conceded that among the contributories the first place is due, in point of genius, taste, and elegance, to the pen of Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield.

Lord Chesterfield's services to this paper were purely voluntary, but a circumstance occurred to his first communication which had nearly disinclined him to send a second. He sent his paper to the publisher without any notice of its authorship; it underwent a casual inspection, and, from its length, was at least delayed, if not positively rejected. Fortunately Lord Lyttleton saw it at Dodsley's, and knew the hand. Moore then hastened to publish the paper (No. 18), and thought proper to introduce it with an apology for the delay, and a neat compliment to the wit and good sense of his correspondent.

Chesterfield continued his papers occasionally, and wrote in all twenty-three numbers, certainly equal, if not superior, in brilliancy of wit and novelty of thought, to the most popular productions of this kind.

A certain interest surrounds most of the authors who assisted in the 'World,' and many of the papers were written under circumstances which increase the attraction of their contents. We have not space to particularise special essays, or to enter upon the biographical details which properly belong to our subject; we must restrict further notice to a mere recapitulation of the contributors and their pieces. Richard Owen Cambridge, the author of the 'Scribleriad,' wrote in all twenty-one papers. Horace Walpole was the author of nine papers in the 'World,' all of which excel in keen satire, shrewd remark, easy and scholarly diction, and knowledge of mankind; indeed, for sprightly humour these papers probably excel all his other writings, and most of those of his contemporaries. For five papers we are indebted to Soame Jenyns, who held the office and rank of one of the Lords Commissioners of the Board of Trade and Plantations. James Tilson, Consul at Cadiz, furnished five papers of considerable merit and novelty. Five papers, chiefly of the more serious kind, were contributed by Edward Loveybond; the 'Tears of Old May-Day,' No. 82 of the 'World,' is esteemed one of his best poetic compositions.

W. Whitehead, the Poet Laureate, wrote three papers, Nos. 12, 19, and 58. Nos. 79, 156, 202 were written by Richard Berenger, Gentleman of the Horse to the King. Sir James Marriott, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty, and Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, wrote Nos. 117, 121, 199. The 'Adventures of the Pumpkin Family,' zealous to defend their honour, given in Nos. 47 and 63, were written by John, Earl of Cork and Orrery, the amiable nobleman who, as Johnson whimsically declared, '_was so generally civil, that nobody thanked him for it_.' The Earl of Cork is also said to have contributed Nos. 161 and 185; he took a more active part in the 'Connoisseur.'

To his son, Mr. Hamilton Boyle, who afterwards succeeded to the earl's title, the 'World' was indebted for Nos. 60 and 170, two papers drawn up with vivacity, humour, and elegance.

William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, to whom the second volume of the 'Guardian' was dedicated, contributed to the 'World,' in his seventy-first year, No. 7, a lively paper on horse-racing and the manners of Newmarket.

Three papers, Nos. 140, 147, and 204, specimens of easy and natural humour, came from the pen of Sir David Dalrymple, better known as Lord Hailes, one of the senators of the College of Justice in Scotland; in advanced life Lord Hailes contributed several papers remarkable for vivacity and point to the 'Mirror.' William Duncombe, a poetical and miscellaneous writer, was the author of the allegory in No. 84; his son, the Rev. John Duncombe, of Canterbury, was the author of No. 36. The latter gentleman appears in connection with the 'Connoisseur.' Nos. 38 and 74 were written by Mr. Parratt, the author of some poems in Dodsley's collection. Nos. 78 and 86 are from the pen of the Rev. Thomas Cole.

The remaining writers in the 'World' were single-paper men, but some of them of considerable distinction in other departments of literary and of public life.

No. 15 was written by the Rev. Francis Coventrye. No. 26 was the production of Dr. Thomas Warton, who was then contributing to the 'Adventurer.' In No. 32 criticism is treated with considerable humour as a species of disease by the publisher, Robert Dodsley, whose popularity extended to all ranks.

No. 37, like Lord Chesterfield's first contributions, was accorded the honour of an extra half-sheet, rather than that the excellences of the letter should be curtailed. It is not only the longest, but is considered one of the best papers in the collection. It was written by Sir Charles Hunbury Williams, for some time the English Minister at the Courts of Berlin and St. Petersburgh. A humorous letter on posts (No. 45) was from the pen of William Hayward Roberts, afterwards Provost of Eton College, Chaplain to the King, and Rector of Farnham Royal, Buckinghamshire. One of the best papers for delicate irony to be found in the entire series of humorous essayists, No. 83, on the 'Manufactory of Thunder and Lightning,' was written by Mr. William Whittaker, a serjeant-at-law and a Welsh judge.

Nos. 110 and 159 are attributed to John Gilbert Cooper, author of the 'Life of Socrates,' and 'Letters on Taste.' Thomas Mulso, a brother of Mrs. Chapone, is set down as the writer of No. 31. He published, in 1768, 'Calistus, or the Man of Fashion,' and 'Sophronius, or the Country Gentleman in Dialogues.' James Ridley, author of the 'Tales of the Genii' and of the 'Schemer,' contributed No. 155. Mr. Gataker, a surgeon of eminence, was the author of No. 184. Mr. Herring, rector of Great Mongeham, Kent, wrote No. 122, on the 'Distresses of a Physician without Patronage.' Mr. Moyle wrote No. 156, on 'False Honour,' and Mr. Burgess No. 198, an excellent paper on the 'Difficulty of Getting Rid of Oneself.' The 'Ode to Sculpture,' in No. 200, was written by James Scott, D.D. Forty-one papers were written by persons whose names were either unknown to the publisher, or who desired to remain anonymous.

The 'World' has been frequently reprinted, and will probably always remain a favourite, for its materials, although sustained by the most whimsical raillery, are not of a perishable kind. The manners of fashionable life are not so mutable in their principles as is commonly supposed, and those who practise them may at least boast that they have stronger stamina than to yield to the attacks of wit or morals.

No. 7. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 15, 1753._

'Whoever is a frequenter of public assemblies, or joins in a party of cards in private families, will give evidence to the truth of this complaint.

'How common is it with some people, at the conclusion of every unsuccessful hand of cards, to burst forth into sallies of fretful complaints of their own amazing ill-fortune and the constant and invariable success of their antagonists! They have such excellent memories as to be able to recount every game they have lost for six months successively, and yet are so extremely forgetful at the same time as not to recollect a single game they have won. Or if you put them in mind of any extraordinary success that you have been witness to, they acknowledge it with reluctance, and assure you, upon their honours, that in a whole twelvemonth's play they never rose winners but that once.

'But if these _growlers_ (a name which I shall always call men of this class by) would only content themselves with giving repeated histories of their ill-fortunes, without making invidious remarks on the success of others, the evil would not be so great.

'Indeed, I am apt to impute it to their fears, that they stop short of the grossest affronts; for I have seen in their faces such rancour and inveteracy, that nothing but a lively apprehension of consequences could have restrained their tongues.

'Happy would it be for the ladies if they had the consequences to apprehend; for, I am sorry to say it, I have met with female, I will not say _growlers_, the word is too harsh for them; let me call them _fretters_, who with the prettiest faces and the liveliest wit imaginable, have condescended to be the jest and the disturbance of the whole company.'

No. 18. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 3, 1753._

A worthy gentleman, who is suffering from the consequences of treating his wife and daughter to a visit to Paris, is describing, in a letter to Mr. FitzAdam, the follies into which the ladies of his party were betrayed 'in order to fit themselves out to appear, as the French say, _honnêtement_.'

'In about three days,' writes the victim of these vagaries of fashion, 'the several mechanics, who were charged with the care of disguising my wife and daughter, brought home their respective parts of the transformation. More than the whole morning was employed in this operation, for we did not sit down to dinner till near five o'clock. When my wife and daughter came at last into the eating-room, where I had waited for them at least two hours, I was so struck with their transformation that I could neither conceal nor express my astonishment. "Now, my dear," said my wife, "we can appear a little like Christians." "And strollers too," replied I; "for such have I seen at Southwark Fair. This cannot surely be serious!" "Very serious, depend upon it, my dear," said my wife; "and pray, by the way, what may there be ridiculous in it?"

'Addressing myself to my wife and daughter, I told them I perceived that there was a painter now in Paris who coloured much higher than Rigault, though he did not paint near so like; for that I could hardly have guessed them to be the pictures of themselves. To this they both answered at once, that red was not paint; that no colour in the world was _fard_ but white, of which they protested they had none.

'"But how do you like my _pompon_, papa?" continued my daughter; "is it not a charming one? I think it is prettier than mamma's." "It may be, child, for anything that I know; because I do not know what part of all this frippery thy _pompon_ is." "It is this, papa," replied the girl, putting up her hand to her head, and showing me in the middle of her hair a complication of shreds and rags of velvets, feathers, and ribands, stuck with false stones of a thousand colours, and placed awry.

'"But what hast thou done to thy hair, child, and why is it blue? Is that painted, too, by the same eminent hand that coloured thy cheeks?" "Indeed, papa," answered the girl, "as I told you before, there is no painting in the case; but what gives my hair that bluish cast is the grey powder, which has always that effect on dark-coloured hair, and sets off the complexion wonderfully." "Grey powder, child!" said I, with some surprise; "grey hairs I knew were venerable; but till this moment I never knew they were genteel." "Extremely so, with some complexions," said my wife; "but it does not suit with mine, and I never use it." "You are much in the right, my dear," replied I, "not to play with edge-tools. Leave it to the girl." This, which perhaps was too hastily said, was not kindly taken; my wife was silent all dinner-time, and I vainly hoped ashamed. My daughter, intoxicated with her dress, kept up the conversation with herself, till the long-wished-for moment of the opera came, which separated us, and left me time to reflect upon the extravagances which I had already seen, and upon the still greater which I had but too much reason to dread.'

No. 21. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 24, 1753._

I am not so partial to the ladies, particularly the unmarried ones, as to imagine them without fault; on the contrary, I am going to accuse them of a very great one, which, if not put a stop to before the warm weather comes in, no mortal can tell to what lengths it may be carried. You have already hinted at this fault in the sex, under the genteel appellation of moulting their dress. If necks, shoulders, &c., have begun to shed their covering in winter, what a general display of nature are we to expect this summer, when the excuse of heat may be alleged in favour of such a display! I called some time ago upon a friend of mine near St. James's, who, upon my asking where his sister was, told me, "At her toilette, undressing for the ridetto." That the expression may be intelligible to every one of your readers, I beg leave to inform them that it is the fashion for a lady to undress herself to go abroad, and to dress only when she stays at home and sees no company.

'It may be urged, perhaps, that the nakedness in fashion is intended only to be emblematical of the innocence of the present generation of young ladies; as we read of our first mother before the fall, that _she was naked and not ashamed_; but I cannot help thinking that her daughters of these times should convince us that they are entirely free from original sin, or else be ashamed of their nakedness.

'I would ask any pretty miss about town, if she ever went a second time to see the wax-work, or the lions, or even the dogs or the monkeys, with the same delight as at first? Certain it is that the finest show in the world excites but little curiosity in those who have seen it before. "That was a very fine picture," says my lord, "_but I had seen it before_." "'Twas a sweet song," says my lady, "_but I had heard it before_." "A very fine poem," says the critic, "_but I had read it before_." Let every lady, therefore, take care, that while she is displaying in public a bosom whiter than snow, the men do not look as if they were saying, "'Tis very pretty, _but we have seen it before_."'

No. 23. THE 'WORLD.'--_June 7, 1753._

'A recent visit to Bedlam revived an opinion I have often entertained, that the maddest people in the kingdom are not _in_ but _out_ of Bedlam. I have frequently compared in my own mind the actions of certain persons whom we daily meet with in the world with those of Bedlam, who, properly speaking, may be said to be out of it; and I know of no difference between them, than that the former are mad with their reason about them, and the latter so from the misfortune of having lost it. But what is extraordinary in this age, when, to its honour be it spoken, charity is become fashionable, these unhappy wretches are suffered to run loose about the town, raising riots in public assemblies, beating constables, breaking lamps, damning parsons, affronting modesty, disturbing families, and destroying their own fortunes and constitutions; and all this without any provision being made for them, or the least attempt being made to cure them of this madness in their blood.

'The miserable objects I am speaking of are divided into two classes: the Men of Spirit about town, and the Bucks. The Men of Spirit have some glimmerings of understanding, the Bucks none; the former are demoniacs, or people possessed; the latter are uniformly and incurably mad. For the reception and confinement of both these classes, I would humbly propose that two very spacious buildings should be erected, the one called the hospital for the Men of Spirit or demoniacs, and the other the hospital for the Bucks or incurables.

'That after such hospitals are built, proper officers appointed, and doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, and mad nurses provided, all young noblemen and others within the bills of mortality having common sense, who shall be found offending against the rules of decency, shall immediately be conducted to the hospital for demoniacs, there to be exorcised, physicked, and disciplined into a proper use of their senses; and that full liberty be granted to all persons whatsoever to visit, laugh at, and make sport of these demoniacs, without let or molestation from any of the keepers, according to the present custom of Bedlam. To the Buck hospital for incurables, I would have all such persons conveyed that are mad through folly, ignorance, or conceit; therefore to be shut up for life, not only to be prevented from doing mischief, but from exposing in their own persons the weaknesses and miseries of mankind. The incurables on no pretence whatsoever are to be visited or ridiculed; as it would be altogether as inhuman to insult the unhappy wretches who never were possessed of their senses, as to make a jest of those who have unfortunately lost them.'

No. 34. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 23, 1753._

'I am well aware that there are certain of my readers who have no belief in WITCHES; but I am willing to hope they are only those who either have not read, or else have forgot, the proceedings against them published at large in the state trials. If there is any man alive who can deny his assent to the positive and circumstantial evidence given against them in these trials, I shall only say that I pity most sincerely the hardness of his heart.

'What is it but _witchcraft_ that occasions that universal and uncontrollable rage for play, by which the nobleman, the man of fashion, the merchant and the tradesman, with their wives, sons, and daughters, are running headlong to ruin? What is it but _witchcraft_ that conjures up that spirit of pride and passion for expense by which all classes of men, from his grace at Westminster to the salesman at Wapping, are entailing beggary upon their old age, and bequeathing their children to poverty and to the parish? I shall conclude by signifying my intention, one day or other, of hiring a porter and sending him with a hammer and nails, and a large quantity of horse-shoes, to certain houses in the purlieus of St James's. I believe it may not be amiss (as a charm against play) if he had orders to fix a whole dozen of these horse-shoes at the door of _White's_.'

No. 37. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 13, 1753._

ON TOAD-EATING.

_'To Mr. FitzAdam._

'Sir,--I am the widow of a merchant with whom I lived happily and in affluence for many years. We had no children, and when he died he left me all he had; but his affairs were so involved that the balance which I received, after having gone through much expense and trouble, was no more than one thousand pounds. This sum I placed in the hands of a friend of my husband's, who was reckoned a good man in the City, and who allowed me an interest of four per cent, for my capital; and with this forty pounds a year I retired and boarded in a village about a hundred miles from London.

'There was a lady, an old lady, of great fortune in that neighbourhood, who visited often at the house where I lodged; she pretended, after a short acquaintance, to take a great liking to me; she professed friendship for me, and at length persuaded me to come and live with her.

'One day, when her ladyship had treated me with uncommon kindness for my having taken her part in a dispute with one of her relations, I received a letter from London, to inform me that the person in whose hands I had placed my fortune, and who till that time had paid my interest money very exactly, was broke, and had left the kingdom.

'I handed the letter to her ladyship, who immediately read it over with more attention than emotion.

'Whenever Lady Mary spoke to me she had hitherto called me Mrs. Truman; but the very next morning at breakfast she left out Mrs.; and upon no greater provocation than breaking a teacup, she made me thoroughly sensible of her superiority and my dependence. "Lord, Truman! you are so awkward; pray be more careful for the future, or we shall not live long together. Do you think I can afford to have my china broken at this rate, and maintain you into the bargain?"

'From this moment I was obliged to drop the name and character of friend, which I had hitherto maintained with a little dignity, and to take up with that which the French call _complaisante_, and the English _humble companion_. But it did not stop here; for in a week I was reduced to be as miserable a toad-eater as any in Great Britain, which in the strictest sense of the word is a servant; except that the toad-eater has the honour of dining with my lady, and the misfortune of receiving no wages.'

No. 46. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 15, 1753._

'A correspondent who is piqued at not being recognised by the great people to whom he has been but recently presented, is very unreasonable, for he cannot but have observed at the playhouses and other public places, from the number of glasses used by people of fashion, that they are naturally short-sighted.

'It is from this visual defect that a great man is apt to mistake fortune for honour, a service of plate for a good name, and his neighbour's wife for his own.'

No. 47. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 22, 1753._

_'To Mr. FitzAdam._

'Sir,--Dim-sighted as I am, my spectacles have assisted me sufficiently to read your papers. As a recompense for the pleasure I have received from them, I send you a family anecdote, which till now has never appeared in print. I am the grand-daughter of Sir Josiah Pumpkin, of Pumpkin Hall, in South Wales. I was educated at the hall-house of my own ancestors, under the care and tuition of my honoured grandfather. It was the constant custom of my grandfather, when he was tolerably free from the gout, to summon his three grand-daughters to his bedside, and amuse us with the most important transactions of his life. He told us he hoped we would have children, to whom some of his adventures might prove useful and instructive.

'Sir Josiah was scarce nineteen years old when he was introduced at the Court of Charles the Second, by his uncle Sir Simon Sparrowgrass, who was at that time Lancaster herald-at-arms, and in great favour at Whitehall.

'As soon as he had kissed the King's hand, he was presented to the Duke of York, and immediately afterwards to the ministers and the mistresses. His fortune, which was considerable, and his manners, which were elegant, made him so very acceptable in all companies, that he had the honour to be plunged at once into every polite party of wit, pleasure, and expense, that the courtiers could possibly display. He danced with the ladies, he drank with the gentlemen, he sang loyal catches, and broke bottles and glasses in every tavern throughout London. But still he was by no means a perfect fine gentleman. He had not fought a DUEL. He was so extremely unfortunate as never to have had even the happiness of a _rencontre_. The want of opportunity, not of courage, had occasioned this inglorious chasm in his character. He appeared, not only to the whole court, but even in his own eye, an unworthy and degenerate Pumpkin, till he had shown himself as expert in opening a vein with a sword as any surgeon in England could be with a lancet. Things remained in this unhappy situation till he was near two-and-twenty years of age.

'At length his better stars prevailed, and he received a most egregious affront from Mr. Cucumber, one of the gentlemen-ushers of the privy-chamber. Cucumber, who was in waiting at court, spit inadvertently into the chimney, and as he stood next to Sir Josiah Pumpkin, part of the spittle rested upon Sir Josiah's shoe. It was then that the true Pumpkin honour arose in blushes upon his cheeks. He turned upon his heel, went home immediately, and sent Mr. Cucumber a challenge. Captain Daisy, a friend to each party, not only carried the challenge, but adjusted preliminaries. The heroes were to fight in Moorfields, and to bring fifteen seconds on a side. Punctuality is a strong instance of valour upon these occasions; the clock of St. Paul's struck seven just when the combatants were marking out their ground, and each of the two-and-thirty gentlemen was adjusting himself into a posture of defence against his adversary. It happened to be the hour for breakfast in the hospital of Bedlam. A small bell had rung to summon the Bedlamites into the great gallery. The keepers had already unlocked the cells, and were bringing forth their mad folks, when the porter of Bedlam, Owen Macduffy, standing at the iron gate, and beholding such a number of armed men in the fields, immediately roared out, "Fire, murder, swords, daggers, bloodshed!" Owen's voice was always remarkably loud, but his fears had rendered it still louder and more tremendous. His words struck a panic into the keepers; they lost all presence of mind, they forgot their prisoners, and hastened most precipitately down stairs to the scene of action. At the sight of the naked swords their fears increased, and at once they stood open-mouthed and motionless. Not so the lunatics; freedom to madmen and light to the blind are equally rapturous. Ralph Rogers, the tinker, began the alarm. His brains had been turned with joy at the Restoration, and the poor wretch imagined that this glorious set of combatants were Roundheads and Fanatics, and accordingly he cried out, "Liberty and property, my boys! Down with the Rump! Cromwell and Ireton are come from hell to destroy us. Come, my Cavalier lads, follow me, and let us knock out their brains." The Bedlamites immediately obeyed, and, with the tinker at their head, leaped over the balusters of the staircase, and ran wildly into the fields. In their way they picked up some staves and cudgels, which the porters and the keepers had inadvertently left behind, and, rushing forward with amazing fury, they forced themselves outrageously into the midst of the combatants, and in one unlucky moment disturbed all the decency and order with which this most illustrious duel had begun.

'It seemed, according to my grandfather's observation, a very untoward fate that two-and-thirty gentlemen of courage, honour, fortune, and quality should meet together in hopes of killing each other with all that resolution and politeness which belonged to their stations, and should at once be routed, dispersed, and even wounded by a set of madmen, without sword, pistol, or any other more honourable weapon than a cudgel.

'The madmen were not only superior in strength, but numbers. Sir Josiah Pumpkin and Mr. Cucumber stood their ground as long as possible, and they both endeavoured to make the lunatics the sole object of their mutual revenge; but the two friends were soon overpowered, and, no person daring to come to their assistance, each of them made as proper a retreat as the place and circumstances would admit.

'Many other gentlemen were knocked down and trampled under foot. Some of them, whom my grandfather's generosity would never name, betook themselves to flight in a most inglorious manner. An earl's son was spied clinging submissively round the feet of mad Pocklington, the tailor. A young baronet, although naturally intrepid, was obliged to conceal himself at the bottom of Pippin Kate's apple-stall. A Shropshire squire, of three thousand pounds a year, was discovered, chin deep and almost stifled, in Fleet Ditch. Even Captain Daisy himself was found in a milk-cellar, with visible marks of fear and consternation. Thus ended this inauspicious day. But the madmen continued their outrages many days after. It was near a week before they were all retaken and chained to their cells, and during that interval of liberty they committed many offensive pranks throughout the cities of London and Westminster.

'Such unforeseen disasters occasioned some prudent regulations in the laws of honour. It was enacted from that time that six combatants (three on a side) might be allowed and acknowledged to contain such a quantity of blood in their veins as should be sufficient to satisfy the highest affront that could be offered.'

No. 64. THE 'WORLD.'--_March 21, 1754._

One of Mr. FitzAdam's correspondents is describing a morning he spent in the library of Lord Finican, with which nobleman he was invited to breakfast:--

'I now fell to the books with a good appetite, intending to make a full meal; and while I was chewing upon a piece of Tully's philosophical writings, my lord came in upon me. His looks discovered great uneasiness, which I attributed to the effects of the last night's diversions; but good manners requiring me to prefer his lordship's conversation to my own amusement, I replaced his book, and by the sudden satisfaction in his countenance perceived that the cause of his perturbation was my holding open the book with a pinch of snuff in my fingers. He said he was glad to see me, for he should not have known else what to have done with himself. I returned the compliment by saying I thought he could not want entertainment amidst so choice a collection of books. "Yes," replied he, "the collection is not without elegance; but I read men only now, for I finished my studies when I set out on my travels. You are not the first who has admired my library; and I am allowed to have as fine a taste in books as any man in England."

'Hereupon he showed me a "Pastor Fido," bound in green and decorated with myrtle-leaves. He then took down a volume of Tillotson, in a black binding, with the leaves as white as a law-book, and gilt on the back with little mitres and crosiers; and lastly, Cæsar's "Commentaries," clothed in red and gold, in imitation of the military uniform of English officers.'

The literary gentleman finally elicits that his lordship's books are simply selected for fashion and show, and that they are never read, Lord Finican having long given up the study of books, and merely collecting a library to establish the excellence of his taste.

No. 68. THE 'WORLD.'--_April 18, 1754._

Mr. FitzAdam prints a letter received from a widow, describing the real facts of the injuries by which her husband had lost his life in a duel:--

'Mr. Muzzy was very fat and extremely lethargic, and so stupidly heavy that he fell asleep even in musical assemblies, and snored in the playhouse, as loud, poor man! as he used to snore in bed. However, having received many taunts and reproaches, he resolved to challenge his own cousin-german, Brigadier Truncheon, of Soho Square. It seems the person challenged fixed upon the place and weapons. Truncheon, a deep-sighted man, chose Primrose Hill for the field of battle, and swords for the weapons of defence. To avoid suspicion and to prevent a discovery, they were to walk together from Piccadilly, where we then lived, to the summit of Primrose Hill. Truncheon's scheme took effect. Mr. Muzzy was much fatigued and out of breath with the walk. However, he drew his sword; and, as he assured me himself, began to attack his cousin with valour. The brigadier went back; Mr. Muzzy pursued; but not having his adversary's alacrity, he stopped a little to take breath. He stopped, alas! too long: his lethargy came on with more than usual violence; he first dozed as he stood upon his legs, and then beginning to nod forward, dropped by degrees upon his face in a most profound sleep.

'Truncheon, base man! took this opportunity to wound my husband as he lay snoring on the ground; and he had the cunning to direct his stab in such a manner as to make it supposed that Mr. Muzzy had fled, and in his flight had received a wound in the most ignominious part of his body. You will ask what became of the seconds. They were both killed upon the spot; but being only two servants, the one a butler and the other a cook, they were buried the same night; and by the power of a little money, properly applied, no further inquiry was made about them.

'Mr. Muzzy, wounded as he was, might probably have slept upon that spot for many hours, had he not been awakened by the cruel bites of a mastiff. My poor husband was thoroughly awakened by the new hurt he had received; and indeed it was impossible to have slept while he was losing whole collops of the fattest and most pulpy part of his flesh: so that he was brought home to me much more wounded by the teeth of the mastiff than by the sword of his cousin Truncheon.' The wound eventually mortified, Mr. Muzzy lost his life, and the writer became a widow.

No. 82. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 25, 1754._

'THE TEARS OF OLD MAY-DAY.

'Led by the jocund train of vernal hours, And vernal airs, up rose the gentle May, Blushing she rose and blushing rose the flowers That spring spontaneous in her genial ray.

'Her locks with Heaven's ambrosial dews were bright, And am'rous Zephyrs flutter'd on her breast; With ev'ry shifting gleam of morning light The colours shifted of her rainbow vest.

'Imperial ensigns graced her smiling form, A golden key and golden wand she bore; This charms to peace each sullen eastern storm, And that unlocks the summer's copious store.

'Vain hope, no more in choral bands unite Her virgin vot'ries, and at early dawn, Sacred to May and Love's mysterious rite, Brush the light dewdrops[26] from the spangled lawn.

'To her no more Augusta's[27] wealthy pride Pours the full tribute of Potosi's mine; Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide, A purer off'ring at her rustic shrine.

'No more the May-pole's verdant height around, To valour's games th' adventurous youth advance; To merry bells and tabor's sprightlier sound Wake the loud carol and the sportive dance.'

'I have hinted more than once that the present age (1754), notwithstanding the vices and follies with which it abounds, has the happiness of standing as high in my opinion as any age whatsoever. But it has always been the fashion to believe that from the beginning of the world to the present day men have been increasing in wickedness.

'I believe that all vices will be found to exist amongst us much in the same degree as heretofore, forms only changing.

'Our grandfathers used to get drunk with strong beer and port; we get drunk with claret and champagne. They would lie abominably to conceal their peccadilloes; we lie as abominably in boasting of ours. They stole slily in at the back-door of a bagnio; we march in boldly at the front-door, and immediately steal out slily at the back-door. Our mothers were prudes; their daughters coquettes. The first dressed like modest women, and perhaps were wantons; the last dress like women of pleasure, and perhaps are virtuous. Those treated without hanging out a sign; these hang out a sign without intending to treat. To be still more particular: the abuse of power, the views of patriots, the flattery of dependents, and the promises of great men are, I believe, pretty much the same now as in former ages. Vices that we have no relish for, we part with for those we like; giving up avarice for prodigality, hypocrisy for profligacy, and looseness for play.'

No. 86. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 22, 1754._

A correspondent, after summing up the lessons he daily extracts from trees, flowers, insects, and the inmates of his garden, continues:--

'In short, there is such a close affinity between a proper cultivation of a flower-garden and a right discipline of the mind that it is almost impossible for any thoughtful person, that has made any proficiency in the one, to avoid paying a due attention to the other. That industry and care which are so requisite to cleanse a garden from all sorts of weeds will naturally suggest to him how much more expedient it would be to exert the same diligence in eradicating all sorts of prejudices, follies, and vices from the mind, where they will be sure to prevail, without a great deal of care and correction, as common weeds in a neglected piece of ground.

'And as it requires more pains to extirpate some weeds than others, according as they are more firmly fixed, more numerous, or more naturalised to the soil; so those faults will be found to be most difficult to be suppressed which have been of the largest growth and taken the deepest root, which are more predominant in number and most congenial to the constitution.'

No. 92. THE 'WORLD.'--_Oct. 3, 1754._

Mr. FitzAdam, defining the characters of _Siphons_ and _Soakers_, points to a theory that dropsy, of which so many of their order perish, is a manifest judgment upon them, the wine they so much loved being turned into water, and themselves drowned at last in the element they so much abhorred.

'A rational and sober man, invited by the wit and gaiety of good company, and hurried away by an uncommon flow of spirits, may happen to drink too much, and perhaps accidentally to get drunk; but then these sallies will be short and not frequent. Whereas the soaker is an utter stranger to wit and mirth, and no friend to either. His business is serious, and he applies himself seriously to it; he steadily pursues the numbing, stupefying, and petrifying, not the animating and exhilarating qualities of the wine. The more he drinks, the duller he grows; his politics become more obscure, and his narratives more tedious and less intelligible; till, at last _maudlin_, he employs what little articulation he has left in relating his doleful state to an insensible audience.

'I am well aware that the numerous society of _siphons_ (as I shall for the future typify the soakers, suction being equally the only business of both) will say, like Sir Tunbelly, "What would this fellow have us do?" To which I am at no loss for an answer: "Do anything else."'

No. 100. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 28, 1754._

'I heard the other day with great pleasure from my friend, Mr. Dodsley, that Mr. Johnson's "English Dictionary," with a grammar and history of our language, will be published this winter, in two large volumes in folio.

'Many people have imagined that so extensive a work would have been best performed by a number of persons, who should have taken their several departments of examining, fitting, winnowing, purifying, and finally fixing our language by incorporating their respective funds into one joint stock.

'But, whether this opinion be true or false, I think the public in general, and the republic of letters in particular, are greatly obliged to Mr. Johnson for having undertaken and executed so great and desirable a work. Perfection is not to be expected from man; but if we are to judge by the various works of Mr. Johnson already published, we have good reason to believe that he will bring this as near to perfection as any one man could do. The plan of it, which we published some years ago, seems to me to be a proof of it. Nothing can be more rationally imagined or more accurately and elegantly expressed. I therefore recommend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend to buy the dictionary, and who, I suppose, are all those who can afford it.'

No. 103. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 19, 1754._

Mr. FitzAdam relates an anecdote establishing the good breeding of highwaymen of the upper class:--

'An acquaintance of mine was robbed a few years ago, and very near shot through the head by the going off of a pistol of the accomplished Mr. M'Lean, yet the whole affair was conducted with the greatest good breeding on both sides. The robber, who had only taken a purse _this way_ because he had that morning been disappointed of marrying a great fortune, no sooner returned to his lodgings than he sent the gentleman two letters of excuses, which, with less wit than the epistles of Voltaire, had infinitely more natural and easy politeness in the turn of their expressions. In the postscript he appointed a meeting at Tyburn, at twelve at night, where the gentleman might _purchase again_ any trifles he had lost; and my friend has been blamed for not accepting the rendezvous, as it seemed liable to be construed by ill-natured people into a doubt of the _honour_ of a man who had given him all the satisfaction in his power for having unluckily been near shooting him through the head.'

No. 112. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 20, 1755._

'My cobbler is also a politician. He reads the first newspapers he can get, desirous to be informed of the state of affairs in Europe, and of the street robberies of London. He has not, I presume, analysed the interests of the respective countries of Europe, nor deeply considered those of his own; still less is he systematically informed of the political duties of a citizen and subject. But his heart and his habits supply these defects. He glows with zeal for the honour and prosperity of old England; he will fight for it if there be an occasion, and drink to it perhaps a little too often and too much. However, is it not to be wished that there were in this country six millions of such honest and zealous, though uninformed, citizens?

'Our honest cobbler is thoroughly convinced, as his forefathers were for many centuries, that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen; and in that persuasion he would by no means decline the trial. Now, though in my own private opinion, deduced from physical principles, I am apt to believe that one Englishman could beat no more than two Frenchmen of equal size with himself, I should, however, be unwilling to undeceive him of that useful and sanguine error, which certainly made his countrymen triumph in the fields of Poictiers and Crecy.'

No. 122. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 1, 1755._

'As I was musing one morning, in a most disconsolate mood, with my leg in my landlady's lap, while she darned one of my stockings, it came into my head to collect from various books, together with my own experience and observations, plain and wholesome rules on the subject of _diet_, and then publish them in a neat pocket volume; for I was always well inclined to do good to the world, however ungratefully it used me. I doubt, Mr. FitzAdam, you will hardly forbear smiling to hear a man who was almost starved talk gravely of compiling observations on diet. The moment I finished my volume I ran to an eminent bookseller near the Mansion House; he was just set down to dinner.... As soon as the cloth was taken away I produced my manuscript, and the bookseller put on his spectacles; but to my no small mortification, after glancing an eye over the title-page, he looked steadfastly upon me for near a minute in a kind of amazement I could not account for, and then broke out in the following manner:--"My dear sir, you are come to the very worst place in the world for the sale of such a _performance_ as this--to think of expecting the Court of Aldermen's permission to preach upon the subject of _lean and fallow abstinence_ between the Royal Exchange and Temple Bar!"'

No. 130. THE 'WORLD.'--_June 26, 1755._

Extracts from a letter written by 'Priscilla Cross-stitch,' for herself and sisters, on the subject of the indelicacy of nankin breeches, as indulged in by Patrick, their footman:--

'We give him no livery, but allow him a handsome sum yearly for clothes; and, to _say the truth_, till within the last week he has dressed with great propriety and decency, when all at once, to our great confusion and distress, he has the assurance to appear at the sideboard in a pair of filthy nankin breeches, and those made to fit so extremely tight, that a less curious observer might have mistaken them for no breeches at all. The shame and confusion so visible in all our faces one would think would suggest to him the odiousness of his dress; but the fellow appears to have thrown off every appearance of decency, for at tea-table before company, as well as at meals, we are forced to endure him in this abominable nankin, our modesty conflicting with nature, to efface the idea it conveys.'

The ladies cannot well discharge a good servant for this indiscretion; their delicacy will not allow them to mention the dreadful word, nor venture on allusions to the objectionable part of the apparel; nor will they venture to entrust the task to their maids, as it might draw them into puzzling explanations. The publication of Priscilla's letter, with a warning to Patrick, and a general decree against suggestive drapery, declaring it a capital offence, is intended to relieve the ladies of their confusion.

No. 135. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 31, 1755._

'Hilarius is a downright country gentleman; a _bon vivant_; an indefatigable sportsman. He can drink his gallon at a sitting, and will tell you he was neither sick nor sorry in his life. Having an estate of above five thousand a year, his strong beer, ale, and wine cellar are always well stored; to either of which, as also to his table, abounding in plenty of good victuals, ill-sorted and ill-dressed, every voter and fox-hunter claims a kind of right. He roars for the Church, which he never visits, and is eternally cracking his coarse jests and talking obscenity to the parsons, whom if he can make fuddled, and expose to contempt, it is the highest pleasure he can enjoy. As for his lay friends, nothing is more common with him than to set them and their servants dead drunk on their horses; and should any of them be found half smothered in a ditch the next morning, it affords him excellent diversion for a twelvemonth after. No one is readier to club a laugh with you, but he has no ear to the voice of distress or complaint. Thus Hilarius, on the false credit of generosity and good humour, swims triumphantly with the stream of applause without one single virtue in his composition.'

No. 142. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 18, 1755._

Extract from the letter of a lady, a lover of peace and quietness, on the sufferings produced by her connection with people who are fond of noise. After describing the violence practised in her own home, the writer continues:--

'At last I was sent to board with a distant relation, who had been captain of a man-of-war, who had given up his commission and retired into the country. Unfortunately for poor me, the captain still retained a passion for firing a great gun, and had mounted, on a little fortification that was thrown up against the front of his house, eleven nine-pounders, which were constantly discharged ten or a dozen times over on the arrival of visitors, and on all holidays and rejoicings. The noise of these cannon was more terrible to me than all the rest, and would have rendered my continuance there intolerable, if a young gentleman, a relation of the captain's, had not held me by the heart-strings, and softened by the most tender courtship in the world the horrors of these firings.'

The unfortunate lady's married life was doomed, however, to prove a union of noise and contention.

No. 150. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 13, 1755._

'Among the ancient Romans the great offices of state were all elective, which obliged them to be very observant of the shape of the noses of those persons to whom they were to apply for votes. Horace tells us that a sharp nose was an indication of satirical wit and humour; for when speaking of his friend Virgil, though he says, "At est bonus, ut melior non alius quisquam," yet he allows he was no joker, and not a fit match at the sneer for those of his companions who had sharper noses than his own. They also looked upon the short noses, with a little inflection at the end tending upwards, as a mark of the owner's being addicted to jibing; for the same author, talking of Mæcenas, says that though he was born of an ancient family, yet was he not apt to turn persons of low birth into ridicule, which he expresses by saying that "he had not a turn-up nose." Martial, in one of his epigrams, calls this kind of nose the rhinocerotic nose, and says that everyone in his time affected this kind of snout, as an indication of his being _master of the talent of humour_.'

No. --. THE 'WORLD.'--1755.

'You may have frequently observed upon the face of that useful piece of machinery, a clock, the minute and hour hands, in their revolution through the twelve divisions of the day, to be not only shifting continually from one figure to another, but to stand at times in a quite opposite direction to their former bearings, and to each other. Now I conceive this to be pretty much the case with that complicated piece of mechanism, a modern female, or young woman of fashion: for as such I was accustomed to consider that part of the species as having no power to determine their own motions and appearances, but acted upon by the mode, and set to any point which the party who took the lead, or (to speak more properly) its regulator, pleased. But it has so happened in the circumrotation of modes and fashions, that the present set are not only moving on continually from one pretty fancy and conceit to another, but have departed quite aside from their former principles, dividing from each other in a circumstance wherein they were always accustomed to unite, and uniting where there was ever wont to be a distinction or difference.... The pride now is to get as far away as possible, not only from the vulgar, but from one another, and that, too, as well in the first principles of dress as in its subordinate decorations; so that its fluctuating humour is perpetually showing itself in some new and particular sort of cap, flounce, knot, or tippet; and every woman that you meet affects independency and to set up for herself.'

No. 153. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 4, 1755._

The writer describes a country assembly, highly perfumed with 'the smell of the stable over which it was built, the savour of the neighbouring kitchen, the fumes of tallow candles, rum punch, and tobacco dispersed over the house, and the balsamic effluvia from many sweet creatures who were dancing.' Everyone 'is pleased and desirous of pleasing,' with the exception of some fashionable young men blocking up the door--'whose faces I remember to have seen about town, who would neither dance, drink tea, play at cards, nor speak to anyone, except now and then in whispers to a young lady, who sat in silence at the upper end of the room, in a hat and négligée, with her back against the wall, her arms akimbo, her legs thrust out, a sneer on her lips, a scowl on her forehead, and an invincible assurance in her eyes. Their behaviour affronted most of the company, yet obtained the desired effect: for I overheard several of the country ladies say, "It was a pity they were so proud; for to be sure they were prodigious well-bred people, and had an immense deal of wit;" a mistake they could never have fallen into had these patterns of politeness condescended to have entered into any conversation.'

No. 163. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 12, 1756._

'There was an ancient sect of philosophers, the disciples of Pythagoras, who held that the souls of men and all other animals existed in a state of perpetual transmigration, and that when by death they were dislodged from one corporeal habitation, they were immediately reinstated in another, happier or more miserable according to their behaviour in the former. This doctrine has always appeared to me to present a theory of retributory compensation which is very acceptable.

'Thus the tyrant, who by his power has oppressed his country in the situation of a prince, in that of a slave may be compelled to do it some service by his labour. The highwayman, who has stopped and plundered travellers, may expiate and assist them in the shape of a post-horse; and mighty conquerors, who have laid waste the world by their swords, may be obliged, by a small alteration in sex and situation, to contribute to its re-peopling.

'For my own part, I verily believe this to be the case. I make no doubt but Louis XIV. is now chained to an oar in the galleys of France, and that Hernando Cortez is digging gold in the mines of Peru or Mexico; that Dick Turpin, the highwayman, is several times a day spurred backwards and forwards between London and Epping, and that Lord * * * * and Sir Harry * * * * are now roasting for a city feast. I question not but that Alexander the Great and Julius Cæsar have died many times in child-bed since their appearance in those illustrious and depopulating characters; that Charles XII. is at this instant a curate's wife in some remote village with a numerous and increasing family; and that Kouli-Khan is now whipped from parish to parish in the person of a big-bellied beggar-woman, with two children in her arms and three at her back.'

No. 164. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 19, 1756._

'Mr. FitzAdam,--I am infested by a swarm of country cousins that are come up to town for the winter, as they call it--a whole family of them. They ferret me out from every place I go to, and it is impossible to stand the ridicule of being seen in their company.

'At their first coming to town I was, in a manner, obliged to gallant them to the play, where, having seated the mother with much ado, I offered my hand to the eldest of my five young cousins; but as she was not dexterous enough to manage a great hoop with one hand only, she refused my offer, and at the first step fell along. It was with great difficulty I got her up again; but imagine, sir, my situation. I sat like a mope all the night, not daring to look up for fear of catching the eyes of my acquaintance, who would have laughed me out of countenance.

'My friends see how I am mortified at all public places; and it is a standing jest with them, wherever they meet me, to put on the appearance of the profoundest respect, and to ask, "Pray, sir, how do your cousins do?" This leads me to propose something for the relief of all those whose country cousins, like mine, expect they should introduce them into the world; by which means we shall avoid appearing in a very ridiculous light. I would therefore set up a person who should be known by the name of Town Usher. His business should be to attend closely all young ladies who were never in town before, to teach them to walk into playhouses without falling over the benches, to show them the tombs and the lions, and the wax-work and the giant, and instruct them how to wonder and shut their mouths at the same time, for I really meet with so many gapers every day in the streets that I am continually yawning all the way I walk.'

No. 169. THE 'WORLD.'--_March 25, 1756._

'"Wanted a Curate at Beccles, in Suffolk. Inquire farther of Mr. Strut, Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, who inns at the Crown, the end of Jesus Lane, Cambridge.

'"N.B.--To be spoken with from Friday noon to Saturday morning, nine o'clock."

'I have transcribed this from a newspaper, Mr. FitzAdam, _verbatim et literatim_, and must confess I look upon it as a curiosity. It would certainly be entertaining to hear the conversation between Mr. Strut, Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, and the curate who offers himself. Doubtless Mr. Strut has his orders to inquire into the young candidate's qualifications, and to make his report to the advertising rector before he agrees upon terms with him. But what principally deserves our observation is the propriety of referring us to a person who traffics constantly to that great mart of young divines, Cambridge, where the advertiser might expect numbers to flock to the person he employed. It is pleasant, too, to observe the "N.B." at the end of the advertisement; it carries with it an air of significance enough to intimidate a young divine who might possibly have been so bold as to have put himself on an equal footing with this negotiator, if he had not known that he was only to be spoken with at stated hours.'

No. 176. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 13, 1756._

'Going to visit an old friend at his country seat last week, I found him at backgammon with the vicar of the parish. My friend received me with the heartiest welcome, and introduced the doctor to my acquaintance. This gentleman, who seemed to be about fifty, and of a florid and healthy constitution, surveyed me all over with great attention, and, after a slight nod of the head, sat himself down without opening his mouth. I was a little hurt at the supercilious behaviour of this divine, which my friend observing, told me very pleasantly that I was rather too old to be entitled to the doctor's complaisance, for he seldom bestowed it but upon the young and vigorous; "but," says he, "you will know him better soon, and may probably think it worth your while to _book_ him in the 'World,' for you will find him altogether as odd a character as he is a worthy one." The doctor made no reply to this raillery, but continued some time with his eye fixed upon me, and at last shaking his head, and turning to my friend, asked if he would play out the other hit. My friend excused himself from engaging any more that evening, and ordered a bottle of wine, with pipes and tobacco, to be set on the table. The vicar filled his pipe, and drank very cordially to my friend, still eyeing me with a seeming dislike, and neither drinking my health nor speaking a single word to me. As I had long accustomed myself to drink nothing but water, I called for a bottle of it, and drank glass for glass with him; which upon the doctor's observing, he shook his head at my friend, and in a whisper, loud enough for me to hear, said, "Poor man! it is all over with him, I see." My friend smiled, and answered, in the same audible whisper, "No, no, doctor, Mr. FitzAdam intends to live as long as either of us." He then addressed himself to me on the occurrences of the town, and drew me into a very cheerful conversation, which lasted till I withdrew to rest; at which time the doctor rose from his chair, drank a bumper to my health, and, giving me a hearty shake by the hand, told me I was a very jolly old gentleman, and that he wished to be better acquainted with me during my stay in the country.'

No. 185. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 15, 1756._

'_Mr. FitzAdam._

'Sir,--My case is a little singular, and therefore I hope you will let it appear in your paper. I should scarcely have attempted to make such a request, had I not very strictly looked over all the works of your predecessors, the "Tatlers," "Spectators," and "Guardians," without a possibility of finding a parallel to my unhappy situation.

'I am not _henpecked_; I am not _grimalkined_; I have no Mrs. Freeman, with her Italian airs; but I have a wife more troublesome than all three by a certain ridiculous and unnecessary devotion that she pays to her father, amounting almost to idolatry. When I first married her, from that specious kind of weakness which meets with encouragement and applause only because it is called good-nature, I permitted her to do whatever she pleased; but when I thought it requisite to pull in the rein, I found that her having the bit in her teeth rendered the strength of my curb of no manner of use to me. Whenever I attempted to draw her in a little, she tossed up her head, snorted, pranced, and gave herself such airs, that unless I let her carry me where she pleased, my limbs if not my life were in danger.'

No. 191. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 26, 1756._

'Ever since the tax upon dogs was first reported to be in agitation, I have been under the greatest alarm for the safety of the whole race.

'I thought it a little hard, indeed, that a man should be taxed for having one creature in his house in which he might confide; but when I heard that officers were to be appointed to knock out the brains of all these honest domestics who should presume to make their appearance in the streets without the passport of their master's name about their necks, I became seriously concerned for them.

'This enmity against dogs is pretended upon the apprehension of their going mad; but an easier remedy might be applied, by abolishing the custom (with many others equally ingenious) of stringing bottles and stones to their tails, by which means (and in this one particular I must give up my clients) the unfortunate sufferer becomes subject to the persecutions of his own species, too apt to join the run against a brother in distress.

'But great allowance should be made for an animal who, in an intimacy of nearly six thousand years with man, has learnt but one of his bad qualities.'

No. 192. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 2, 1756._

'Mr. FitzAdam,--Walking up St. James's Street the other day, I was stopt by a very smart young female, who begged my pardon for her boldness, and, looking very innocently in my face, asked me if I did not know her. The manner of her accosting me and the extreme prettiness of her figure made me look at her with attention; and I soon recollected that she had been a servant-girl of my wife's, who had taken her from the country, and, after keeping her three years in her service, had dismissed her about two months ago. "What, Nanny," said I, "is it you? I never saw anybody so fine in all my life!" "Oh, sir!" says she, with the most innocent smile imaginable, bridling her head and curtsying down to the ground, "I have been led astray since I lived with my mistress." "Have you so, Mrs. Nanny?" said I; "and pray, child, who is it that has led you astray?" "Oh, sir!" says she, "one of the worthiest gentlemen in the world; and he has bought me a new négligée for every day in the week."

'The girl pressed me to go and look at her lodgings, which she assured me were hard by in Bury Street, and as fine as a duchess's; but I declined her offer, knowing that any arguments of mine in favour of virtue and stuff gowns would avail but little against pleasure and silk négligées. I therefore contented myself with expressing my concern for the way of life she had entered into, and bade her farewell.

'Being a man inclined to speculate a little, as often as I think of the finery of this girl, and the reason alleged for it, I cannot help fancying, whenever I fall in company with a pretty woman, dressed out beyond her visible circumstances, patched, painted, and ornamented to the extent of the mode, that she is going to make me her best curtsy, and to tell me, "Oh, sir! I have been led astray since I kept good company."'

No. 202. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 11, 1756._

'The trumpet sounds; to war the troops advance, Adorn'd and trim, like females to the dance Proud of the summons, to display his might, The gay Lothario dresses for the fight; Studious in all the splendour to appear, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! His well-turn'd limbs the diff'rent garbs infold, Form'd with nice art, and glitt'ring all with gold; Across his breast the silken sash is tied, Behind the shoulder-knot displays its pride; Glitt'ring with lace, the hat adorns his head, Grac'd and distinguish'd by the smart cockade: Conspicuous badge! which only heroes wear, Ensign of war and fav'rite of the fair. The graceful queue his braided tresses binds, And ev'ry hair in its just rank confines. Each taper leg the snowy gaiters deck, And the bright gorget dandles from his neck. Dress'd cap-a-pie, all lovely to the sight, Stands the gay warrior, and expects the fight. Rages the war; fell slaughter stalks around, And stretches thousands breathless on the ground. Down sinks Lothario, sent by one dire blow, A well-dress'd hero, to the shades below. Thus the young victim, pamper'd and elate, To some resplendent fane is led in state, With garlands crown'd through shouting crowds proceeds, And, dress'd in fatal pomp, magnificently bleeds.'

No. 209. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 30, 1756._

'_The Last of Mr. FitzAdam._

'Before these lines can reach the press, that truly great and amiable gentleman, Mr. FitzAdam, will, in all probability, be no more. An event so sudden and unexpected, and in which the public are so deeply interested, cannot fail to excite the curiosity of every reader. I shall, therefore, relate it in the most concise manner I am able.

'The reader may remember that in the first number of the "World," and in several succeeding papers, the good old gentleman flattered himself that the profits of his labours would some time or other enable him to make a genteel figure in the world, and seat himself at last in his _one-horse chair_. The death of Mrs. FitzAdam, which happened a few months since, as it relieved him from the great expense of housekeeping, made him in a hurry to set up his equipage; and as the sale of his paper was even beyond his expectations, I was one of the first of his friends that advised him to purchase it. The equipage was accordingly bespoke and sent home; and as he had all along promised that his first visit in it should be to me, I expected him last Tuesday at my country-house at Hoxton. The poor gentleman was punctual to his appointment; and it was with great delight that I saw him from my window driving up the road that leads to my house. Unfortunately for him, his eye caught mine; and hoping (as I suppose) to captivate me by his great skill in driving, he made two or three flourishes with his whip, which so frightened the horse that he ran furiously away with the carriage, dashed it against a post, and threw the driver from his seat with a violence hardly to be conceived. I screamed out to my maid, "Lord bless me!" says I, "Mr. FitzAdam is killed!" and away we ran to the spot where he lay. At first I imagined that his head was off, but upon drawing nearer I found it was his hat! He breathed, indeed, which gave me hopes that he was not quite dead; but for signs of life, he had positively none.

'In this condition, with the help of some neighbours, we brought him into the house, where a warm bed was quickly got ready for him; which, together with bleeding and other helps, brought him by degrees to life and reason. He looked round about him for some time, and at last, seeing and knowing me, inquired after his chaise. I told him it was safe, though a good deal damaged. "No matter, madam," he replied; "it has done my business; it has carried me a journey from this world to the next. I shall have no use for it again. The 'World' is now at an end! I thought it destined to last a longer period; but the decrees of fate are not to be resisted. It would have pleased me to have written the last paper myself, but that task, madam, must be yours; and, however painful it may be to your modesty, I conjure you to undertake it.... My epitaph, if the public might be so satisfied, I would have decent and concise. It would offend my modesty if, after the name of FITZADAM, more were to be added than these words:--

'"_He was the deepest_ PHILOSOPHER, _The wittiest_ WRITER, AND _The greatest_ MAN OF THIS AGE OR NATION."'

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Author of 'Fables for the Female Sex;' he probably approached the nearest of all Gay's imitators to the excellences of that poet. Moore also wrote successfully for the stage. He was the author of the comedies of the 'Foundling' and 'Gil Blas,' and of the famous tragedy of the 'Gamester.'

[26] Alluding to the country custom of gathering May-dew.

[27] The plate garlands of London.