Chapter 31
[Footnote 424: Dr. John Radcliffe, the physician (1650-1714), was disappointed in love when about sixty. The matter is referred to again in Nos. 46, 47, 50 and 67. Radcliffe became rich, but was considered to be a quack by many other doctors. "The last _Tatler_ is upon Dr. Ratclif who they say is desparately in love with Dutchess of Bolton, his passion runs so high as to declare he'll make her eldest son his heir, upon wch account they say the Duke of B---- is not at all alarm'd, but gives the Old amorist opportunity to make his Court, the Dr. lately gave the Dutchess and some other Ladys an entertainm' of musick upon the water, and a fine supper in the Barge" ("Wentworth Papers," p. 97). This identification of Hebe with the Duchess of Bolton is corroborated by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. According to another account she was a Miss Tempest, a maid of honour to the Queen. The writer of the article on Radcliffe in the "Biog. Britannica" says: "The lady, who made the doctor, at this advanced age, stand in need of a physician himself, was of great beauty, wealth, and quality; and too attractive not to inspire the coldest heart with the warmest sentiments. After he had made a cure of her, he could not but imagine, as naturally he might, that her ladyship would entertain a favourable opinion of him. But the lady, however grateful she might be for the care he had taken of her health, divulged the secret, and one of her confidants revealed it to Steele, who, on account of party, was so ill-natured as to write the ridicule of it in the _Tatler_" Radcliffe never married.]
[Footnote 425: I have a pamphlet called "The _Tatler's_ Character (July 21) of Æsculapius guessing diseases, without the knowledge of drugs; applied to the British Physicians and Surgeons: or, The difficult diseases of the Royal Family, Nobility and Gentry will never be understood and recover'd, when the populace are oppress'd and destroy'd by the Practising-Apothecaries and Empiricks confess'd by the College and Mr. Bernard the Surgeon. By a Consultation of Gentlemen of Quality." London, 8vo, 1709. The pamphlet contains some interesting remarks on the physicians, apothecaries and hospitals of the time. Mr. Bickerstaff is called "the most ingenious physician of our vices and follies."]
[Footnote 426: See No. 42.]
[Footnote 427: A friend of Nichols said, "I have seen somewhere, but cannot immediately refer to the book, an account of a theatre built at Southwick, in the county of Hants, by a Mr. Richard Norton, whose will is in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1733, p. 57. He is the person, I believe, who wrote a play called 'Pausanias' (1696). Cibber dedicated his first play to him." The MS. annotator mentioned in No. 4 also identifies the gentleman of Hampshire with "Mr. N----n."]
[Footnote 428: An auctioneer.]
[Footnote 429: Christopher Rich, the manager.]
[Footnote 430: Under the name of Powell, the puppet-show man, Steele attacked Dr. Blackall, Bishop of Exeter (see No. 37), who was engaged in a controversy with Benjamin Hoadly. In March 1709, Blackall preached before the Queen a sermon laying down the doctrine of passive obedience in its most extreme form, but in 1704 he had preached obedience limited by the laws of the State. Hoadly wrote against the sermon of 1709, and brought against the Bishop the sermon of 1704. The Bishop, angry at this mode of refutation, answered haughtily, and dwelt on the superiority of his rank as compared with that of Hoadly, then simply rector of a London parish. Bickerstaff here reproaches Blackall for the pride and rudeness of his answer, and then, under the guise of Powell, proprietor of the puppet-show, satirises the extreme doctrine of divine right taught by the Bishop, a doctrine which would make the subjects mere automata, to be moved only at the will of the prince.]
[Footnote 431: Ovid, "Met." xiii. 20.]
[Footnote 432: The following printed advertisement appeared in 1682: "At the sign of the wool-sack, in Newgate-market, is to be seen, a strange and wonderful thing, which is an elm-board, being touched with a hot iron, doth express itself, as if it were a man dying with groans, and trembling, to the great admiration of all the hearers. It hath been presented before the King and his nobles, and hath given great satisfaction. _Vivat Rex_."--(MSS. Sloan. 958.)]
[Footnote 433: "Ne e quovis ligno Mercurius fiat" is one of the proverbs in the "Adagia" of Erasmus. But its history, as originally from the Greek, is thus given in a note of Andr. Schottus, quoted by Gaisford in his "Parcemiographia Græci," p. 39, Ox. 1836:--"Illiud adagium ὀυκ ἐκ παντὸς ξύλου Ἕρμης ἂν γένοιτο [ouk ek pantòs zýlon Hermês àn génoito], quod a Pythagora primum profectum auctor est Apuleius 'Apol.'" [t. ii. p. 499] (Ed. Marshall, "Notes and Queries," March 26, 1887). See Apuleius, "Apologia," 476: "Non enim ex omni ligno, ut Pythagoras dicebat, debet Mercurius exsculpi."]
[Footnote 434: In the Bishop's answer to Hoadly's letter, 1709, there is this passage: "I have no books here; and being under these circumstances, I hope I may be excused, if, in citing Scripture, I should not always name chapter and verse, nor hit exactly upon the very words of the translation" (Lord Bishop of Exeter's Answer, &c., pp. 2 and 3).--"As to the _Tatlers_ relating to Powell's puppets, and the doctrines of passive obedience and absolute non-resistance, and to Bishop Blackall, I know it gave my father some uneasiness, that there is a reference to a fact, which, as he resolved himself never to take notice of, thinking it ungenerous, so he was sorry to see any friend of the cause had; which is, that the Bishop had said inadvertently, he was at Bath, and had not a Bible in his family. It is worth remarking, that all the arguments used by Powell about his power over Punch, 'lighting his pipe with one of his legs,' &c., are a good burlesque of those used by the advocates of non-resistance."--(Dr. John Hoadly.)]
[Footnote 435: The Bishop, after quoting a respectful expression of Hoadly's, says, "Your servant, sir, for that."]
[Footnote 436: A beat of the drum or sound of a trumpet, which summons the enemy to a parley. In _Spectator_, No. 165, Addison ridiculed the use of this and other French war terms by English writers.]
No. 45. [STEELE.
From _Thursday, July 21, to Saturday, July 23_, 1709.
Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam In terris. Juv., Sat. vi. I.
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White's Chocolate-house, July 22.
The other day I took a walk a mile or two out of town and strolling wherever chance led me, I was insensibly carried into a by-road, along which was a very agreeable quickset, of an extraordinary height, which surrounded a very delicious seat and garden. From one angle of the hedge, I heard a voice cry, "Sir, sir--" This raised my curiosity, and I heard the same voice say, but in a gentle tone, "Come forward, come forward." I did so, and one through the hedge called me by my name, and bade me go on to the left, and I should be admitted to visit an old acquaintance in distress. The laws of knight-errantry made me obey the summons without hesitation; and I was let in at the back gate of a lovely house by a maid-servant, who carried me from room to room, until I came into a gallery; at the end of which, I saw a fine lady dressed in the most sumptuous habit, as if she were going to a ball, but with the most abject and disconsolate sorrow in her face that I ever beheld. As I came near, she burst into tears, and cried, "Sir, do not you know the unhappy Teraminta?" I soon recollected her whole person: "But," said I, "madam, the simplicity of dress, in which I have ever seen you at your good father's house, and the cheerfulness of countenance with which you always appeared, are so unlike the fashion and temper you are now in, that I did not easily recover the memory of you. Your habit was then decent and modest, your looks serene and beautiful: whence then this unaccountable change? Nothing can speak so deep a sorrow as your present aspect; yet your dress is made for jollity and revelling." "It is," said she, "an unspeakable pleasure to meet with one I know, and to bewail myself to any that is not an utter stranger to humanity. When your friend my father died, he left me to a wide world, with no defence against the insults of fortune, but rather, a thousand snares to entrap me in the dangers to which youth and innocence are exposed, in an age wherein honour and virtue are become mere words, and used only as they serve to betray those who understand them in their native sense, and obey them as the guides and motives of their being. The wickedest of all men living, the abandoned Decius, who has no knowledge of any good art or purpose of human life, but as it tends to the satisfaction of his appetites, had opportunities of frequently seeing and entertaining me at a house where mixed company boarded, and where he placed himself for the base intention which he has since brought to pass. Decius saw enough in me to raise his brutal desires, and my circumstances gave him hopes of accomplishing them. But all the glittering expectations he could lay before me, joined by my private terrors of poverty itself, could not for some months prevail upon me; yet, however I hated his intention, I still had a secret satisfaction in his courtship, and always exposed myself to his solicitations. See here the bane of our sex! Let the flattery be never so apparent, the flatterer never so ill thought of, his praises are still agreeable and we contribute to our own deceit. I was therefore ever fond of all opportunities and pretences of being in his company. In a word, I was at last ruined by him, and brought to this place, where I have been ever since immured; and from the fatal day after my fall from innocence, my worshipper became my master and my tyrant. Thus you see me habited in the most gorgeous manner, not in honour of me as a woman he loves, but as this attire charms his own eye, and urges him to repeat the gratification he takes in me, as the servant of his brutish lusts and appetites. I know not where to fly for redress; but am here pining away life in the solitude and severity of a nun, but the conscience and guilt of a harlot. I live in this lewd practice with a religious awe of my minister of darkness, upbraided with the support I receive from him, for the inestimable possession of youth, of innocence, of honour, and of conscience. I see, sir, my discourse grows painful to you; all I beg of you is, to paint in so strong colours, as to let Decius see I am discovered to be in his possession, that I may be turned out of this detestable scene of regular iniquity, and either think no more, or sin no more. If your writings have the good effect of gaining my enlargement, I promise you I will atone for this unhappy step, by preferring an innocent laborious poverty, to all the guilty affluence the world can offer me."
Will's Coffee-house, July 21.
To show that I do not bear an irreconcilable hatred to my mortal enemy, Mr. Powell at Bath, I do his function the honour to publish to the world, that plays represented by puppets are permitted in our universities,[437] and that sort of drama is not wholly thought unworthy the critic of learned heads: but as I have been conversant rather with the greater Ode, as I think the critics call it, I must be so humble as to make a request to Mr. Powell, and desire him to apply his thoughts to answering the difficulties with which my kinsman, the author of the following letter, seems to be embarrassed.
#"_To my Honoured Kinsman, Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq._#
"DEAR COUSIN,
"Had the family of the Beadlestaffs,[438] whereof I, though unworthy, am one, known of your being lately at Oxon, we had in our own name, and in the Universities' (as it is our office), made you a compliment: but your short stay here robbed us of an opportunity of paying our due respects, and you of receiving an ingenious entertainment, with which we at present divert ourselves and strangers. A puppet-show at this time supplies the want of an Act.[439] And since the nymphs of this city are disappointed of a luscious music-speech, and the country ladies of hearing their sons or brothers speak verses; yet the vocal machines, like them, by the help of a prompter, say things as much to the benefit of the audience, and almost as properly their own. The licence of a Terræ-Filius[440] is refined to the well-bred satire of Punchinello. Now, Cousin Bickerstaff, though Punch has neither a French nightcap, nor long pockets, yet you must own him to be a pretty fellow, a 'very' pretty fellow: nay, since he seldom leaves the company, without calling, 'Son of a whore,' demanding satisfaction, and duelling, he must be owned a smart fellow too. Yet, by some indecencies towards the ladies, he seems to be of a third character, distinct from any you have yet touched upon. A young gentleman who sat next me (for I had the curiosity of seeing this entertainment), in a tufted gown, red stockings, and long wig (which I pronounce to be tantamount to red heels and a dangling cane[441]) was enraged when Punchinello disturbed a soft love-scene with his ribaldry. You would oblige us mightily by laying down some rules for adjusting the extravagant behaviour of this Almanzor[442] of the play, and by writing a treatise on this sort of dramatic poetry, so much favoured, and so little understood, by the learned world. From its being conveyed in a cart after the Thespian manner, all the parts being recited by one person, as the custom was before Æschylus, and the behaviour of Punch as if he had won the goal, you may possibly deduce its antiquity, and settle the chronology, as well as some of our modern critics. In its natural transitions, from mournful to merry; as, from the hanging of a lover, to dancing upon the rope; from the stalking of a ghost, to a lady's presenting you with a jig; you may discover such a decorum, as is not to be found elsewhere than in our tragi-comedies. But I forget myself; it is not for me to dictate: I thought fit, dear cousin, to give you these hints, to show you that the Beadlestaffs don't walk before men of letters to no purpose; and that though we do but hold up the train of arts and sciences, yet like other pages, we are now and then let into our ladies' secrets. I am,
"Your most
"Affectionate Kinsman,
"BENJAMIN BEADLESTAFF.
"From Mother Gourdon's, at Hedington,[443] near Oxon, _June 18_."
From my own Apartment, July 22.
I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so little satisfaction as this evening; for you must know, I was five hours with three Merry, and two Honest Fellows. The former sang catches; and the latter even died with laughing at the noise they made. "Well," says Tom Belfrey, "you scholars, Mr. Bickerstaff, are the worst company in the world." "Ay," says his opposite, "you are dull to-night; prithee be merry." With that I huzzaed, and took a jump across the table, then came clever upon my legs, and fell a-laughing. "Let Mr. Bickerstaff alone," says one of the Honest Fellows, "when he's in a good humour, he's as good company as any man in England." He had no sooner spoke, but I snatched his hat off his head, and clapped his upon my own, and burst out a-laughing again; upon which we all fell a-laughing for half an hour. One of the Honest Fellows got behind me in the interim, and hit me a sound slap on the back; upon which he got the laugh out of my hands, and it was such a twang on my shoulders, that I confess he was much merrier than I. I was half angry; but resolved to keep up the good humour of the company; and after holloing as loud as I could possibly, I drank off a bumper of claret, that made me stare again. "Nay," says one of the Honest Fellows, "Mr. Isaac is in the right, there is no conversation in this; what signifies jumping, or hitting one another on the back? Let's drink about." We did so from seven o'clock till eleven; and now I am come hither, and, after the manner of the wise Pythagoras, begin to reflect upon the passages of the day. I remember nothing, but that I am bruised to death; and as it is my way to write down all the good things I have heard in the last conversation to furnish my paper, I can from this only tell you my sufferings and my bangs. I named Pythagoras just now, and I protest to you, as he believed men after death entered into other species, I am now and then tempted to think other animals enter into men, and could name several on two legs, that never discover any sentiment above what is common with the species of a lower kind; as we see in these bodily wits whom I was with to-night, whose parts consist in strength and activity; but their boisterous mirth gives me great impatience for the return of such happiness as I enjoyed in a conversation last week. Among others in that company, we had Florio, who never interrupted any man living when he was speaking, or ever ceased to speak, but others lamented that he had done. His discourse ever arises from a fulness of the matter before him, and not from ostentation or triumph of his understanding; for though he seldom delivers what he need fear being repeated, he speaks without having that end in view; and his forbearance of calumny or bitterness, is owing rather to his good nature than his discretion; for which reason, he is esteemed a gentleman perfectly qualified for conversation, in whom a general goodwill to mankind takes off the necessity of caution and circumspection. We had at the same time that evening the best sort of companion that can be, a good-natured old man. This person meets in the company of young men, veneration for his benevolence, and is not only valued for the good qualities of which he is master, but reaps an acceptance from the pardon he gives to other men's faults: and the ingenuous sort of men with whom he converses, have so just a regard for him, that he rather is an example, than a check to their behaviour. For this reason, as Senecio never pretends to be a man of pleasure before youth, so young men never set up for wisdom before Senecio; so that you never meet, where he is, those monsters of conversation, who are grave or gay above their years. He never converses but with followers of nature and good sense, where all that is uttered is only the effect of a communicable temper, and not of emulation to excel their companions; all desire of superiority being a contradiction to that spirit which makes a just conversation, the very essence of which is mutual goodwill. Hence it is, that I take it for a rule, that the natural, and not the acquired man, is the companion. Learning, wit, gallantry, and good breeding, are all but subordinate qualities in society, and are of no value, but as they are subservient to benevolence, and tend to a certain manner of being or appearing equal to the rest of the company; for conversation is composed of an assembly of men, as they are men, and not as they are distinguished by fortune: therefore he that brings his quality with him into conversation, should always pay the reckoning; for he came to receive homage, and not to meet his friends--But the din about my ears from the clamour of the people I was with this evening, has carried me beyond my intended purpose, which was to explain upon the Order of Merry Fellows; but I think I may pronounce of them, as I heard good Senecio, with a spice of wit of the last age, say, viz. that a Merry Fellow is the Saddest Fellow in the world.
[Footnote 437: See No. 44. Blackall was a bishop; and the University of Oxford had declared publicly in his favour.]
[Footnote 438: See No. 11.]
[Footnote 439: A meeting for conferring degrees, when speeches, &c., are delivered.]
[Footnote 440: An undergraduate who made extempore speeches at the Act, often of a very satirical kind. Sometimes there were two _terræ filii_, who carried on a dialogue. In 1721, Amberst published a periodical with the title "Terræ-Filius: or, The Secret History of the University of Oxford," and these papers were reprinted in two volumes in 1726, with a curious engraving of the Theatre at Oxford, by Hogarth, as frontispiece.]
[Footnote 441: See No. 26.]
[Footnote 442: In an Essay "Of Heroic Plays," prefixed to his play, "Almanzor and Almahide; or, The Conquest of Granada," Dryden defended at length the character of Almanzor.]
[Footnote 443: This village is the scene of Dr. William King's play, "Joan of Hedington" ("Works," 1776, vol. iii. p. 16).]
No. 46. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, July 23_, to _Tuesday, July 26_, 1709.
Non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur, Majestas et amor. OVID, Met. ii. 846.
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White's Chocolate-house, July 25.