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CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(IVIonograplis) 


ICI\/IH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


n 


Canadian  Instilut*  for  Historical  Microraproductiont  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibltagraphically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  lielow. 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I      Covers  damaged  / 

' — '     Couverture  endommagte 

I     I      Coveis  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
— '      Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pelliculee 

I     I      Cover  title  missing /Letitrede  couverture  manque 

I     I      uoloured  maps  /  Cartes  gtographiques  en  couleur 

I     I      Cotouned  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I     I      Coloured  plates  and/or  Illustrations  / 
' — '      Ranches  et/ou  illustratrans  en  couleur 

I     I      Bound  wHh  other  material  / 
' — '     Reli*  avec  dautros  docunnents 

I     I      Only  editton  available  / 
' — I      Seule  Edition  dispcnible 

I  I  right  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  rellure  serrie  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsk>n  le  long  de 
la  marge  int^rieure. 

I  I  Blank  leaves  added  during  restoratk>ns  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  fUmJng  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajouttes  kxs  d'une  restauration 
appaiaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  kxsque  cela  Atalt 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  ^  fflmies. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meiiieur  examplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6X6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-Stre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibii- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m6th- 
ode  nonnaie  de  filmage  sont  indiqu^s  ci-dessous. 

I     I     Coloured  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

I     I      Pages  damaged/ Pages endommagSos 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '     Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellk;ul6es 


D 

D 
D 

n 

D 
D 


D 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  d^colorees,  tachettes  ou  piques 

Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^tachees 

Showthmugh  /  Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies  / 
Qualiti  In^le  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  retilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure.  etc.,  ont  6t6  filmtes 
a  nouveau  de  fa(on  k  obtenir  la  mellleure 
image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twee  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  dteol- 
orations  sont  filmtes  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meiiieur  image  possible. 


HT 


AdrWonal  comments  / 
Commentaires  sufipMmentaires: 


Irregular  pagination:     [l]-y,  [l]-16e,  171-172,  1S9-170,  17S-176, 
173-17*.  179-180.  177-178.  183-18*.  181-182.  18S-416  p. 


This  intn  it  fihnad  tt  the  reduction  ratio  e^eekad  balow/ 
Ct  docwnant  est  filmi  au  taux  de  rMuction  indtqu^  ci'danous. 
lOX  1»X  18X 


22X 


/ 


12X 


tex 


n 

32X 


Th«  copy  fllmad  har*  hu  baan  rapreduead  thanks 
to  tha  ganaroalty  of: 

Olltr  Library, 

McGIII  Unlnnity, 

Montrul 

Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
pessibia  eonsidaring  tha  condition  and  lagiblllty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  liaaping  with  tha 
fllming  eontraot  spaeificatiofla. 


Original  ceplaa  In  printsd  papar  oovara  ara  fHmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  lllustratad  Impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  baeic  eovar  whan  approprfata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  fllmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impras- 
sion,  snd  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  lllustratad  impraasion. 


L'axamplaira  fllm4  fut  raprodult  griea  i  la 
ttntroaitt  da: 

Oiltr  Library, 
McOill  Uninnity, 


Las  imagas  aulvantas  ont  M  raproduitas  svsc  Is 
plus  grand  soln.  compts  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nsttat*  da  I'aiiamplaira  film*,  at  an 
oonformM  avae  laa  eonditiona  du  central  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  asamplairaa  origlnaux  dont  la  eouvartura  an 
paplar  aat  Imprim4a  sont  fllmto  sn  commandant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarmlnant  soit  par  la 
damlira  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprsints 
d'Impraaslon  ou  d'illustration.  solt  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  sutras  aiismplairss 
origlnaux  sont  fllmas  sn  commandant  par  ia 
pramMra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
dimpraaslon  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darhMra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aaeh  microficha 
shaU  contain  tha  symbol  ^^  (moaninq  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  Imoaning  "END"), 
whiehavar  applias. 


Un  daa  symbolsa  sulvsnts  apparattra  sur  la 
damMra  imaga  da  chaqua  micrjflcha,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbola  -^  signlfia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plataa.  charts,  ate.,  may  ba  fHmad  at 
diffarant  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  ba 
entirely  Included  in  one  expoeure  ara  filmed 
beginning  In  the  upper  left  hand  comer,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  fiamaa  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrams  Illustrate  the 


Lea  cartas,  planches,  tableeux.  etc..  peuvent  ttre 
fllmte  t  des  taux  do  rMuctlon  dlff«rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grsnd  pour  ttre 
reprodult  en  un  soul  cllch*.  il  est  fllma  i  partir 
da  Tangle  sup4rieur  gauche,  da  gauche  *  droite, 
et  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranent  Is  nombre 
d'Imegea  ntcsssaira.  Las  diagrammas  sulvants 
illustrent  la  mathode. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Miorocorr  msouition  tbt  cha>t 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


I.I 


^ 

1    1^ 

^ 

■  2.2 

3.6 

■■■ 

4.0 

12.0 

t^ 

mmiL 


/APPLIED  IN/MGE     Inc 

1653  Cost  Main  Street 

Roctietter,   P4aw  YorV        U609       USA 

(716)   482  -0300 -Phone 

(716)   288-5989  -Fax 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 
(SIR  JOSIIIA  Ri;VNOLDS) 


OXFORD  nnrnoN 

THE   BEE 

AND  OTHER  ESSAYS  BY 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

lOCETIlER    WITH 

THE  LIFE  OF  NASH 


HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

OXFORD   UNIVERSITY   PRESS 

LONDON      EDINBURGH     GLASGOW 

NEW  YORK    TORONTO     MELBOURNE     BOMBAY 

1914 


OXFORD  i    HORACE  HART 
TRINTER  TV  THK    UNIVRRSITV 


CONTENTS 

_  M0» 

THE  BEE  (17S8) 

Kemarka  on  our  Theatreu                            ,         ,  3 

A  Letter  from  a  Traveller 7 

A  Short  Account  of  the  Icte  Mr.  Maupertuis    .  10 
Some  Partioulam  relativt  to  Charlea  XII  not  com- 
monly known  .......  12 

On  our  Theatres 17 

The  History  of  Hypatia 19 

Some  Particulars  relating  to  Father  Frcijo  2.1 

Misoellaneoua 25 

A  Flemish  Tradition 30 

The  Sagacity  of  some  Insects .3.'! 

The  Characteristics  of  GreatncsK       ....  38 

A  City  Night- Piece 41 

Upon  Political  Frugality 44 

A  Reverie      .        .                 54 

A  Word  or  two  on  the  late  Farce  called  '  High  Life 

Below  Stairs ' 61 

Upon  Unfortunate  Merit 63 

Some  Account  of  the  Academics  of  Italy  ...  66 

Of  Eloquence 68 

Custom  and  Laws  compared 77 

Gf  the  Pride  and  Luxury  of  the  Middling  Class  uf 

People    . 81 

SaSinuB  and  Olinda 83 

Of  the  Opera  in  England 86 

ESSAYS,  SicoND  EDmoN.  1766 

The  Preface  .         .                   93 

I.  Introductory  Paper 97 

II.  The  Story  of  Alcandcr  and  Septimius         .  100 


CONTENTS 


III. 

IV. 

V, 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII, 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

xtv. 

XV. 


all 


l)is. 


XVI 

XVII. 

XVI II. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 
XXII. 

XXIII. 

xxn- 

XXV. 

XXVI. 
XXVII. 


On  Hupplneiw  of  Tpinpor  . 

I>«ription  of  Varioiu  Club» 

On  the  IV  of  Language 

On  Generosity  and  Junticr 

On  the  Educaiion  of  Youth 

On  the  InHtability  of  Popular  Favour 

S|*<iinen  of  a  Magazine  in  Miniatuw 

Beau  TibbK,  a  Character  . 

Beau  Tibbn  {continiied) 

On  the  Irremlution  of  Youth 

On  JIad  Dogs  .         .         _ 

On  the  increased  Love  of  Life  with  ,^c 

On  the  Passion  of  Women  for  levelling  a 

tinctions  of  Dress 
Asem  the  Jlan-hater,  an  Eastern  Tale 
On  the  English  CIci-gy  and  popular  Preachers 
On  the  Advantages  to  be  derived  from  senrliuK 

a  judicious  Traveller  into  A.sia 
A  Reverie  at  the  Boar',  Head  Ta^•ern  in  Ea»l- 

cheap 
On  Quack  l>/ctors  .         .         , 
.  Adventures  of  a  Strolling  Plover 
Rules  .enjoined   to    Ix-  observed  at  a   Ki.,sian 

Assembly 
Tiie  Genius  cf  Love,  an  l-^astern  AiJolouuc  . 
The  Distresses  of  a  Common  Soldier  . 
Supposed  to  be  Written  by  the  Ordinary  of  Xew! 
gate 

Supposed  to  come  from  a  Common  Council-nwn 
To  the  Printer 


rAiiK 
.     105 

lOU 

118 

124 

128 

140 

143 

147 

131 

IM 

158 

163 

liMi 
172 
I8U 

IHH 


VM 
20.) 
208 


218 
220 
225 


231 
234 
237 


KliiHT  ESSAYS,  first  collected  is  tiik  Po.^thumou.s 
Edition  of  17B8 
National  Concord   ... 
Female  Warriore    .         . 


243 
246 


CONTENTS 


.     Jonal  Prrjudicps 
School^  of  Mii»ir 
CitrolAii.  tht*  [rJHli  lifii-d   , 
On  till'  Ttnaiits  o(  the  licasowi' 
Sentiuii'i'tnl  I'oiiicilv 
Scotch  MnrrmgoH    . 


THK  LIFE  OK  RICHAHl)  XASH,  17«2 


?AOK 

2IM) 

287 
200 
204 

2eu 

27:i 


APPENDIX 

Beau  TibbH : 


a  third  Essay 411 


THE 


BEE. 


B   K    I    N  G 


ESSAYS 


ON  THE  MOST 


Interesting  Subjects. 


Floriferis  lit  Apes  in  Jaltibtts  omnia  libant. 
Omnia  Nos  itidifm. 


L   0   N  D   0    N: 

Printed  for  J.  Wilkie,  at  the  Bihli,  in  St.  Paul's 
Chunh-Tard,     M  DCC  LI.^'. 


:>  i 


[In  the  following  reprint  of  The  Bee,  the  pieces  subsequently  reTised 
and  included  in  Eaaays,  1785  (ed.  2,  1766)  are  omitted,  being  given 
in  their  later  form  under  '  Easays  '.  The  following  pieces  are  also 
omitted  :  Four  translations  from  Voltaire  ;  *  The  Sentiments  of 
a  Frenchman  on  the  Temper  of  the  English,'  reprinted  with  altera- 
tions from  the  English  translation  (1747)  of  Lo  Blanc's  Leitrea; 
'On  Deceit  and  Falsehood,'  reprinted  with  alterations  from  The 
Humourist,  1720 ;  and  '  An  Account  of  the  Augustan  Age  of  England ' 
(of  doubtful  authorship).  Five  poems  are  also  omitted,  which  will 
'-je  found  in  the  companion  volume  of  Goldsmith's  Poems.] 


THE  BEE 

Number  I.    Satukdav,  Octolier  6,  1759. 
REMARKS  ON  OITR  THEATRES 

OtTB  theatres  are  now  opened,  and  all  Grub  Street 
is  preparing  its  advice  to  tho  managers  ;  we  shall 
undoubtetlly  hear  learned  disquisitions  on  the  structure 
of  one  actor's  legs,  and  another's  eyebrows.  We  shall 
be  told  much  of  enunciations,  tones,  and  attitudes,  and 
shall  have  our  lightest  pleasures  commented  upon  by 
didactic  dullness.  We  shall,  it  is  feared,  be  told,  that 
Garrick  is  a  fine  actor,  but  then,  as  a  manager,  so 
avaricious !  That  Palmer  is  a  most  promising  genius, 
and  Holland  likely  to  do  well,  in  a  particular  cast  of 
character.  We  shall  have  them  giving  Shuter  instruc- 
tions to  amuse  us  by  rule,  and  deploring  over  the  ruins 
of  desolated  majesty  in  Covent  Garden.  As  I  love  to 
be  advising  too,  for  advice  is  easily  given,  and  bears 
a  show  of  wisdom  and  superiority,  I  must  bo  permitted 
to  offer  a  few  observations  upon  our  theatres  and  actors, 
without,  on  this  trivial  occasion,  throwing  my  thoughts 
into  the  formality  of  method. 

There  is  something  in  the  deportment  of  all  our 
players  infinitely  more  stiff  and  formal  than  among  the 
actors  of  other  nations.  Their  action  sits  unea'^y  upon 
them;  for  as  the  English  use  very  little  gesture  in 
ordinary  conversation,  our  English-bred  actors  are 
obliged  to  supply  stage  gestures  by  their  imagination 
alone.    A  French  comedian  finds  proper  models  of  action 


4  THE  BEE 

in  every  company  and  in  every  coffee-house  he  enters. 
An  Englishman  is  obliged  to  take  his  models  from  the 
stage  itself  ;  he  is  obliged  to  imitate  nature  from  an 
imitation  of  nature.  I  know  of  no  set  of  men  more  Ukely 
to  be  improved  by  travelling  than  those  of  the  theatrical 
profession.  The  inhabitants  of  the  Continent  are  less 
reserved  than  here  ;  they  may  be  seen  through  upon 
a  first  acquaintance  ;  such  are  the  proper  models  to  draw 
from  ;  they  are  at  once  striking,  and  are  found  in  great 
abundance. 

Though  it  would  be  inexcusable  in  a  comedian  to  add 
anything  of  his  own  to  the  poet's  dialogue,  yet  as  to 
action  he  is  entirely  at  liberty.  By  this  he  may  show 
the  fertility  of  his  genius,  the  poignancy  of  his  humour, 
and  the  exactness  of  his  judgement ;  we  scarce  see  a 
coxcomb  or  a  fool  in  common  life  that  has  not  some 
peculiar  oddity  in  his  action.  These  peculidrities  it  is 
not  in  the  power  of  words  to  represent,  and  depend 
solely  upon  the  actor.  They  give  a  rehsh  to  the  humour 
of  the  poet,  and  make  the  appearance  of  nature  more 
illusive  ;  the  Italians,  it  is  true,  mask  some  oharaeters, 
and  endeavour  to  preserve  the  peculiar  humour  by  the 
make  of  the  mask  ;  but  I  have  seen  others  still  preserve 
a  great  fund  of  humour  in  the  face  without  a  mask  ;  one 
actor,  particularly,  by  a  squint  which  he  threw  into  some 
characters  of  low  hfe,  assumed  a  look  of  infinite  solidity. 
This,  though  upon  reflection  we  might  condemn,  yet, 
immediately,  upon  representation,  we  could  not  avoid 
being  pleased  with.  To  illustrate  what  I  have  been  saying 
by  the  plays  I  have  of  late  gone  to  see  :  In  The  Miser, 
which  was  played  a  few  nights  ago  at  Covent  Garden, 
Lovegold  appears  through  the  whole  in  circumstances 
of  exaggerated  avarice ;  all  the  player's  action,  therefore, 
shoul''.  conspire  with  the  poet's  design,  and  represent 
him  as  as  epitome  of  penury.    The  French  comedian. 


REMARKS  ON  OUR  THEATRES  6 

in  this  character,  in  the  midst  of  one  of  his  most  violent 
passions,  while  he  appears  in  an  ungovernable  rage,  feels 
the  demon  of  avarice  still  upon  him,  and  stoops  down  to 
pick  up  a  pin,  which  he  quilts  into  the  flap  of  his  coat- 
pocket  with  great  assiduity.    Two  candles  are  lighted  up 
for  his  wedding  ;  ho  flies  and  turns  one  of  them  into  the 
socket ;  it  is,  however,  lighted  up  again  ;  ho  then  steals 
to  it,  and  privately  crams  it  into  his  pocket.    The  Mock- 
Doctor  was  lately  played  at  the  other  house.    Here  again 
the  comedian  had  an  opportunity  of  heightening  the 
ridicule  by  action.    The  French  plajer  sits  in  a  chair 
with  a  high  back,  and  then  begins  to  show  away  by 
talking  nonsense,  which  he  would  have  thought  Latin 
by  those  whom  he  knows  do  not  understand  a  syllable 
of  the  matter.     At  last  he  grows  enthusiastic,  enjoys 
the  admiration  of  the  company,  tosses  his  legs  and 
arms  about,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  raptures  and  vocifera- 
tion, he  and  the  chair  fall  back  together.     All  this 
appears  dull  enough  in  the  recital,  but  the  gravity  of 
Cato  could  not  stand  it  in  the  representation.    In  short, 
there  is  hardly  a  character  in  comedy  to  which  a  player 
of  any  real  humour  might  not  add  strokes  of  vivacity 
that  could  not  fail  of  applause.    But  instead  of  this  we 
too  often  see  our  fine  gentlemen  do  nothing,  through 
a  whole  part,  but  strut,  and  open  their  snuff-box  ;   our 
pretty  fellows  sit   indecently  with  their   legs  across, 
and    our  clowns   pull   up   their  breeches.     These,  if 
once,  or  even  twice,  repeated,  might  do  well  enough ; 
but  to  see  them  served  up  in  every  scene,  argues  the 
actor  almost  as   barren   as   the   character  ho  would 
expose. 

The  magnificence  of  our  theatres  is  far  superior  fo 
any  others  in  Europe  where  plays  only  are  acted.  The 
great  care  our  performers  take  in  painting  for  a  p.-trt, 
their  exactness  in  all  the  minutiae  of  dress,  and  other 


0 


THE  BEE 


little  scenical  proprieties,  have  been  taken  notice  of 
by  Ricoboni,  a  gentleman  of  Italy,  who  travelled  Europe 
with  no  other  design  but  to  remark  upon  the  stage ; 
but  there  are  several  apparent  improprieties  still  con- 
tinued, or  lately  come  into  fashion.  As,  for  instance, 
spreading  a  carpet  punctually  at  the  beginning  of  the 
death  scene,  in  order  to  prevent  our  actors  from  spoiling 
their  clothes ;  this  immediately  apprises  us  of  the 
tragedy  to  follow  ;  for  laying  the  cloth  is  not  a  more 
sure  indication  of  dinner,  than  laying  the  carpet  of  bloody 
work  at  Drury  Lane.  Our  little  pages  also  with  un- 
meaning faces,  that  bear  up  the  train  of  a  weeping 
princess,  and  our  awkward  lords  in  waiting,  take  off 
much  from  her  distress.  Mutes  of  every  kind  divide 
our  attention,  and  lessen  our  sensibility;  but  here  it 
is  entirely  ridiculous,  as  we  see  them  seriously  em- 
ployed in  doing  nothing.  If  we  must  have  dirty- 
shirted  guards  upon  the  theatres,  they  should  be  taught 
to  keep  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  actors,  and  not  roll  them 
round  upon  the  audience,  as  if  they  were  ogling  the 
boxes. 

Beauty,  methinks,  seems  a  requisite  qualification  in 
an  actress.  This  seems  scrupulously  observed  elsewhere, 
and  for  my  part  I  could  wish  to  see  it  observed  at  home. 
I  can  never  conceive  a  hero  dying  for  love  of  a  lady 
totally  destitute  of  beauty.  I  must  think  the  part 
unnatural,  for  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  him  call  that  face 
angelic,  when  even  paint  cannot  hide  its  wrinkles.  I 
must  condemn  him  of  stupidity,  and  the  person  whom 
I  can  accuse  for  want  of  taste  will  seldom  become  the 
object  of  my  affections  or  admiration.  But  if  this  be 
a  defect,  what  must  be  the  entire  perversion  of  scenical 
decorum,  when,  for  instance,  we  see  an  p  ^ress  that  might 
act  the  Wapping  Landlady  without  a  bolster,  pining 
in  the  character  of  Jane  Shore,  and,  while  unwieldy 


REMARKS  ON  OUR  THEATRES  7 

with  fat,  endeavouring  to  convince  the  audience  that  she 
is  dying  with  hunger. 

For  the  future,  then,  I  could  wish  that  the  parts  of  the 
young  or  beautiful  were  given  to  performers  of  suitable 
figures  ;  for  I  must  own,  I  could  rather  see  the  stage 
filled  with  agreeable  objects,  though  they  might  some- 
times bungle  a  little,  than  see  it  crowded  with  withered 
or  misshapen  figures,  be  their  emphasis,  as  I  think  it  is 
called,  ever  so  proper.  The  first  may  have  the  awkward 
appearance  of  new-raised  troops,  but  in  viewing  the  last, 
I  cannot  avoid  the  mortification  of  fancying  myself 
placed  in  an  hospital  of  invalids. 


■s4 

i 


A  LETTER  FROM  A  TRAVELLER 

(The  sequel  of  this  correspondence  to  be  continued 
occasionally.  I  shall  alter  nothing  eitbi^r  in  the  style 
or  substance  of  these  letters,  and  the  reader  may  depend 
on  their  being  genuine.) 

■    Cracow,  Aug.  2, 1758, 

My  DEAR  WlIX, 

You  see,  by  the  date  of  my  letter,  that  lam  arrived 
in  Poland.  When  will  my  wanderings  be  at  an  end  ? 
When  will  my  restless  disposition  give  me  leave  to  enjoy 
the  present  hour  1  When  at  Lyons,  I  thought  all 
happiness  lay  beyond  the  Alps  ;  when  in  Italy,  I  found 
myself  still  in  want  of  something,  and  expected  to  leave 
solicitude  behind  me  by  going  into  Roumelia  ;  and  now 
you  find  me  turning  back,  still  expecting  ease  everywhere 
but  where  I  am.  It  is  now  seven  years  since  I  saw  the 
face  of  a  single  creature  who  cared  a  farthing  whether 
I  was  dead  or  alive.  Secluded  from  all  the  comforts 
of  confidence,  friendship,  or  society,  I  fee!  the  solitude 
of  a  hermit,  but  uut  his  eas«. 


8 


THE  BEE 


The  Prince  of  *  *  *  has  taken  me  in  his  train,  so  that 
I  am  in  no  danger  of  starving  for  this  bout.  The  prince's 
governor  is  j,  rude  ignorant  pedant,  and  his  tutor 
a  battered  rake  :  thus,  between  two  such  characters, 
you  may  imagine  he  is  finely  instructcil.  I  made  some 
attempts  to  display  all  the  little  knowledge  I  had 
acquired  by  reading  or  observation  ;  but  I  find  myself 
Teg(.rded  as  an  ignoiant  intruder.  The  truth  is,  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  acquire  a  power  of  expressing  myself 
with  ease  in  any  language  but  ray  own  ;  and,  out  of  my 
own  country,  the  highest  character  I  can  ever  acquire, 
is  that  of  being  a  philosophic  vagabond. 

When  I  consider  myself  in  the  country  which  was  once 
so  formidable  in  war,  and  spread  terror  and  desolation 
over  the  whole  Roman  empire,  I  can  hardly  account 
for  the  present  wretchedness  and  pusillanimity  of  its 
inhabitants  ;  a  prey  to  every  invader ;  their  cities 
plundered  wHhout  an  enemy ;  their  magistrates  seeking 
redress  by  complaints,  and  not  by  vigour.  Everything 
conspires  to  raise  my  compassion  for  their  miseries, 
were  not  my  thoughts  too  busily  engaged  by  my  own. 
The  whole  kingdom  is  in  strange  disorder ;  when  our 
equipage,  which  consists  of  the  prince  and  thirteen 
attendants,  had  arrived  at  some  towns,  there  were  no 
conveniences  to  be  found,  and  we  were  obliged  to  have 
girls  to  conduct  us  to  the  next.  1  have  seen  a  woman 
travel  thus  on  horseback  before  us  for  thirty  miles, 
and  think  herself  highly  paid,  and  make  twenty  rever- 
ences, upon  receiving,  with  ecstasy,  about  twopence  for 
her  trouble.  In  general,  we  were  better  served  by  the 
women  than  the  men  on  those  occasions.  The  men. 
seemed  directed  by  a  low  sordid  interest  alone ;  they 
seemed  mere  machines,  and  all  their  thoughts  were 
employed  in  the  care  of  their  horses.  If  we  gently 
desired  them  to  make  more  speed,  they  took  not  the 


A  LETTER  FROM  A  TRAVELLER 


9 


i 


least  notice ;  kind  language  was  what  they  had  by  no 
meami  been  UHcd  to.  It  was  projier  to  speak  to  them  in 
the  tones  of  anger,  and  sometimes  it  was  even  necessary 
to  use  blows,  to  oxcito  them  to  their  duty.  How  different 
these  from  the  common  people  of  England,  whom 
a  blow  might  induce  to  return  the  affront  sevenfold. 
These  poor  i'  "ople,  however,  from  being  brought  up  to 
vile  usage,  lose  all  the  respect  which  they  should  have 
for  themselves.  They  have  contracted  a  habit  of 
regarding  constraint  as  the  great  rule  of  their  duty. 
When  they  were  treated  with  mildness,  they  no  longer 
continued  to  perceive  a  superiority.  They  fancied 
themselves  our  equals,  a  nd  a  continuance  of  our  humanity 
might  probably  have  rendered  them  insolent ;  but  the 
imperious  tone,  menaces,  and  blows,  at  once  changed 
their  sensations  and  their  ideas  :  their  ears  and  their 
shoulders  taught  thsir  souls  to  shrink  back  into  servitude, 
from  which  they  had  for  some  moments  fancied  them- 
selves disengaged. 

The  enthusiasm  of  liberty  an  Englishman  feels  is 
never  so  strong  as  when  presented  by  such  prospects  as 
these.  I  must  own,  in  all  my  indigence,  it  is  one  of  my 
comforts  (perhaps,  indeed,  it  is  my  only  boast)  that  I 
am  of  that  happy  country ;  though  I  scorn  to  starve 
there ;  though  I  do  not  choose  to  lead  a  life  of  wretched 
dependence,  or  be  an  object  for  my  former  acquaintance 
to  point  at.  While  you  enjoy  all  the  ease  and  elegance 
of  prudence  and  virtue,  your  old  friend  wanders  over  the 
world,  without  a  single  anchor  to  hold  by,  or  a  friend, 
except  you,  to  confide  in. 

Yours,  &o. 


B3 


io 


THE  BEE 


A  SHORT  ACCOUNT  OP  THE  LATE 
MR.  MAUPERTUIS 

Me.  MATTPEKTCts,  lately  deceased,  was  the  first  to 
whom  the  English  philosophers  owed  their  being  parti- 
cularly admired  by  the  rest  of  Europe.  The  romantic 
system  of  Des  Cartes  was  adapted  to  the  taste  of  '  he 
superficial  and  the  indolent ;  the  foreign  universities 
had  embraced  it  with  ardour,  and  such  are  seldom  con- 
vinced of  their  error  till  all  others  give  up  such  false 
opinions  as  untenable.  The  philosophy  of  Newton, 
and  the  metaphysics  of  Locke  appeared,  but,  like  all 
new  truths,  they  wv,ie  at  once  received  with  opposition  ' 
and  contempt.  The  English,  'tis  true,  studied,  under- 
stood, and  consequently  admired  them ;  it  was  very 
different  on  the  Continent.  Fontenelle,  who  seemef"  to 
preside  over  the  republic  of  letters,  unwilling  to  acknow- 
ledge that  all  'lis  life  had  been  spent  in  erroneous  philo- 
sophy, joined  in  the  universal  disapprobation,  and  the 
English  philosophers  seemed  entirely  unknr  -n. 

Maupertuis,  however,  made  them  his  study ;  he  thought 
he  might  oppose  the  physics  of  his  country,  and  yet  still 
be  a  good  citizen ;  he  defended  our  countrymen,  wrote 
in  their  favour,  and,  at  last,  as  he  had  truth  on  his  side, 
carried  his  cause.  Almost  all  the  learning  of  the  English, 
till  very  lately,  was  conveyed  in  the  language  of  France. 
The  writings  of  Maupertuis  spread  the  reputation  of 
his  maslar  Newton,  and  by  a  happy  fortune  have  united 
his  fame  with  that  of  our  human  prodigy. 

The  first  of  his  performances,  openly,  in  vindication 
of  the  Newtonian  system,  is  his  treatise  entituled,  Sur 
la  figure  dea  Astres,  if  I  remember  right ;  a  work  at  once 
expressive  of  a  deep  geometrical  knowledge,  and  the 
must  happy  niaiiiier  of  Jelivering  abMtruxe  science  «ith 


MR.  MAUPERTUIS 


11 


ease.  This  met  with  violent  opposition  from  a  people, 
though  fona  of  i.ovelty  in  everything  else,  yet,  however! 
in  matters  of  science,  attachctl  to  ancient  opinions  with 
bigotry.  As  the  old  antl  the  ohstinato  fell  away,  tb,  i  onth 
of  France  embraced  the  new  opinions,  and  now  sccni  more 
eager  to  defend  Newton  thun  even  his  eonntryiuon. 

That  oddity  of  character  which  great  men  are  some- 
times remarkable  for,  Maupertuia  was  not  entirely  free 
from.   It  is  certain  ho  was  extremely  whimsical.   Though 
bom  to  a  large  fortune,  when  employed  in  mathen.atical 
mquiries,  he  disregarded  his  person  to  such  a  degree, 
and  love  '  retirement  so  much,  that  he  has  been  more 
than  once  put  on  the  list  of  motlest  beggars  by  the  curates 
of  Paris,  when  he  retired  to  some  private  quarter  of  th<) 
town,  in  order  to  enjoy  his  meditations  without  inter- 
ruption.   The  character  given  of  him  by  one  of  Voltaire's 
antagonists,  if  it  can  bo  depended  upon,  is  much  to  his 
honour.     '  You,'  says  this  writer  to  Mr.  Voltaire,  'you 
•  were  entertained  by  the  King  of  Prussia  as  a  buffoon, 
but  Maupertuis  as  a  philosopher.'    It  is  certain  that  the 
preference  which  this  royal  scholar  gave  to  Maupertuis 
was  the  cause  of  Voltaire's  disagreement  with  him. 
Voltaire  could  not  bear  to  see  a  man,  whose  talents  he 
had  no  great  opinion  of,  preferred  before  him  as  president 
of  the  Royal  Academy.      His  Micromegaa  was  designed 
to  ndioule  Maupertuis  ;    and  probably  it  has  brought 
more  disgrace  on  the  author  than  the  subject.  Whatever 
absurdities   men  of  letters  have   indulged,   and   how 
fantastical  soever  the  modes  of  science  have  been,  their 
anger  is  still  more  subject  to  ridicule. 


12 


THE  BEE 


Ni'MBKB  II.    Saturday,  Orlnber  13,  1750. 

SOME  PARTICULAUS  RELATIVE  TO 
CHARLES  XII  NOT  COMMONLY  KNOWN 

STOCHnOLH. 

Sir, 

I  cannot  resist  your  nolicitations,  though  it  ia 
poBsible  I  sholl  be  unable  to  satisfy  your  curiosity.  The 
polite  of  every  country  seem  to  have  but  one  character. 
.\  gentleman  of  Sweden  differs  but  little,  except  in  trifles, 
from  one  of  any  other  country.  It  is  among  the  vulgir 
we  are  to  find  those  distinctions  which  characterize 
a  people,  and  from  them  it  is  that  I  take  my  picture  of 
the  Swedes. 

Though  the  Swe<lc8  in  general  appear  to  languish 
under  oppression,  which  often  renders  others  wicked,  or 
of  malignant  dispositions,  it  has  not,  however,  the  same 
influence  upon  them,  as  they  are  faithful,  civil,  and 
incapable  of  atrocious  crimes.  Would  you  believe  that 
in  Sweden  highway  robberies  are  not  so  much  as  heard 
of  '!  For  my  part,  1  have  not  in  the  whole  country  seen  a 
gibbet  or  a  gallows.  Tbqy  pay  an  infinite  respect  to  their 
ecclesiastics,  whom  they  suppose  to  be  the  privy  council- 
lors of  Providence,  who,  on  their  part,  turn  this  ereduUty 
to  their  own  advantage,  and  manage  their  parishioners  as 
they  please.  In  general,  however,  they  seldom  abuse 
their  sovereign  authority.  Hearkened  to  as  oracles, 
regarded  as  the  dispensers  of  eternal  rewards  and 
punishments,  they  readily  influence  their  hearers  into 
justice,  '.nd  make  them  practical  philosophers  without 
the  pains  of  study. 

As  to  their  persons  they  are  perfectly  well  made, 
and  the  men  i)articularly  have  a  very  engaging  air. 
The  greatest  part  of  the  boys  which  I  saw  in  the  country 


t 


CHARLES  XII 


13 


h*d  very  white  hair.  They  wore  bh  bcaiitifiil  bh  C'lipids, 
and  there  was  somothing  oiKin  and  entirely  hajijiy  in 
their  little  chubby  faces.  The  girls,  nn  the  contrary, 
have  neither  such  fair  nor  Hiich  even  complexionH,  and 
their  features  are  much  less  delicate,  which  is  a  circum- 
stance different  from  that  of  almost  every  other  cc-  ♦[  y. 
Besides  this,  it  is  observed  that  the  women  are  generally 
a(flicte<l  with  the  itch,  for  which  Scania  is  i)articularly 
remarkable.  I  had  an  ins(;inco  of  this  in  one  of  the  inns 
on  the  roa<l.  The  hos  ,  .^s  was  one  of  the  most  bciuitiful 
women  I  have  over  scon  ;  she  had  so  fine  a  complexion, 
that  I  coi'ld  not  avoid  admiring  it.  But  what  was  my 
surprise,  when  she  opened  her  bosom  in  order  to  suckle 
her  child,  to  perceive  that  scat  of  delight  all  covered 
with  this  disagreeable  distemper.  The  careless  manner 
in  which  she  exposed  to  our  eyes  so  disgusting  an  object, 
sufficiently  testifies  that  they  regard  it  as  no  very 
extraordinary  malady,  and  seem  to  take  no  pnins  to 
conceal  it.  Such  are  the  remarks,  which  probably  you 
may  think  trifling  enough,  I  have  made  in  my  journey 
to  Stockholm,  which,  to  take  it  altogetl.er,  is  a  large, 
beautiful,  and  even  populous  city. 

The  arsenal  appears  to  mo  one  of  its  greatest  curiosities ; 
it  is  an  handsome  spacious  building,  but,  however,  illy 
stored  with  the  implements  of  war.  To  recompense 
this  defect,  they  have  almost  filled  it  with  trophies,  and 
other  marks  oi  their  former  military  glory.  I  saw  there 
several  chambers  filled  with  Danish,  Saxon,  Polish,  and 
Russian  standards.  There  was  at  least  enough  to  suffice 
half  a  dozen  armies  ;  but  new  standards  are  more 
easily  made  than  new  armies  can  be  enlisted.  I  saw, 
besides,  some  very  rich  furniture,  and  some  of  the  crown 
jewels  of  great  value ;  but  what  principally  engaged  my 
attention,  and  touched  me  with  passing  melancholy, 
were  the  bloody,  yet  precious,  spoils  of  the  two  greatest 


u 


THE  BEE 


herooH  the  North  ever  prmliiood.  What  I  moan  are  the 
cluthoH  in  which  the  groat  OuHtavuH  Adolphua,  and  the 
intrepid  Charles  XII  dio»l,  by  a  fate  not  URual  to  kings. 
The  flrat,  if  I  remember,  iit  a  aort  of  a  buff  waiitooat, 
mado  antique  fashion,  very  plain,  and  witho-.it  the  least 
omamjnts  ;  the  second,  which  was  even  more  remark- 
able, consisted  only  of  a  coarse  blue  cloth  coat,  a  large  hat 
of  loss  value,  a  shirt  of  coarse  linen,  large  boots,  and 
buff  gli)ves  mado  to  cover  a  great  part  of  the  arm. 
His  saddle,  his  pistols,  and  his  sword,  have  nothing  in 
them  remarkable ;  the  meanest  soldier  was  in  this 
n-Hpoct  no  w.  inferior  to  his  gallant  monarch.  I  shall 
use  this  op|H  iiiity  to  give  you  some  particulars  of 
the  life  of  a  man  .ilready  so  .veil  known,  which  I  had 
from  persons  who  know  him  when  a  child,  and  who  now, 
by  a  fate  not  unusual  to  courtiers,  spend  a  life  of  poverty 
and  retirement,  and  talk  ovor  in  raptures  all  the  actions 
of  their  old  victorious  king,  companion,  and  master. 

Courage  and  inflexible  constancy  formed  the  basis  of 
this  monarch's  character.  In  his  tenderest  years  ho  gave 
instances  of  both.  When  he  was  yet  scarce  seven  years 
old,  being  at  dinner  with  the  queen  his  mother,  intend- 
ing to  give  a  bit  of  liroad  to  a  groat  dog  he  was  fond  of, 
this  hungry  animal  s;  lapped  too  greedily  at  the  morsel, 
and  bit  Lis  hand  in  a  terrible  manner.  The  wound  bled 
copiously,  but  our  yoimg  hero,  without  offering  to  cry, 
or  taking  the  least  notice  of  his  misfortune,  endeavoured 
to  conceal  whaf  had  liappened,  lest  his  a.  %  should  be 
brought  into  trouble,  and  wrapped  his  bloody  hand  in 
the  napkin.  The  queen,  perceiving  that  hi  did  not  eat, 
asked  him  the  reason.  He  contented  himself  with 
replying,  that  he  thanked  her,  he  was  not  hungry.  They 
thought  he  was  taken  ill,  and  so  repeated  their  solicita- 
tions. But  all  was  in  vain,  though  the  poor  child  was 
obeady  grown  pale  with  the  loss  of  blood.   An  officer  who 


CHARLFW  XII 


15 


•ttendeil  tit  («lile  at  tant  pcix^oivod  it ;  for  Charlm  would 
loonerhavo  died  than  l)etra>ed  hk  dog,  who,  ho  knew, 
intended  no  injury. 

At  another  time,  when  in  the  Hmall -pox,  and  hi*  raie 
appeared  dangoroiw,  ho  grew  one  day  very  unoaiiy  ia 
his  bed,  and  a  gentleman  who  wat(  hod  him,  dcniroua  ol 
covering  him  up  clone,  reccivo<l  from  the  patient  a  vioknt 
box  on  his  ear.  Some  houni  after,  obiiorving  the  princo 
more  calm,  he  ontreatc«l  to  know  how  he  had  incurred  hit 
diitpleaiiure,  or  what  ho  hud  done  to  have  merited 
a  blow.  '  A  blow,'  ropliwi  (!harlc8,  '  I  don't  remember 
•  anything  of  it ;  I  romemlwr,  indeed,  that  I  thought 
j  myself  in  the  battle  of  ArbeU,  fighting  for  Dariui, 
where  I  gave  Alexander  a  blow,  which  brought  him  to 
'  the  ground.' 

What  great  effoot*  might  not  these  two  qualities  of 
courage  and  consta.icy  have  produced,  had  they  at  first 
received  a  .  .st  direction.    Charics,  with  proper  instruc- 
tion, thus  naturaUy  disposed,  would  have  been  the  delight 
•nH  •;•  -  glory  of  his  age.    Happy  those  princes,  who  are 
eo        ed  by  men  who  ate  at  once  virtuous  and  wise, 
ana    ive  been  for  some  time  in  the  school  of  affliction  ; 
who    -eigh  happiness  against  gl,   y,  and  teach  their 
royal  pupils  tho  real  value  of  fame  ;  who  are  ever  show- 
ing the  superior  dignity  of  man  to  that  of  royalty ; 
that  a  peasant  who  docrt  his  duty  ia  a  nobler  character 
than  a  king  of  even  middling  reputation.    Happy,  I  say, 
were  prinoes,  could  such  men  bo  found  to  instruct  them  ; 
but  those  to  whom   such    an   education  is  generally 
entrusted,  are  men  who  themselves  have  acted  in  a 
sphere  too  high  to  know  mankind.    Puffed  up  themselves 
with  ideas  of  false  grandeur,  and  measuring  merit  by 
adventitious  circuiiistances  of  greatness,  they  generally 
communicate   those   fatal   prejudices   to   their  pupils, 
oonflrra   'heir  pride   by  adulation,   or   increase  their 


16 


THE  BEE 


ignorance  by  teaching  them  to  despise  that  wisdom 
which  is  found  among  the  poor. 

But  not  to  moralize  when  I  only  intend  a  story, — 
what  is  related  of  the  journeys  of  this  prince  is  no  less 
astonishing.  He  has  sometimes  been  on  horseback  for 
four  and  twenty  hours  successively,  and  thus  traversed 
the  greatest  part  of  his  kingdom.  At  last  none  of  his 
officers  were  found  capable  of  following  him ;  he  thus 
consequently  rode  the  greatest  part  of  these  journeys 
quite  alone,  without  taking  a  moment's  repose,  and 
without  any  other  subsistence  but  a  bit  of  bread.  In 
one  of  these  rapid  courses  he  underwent  an  adventure 
singular  enoufjh.  Biding  thus  post  one  day,  all  alone, 
he  had  the  misfortune  to  have  his  horse  fall  dead  under 
him.  This  might  have  embarrassed  an  ordinary  man, 
but  it  gave  Charles  no  sort  of  uneasiness.  Sure  of  finding 
another  horse,  but  not  equally  so  of  meeting  with  a  good 
saddle  and  pistols,  he  ungirds  his  horse,  claps  the  whole 
equipage  on  his  own  back,  and  thus  accoutred,  marches 
on  to  the  next  inn,  which  by  good  fortune  was  not  far 
oS.  Entering  the  stable,  he  here  found  a  horse  entirely 
to  his  mind ;  so,  without  further  ceremony,  he  clapped 
on  his  saddle  and  housing  with  great  composure,  and  was 
just  going  to  mount,  when  the  gentleman  who  owned 
the  horse  was  apprised  of  a  stranger's  going  to  steal  his 
property  out  of  the  stable.  Upon  asking  the  king, 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  bluntly,  how  he  presumed  to 
meddle  with  his  horse,  Charles  coolly  replied,  squeezing 
ill  his  lips,  which  was  his  usual  custom,  that  he  took  the 
horse  because  he  wanted  one  ;  '  for  you  seq,'  continued 
he,  '  if  I  have  none,  1  shall  be  obliged  to  carry  the  saddle 
'  myself.'  This  answer  did  not  seem  at  all  satisfactory 
to  the  gentleman,  who  instantly  drew  his  sword.  In  this 
the  king  was  not  much  behindhand  with  him,  and  to  it 
they  were  going,  when  the  guards,  by  this  time,  came 


CHARLES  XII 


17 


up,  and  testified  that  surprise  which  was  natural,  to 
see  arms  in  the  hand  of  a  subject  against  his  king. 
Imagine  whether  the  gentleman  was  less  surprised  than 
they  at  his  unpremeditated  disobedience.  His  astonish- 
ment, however,  was  soon  dissipated  by  the  king,  who, 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  assured  him  he  was  a  brave 
fellow,  and  himself  would  take  care  he  should  be  provided 
for.  This  promise  was  afterwards  fulfilled  ;  and  I  have 
been  assured  the  king  made  him  a  captain. 

I  am.  Sir,  &c. 


ON   OUR   THEATRES 

Mademoiselle  Claieon,  a  celebrated  actress  at  Paris, 
seems  to  me  the  most  perfect  female  figure  I  have  ever 
seen  upon  any  stage.  Not,  perhaps,  that  nature  has  been 
more  liberal  of  personal  beauty  to  her,  than  some  to  be 
seen  upon  our  theatres  at  home.  There  are  actresses 
here  who  have  as  much  of  what  nonnoisseurs  call  statuary 
grace,  by  which  is  meant  elegance  unconnected  with 
motion,  as  she  ;  but  they  all  fall  infinitely  short  of  her, 
when  the  soul  comes  to  give  expression  to  the  limbs,' 
and  animates  every  feature. 

Her  first  appearance  is  excessively  engaging  ;  she 
never  comes  in  staring  round  upon  the  company,'  as  if 
she  intended  to  count  the  benefits  of  the  house,  or  at 
least  to  see,  as  well  as  be  seen.  Her  eyes  are  always, 
at  first,  intently  fixed  upon  the  persons  of  the  drama,  and 
she  lifts  them  by  degrees,  with  enchanting  diffidence, 
upon  the  spectators.  Her  first  speech,  or  at  least  the 
first  part  of  it,  is  delivered  with  scarce  any  motion  of 
the  arm  ;  her  hands  and  her  tongue  never  set  out 
together ;  but  the  one  prepares  us  for  the  other.  She 
sometimes  begins  with  a  mute,  eloquent  attitude  ;  but 
never  goes  forward  all  at  once  with  hands,  eyes,  'head, 


18 


THE  BEE 


and  voice.  This  observation,  though  it  may  appear  of 
no  importance,  should  certainly  be  adverted  to  ;  nor 
do  I  see  any  one  performer  (Garrick  only  excepted) 
among  us,  that  is  not,  in  this  particular,  apt  to  offend. 
By  this  simple  beginning  she  gives  herself  a  power  of 
rising  in  the  passion  of  the  scene.  As  she  proceeds, 
every  gesture,  every  look  acquires  new  violence,  till  at 
last  transported,  she  fills  the  whole  vehemence  of  the 
part,  and  all  the  idea  of  the  poet. 

Her  hands  are  not  alternately  stretched  out,  and  then 
drawn  in  again,  as  with  the  singing  women  at  Sadler's 
Wells  ;  they  are  employed  with  graceful  variety,  and 
every  moment  please  with  new  and  unexpected  eloquence. 
Add  to  this,  that  their  motion  is  generally  ■  from  the 
shoulder ;  she  never  flourishes  her  hands  while  the  upper 
part  of  her  arm  is  motionless,  nor  has  she  the  ridiculous 
appearance,  as  if  her  elbows  were  pinned  to  her  hips. 

But  of  a '  the  cautions  to  be  given  our  rising  actresses, 
I  would  particularly  recommend  it  to  them  never  to 
take  notice  of  the  audience,  upon  any  occasion  whatso- 
ever ;  let  the  spectators  applaud  never  so  loudly,  their 
praises  should  pass,  except  at  the  end  of  the  epilogue, 
with  seeming  inattention.  I  can  never  pardon  a  lady 
on  the  stage  who,  when  she  draws  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  audience,  turns  about  to  make  them  a  low  curtsy 
for  their  applause.  Such  a  figure  no  longer  continues 
Belvidera,  but  at  once  drops  into  Mrs.  Gibber.  Suppose 
a  sober  tradesman,  who  once  a  year  takes  his  shilUngs- 
worth  at  Drury  Lane,  in  order  to  be  delighted  with  the 
figure  of  a  queen,  the  Queen  of  Sheba  for  instance,  or 
any  other  queen  :  this  honest  man  has  no  other  idea  of 
the  groat  but  from  their  superior  pride  and  impertinence  : 
suppose  such  a  man  placed  among  the  spectators,  the 
first  figure  that  presents  on  the  stage  is  the  queen  herself, 
curtsying  and  cringing  to  all  the  company ;    how  can 


ON  OUR  THEATRES  10 

he  fancy  hor  the  haughty  favourite  of  King  Solomon 
the  wise,  wlio  appears  actually  more  submissive  than  the 
wife  of  his  bosom.  We  are  all  tradesmen  of  a  nicer 
relish  in  this  respect,  and  such  a  conduct  must  disgust 
every  spectator  who  loves  to  have  the  illusion  of  nature 
strong  upon  him. 

Yet,  while  I  recommend  to  our  actresses  a  skilful 
attention  to  gesture,  I  would  not  have  them  study  it 
in  the  looking-glass.  This,  without  some  precaution, 
will  render  their  action  formal ;  by  too  great  an  intimacy 
with  this,  they  become  stiff  and  affected.  People  seldom 
improve,  when  they  have  no  other  model  but  themselves 
to  copy  after.  I  remember  to  have  known  a  notable 
performer  of  the  oth  sex,  who  made  great  use  of  this 
flattering  monitor;  and  yet  was  one  of  the  stiffest 
figures  I  ever  saw.  I  am  told  his  apartment  was  hung 
round  »  looking-glass,  that  he  might  see  his  person 
twenty  times  reflected  upon  entering  the  room ;  and 
I  will  make  bold  to  say,  he  saw  twenty  very  ugly  fellows 
whenever  he  did  so. 


Number  III.    Saturday,  October  20,  1759. 
THE  HISTORY  OP  HYPATIA 

Man,  when  secluded  from  society,  is  not  a  more  solitary 
being  than  the  woman  who  leaves  the  duties  of  her  ov  n 
sex  to  invade  the  privileges  of  ours.  She  seems,  in  such 
circumstances,  like  one  in  banishment ;  she  appears  like 
a  neutral  being  between  the  sexes  ;  and  though  she  may 
have  the  admiration  of  both,  she  finds  true  happiness 
from  neither. 

Of  all  the  ladies  of  antiquity,  I  have  read  of  none 
who  was  ever  more  justly  celebrated  than  the  beautiful 
Hypatia,  the  daughter  of  Theon  the  philosopher.     This 


20 


THE  BEE 


most  aooomplishe<1  of  women  was  bom  at  Alexandria,  in 
the  reign  of  Theodosius  the  younger.  Nature  was  never 
more  lavish  of  its  gifts  than  it  had  been  to  her,  endued 
as  she  was  with  the  most  exalted  understanding,  and  the 
happ-est  turn  to  science.  Education  completed  what 
nature  had  begun,  and  made  hor  the  prodigy  not  only  of 
her  age,  but  the  glory  of  her  sex. 

From  her  father  she  learned  geometry  and  astronomy  ; 
she  collected  from  the  conversation  and  schools  of  the 
other  philosophers,  for  which  Alexandria  was  at  that 
time  famous,  the  principles  of  the  rest  of  the  sciences. 

What  cannot  be  conqueretl  by  natur.il  penetration 
and  a  passion  for  study  ?  The  boundless  knowledge 
which,  at  that  period  of  time,  was  required  to  form  the 
character  of  a  philosopher  no  way  discouraged  her  ;  she 
delivered  herself  up  to  the  study  of  Aristotle  and  Plato, 
and  soon  not  one  in  all  Alexandria  understood  so  per- 
fectly as  she  all  the  dift  culties  of  these  two  philosophers. 

But  not  their  systems  alone,  but  those  of  every  other 
sect,  were  quite  familiar  to  her  ;  and  to  this  knowledge 
she  added  that  of  poUte  learning,  and  the  art  of  oratory. 
All  the  learning  which  it  was  possible  for  the  human 
mind  to  contain,  being  joined  to  a  most  enchanting 
eloquence,  rendered  this  lady  the  wonder  not  only  of 
the  populace,  who  easily  admire,  but  of  philosophers 
themselves,  who  are  seldom  fond  of  admiration. 

The  city  of  Alexandria  was  every  day  crowded  with 
strangers,  who  came  from  all  parts  of  Greece  and  Asia 
to  see  and  hear  her.  As  for  the  charms  of  her  person, 
they  might  not  probably  have  been  mentioned,  did  she 
not  join  to  a  beauty  the  most  striking,  a  virtue  that 
might  repress  the  most  assuming ;  and  though  in  the 
whole  capital,  famed  for  charms,  there  was  not  one  who 
could  equal  her  in  beauty ;  though  in  a  city,  the  resort 
of  all  the  learning  then  existing  in  the  world,  there 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HYPATIA  21 

was  not  one  who  could  equal  her  in  knowledge ;   yet 

with  such  accomplishments,  Hypatia  was  the  most  modest 

of  her  sex.    Her  reputation  for  virtue  was  not  less  than 

her  virtues  ;  and,  though  in  a  city  divided  between  two 

factions,  though  visited  by  the  wits  and  the  philosophers 

of  the  agt,  calumny  never  dared  to  suspect  her  morals 

or  attempt  her  character.     Both  the  Christians  and 

the  Heathens  who  have  transmitted  her  history  and  her 

misfortunes,  have  but  one  voice,  when  they  speak  of 

her  beauty,  her  knowledge,  and  her  virtue.     Nay,  so 

much  harmony  reigns  in  their  accounts  of  this  prodigy 

of  perfection,  that,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  their 

faith,  we  should  never  have  been  able  to  judge  of  what 

religion  was  Hypatia,  were  we  not  informed,  from  other 

circumstances,  that  sho  was  a  heathen.     Providence 

had  tai.  ,1  so  much  pains  in  forming  her,  that  we  are 

almost  i.iduced  to  complain  of  its  not  having  endeavoured 

to  make  her  a  Christian  ;   but  from  this  complaint  we 

are  deterred  by  a  thousand  contrary  observations,  which 

lead  us  to  reverence  its  inscrutable  mysteries. 

This  great  reputation,  which  she  so  justly  wa,j  possessed 
of,  was  at  last,  however,  the  occasion  of  her  ruin. 

The  person  who  then  possessed  the  patriarchate  of 
Alexandria  was  equally  remarkable  for  his  violence, 
cruelty,  and  pride.  Conducted  by  an  ill-grounded  zeal 
for  the  Christian  religion,  or  perhaps  desirous  of 
augmenting  his  authority  in  the  city,  he  had  long  medi- 
tated the  banishment  of  the  Jews.  A  difference  arising 
between  them  and  the  Christians  with  respect  to  some 
public  games,  seemed  to  him  a  proper  juncture  for  putting 
his  ambitious  designs  into  execution.  He  found  no 
difficulty  in  exciting  the  people,  naturally  disposed  to 
revolt.  The  prefect  who,  at  that  time,  commanded  the 
city,  interposed  on  this  occasion,  and  thought  it  just  to 
put  one  of  the  chief  creatures  of  the  patriarch  to  the 


22 


THE  BEE 


torture,  in  order  to  discover  the  fii'^t  promoter  of  the 
conspiracy.  The  patriarch,  enraged  at  the  injuF»ice  he 
thought  offered  to  his  character  and  dignity,  anu  ^iiqued 
at  the  protection  which  was  offered  to  the  Jews,  sent 
for  the  chiefs  of  the  synagogue,  and  enjoined  them  to 
renounce  their  designs,  upon  pain  of  incurring  his  highest 
displeasure. 

The  Jews,  far  from  fearing  his  menaces,  excited  new 
tumults,  in  which  several  citizens  had  the  misfortune 
to  fall.  The  patriarch  could  no  longer  contain  :  at  the 
head  of  a  numerous  body  of  Christians,  he  flew  to  the 
synagogues,  which  he  demolished,  and  di-ove  the  Jews 
from  a  city,  of  which  they  had  been  possessed  since  the 
times  of  Alexander  the  Great.  It  may  be  easily  imagined 
that  the  prefect  could  not  behold,  without  pain,  his 
jurisdiction  thus  insulted,  and  the  city  deprived  of  a 
number  of  its  most  industrious  inhabitants. 

The  affair  was  therefore  brought  before  the  emperor. 
The  patriarch  complained  of  the  excesses  of  the  Jews, 
and  the  prefect  of  the  outrages  of  the  patriarch.  At 
this  very  juncture,  five  hun  .red  monks  of  Mount  Nitria, 
imagining  the  life  of  their  chief  to  be  in  danger,  and  that 
iheir  religion  was  threatened  in  his  fall,  flew  into  the 
city  with  ungovernable  rage,  attacked  the  prefect  in  the 
streets.and,  not  content  with  loading  him  with  reproaches, 
wounded  him  in  several  places. 

The  citizens  had  by  this  time  notice  of  the  fury  of  the 
monks ;  they,  therefore,  assembled  in  a  body,  put  the 
monks  to  flight,  seized  on  him  who  had  been  found 
throwing  a  stone,  and  delivered  him  to  the  prefect, 
who  caused  him  to  be  put  to  death  without  farther  delay! 
The  patriarch  immediately  ordered  the  dead  body, 
which  had  been  exposed  to  view,  to  be  taken  down, 
procured  for  it  all  the  pomp  and  rites  of  burial,  and  went 
even  so  far  as  himself  to  pronounce  the  funeral  oration. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  HYPATIA  23 

in  which  he  claBsed  a  seditious  moult  among  the  martyrs 
Th.8  conduct  was  by  no  means  generally  approved  of  ■' 
the  most   moderate  even  among  the  Christians   per- 
ceived and  blame<l  his  indiscretion  ;    but  he  was  now 
too  far  advanced  to  retire.    Ho  had  made  several  over- 
tures towards  a  reconciliation  with  the  prefect,  v  hich 
not  succeeding,  ho  bore  all  those  an  implacable  hatred 
whom  he  imagined  to  have  any  hand  in  traversing  his 
aesigns  ;  but  Hypatia  was  particularly  destined  to  ruin 
She  could  not  find  pa.don,  as  she  was  known  to  have 
a  most  refined  friendship  for  the  prefect ;  wherefore  the 
populace  were  incited  against  her.     Peter,  a  reader  of 
the  principal  church,  one  of  those  vile  slaves  by  which 
men  m  power  are  too  frequently  attended-wretches 
ever  ready  to  commit  any  crime  which  they  hope  may 
render  them  agreeable  to  their  employer,— this  fellow 
I  say,  attended  by  a  crowd  of  villains,  waited  for  Hypatia' 
as  she  was  retu-ning  from  a  visit,  at  her  own  door' 
seized  her  as  she  was  going  in,  and  dragged  her  to  one 
of  the  churches  called  Cesarea,  where,  stripping  her  in 
the  most  inhuman  manner,  they  exercised  the  most 
inhuman  cruelties  upon  her,  cut  her  into  pieces,  and  burnt 
her  remains  to  ashes.    Such  was  the  end  of  Hypatia,  the 
glory  of  her  own  sex,  and  the  astonishment  of  ours. 

SOME  PARTICULARS  RELATING  TO 
FATHER  PREIJO 


Primus 
Eh  ociUo/t  aunus. 

The  Spanish  nation 
been  remarkable  for  the 
ture,  especially  in  point 
so  useful  to  mankind, 
esteemed   it  a  matter 


mortalen  lollere  contra 
tvim  usque  asaurgne  contra. 

LucR. 

has,  for  many  centuries  past, 
grossest  ignorance  in  polite  litera- 
of  natural  philosophy  ;  a  science 

that  her  neightwiurs  have  ever 
of  the  greatest  importance  to 


24 


THE  BEE 


endeavour,  by  repeated  experiments,  to  strike  a  light 
out  of  the  chaos  in  which  truth  socniotl  to !»  confounded. 
Their  curiosity,  in  this  respect,  was  so  indifferent,  that, 
though  they  had  discovered  now  worids,  they  were  at 
a  loss  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  their  own,  and  their 
pride  so  unaccountable,  that  they  disdained  to  bor- 
row from  others  that  instruction  which  their  natural 
indolence  permitted  them  not  to  acquire. 

It  gives  me,  however,  a  secret  -latisfaction  to  behold 
an  extraordinary  genius  now  existing  in  that  nation, 
whose  studious  endeavours  seem  calculated  to  undeceive 
the  superstitious,  and  instruct  the  ignorant :  I  mean 
the  celebrated  Padre  Froijo.  In  unravelling  the  mysteries 
of  nature,  and  explaining  physical  experiments,  he  takes 
an  opportunity  of  displaying  the  concurrence  of  second 
causes,  in  those  very  wonders  which  the  vulgar  ascribe 
to  supernatural  influence. 

An  example  of  this  kind  happened  a  few  years  ago, 
in  a  small  town  of  the  kingdom  of  Valencia.  Passing 
through  at  the  hour  of  mass,  he  alighted  from  his  mule, 
and  proceeded  to  the  parish  church,  which  he  found 
extremely  crowded,  and  there  appeared  on  the  faces  of 
the  faithful  a  more  than  usual  alacrity.  The  sun,  it 
seems,  which  had  been  for  some  minutes  under  a  cloud, 
had  begun  to  shine  on  a  large  crucifix,  that  stood  on 
the  middle  of  the  altar,  studded  with  several  precious 
stones.  The  reflection  from  these,  and  from  the  diamond 
eyes  of  some  silver  saints,  so  dazzled  the  multitude, 
that  they  unanimously  cried  out, '  A  miracle  !  a  miracle ! ' 
whilst  the  priest  at  the  altar,  with  seeming  consternation, 
continued  his  heavenly  conversation.  Padre  Freijo  soon 
dissipated  the  charm,  by  tying  his  handkerchief  round 
the  head  of  one  of  the  statues,  for  which  he  was  arraigned 
by  the  Inquisition  ;  whoso  flames,  however,  he  has  had 
the  good  fortune  hitherto  to  escape. 


MISCELLANEOUS 


25 


NCMBEK  IV.    Satcrday,  Octobtr  27,  1769. 

MISCELLANEOUS 

iJ^^'^l  ^*"  '"^'""'™  *'"'  ""'"'  "^  '"y  ?■••'«'"*  under- 

be  led  to  form  co„cIu«ions  by  „o  ,„ca„H  favourable  to 
he  pride  of  an  author.  Should  I  estimate  mv  fan.e 
by  lU  extent,  every  newspaper  and  every  magazine 
would  leave  me  far  behind.  Their  fame  Ih  diffused  "„ 
a  very  w.de  c,rcl.^that  of  some  an  far  as  Islington,  and 
Bome  ye  farther  still ;  while  mine,  I  sincerely  bel  eve 
has  hardly  travelled  beyond  the  sound  of  l^w  b^  1 
and  whde  the  works  of  othe™  fly  like  unpinioned  si,' 

Sf  H,T  °*"  "t?  ""  '"""''y  "'  "  "''«-P'"eke,l  goose 

St.ll,  however,  I  have  as  mue'r  pride  as  they  who  have 

ten  times  as  many  readers.    It  is  impossible  to  mpeat  all 

L  Ltrr    '       r""'"  '"  ^^"^  "  '•i^'PPointed  author 
8  apt  to  find  comfort.    I  conclude,  that  what  n,v  r^puta- 

!Z/  «,  '■;  *"*'"*'  "  '"*"'''  "P  "^y  '*«  """"'ty-  ^Jinns 
}u^t  Glona  lata  quam  magna.  I  have  great  satisfaction 
m  considenng  the  delicacy  and  discem„,cnt  of  thos^ 
eaders  I  have,  and  in  ascribing  my  want  of  popularity 
to  the  Ignorance  or  mattention  of  those  I  have  not.    All 

LlTetir  '"'^""^  ^"  ^""'-  '""  ™"'*>-  ^^^"  -- 
Yet  notwithstanding  so  sincere  a  confession.  I  was 
once  mduced  to  show  my  indignation  against  the  public, 
by  discontmrnng  my  endeavours  to  please  ;  and  was 
bravely  resolved,  like  Raleigh,  to  vex  [hem,  i>y  burriing 
my  manuscript  in  a  passion.    Upon  n^collcction.  however 

pl^sedat  my  rashness.  The  sun.after  so  sad  an  accident, 
night  shme  next  morning  as  bright  as  usual-  men 
nught  laugh  and  sing  the  next  day,  and  transact  businm 


so 


THE  BEE 


sa  before,  and  not  a  KJngle  creature  foci  any  regret  but 
myHclf. 

I  Toflootod  upon  the  Htory  of  a  minister,  who,  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  II,  upon  a  certain  ncoaHion  resigned 
all  his  posts,  and  retired  into  the  country  in  a  fit  of 
resentment.  But  as  ho  had  not  given  the  world  entirely 
up  with  his  ambition,  he  sent  a  inossenger  to  town,  to 
gee  how  the  courtiers  would  liear  his  resignation.  Upon 
the  messenger's  return,  ho  was  asked  whether  there 
appeared  any  commotions  at  court  1  To  which  he 
replied,  '  There  wore  very  great  ones.'  '  Aye,'  sajs  the 
minister,  '  I  knew  my  friends  would  make  a  bustle  ; 
'  all  petitioning  the  king  for  my  restoration,  I  presume? ' 
'  No,  Sir,'  repliwl  the  messenger, '  they  are  only  petitioning 
'  his  majesty  to  be  put  in  your  place.'  In  the  same 
manner,  should  I  retire  in  indignation,  instead  of  having 
Apollo  in  mourning,  or  the  Muses  in  a  fit  of  the  spleen  ; 
instead  of  having  the  learned  world  apostrophizing  at 
my  untimely  decease,  perhaps  all  Grub  Street  might 
laugh  at  my  fall,  and  self -approving  dignity  might  never 
be  able  to  shield  me  from  ridicule.  In  short,  I  am 
resolved  to  write  on,  if  it  were  only  to  spite  them.  If 
the  present  generation  will  not  hear  my  voice,  hearken, 
O  posterity,  to  you  I  call,  and  from  you  I  expect  redress  ! 
What  rapture  will  it  not  give  to  have  the  Scaligers, 
Daciers,  and  Warburtons  of  future  times  commenting 
with  admiration  upon  every  line  I  now  WTite,  working 
away  those  ignorant  creatures  who  oifer  to  arraign  my 
merit  with  all  the  virulence  of  learned  reproach.  Aye, 
my  friends,  let  thorn  feel  it ;  call  names  ;  never  spare 
them  ;  they  deserve  it  all,  and  ten  times  more.  I  have 
been  told  of  a  critic,  who  was  crucified,  at  the  command 
of  another,  to  the  reputation  of  Homer.  That,  no  doubt, 
was  more  than  poetical  justice,  and  *  lall  be  perfectly 
content  if  those  who  criticize  me  are  only  clapped  in  the 


MISCELLANEOUS 


27 
Pjlfery  kopt  flftoen  day,  upon  l,„,ad  and  woter.  and 
obliged  to  run  the  gantlope  though  Patemct.r  Row 
The  truth  ,8    1  can  expect  happi„e«,  from  p.„terity 

if  well,  happy  m  bcmg  renieml^jred  with  respect 

I  va8  mistaken  „,  designing  my  paper  as  an  ajreeaWe 

«mon.  the  1  '"  ''"""'T  °'  "  ""'P  *°  ---"ation 
among  the  gay;  instead  of  addressing  it  to  such  I 
.hould  have  written  down  to  the  taste  ai?^  appreh  nl„ 
rf  the  many,  and  sought  for  «,putation  on  the  broad  „«d 
Literary  fame,  I  now  find,  like  religious,  generally  bcginB 
among  the  vulgar.    As  for  the  polite,  they  are 'o  very 

ttat  rr     '  'T  ''''^'^  "P  ""*°  affectation,  tells  vou, 

Thus  w  r\'^T.- '"' "'"  °'  ^^"'^  -'y  "P/*^-^ 

he  ke«™  d  '^  """  '"*°  ™P*"'«  "'  anything  now, 

he  keeps  down  every  passion  but  pride  and  self-fmpor 

rm":d?„T:  :•"  ^"^«'"'  ""'•  *"«  ^^  -'^o^s 

«Z  '"  ''•t.**"""8  »  Pi"«h  of  snuff.  Another  has 
wn  ten  a  book  himself,  and  being  condemned  for  a  dunce 
he  tu^s  a  8ort  of  king's  evidence  in  criticism,  and  now 
b^^comes  the  terror  of  every  offender.    A  thinl,  posse:^ 

fmm  those  who  endeavour  to  grow  beneath  him,  and 

might  rise  into  equal   eminence.     While  others    stil 
worse,  peruse  old  books  for  their  amusement,  and  new 

s^k  ^f^atb^tT."'?"  =  "  *'"'*  '""^  P"*^"^  -- "- "'y 

«.ck  of  all  but  the  business  of  the  dav,  and  r«ad  everv- 

ace"fo"f7he"™   "  ""■'  ?*""*""  "^  ^'"'y  --"-  the 
races  ot  the  passing  crowd. 

thr^'^ff 'IT  "onsiderations  I  was  onoe  det«mined  to 
throw  off  all  connexions  with  taste,  and  fairly  address 
my  countrymen  in  the  same  engaging  style  and  manner 


THE  BEE 


ll« 


with  other  periodical  painphietH,  much  more  in  vogue 
than  probably  mine  Hhall  over  bo.  To  ofFeot  thiH,  I  had 
thoughtH  of  changing  the  title  into  that  of  the  Royal 
Ukk,  the  Anti-oalmcan  Ukk,  or  the  Hke'h  Maoazine. 
I  had  laid  in  a  proiior  utock  of  popular  topicH,  Huch  oh 
enconiiumM  on  the  King  of  Pruwtia,  invoctivoH  againat 
the  Queen  of  Hungary  and  the  French,  the  nocesaity  of 
a  militia,  our  undoubted  Bovereignty  of  the  KeaH,  reflec- 
tions upon  the  pre«ent  state  of  atfairH,  a  diiwertation 
upon  hberty,  some  seasonablo  thoughtH  ujwn  the  intended 
bridge  of  blackfriars,  and  an  address  to  Britons.  The 
history  of  an  old  woman,  whoso  teeth  grew  three  inches 
long,  an  ode  upon  our  victories,  a  rebus,  an  acrostic 
upon  Miss  Peggy  P.,  and  a  journal  of  the  weather.  All 
this,  together  with  four  extraonlinary  pages  of  leUer-prena, 
a  beautiful  map  of  England,  and  two  prints  curiously 
coloured  from  nature,  I  fancied  might  touch  their  very 
souls.  I  was  actually  Ixtginning  an  address  to  the  people, 
when  my  pride  at  last  overcame  my  prudence,  and 
determined  me  to  endeavour  to  please  by  the  goo<lnesH 
of  my  entertainment,  rather  than  by  the  magniticence 
of  my  sign. 

The  Spectator,  and  many  succeeding  essayists,  fre- 
quently inform  us  of  the  numerous  compliments  paid 
them  in  the  course  of  their  lucubrations  ;  of  the  frequent 
encouragements  they  met  to  inspire  them  with  ardour, 
and  increase  their  eagerness  to  please.  I  have  received 
my  letters  as  well  as  they  ;  but  alas  !  not  congratulatory 
ones ;  not  assuring  mc  of  success  and  favour ;  but 
pregnant  with  bodings  that  might  shake  even  fortitude 
itself. 

One  gentleman  assures  me,  he  intends  to  throw  away 
no  more  threepences  in  purchasing  the  Bee  ;  and  what 
is  still  moie  dismal,  he  will  not  recommend  me  as  a  poor 
author  wanting  encouragement  to  his  neighbourhood. 


MISCKLLANEOUS  20 

which  it  KoemR  jh  very  n.imerouH.    Were  my  .oiil  not  upon 
throepcncos,  what  anxiety  might  m.t  Huch  a  dcMimiation 
produce  I    But  nuch  cI.k-h  not  hapten  to  he  the  present 
mot  ve  of  publication  :     I   «rito  partly  to  »how   my 
Bo<Kl  nature,  ai»l  jmrtiy  t^.  nhow  my  vanity  ;    nor  will 
X  lay  down  the  i)cn  till  1  am  HatiM(ic<l  one  way  or  another 
Othorn  have  dinlikwl  the  title  and  the  mott.i  of  my 
paper ;  p.Mnt  out  a  miHtako  in  the  one,  ami  awure  me  the 
other  hax  Iwen  conHigncd  to  dullncw.  by  anticijwtion     All 
this  may  be  true  ;   hut  uhiil  i«  thai  to  me  1    Titles  and 
mottc*8  to  l«,okH  are  like  eHcutcheonn  and  dignitioH  in 
the  handH  of  a  king.    The  wine  HometimcB  condescend  to 
of«/rf  of  them  ;    but  none  but  a  fool  will  imagine  them 
of  any  real  imiH)rtance.     Wo  ought  to  dcjicnd  upon 
intnnHio  merit,  and  not  the  Blender  helps  of  title.    Nam 
quae  nonfecimut  ipsi,  vix  ea  nostra  voco. 

For  my  part,  I  am  ever  ready  to  mistrust  a  promising 
title,  and  have,  at  some  expense,  been  instructed  not 
to  hearken  to  the  voice  of  an  advertisement,  let  it  plead 
never  so  loudly,  or  never  so  long.  A  countryman  coming 
ono  day  to  Smithfield,  in  onlcr  to  take  a  slice  of  Bartholo- 
mew Fair,  found  a  perfect  show  before  every  booth.  The 
drummer,  the  fire-eater,  the  wire-walker,  and  the  salt- 
box,  were  all  employed  to  invite  him  in.  Juet  a  going  • 
the  com  of  the  King  of  Prumia  in  all  hi.  glory  ;  pray, 
gentlemen,  walk  in  and  me.  From  people  who  generously 
gave  so  much  away,  the  clown  expected  a  monstrous 
bargain  for  his  money  when  he  got  in.  He  steps  up,  pays 
his  sixpence,  the  curtain  is  drawn;  when,  too  late,  he 
finds  that  he  had  the  best  part  of  the  show  for  nothing 
at  the  door. 


80 


THE  BEE 


A  FLEMISH  TRADITION 

Every  country  has  its  traditions,  which,  either  too 
minute  or  not  sufficiently  authentic  to  receive  historical 
sanction,  are  handed  down  among  the  vulgar,  and 
serve  at  once  to  instruct  and  amuse  them.  Of  this 
number  the  adventures  of  Robin  Hood,  the  hunting  of 
Chevy  Chacc,  and  the  bravery  of  Johnny  Armstrong, 
among  the  English  ;  of  Kaul  Derog,  among  the  Irish  ; 
and  Creighton,  among  the  Scots,  are  instances.  Of  all 
the  traditions,  however,  I  remember  to  have  heard, 
1  do  not  recollect  any  more  remarkable  than  one  still 
current  in  Flanders  ;  a  story  generally  the  first  the 
peasants  tell  their  children,  when  they  bid  them  behave 
like  Bidderman  the  wise.  It  is  by  no  means,  however, 
a  model  to  be  set  before  a  polite  people  for  imitation  ; 
since  if,  on  the  one  hand,  we  perceive  in  it  the  steady 
influence  of  patriotism  ;  we,  on  the  other,  find  as  strong 
a  desire  of  revenge.  But,  to  waive  introduction,  let  us 
to  the  story. 

When  the  Saracens  overran  Europe  with  their  armies, 
and  penetrated  as  far  even  as  Antwerp,  Bidderman  was 
lord  of  a  city,  which  time  has  since  swept  into  destruc- 
tion. As  the  inhabitants  of  this  country  were  divided 
under  separate  leaders,  the  Saracens  found  an  easy 
conquest,  and  the  city  of  Bidderman,  among  the  rest, 
became  a  prey  to  the  victors. 

Thus  dispossessed  of  his  paternal  city,  our  unfortunate 
governor  was  obliged  to  seek  refuge  from  the  neighbour- 
ing princes,  who  were  as  yet  unsubdued,  and  he  for  some 
time  lived  in  a  state  of  wretched  dependence  among 
them. 

Soon,  however,  his  love  to  his  native  country  brought 
him  back  to  his  own  city,  resolved  to  rescue  it  from  the 
enemy,  or  fall  in  the  attempt  :  thus,  in  disguise,  he  went 


A  FLEMISH  TRADITION  31 

among  the  inhabitants,  and  endeavoured,  but  in  vain 
to  excite  thcni  to  a  revolt.  Former  misfortunes  lay  so 
heavily  on  their  niiiids,  that  they  rather  chose  to  suffer 
the  most  cruel  bondage,  than  attemnt  to  vindicate 
their  former  freedom. 

As  he  was  thus  one  day  emiJoyed,  vnotlirr  b^  ii.i-  rma- 
tion  or  from  suspicion  is  not  kn.  ,.,:.  he  was  appre- 
hended by  a  Haracen  soUlier  as  a  ...  ,  ,,1  brought 
before  the  very  tribunal  at  which  ho  once  presided. 
The  account  he  gave  of  himself  was  by  no  means  satis- 
factory. He  could  pro<luce  no  friends  to  vindicate  his 
character  ;  wherefore,  as  the  Saracens  knew  not  thrir 
prisoner,  and  as  they  had  no  direct  proofs  against  him 
they  were  content  with  condemning  him  to  be  publicly 
whipped  as  a  vagabond. 

The  e.xecution  of  this  sentence  M'as  accordingly  per- 
formed  with  the  utmost  rigour.  Bidderman  was  bound 
to  the  post,  the  executioner  seeming  disposed  to  add  to 
the  crue  ty  of  the  sentence,  as  he  received  no  bribe  for 
enity  Whenever  Bidderman  groaned  under  the  scourge 
the  other,  only  redoubling  his  blows,  cried  out,  Does  the 
mllam  murmur?  If  Bidderman  entreated  but  a  mo- 
ment s  respite  from  torture,  the  other  only  repeated  his 
former  exclamation,  Does  the  villain  murmur  ? 

From  this  period,  revenge,  as  well  as  patriotism,  took 
entire  possession  of  his  soul.  His  fury  stooped  so  low  as 
to  follow  the  executioner  with  unremitting  resentment. 
But,  conceiving  that  the  best  method  to  attain  these 
ends  was  to  acquire  some  eminence  in  the  city,  he  laid 
himself  out  to  oblige  its  new  masters,  studied  every  art 
and  practised  every  meanness,  that  servo  to  promote 
the  needy,  or  render  the  poor  pleasing;  and  by  these 
means,  „,  a  few  years,  he  came  to  be  of  some  note  in  the 
city,  which  justly  belonge<l  entirely  to  hi  in 
The  executioner  «as,  therefore,  the  first  object  of  hie 


THE  BEE 


resentment,  and  he  even  practised  the  lowest  fraud  to 
gratify  the  revenge  he  owed  him.  A  piece  of  plate, 
which  Bidderman  had  previously  stolen  from  the  Saracen 
governor,  he  privately  conveyed  into  the  executioner's 
house,  and  then  gave  information  of  the  theft.  They 
who  are  any  way  acquainted  with  the  rigour  of  the 
Arabian  laws,  know  that  theft  is  punished  with  immediate 
death.  The  proof  was  direct  in  this  case  ;  the  execu- 
tioner had  nothing  to  offer  in  his  own  defence,  and  he 
was  therefore  condemnetl  to  be  beheadetl  upon  a  scaffold 
in  the  public  niarket-placo.  As  there  was  no  executioner 
in  the  city  but  the  very  man  who  was  now  to  suffer, 
Bidderman  himself  undertook  this,  to  him,  moat  agree- 
able office.  The  criminal  was  conducted  from  the 
judgement-seat,  bound  with  cords.  The  scaffold  was 
erected,  and  he  placed  in  such  a  manner  as  he  might  lie 
most  convenient  for  the  blow. 

But  his  death  alone  was  not  sufficient  to  satisfy  the 
resentment  of  this  extraordinary  man,  unless  it  was 
aggravated  with  every  circumstance  of  cruelty.  Where- 
fore, coming  up  the  scaffold,  and  disposin;,  everything 
in  readiness  for  the  intended  blow,  with  the  sword  in 
his  hand  he  approached  the  criminal,  and  whispering 
in  a  low  voice,  assured  him,  that  he  himself  was  the 
very  person  that  had  once  been  used  with  so  much 
cruelty  ;  that  to  his  knowledge,  he  died  very  innocently, 
for  the  plate  had  been  stolen  by  himself,  and  privately 
conveyed  into  the  house  of  the  other. 

'  O,  my  countrymen,'  cried  the  criminal,  *  do  you 

'  hear  what  this  man  says  ? ' Does  the  villain  murmur  ? 

replied  Bidderman,  and  immediately,  at  one  blow, 
severed  his  head  from  his  body. 

Still,  however,  he  was  not  content  till  he  had  ample 
vengeance  of  the  governois  of  the  city,  who  condemned 
him.    To  effect  this,  he  hired  a  small  house,  adjoining 


A  FLEMISH  TRADITION  33 

to  the  town  wall,  under  which  ho  every  <lav  dug,  and 
carried  out  the  earth  in  a  Ims-ot.    In  thi«  unremitting 
labour,  lie  co,it„,ued  several  years,  every  day  digging 
a   httle,   and   carrying   the  earth   unsuspected   away 
By  this  means  he  at  last  nmdo  a  secret  eomn.unieation 
from  the  country  into  the  city,  and  only  wanted  the 
appearance  of  an  enemy,  in  order  to  betray  it     This 
opportunity,  at  length,  offered  ;  the  French  army  came 
into  the  neighbourhood,  but  had  no  thoughts  of  sitting 
down  before  a  townwhichtheyeonsidered  as  impregnable 
Bidderman,   however,   soon  altered   their   resolutions 
and   upmi  communicating  his  plan  to  the  General,  he 
embraced  .t  with  ardour.    Through  the  private  passage 
aWe  mentioned,  he  introduced  a  large  body  of  the  most 
resolute  sokl.ers,  who  soon  opened  the  gates  for  the  rest, 
and  the  whole  army  rushing  in,  put  every  Saracen  that 
was  found  to  the  sword. 


THE    SAGACITY   OF   SOME   INSECTS 


SlE, 


To  THE  Author  ob      1     Bee 


.«  ,^,  u  '  "'  ^''"^™''  '"^  ^li^'^ious  in  proportion 
as  they  cultivate  society.  The  elephant  and  the  beaver 
show  the  ^eatest  signs  of  this  when  united  ;  but  when 
man  intrudes  into  their  communities,  they  lose  all  their 
spirit  of  industry,  and  testify  but  a  very  small  share  of 
that  sagacity,  for  which,  when  in  a  social  state,  they 
are  so  remarkable. 

Among  in.sects,  the  labours  of  the  bee  and  the  ant 
have  employe,!  the  attention  and  admiration  of  the 
naturalist;  but  their  whole  sagacity  is  lost  upon 
separation,  and  a  single  bee  or  ant  seems  destitute  of 
'"VL^^LZ"'  '"^"^'^y>J«  *'"'  --t  "tupid  insect 


34 


THE  BEE 


imaginable,  languishes  for  a  time  in  solitude,  and  soon 
dies. 

Of  all  the  solitary  insects  1  have  ever  remarked,  the 
spider  is  the  most  sagacious  ;  and  its  actions  to  me,  who 
have  attentively  considered  them,  seem  almost  to  exceetl 
belief.  This  insect  is  formed  by  nature  for  a  state  of 
war,  not  only  upon  other  insects,  but  upon  each  other. 
For  this  state  nature  seems  perfectly  well  to  have 
formed  it.  Its  head  and  breast  are  covered  with  a  strong 
natural  coat  of  mail,  which  is  impenetrable  to  the 
attempts  of  every  other  insect,  and  its  belly  is  enveloped 
in  a  soft  pliant  skin,  which  eludes  the  sting  cvon  of 
a  wasp.  Its  legs  are  terminated  by  strong  claws,  not 
unlike  those  of  a  lobster,  and  their  vast  length,  like 
spears,  serves  to  keep  every  assailant  at  a  distance. 

Not  worse  furnished  for  observation  than  for  an  attack 
or  a  defence,  it  has  several  eyes,  large,  transparent,  and 
covered  with  a  horny  substance,  which,  however,  does 
not  impede  its  vision.  Besides  this,  it  is  furnished  with 
a  forceps  above  the  mouth,  which  serves  to  kill  or  secure 
the  prey  already  caught  in  its  claws  or  its  net. 

Such  are  the  implements  of  war  with  which  the  body 
is  immediately  furnished  ;  but  its  net  to  entangle  the 
enemy  seems  what  it  chiefly  trusts  to,  and  what  it 
takes  most  pains  to  render  as  complete  as  possible. 
Nature  has  furnished  the  body  of  this  little  creature 
with  a  glutinous  liquid,  which,  proceeding  from  the  anus, 
it  spins  into  a  thread,  coarser  or  finer  as  it  chooses  to 
contract  or  dilate  its  sphincter.  In  order  to  fix  its 
thread  wh^  '  it  begins  to  weave,  it  emits  a  small  drop  of 
its  liquit"  f  Inst  the  wall,  which,  hardening  by  degrees, 
serves  to  hold  the  thread  very  firmly.  Then  receding 
from  the  first  point,  as  it  recedes  the  thread  lengthens  ; 
and  when  the  spider  has  come  to  the  place  where  the 
other  end  of  the  thread  should  bo  fixed,  feathering  up 


THK  SAGACITY  OF  S(BIE  TNSRCT.S 


SS 


«iUi  itH  clawH  the  thu  nrl  which  would  otherwise  Ik-  too 
slack,  it  is  stretchwl  tightl  •,  and  fixed  in  the  same 
manner  to  the  wall  as  before. 

In  this  manner  it  spins  and  fixes  several  threads 
parallel  to  each  other,  which,  so  to  speak,  servo  as  the 
warp  to  the  intended  web.  To  form  the  woof,  it  spins 
in  the  same  manner  its  thread,  transversely  fixing  one 
enil  to  the  first  thread  that  was  spun,  and  which  is  always 
the  strongest  of  the  whole  web,  and  the  other  to  the  wall. 
All  these  threads,  being  newly  spun,  are  glutinous,  and 
therefore  stick  to  eacii  other  wherever  they  happen  to 
touch,  and  in  those  parts  of  the  web  most  exposed  to  be 
torn,  our  natural  artist  strengthens  them,  by  doubling 
the  threads  sometimes  sixfold. 

Thus  far  naturalists  have  gone  in  the  description  of 
this  animal ;  what  follows  is  the  result  of  my  own 
observation  upon  that  species  of  the  insect  called 
a  house-Spider.  I  perceived  about  four  years  ago, 
a  largo  spider  in  one  corner  of  my  room,  making  its 
web  ;  and  though  the  maid  frequently  Icvellefl  her  fatal 
broom  against  the  labours  of  the  little  animal,  I  had  the 
good  fortune  then  to  prevent  its  destruction  ;  and  I  may 
say,  it  more  than  paid  rao  by  the  entertainment  it 
afforded. 

In  three  days  the  web  was,  with  incredible  diligence, 
completed  ;  nor  eo\dd  I  avoid  thinking  that  the  insect 
seemed  to  exult  ir>  its  new  abode.  It  frequently  traversed 
it  round,  examined  the  strength  of  every  part  of  it, 
retired  into  its  hole,  and  came  ojt  very  frequently.  The 
first  enemy,  however,  it  had  to  encounter,  was  another 
and  a  much  larger  spider,  which,  having  -^o  web  of  its 
own,  and  having  probably  exhaustc.;  all  its  stock  in 
former  labours  of  this  kind,  came  to  inva<le  the  property 
of  its  neighboin'.  Soon  then  a  terrible  encounter  ensuwl, 
in  which  the  invader  seemed  to  have  the  victorv,  and 


30 


THE  BEE 


the  laborious  spider  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  its 
hole.  Uimn  this  I  perceived  the  victor  using  every  art  to 
draw  the  enemy  from  his  stronghold.  He  seemed  to  go  off, 
but  quickly  returned  ;  and  when  he  found  all  arts  vain, 
began  to  demolish  the  now  web  without  mercy.  This 
brought  on  another  battle,  and,  contrary  to  my  expecta- 
tions, the  laborious  spider  became  conqueror,  and  fairly 
killed  his  antagonist. 

Now,  then,  in  peaceable  possession  of  what  was  justly 
its  own,  it  waited  three  days  with  the  utmost  patience, 
repairing  the  breaches  of  its  web,  and  taking  no  suste- 
nance that  I  could  perceive.  At  last,  however,  a  large  blue 
fly  fell  into  the  snare,  and  struggled  hard  to  get  loose. 
The  spider  gave  it  leave  to  entangle  itself  as  much  as 
possible,  but  it  seemed  to  be  too  strong  for  the  cobweb. 
I  must  own  I  was  greatly  surprised  when  I  saw  the  spider 
immediately  sally  out,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  weave 
a  new  net  round  its  captive,  by  which  the  motion  of 
its  wings  was  stopped  ;  and  when  it  was  fairly  hampered 
in  this  manner,  it  was  seized,  and  dragged  into  the  hole. 

In  this  manner  it  lived,  in  a  precarious  state ;  and 
nature  seemed  to  have  fitted  it  for  such  a  life,  for  upon 
a  single  fly  it  subsisted  for  more  than  a  w  eek.  I  once 
put  a  wasp  into  the  net ;  but  when  the  spider  came  out 
in  order  to  seize  it  as  usual,  upon  perceiving  what  kind 
of  an  enemy  it  had  to  deal  with,  it  Instantly  broke  all 
the  bands  that  held  it  fast,  and  contributed  all  that  lay 
in  its  jjower  to  disengage  so  formidable  an  antagonist. 
When  the  wasp  was  at  liberty,  I  expected  the  spider 
would  have  set  about  repairing  the  breaches  that  were 
made  in  its  net,  but  those  it  seems  were  irreparable, 
wherefore  the  cobweb  was  now  entirely  forsaken,  and 
a  new  one  begun,  which  was  completed  in  the  usual 
time. 

I  had  now  a  mind  to  try  how  many  cobwebs  a  single 


THE  SAGACITY  OF  SOMK  IXSECTS         37 

spider  could  furnish  ;  whoreforo  I  destioyccl  this,  ami  the 
insect  set  about  another.  When  I  de«troye<l  the  other 
also,  its  whole  stock  seemotl  entirely  exhausted,  and  it 
could  spin  no  more.  The  arts  it  made  use  of  to  support 
itself,  now  deprived  of  its  groat  means  of  subsistence, 
were  indeetl  surprising.  I  have  seen  it  roll  up  its  legs 
like  a  ball,  and  lie  motionless  fc-  hours  together,  but 
cautiously  watching  all  the  time  ;  when  a  fly  hu])pened 
to  approach  sufficiently  near,  it  would  dart  out  all  at 
once,  and  often  seize  its  prey. 

Of  this  life,  however,  it  soon  began  to  grow  weary, 
and  resolved  to  invade  the  possession  of  some  other 
spider,  since  it  could  not  nuike  a  Heb  of  its  own.  It 
formed  an  attack  upon  a  neighbouring  fortification  with 
groat  vigour,  and  at  first  was  as  vigorously  repuLsetl. 
Not  daunted,  however,  with  one  defeat,  in  this  manner  it 
continued  to  lay  siege  to  another's  web  for  three  days, 
and,  at  length,  having  killed  the  defendant,  actually  took 
possession.  When  smaller  flies  happen  to  fall  into  the 
snare,  the  spider  does  not  sally  out  at  once,  but  very 
patiently  waits  till  it  is  sure  of  them  ;  for,  ujion  his 
immediately  approaching,  the  terror  of  his  appearance 
might  give  the  captive  strength  sufficient  to  get  loose : 
The  manner  then  is  to  wait  patiently  till,  by  ineffectual 
and  impotent  struggles,  the  captive  has  wastetl  all  its 
strength,  and  then  he  becomes  a  certain  and  an  easy 
conquest. 

The  insect  I  am  now  describing  lived  three  years; 
every  year  it  changed  its  skin,  and  got  a  new  set  of  legs! 
I  have  sometimes  plucketl  off  a  leg,  which  grew  again 
in  two  or  three  days.  At  first,  it  dreaded  my  approach 
to  its  web,  but  at  last  it  became  so  familiar  as  to  take 
a  fly  out  of  my  hand,  and  upon  my  touching  any  part  of 
the  web,  would  immediately  leave  its  hole,  jirexjared 
either  for  a  defence  or  an  attack. 


38 


THE  BEE 


I 


To  complete  this  dcBcriptioii,  it  may  bo  obMorvctl, 
that  the  male  spiilcra  are  much  loss  thantho  female,  and 
that  the  latter  are  oviiiaroiis.    When  they  come  to  lay, 
they  spread  a  part  of  their  web  under  the  eggs,  and  theii 
roll  them  up  carefully,  as  we  roll  up  things  in  a  cloth, 
and  thus  hatch  them  in  their  hole.    If  disturbed  in  their 
holes,  they  never  attempt  to  escape  without  carrying 
this  young  brood  in  their  forceps  away  with  them,  and 
thus  frequently  arc  sacrificed  to  their  jHirental  affection. 
As  soon  as  ever  the  young  ones  leave  their  artificial 
covering,  they  begin  to  spin,  and  almost  sensibly  seem 
to  grow  bigger.   If  they  have  the  good  fortune,  when  oven 
but  a  day  old,  to  catch  a  fly,  they  fall  to  with  good 
appetites  ;   but  they  live  sometimes  three  or  four  days 
without  any  sort  of  sustenance,  and  yet  still  continue 
to  grow  larger,  so  as  everyday  to  double  their  former  size. 
As  they  grow  old,  however,  they  do  not  still  continue  to 
increase,  but  their  legs  only  continue  to  grow  longer ; 
and  when  a  spide-  becomes  entirely  stiff  with  age,  and 
unable  to  seize  its  prey,  it  dies  at  length  of  hunger. 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  GREATNESS 

In  every  duty,  in  every  science  in  which  wo  would  wish 
to  arrive  at  perfection,  we  should  propose  for  the  object 
of  our  pursuit  some  certain  station  even  beyond  our 
abilities  ;  some  imaginary  excellence,  which  may  amuse 
and  servo  to  animate  our  inquiry.  In  deviating  from 
others,  in  following  an  unbeaten  road,  though  we, 
perhaps,  may  never  arrive  at  the  wished-for  object,' 
yet  it  is  possible  we  may  meet  several  discoveries  by  the 
way  ;  and  the  certainty  of  small  advantages,  even  while 
we  travel  with  security,  is  not  so  amusing  as  the  hopes 
of  great  rewards,  which  inspire  the  adventurer.     Evenit 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  GREATNESS    39 

nonnunquam,  Hays  Qiiiiitilian,  ill  iillijuid  ijramie  itwcniat 
qui  aem/jer  quneril  i/uod  uimium  cut. 

This  e  i'  irpriHiiig  spirit  is,  however,  by  no  means  the 
charactur  of  the  present  age  ;  every  jwrson  who  should 
now  leave  received  opinions,  who  should  attempt  to  bo 
more  than  a  commentatorupon  philosophy, oran  imitator 
in  pclito  learning,  might  be  regardtil  as  a  chimerical 
projector.  Hundreds  would  be  rcaiy  no'  only  to  point 
out  his  errors,  but  to  load  him  with  reproach.  Our 
probable  opinions  are  now  regarded  as  certainties  ;  the 
difBculties  hitherto  undiscovered,  as  utterly  inscrutable  ; 
and  the  writers  of  the  last  ago  inimitable,  and  therefore 
the  properest  models  of  imitation. 

One  might  be  almost  induced  to  deplore  the  philosophic 
spirit  of  the  age,  which  in  proportion  as  it  enlightens 
the  mind,  increases  its  timidity,  and  represses  the  vigour 
of  every  undertaking.  Men  are  now  content  with  being 
prudently  in  the  right  ;  which,  though  not  the  way  to 
make  new  acquisitions,  it  nnist  bo  owned,  is  the  best 
method  of  securing  what  we  have.  Yet  this  is  certain, 
that  the  writer  who  never  deviates,  who  never  hazards 
a  new  thought,  or  a  new  expression,  though  his  friends 
may  compliment  him  upon  his  sagacity,  though  criticism 
lifts  her  feeble  voice  in  his  praise,  ill  seldom  anive 
at  any  degree  of  perfection.  The  way  to  acquire  lasting 
esteem,  is  not  by  the  fewness  of  a  writer's  faults,  but  the 
greatness  of  his  beauties ;  and  our  noblest  works  are 
generally  most  replete  with  both. 

An  author,  who  would  be  sublime,  often  runs  his 
thought  into  burlesque  ;  yet  I  can  readily  pardon  his 
mistaking  ten  times  for  once  succeeding.  True  Genius 
walks  along  a  line ;  and,  perhaps,  our  greatest  pleasure 
is  in  seeing  it  so  often  near  falling,  without  being  ever 
actually  down. 
Every  science  has  its  hitherto  undiscovered  mysteries, 


40 


THE  BEE 


after  «hich  men  nhonld  travel  imdiscouragcd  by  the 
faUuro  of  former  a.lventurorH.  Every  new  attempt 
wrves,  porhap8,  to  facilitate  itH  future  ituentiou  We 
may  not  find  the  PhiloHopherH  Htone,  but  «e  »hall 
probably  hit  upon  now  invontion«  in  jiursuing  it.  VVo 
■hall,  perhaps,  never  be  able  to  disc^over  the  longitude 
yet,  perhaps,  we  may  arrive  nt  new  truths  in  the  investi' 
gation. 

Were  any  of  these  sagacious  minds  among  lis,  (and 
«'.ircly  no  nation,  or  no  period,  could  ever  compare  with 
us  m  this  particular)  were  any  of  those  minds,  I  sav 
who  nowsit  down  contented  with  exploring  the  intricaciw 
of  another     system,  bravely  to  shako  off  adraimtion, 

and,undazzlc<lwithtliesplendourofnnothcrHreputation. 
to  chalk  out  a  i«th  to  fame  for  themselvcH,  and  lx,l<llv 
cultivate  untried  ex,H,riinent,  what  might  not  bo  the 
result  of  their  inquiries,  should  f-  same  study  that  nas 
made  them  wise,  make  them  •!!  .^.rising  also  ?  What 
could  not  such  qualities,  unite<l,  proiluce  V  But  such  is 
not  the  character  of  the  English,  while  our  neighbours 
of  the  Continent  launch  out  into  the  ocean  of  science 
without  proper  stores  for  the  voyage,  we  fear  shipwrecK 
m  every  breeze,  and  consume  in  port  those  powers 
Avhich  might  probably  have  weathered  every  storm 

Projectors  in  a  state  are  generally  rewarded  above 
their  deserts  ;  projectoi's  in  the  republic  of  letters,  never 
If  wrong,  every  inferior  dunce  thinks  himself  entitle*! 
to  Jaugh  at  their  disappoint;  icnt ;  if  right,  men  of 
superior  talents  think  their  honour  engagecl  to  oppose 
since  every  new  discovery  is  a  tacit  diminution  of  their 
own  pre-eminence. 

To  aira  at  excellence,  our  reputation,  our  friends,  and 
our  all,  must  be  ventured  ;  by  aiming  only  at  mediocrity, 
we  run  no  risk,  and  we  do  little  service.  Prudence  and 
greatness  are  ever  persuading  us  to  contrary  pursuits 


THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OK  OREATiNESS    41 

The  Olio  instructs  ..h  to  Ik,  ooM.fnt  uith  our  Htution,  aiul 
to  hnU  hai.pi.,t..s«  in  bounding  ovory  «i„h.  The  othor 
m^h  UH  to  8,.,K,-rio,ity,  anJ  eallH  notliing  l.ap,,ine8« 
but  rapture.  The  on«  direotn  to  follow  mankind,  and  to 
Oct  and  think  with  .ho  rest  of  the  world.    The  othor 

iVir  "r  'f'" "'°  "'""''■  ""•'  ""I'"*''- "» "» '^  '""k  to 

an  tJio  HhaftH  of  envy,  or  ignorance. 

A-M  w/«u«  periculum  ex  nmjm/ama  ,jmm  tx  ma/a.-TAclT. 
The  rewards  of  mediocrity  are  immediately  paid, 
those  attending  oxeellonce  generally  paid  in  reversion. 
In  a  word,  the  littlo  mind  who  loves  itself,  will  write  and 
thmk  with  the  vulgar,  but  the  great  mind  will  bo  bravely 
eccentric,  and  scorn  the  beaten  road,  from  miiversal 
beiiovolence. 


A  CITY  NIGHT-PJECE 

Ilk  dalit  nn,  qui  tine  Icstt.  rfu/d.— Mart. 
The  clock  has  struck  two,  the  expiring  taper  rises  and 
sinks  m  the  socket,  tho  watchman  forgets  the  hour  in 
slumber,  the  laborious  and  the  happy  are  at  rest,  and 
nothing  now  wr  •  ,ut  guilt,  revelry  and  despair. 
The  drunkard  once  more  fills  the  destroying  bowl,  the 
robber  walks  his  midnight  round,  and  tho  suicide  lifts 
his  guilty  arm  against  his  own  sacred  person. 

Let  me  no  longer  waste  the  night  over  tho  page  of 
antiqmty,  or  tho  sallies  of  contemporary  genius  but 
pursue  tho  solitary  walk,  where  vanity,  ever  changing 
but  a  few  hours  past,  walked  before  me,  where  she  kept 
up  the  pageant,  and  now,  like  a  froward  child,  seems 
hushed  with  her  own  importunities. 

What  a  gloom  hangs  all  around  !    the  dying  lamp 
feebly  emits  a  yellow  gleam,  uo  »(juiid  is  heard  but  of 
tho  chiming  clock,  or  the  distant  watch-dog.    All  tho 
C3 


42 


THE  BEE 


buHtIo  of  hiiinan  ]>ri(lo  In  foicDttrii,  niiil  tliiH  hour  may 
well  diHplay  tho  c'liiptincNH  of  limimii  vuiiity. 

Thoro  may  cuiiiu  u  tiniu  ulicii  tluH  tciii|iorary  Hulitiidr 
may  Iw  made  continual,  uiiil  the  cily  itwlf,  liko  itH  inhahi- 
tsntH,  fade  away,  and  leave  u  d"«t'rt  in  itn  riM)m. 

What  citirH,  an  great  an  tliiH,  have  unee  trinniphril  in 
exiHtonce,  had  their  vietorieM  ««  gri^at  as  oiirK,  joy  an 
juMt,  and  ax  unbounded  as  we,  and  with  Khort-xightott 
preHumption,  promiHod  IhonmelveH  innnortality.  Poh- 
terity  can  hardly  trace  tho  Hituution  of  hoiuc.  Tho 
aorrowf ul  traveller  wandorH  over  the  awf  id  ruinN  of  othorx, 
and  as  ho  beholds,  he  IcuriiH  wiHiloni,  and  IwU  the 
traniiionco  of  every  Hublunary  jxiMsesHion. 

Horo  Mtood  their  citadel,  but  now  grown  over  with 
weeds ;  there  their  Bonato-houso,  but  now  tho  haunt  of 
every  noxious  reptile  ;  temples  and  theatres  stood  here, 
now  only  an  undistinguishwl  heap  of  ruin.  They  arc 
fallen,  for  luxury  and  avarice  iirst  made  them  fcoblc. 
The  rewords  of  state  wore  conferred  on  amusing  and 
not  on  useful  memlwrs  of  society.  Thus  true  virtue  lan- 
guished, their  riches  and  opulence  invited  tho  plunderer, 
who,  though  once  repulsed,  returned  ogain,  and  at  last 
swept  the  defendants  into  undistinguished  destruction. 

How  few  appear  in  those  streets,  which  but  some  few- 
hours  ago  were  crowded  ;  and  those  who  ap|)car,  no 
longer  now  wear  their  daily  mask,  nor  attempt  to  hide 
their  lewdi:  jss  or  their  misery. 

But  who  are  those  who  make  tho  streets  their  couch, 
and  find  a  short  repose  from  wretchedness  at  the  doors 
of  the  opulent  ?  These  are  strpngcrs,  wanderers,  and 
orphans,  whose  circumstances  are  too  humble  to  expect 
redress,  and  their  distresses  too  great  even  for  pity. 
Some  are  without  the  covering  even  of  rags,  and  others 
emaciated  with  disease  ;  the  world  seems  to  li '  ve  dis- 
claimed them ;  society  turns  its  back  upon  their  distress, 


A  CITY  NIOHT-PIECE  48 

anil  huH  Rivfii  tlicin  up  to  imkiilncHs  nnd  hiiiiKcr.  ThctMi 
|XM)r  Hhivfiiiix  fmialcs  liuvi'  mui^  wcii  Ii;i|i|iut  diivH, 
mid  Ix'oci  (lattortil  iiiti>  iH'uuty.  They  liivvo  Ikcm  iiroHti- 
tutfd  ti)  tho  Kiiy  liixiiiidiis  villain,  and  aro  now  turiiiHl 
oiitt<>nu«ttlioHcv<Tilyiifwiiitiiinllu'Mi«'ftK.  I'erhuiM, 
now  lying  at  I  ho  doorn  of  tlu'ir  bctiaycrH,  tliry  muu  to 
wpjtt'hcH  tthoHo  licurtK  aro  iiiKcnsililo  to  calamity,  or 
dobaiichovH  w ho  may  iiir«<',  hut  will  not  rrlicvo  thoin. 

Why,  why  wum  I  born  a  inan,  ami  yot  nch  tliu  miffiTingi; 
of  wrotchoH  I  cannot  relievo  !  I'lior  lioiiNclcKf)  croaturcH  ! 
the  world  will  givo  yon  reproaches,  but  will  not  give 
you  ri'litf.  Tho  slightest  iniHfortune.s,  the  most  imaginary 
unoasinesNes  of  tho  rich,  aro  aggravated  with  all  tho 
jxiwcr  of  cloiiuonce,  and  engage  our  attention  ;  while 
you  weep  unheodwl,  i)or«ecuted  by  every  Huljoriliiiato 
speciea  of  tyranny,  and  finding  enmity  in  every  law . 

Why  was  this  heart  of  mine  forme<l  with  -o  much 
sensibility  !  or  «  hy  was  not  my  fortune  adapti-d  to  its 
impulse  I  TondernesH,  without  a  capacity  of  relieving, 
only  makes  tho  heart  that  feels  it  more  wrctchctl  than 
the  object  which  sues  for  assistance. 

But  lot  mo  turn  from  a  scene  of  Huch  distress  to  the 
Banctifie<l  hypocrite,  ti-ho  has  Uin  lalkimj  of  virtue  till 
the  time  of  bed,  nnd  now  steals  out,  to  give  a  loose  to 
his  vices  under  tl..^  ]iL.!.vtion  of  midnight  ;  vices  more 
atrocious,  because  ho  attempts  to  conceal  them,  ijeo 
how  he  pants  down  the  dark  alley,  and,  with  hastening 
stops,  tears  an  acquaintance  in  every  face.  Ho  has 
passed  the  whole  day  in  company  he  hates,  and  now  goes 
to  prolong  the  night  among  company  that  as  heartily 
hate  him.  May  his  vices  ho  detected  ;  may  tho  morning 
rise  upon  his  shame  ;  yet  I  wish  to  no  purpose  ;  villany, 
when  detected,  never  gives  uj),  but  boldly  adds  impudence 
to  imposture. 


44 


THE  BEE 


Number  V.     Satubday,  November  3,  1759. 
UPON  POLITICAL  FRUGALITY 

Pruqality  has  ever  been  esteemed  a  virtue  as  well 
among  Pagans  as  Christians  :  there  have  been  even 
heroes  who  have  practised  it.  However,  we  must  acknow- 
ledge, tiiat  it  is  too  modest  a  virtue,  or,  if  you  will,  too 
obscure  a  one  to  be  essential  to  heroism ;  few  heroes 
ha\o  been  able  to  attain  to  such  a  height.  Frugality 
agrees  much  better  with  politics  ;  it  seems  to  be  the  base, 
the  support,  and,  in  a  word,  seems  to  be  the  inseparable 
companion  of  a  just  administration. 

However  this  be,  there  is  not,  perhaps,  in  the  world 
a  people  less  fond  of  this  virtue  than  the  English ;  and 
of  consequence  there  is  not  a  nation  more  restless,  more 
exposed  to  the  uneasinesses  of  life,  or  less  capable  of 
providing  for  particular  happiness.  We  are  taught  to 
despise  this  virtue  from  our  childhood  ;  our  education  is 
improperly  directed,  and  a  man  who  has  gone  through 
the  poUtest  institutions,  is  generally  the  person  who  is 
least  acquainted  with  the  wholesome  precepts  of 
frugality.  We  every  day  hear  the  elegance  of  taste, 
the  magnificence  of  some,  and  the  generosity  of  others, 
made  the  subject  of  our  admiration  and  applause.  All 
this  we  see  represented  not  as  the  end  and  recompense  of 
labour  and  desert,  but  as  the  actual  result  of  genius,  as 
the  mark  of  a  noble  and  exalted  mind. 

In  the  midst  of  these  praises  bestowed  on  luxury,  for 
which  elegance  and  taste  are  but  another  name,  perhaps 
it  may  be  thought  improper  to  plead  the  cause  of  frugahty . 
It  may  be  thought  low,  or  vainly  declamatory,  to  exhort 
our  youth  from  the  follies  of  dress,  and  of  every  other 
superfluity ;  to  accustom  themselves,  even  with  mechanic 
meanness,  to  the  simple  necessaries  of  life.  Such  sort 
of  instructions  may  appear  antiquated  ;    yet,  however, 


XrPON  POLITICAL  FRUGALITY  45 

they  seem  the  foundations  of  all  our  virtues,  and  the 
most  efficacious  method  of  making  mankind  useful 
members  of  society.  Unhappily,  however,  such  discourses 
are  not  fashionable  among  us,  and  the  fashion  seems 
every  day  growing  still  more  obsolete,  since  the  press, 
and  every  other  method  of  exhortation,  seems  disposed 
to  talk  of  the  luxuries  of  life  as  harmless  enjoyments. 
I  remember,  when  a  boy,  to  have  remarked,  that  those 
who  in  school  wore  the  finest  clothes,  were  pointed  at  as 
being  conceited  and  proud.  At  present,  our  little  masters 
are  taught  to  consider  dress  betimes,  and  they  are 
regarded,  even  at  school,  with  contempt,  who  do  not 
appear  as  genteel  as  the  rest.  Education  should  teach 
us  to  become  useful,  sober,  disinterested,  and  laborious 
members  of  society  ;  but  does  it  not  at  present  point 
out  a  different  path  !  It  teaches  us  to  multiply  our 
wants,  by  which  means  we  become  more  eager  to 
possess,  in  order  to  dissipate,  a  greater  charge  to  our- 
selves, and  more  useless  or  obnoxious  to  society. 

If  a  youth  happens  to  be  possessed  of  more  genius 
than  fortune,  he  is  early  informed  that  he  ought  to  think 
of  his  advancement  in  the  world  ;  that  he  should  labour 
to  make  himself  pleasing  to  his  superiors  ;  that  he  should 
shun  low  company  (by  which  is  meant  the  company  of 
his  equals) ;  that  he  should  rather  live  p.  little  above  than 
below  his  fortune ;  that  ho  should  think  of  becoming 
great ;  but  he  finds  none  to  admonish  him  to  become 
frugal,  to  persevere  in  one  single  design,  to  avoid  every 
pleasure  and  all  flattery,  which  however  seeming  to 
conciliate  the  favour  of  his  superiors,  never  conciliate 
their  esteem.  There  are  none  to  teach  him  that  the 
best  way  of  becoming  happy  in  himself,  and  useful  to 
others,  is  to  continue  in  the  state  in  which  fortune  at 
first  placed  him,  without  making  too  hasty  strides  to 
advancement ;  that  greatness  may  be  attained,  but  should 


46 


THE  BEE 


not  bo  expected  ;  and  that  they  who  most  impatiently 
expect  advancement,  are  seldom  possessed  of  their 
wishes.  Ho  has  few,  I  say,  to  teach  him  this  lesson,  or 
to  moderate  his  youthful  passions ;  yet,  this  experience 
may  say,  that  a  young  man,  who  but  for  six  years  of  tht 
early  part  of  his  life,  could  seem  divested  of  all  his 
passions,  would  certainly  make,  or  considerably  increase 
his  fortune,  and  might  indulge  several  of  his  favourite 
inclinations  in  manhood  with  the  utmost  security. 

The  efficaciousness  of  these  means  is  sufficiently 
known  and  acknowledged  ;  but  as  we  are  apt  to  connect 
a  low  idea  with  all  our  notions  of  frugahty,  the  person 
who  would  persuade  us  to  it,  might  be  accused  of 
preaching  up  avarice. 

Of  all  vices,  however,  against  which  morality  dissuades, 
there  is  not  one  more  undetermined  than  this  of  avarice. 
Misers  are  described  by  some,  as  men  divested  of  honour, 
sentiment,  or  humanity ;  but  this  is  only  an  ideal  picture, 
or  the  resemblance  at  least  is  found  but  in  a  few.  In 
truth,  they  who  are  generally  called  misers,  are  some 
of  the  very  best  members  of  society.  The  sober,  the 
laborious,  the  attentive,  the  frugal,  are  thus  styled  by 
the  gay,  giddy,  thoughtless,  and  extravagant.  The 
first  set  of  men  do  society  all  the  good,  and  the  latter 
all  the  evil  that  is  felt.  Even  the  excesses  of  the  first 
no  way  injure  the  commonwealth  ;  those  of  the  latter 
are  the  most  injurious  that  can  be  conceived. 

The  ancient  Romans,  more  rational  than  wc  in  this 
particular,  were  very  far  from  thus  misplacing  their 
admiration  or  praise  ;  instead  of  regarding  the  practice 
of  parsimony  as  low  or  vicious,  they  made  it  synonymous 
even  with  probity.  They  esteemed  those  virtues  so 
inseparable,  that  the  known  expression  of  Vir  Frugi 
signified,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  a  sober  and  managing 
man,  an  honest  man,  and  a  man  of  substance. 


UPON  POLITICAL  FRUGALITY 


47 


Tho  Scriptures,  in  a  thousand  places,  praise  economy ; 
and  it  is  everywhere  distinguished  from  avarice.  But  in 
spite  of  all  its  sacro<l  dictates,  a  taste  for  vain  pleasures 
and  foolish  expense  is  the  ruhng  passion  of  the  present 
times.  Passion,  did  I  call  it  ?  rather  the  madness  which 
at  once  possesses  the  great  and  the  little,  the  rich  and 
tho  poor  ;  even  some  are  so  intent  upon  acquiring  the 
superfluities  of  life,  that  they  sacrifice  its  necessaries 
in  this  foolish  pursuit. 

To  attempt  the  entire  abolition  of  luxury,  as  it  would 
be  impossible,  so  it  is  not  my  intent.  The  generality 
of  mankind  are  too  weak,  too  much  slaves  to  custom 
and  opinion,  to  resist  the  torrent  of  bad  example.  But 
if  it  be  impossible  to  convert  the  multitude,  those  who 
have  received  a  more  extended  education,  who  are 
enlightened  and  judicious,  may  find  some  hints  on  this 
subject  useful.  They  may  see  some  abuses,  the  suppres- 
sion of  which  would  by  no  means  endanger  public  liberty  ; 
they  may  be  directed  to  the  aboUtion  of  some  unnecessary 
expenses,  which  have  no  tendency  to  promote  happiness 
or  virtue,  and  which  might  bo  directed  to  better  purposes. 
Our  fireworks,  our  public  feasts  and  entertainments,  our 
entries  of  ambassadors,  &c.,  what  mummery  all  this  ; 
what  childish  pageants,  what  millions  are  sacrificed  in 
paying  tribute  to  custom,  what  an  unnecessary  charge 
at  times  when  we  are  pressed  with  real  want,  which 
cannot  be  .satisfied  without  burdening  the  poor  ! 

Were  such  suppressed  entirely,  not  a  single  creature 
in  tho  state  would  have  the  least  cause  to  mourn  their 
suppression,  and  many  might  be  eased  of  a  load  they 
now  feel  lying  heavily  upon  them.  If  this  were  put  in 
practice,  it  would  agree  with  the  advice  of  a  sensible 
writer  of  Sweden,  who,  in  the  Gazette  de  France,  175", 
thus  expressed  hiiUBelf  on  that  subject.  :  It  were 
'  sincerely  to  be  wished,'  says  ho,  '  that  the  custom  were 


48 


THE  BEE 


^  established  amongst  us,  that  in  all  events  which  cause 
^a  public  joy,  we  made  our  exultations  conspicuous 
'  only  by  acts  useful  to  society.    We  should  then  quickly 
'  see  many  useful  monuments  of  our  reason,  which  would 
■  much  better  perpetuate  the  memory  of  things  worthy 
'  of  being  transmitted  to  posterity,  and  would  be  much 
^  more  glorious  to  humanity  than  all  these  tumultuous 
^preparations    of    feasts,    entertainments,    and    other 
rejoicings  used  upon  such  occasions.' 
The  same  proposal  was  long  before  confirmed  by 
a  Chinese  emperor,  who  lived  in  the  last  century,  who, 
upon  an  occasion   of  extraordinary  joy,  forbade  his 
subjects  to  make  the  usual  illuminations,  either  with 
a  design  of  sparing  their  substance,  or  of  turning  thera 
to  some  more  dtvable  indication  of  joy,  more  glorious 
for  him,  and  moj-  advantageous  to  his  people. 

After  such  inbiances  of  political  frugahty,  can  we  then 
contmue  to  blame  the  Dutch  ambassador  at  a  certain 
court,  who,  receiving,  at  his  departure,  the  portrait  of 
the  king,  enriched  with  diamonds,  asked  what  this 
fine  thing  might  be  worth  ?  Being  told  that  it  might 
amount  to  abon.  two  thousand  pounds :  '  And  why,' 
cries  he,  '  cannot  his  majesty  keep  the  picture,  and 
'  give  me  the  money  ?  '  This  simplicity  may  bo  ridiculed 
at  first ;  but,  when  we  come  to  examine  it  more  closely, 
men  of  sense  will  at  once  confess  that  he  had  reason  in 
what  he  said,  and  that  a  purse  of  two  thousand  guineas 
IS  much  more  serviceable  than  a  picture. 

Should  we  follow  the  same  method  of  state  frugality 
in  other  respects,  what  numberless  savings  might  not  be 
the  result  !  How  many  possibilities  of  saving  in  the 
administration  of  justice,  which  now  burdens  the  subject, 
and  enriches  some  members  of  society,  who  are  useful 
only  from  its  corruption  ! 
It  were  to  be  wished,  that  they  who  govern  kingdoms. 


UPON  POLITICAIi  FRUGALITY 


49 


would  imitate  artisans.  When  at  London  a  new  stuff 
has  been  invented,  it  is  immediately  counterfeited  in 
France.  How  happy  were  it  for  society,  if  a  first  minister 
would  be  equally  solicitous  to  transplant  the  useful  laws 
of  other  countries  into  his  own.  We  are  arrived  at 
a  perfect  imitation  of  jiorcelain  ;  let  us  endeavour  to 
imitate  the  good  to  society  that  our  neighbours  are  found 
to  practise,  and  let  our  neighbours  also  imitate  those 
parts  of  duty  in  which  we  excel. 

There  are  some  men,  who,  in  their  garden,  attempt 
to  raise  those  fruits  which  nature  has  adapted  only  to 
the  sultry  climates  t)fneath  the  line.  We  have  at  our 
very  doors  a  thousand  laws  and  customs  infinitely 
useful  ;  these  are  the  fruits  we  should  endeavour  to 
transplant ;  these  the  exotics  that  would  speedily 
become  naturalized  to  the  soil.  They  might  grow  in 
every  climate,  and  benefit  every  possessor. 

The  best  and  the  most  useful  laws  I  have  ever  seen, 
are  generally  practised  in  Holland.  When  two  men  are 
determined  to  go  to  law  with  each  other,  they  are  first 
obliged  to  go  before  the  reconciling  judges,  called  the 
peacemakers.  If  the  parties  come  attended  with  an 
advocate  or  a  solicitor,  they  are  obliged  to  retire,  as  we 
take  fuel  from  the  fire  we  are  desirous  of  extinguishing. 
The  peacemakers  then  begin  advising  the  parties, 
by  assuring  them,  that  it  is  the  height  of  folly  to  waste 
theirsubstance.and  make  themselves  mutually  miserable, 
by  having  recourse  to  the  tribunals  of  justice  :  '  Follow 
'  but  our  direction,  and  we  will  accommodate  matters 
'  without  any  expense  to  either.'  If  the  rage  of  debate 
is  too  strong  upon  either  party,  they  are  remitted  back 
for  another  day,  in  order  that  time  may  soften  their 
tempers,  and  produce  a  reconciliation.  They  are  thus 
sent  for  twice  or  thrice  ;  if  their  folly  happens  to  be 
incurable,  they  are  permitted  to  go  to  law,  and  as  we 


.0 


THE  BEE 


give  up  to  amputation  such  members  as  cannot  be  cured 
by  art,  justice  is  permitted  to  take  its  course. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  make  here  long  declamations, 
or  calculate  what  society  would  save,  were  this  law 
adopted.  I  am  sensible,  that  the  man  who  advises  any 
reformation,  only  serves  to  make  himself  ridiculous. 
'  What  !  '  mankind  will  be  apt  to  say,  '  adopt  the 
^  customs  of  countries  that  have  not  so  much  real  Uberty 
'  as  our  own  V  our  present  customs,  what  are  they  to  any 
'  man  ?  we  arc  very  happy  under  them  !  This  must  be 
'a  very  pleasant  fellow,  who  attempts  to  make  us 
I  happier  than  we  already  are  1  Does  he  not  know  that 
'  abuses  are  the  patrimony  of  a  great  part  of  the  nation  ? 
'  Why  deprive  us  of  a  malady  by  which  such  numbers 
'  find  their  account  ?  '  This  I  must  own  is  an  argument 
to  which  I  have  nothing  to  reply. 

What  numberless  savings  might  there  not  be  made  in 
both  arts  and  commerce,  particularly  in  the  Uberty  of 
exercising  trade,  without  the  necessary  prerequisites 
of  freedom  !  Such  useless  obstructions  have  crejrt  into 
every  state,  from  a  spirit  of  monopoly,  a  narrow  selfish 
spirit  of  gain,  without  the  least  attention  to  general  • 
society.  Such  a  clog  upon  industry  frequently  drives 
the  poor  from  labour,  and  reduces  them,  by  degrees,  to 
a  state  of  hopeless  indigence.  We  have  already  a  more 
than  sufficient  repugnance  to  labour ;  we  should  by  no 
means  increase  the  obstacles,  or  make  excuses  in  a  state 
for  idleness.  Such  faults  have  ever  crept  into  a  state, 
under  wrong  or  needy  administrations. 

Exclusive  of  the  masters,  there  are  numberless  faulty 
expenses  among  the  workmen ;  clubs,  garnishes, 
freedoms,  and  such-like  impositions,  which  are  not  too 
minute  even  for  law  to  take  notice  of,  and  which  should 
be  abolished  without  mercy,  since  they  are  ever  the 
inlets  to  excess  and  idleness,  and  are  the  parent  of  all 


UPON  POLITICAL  FRUGALITY 


51 


thoso  outrages  which  naturally  fall  upon  the  more 
useful  part  of  society.  In  the  towns  and  countries  I 
have  seen,  I  never  saw  a  city  or  a  village  yet,  whoso 
miseries  were  not  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  its 
public-houses.  In  Rotterdam,  you  may  go  through 
eight  or  ton  streets  without  finding  a  public-house. 
In  Antwerp,  almost  every  second  house  seems  an  ale- 
house. In  the  one  city,  all  wears  the  appearance  of 
happiness  and  warm  afflue|)pe  ;  in  the  other,  the  young 
fellows  walk  about  the  streets  in  shabby  finery,  their 
fathers  sit  at  the  door  darning  or  knitting  stockings, 
while  their  ports  are  filled  with  dunghills. 

Ale-houses  arc  over  an  occasion  of  debauchery  and 
excess,  and  either  in  a  religious  or  political  light,  it 
would  be  our  highest  interest  to  have  the  greatest  part 
of  them  suppressed.  They  should  be  put  under  laws 
of  not  continuing  open  beyond  a  certain  hour,  and 
harbouring  only  proper  persons.  These  rules,  it  may  be 
said,  will  diminish  the  necessary  taxes  ;  but  this  is 
false  reasoning,  since  what  was  consumed  in  debauchery 
abroad,  woi'.ld,  if  such  a  regulation  took  place,  be  more 
justlj,  and,  perhaps,  more  equitably  for  the  workman's 
family,  spent  at  home  ;  and  this  cheaper  to  them,  and 
without  loss  of  time.  On  the  other  hand,  our  ale-houses 
being  ever  open,  interrupt  business ;  the  workman  is 
never  certain  who  frequents  them,  nor  can  the  master 
be  sure  of  having  what  was  begun,  finished  at  the 
convenient  time. 

A  habit  of  frugality  among  the  lower  orders  of  mankind 
is  much  more  beneficial  to  society  than  the  unreflecting 
might  imagine.  The  pawnbroker,  the  attorney,  and  other 
pests  of  society,  might,  by  proper  management,  be  turned 
into  serviceable  members ;  and,  were  their  trades 
abohshed,  it  is  possible  the  same  avarice  that  conducts 
the  one,  or  the  same  chicanery  that  eharaeterizes  the 


S2 


THE  BEE 


other,  might,  by  proper  regulations,  be  converted  into 
frugality,  and  commendable  prudence. 

But  some  have  made  the  eulogium  of  luxury,  have 
represented  it  as  the  natural  consequence  of  every 
country  that  in  become  rich.  '  Did  we  not  employ  our 
'  extraordinary  wealth  in  superfluities,'  say  they,  '  what 
'  other  means  would  there  be  to  employ  it  in  ?  '  To 
which  it  may  be  answered.  If  frugality  were  established 
in  the  state,  if  our  expenses^ were  I,  A  out  rather  in  the 
necessaries  than  the  superfluities  of  life,  there  might  be 
fewer  wants,  and  even  fewer  pleasures,  but  infinitely 
more  happiness.  The  rich  and  the  great  would  be  better 
able  to  satisfy  their  creditors  ;  they  would  be  better  able 
to  marry  their  children,  and,  instead  of  one  marriage  at 
present,  there  might  be  two,  if  such  regulations  took  place. 

The  imaginary  calls  of  vanity,  which  in  reality 
contribute  nothing  to  our  real  felicity,  would  not  then 
be  attended  to,  while  the  real  calls  of  nature  might 
be  always  and  universally  supplied.  The  difference  of 
employment  in  the  subject  is  what,  in  reality,  produces 
the  good  of  society.  If  the  subject  be  engaged  in 
providing  only  the  luxuries,  the  necessaries  must  be 
deficient  in  proportion.  If,  neglecting  the  produce  of 
our  own  country,  our  minds  are  set  upon  the  productions 
of  another,  we  increase  our  wants,  but  not  our  means ; 
and  every  new  imported  delicacy  for  our  tables,  or  orna- 
ment in  our  equipage,  is  a  tax  upon  the  poor. 

The  true  interest  of  every  government  is  to  cultivate 
the  neoessaries,  by  which  is  always  meant  every  happi- 
ness our  own  country  can  produce ;  and  suppress  all 
the  luxuries,  by  which  is  meant,  on  the  other  hand, 
every  happiness  imported  from  abroad.  Commerce 
has  therefore  its  bounds ;  and  every  new  import, 
instead  of  encouragement,  should  be  first  examined 
whether  it  be  conducive  to  the  interest  of  society. 


UPON  POLITICAL  FRUGALITY 


63 


Among  the  many  publiuatiunx  with  which  tlio  jiresH 
is  every  tlay  burdened,  1  have  often  wondered  why  »o 
never  had,  as  in  other  countricH,  an  Economical  Journal, 
which  might  at  once  direct  to  all  the  nueful  discoveries 
in  other  countries,  and  spread  those  of  our  own.  As 
other  journals  servo  to  amuse  the  learned,  or  what  ia 
more  often  the  case,  to  make  them  quarrel,  while  they 
only  servo  to  give  us  the  history  of  the  mischievous 
world,  for  so  I  call  our  warriors  ;  or  the  idle  world,  for 
so  may  the  learned  be  called  ;  they  never  trouble  their 
heads  about  the  most  useful  part  of  mankind,  our 
peasants  and  our  artisans  ;  were  buch  a  work  carried 
into  execution  with  proper  management  and  just 
direction,  it  might  serve  as  a  repository  for  every  useful 
improvement,  and  increase  that  knowledge  which  learn- 
ing often  serves  to  confound. 

Sweden  seema  the  only  country  where  the  science 
of  economy  seems  to  have  fixed  its  empire.  In  other 
countries,  it  is  cultivated  only  by  a  few  admirers,  or  by 
societies  which  have  not  received  tuiiicient  sanction  to 
become  completely  useful  ;  but  here  there  is  founded 
a  royal  academy,  destined  to  this  purpose  only,  composed 
of  the  most  learned  and  powerful  members  of  the  state  ; 
an  academy  which  decUnes  everything  which  only 
terminates  in  amusement,  erudition,  or  curiosity,  and 
admits  only  of  observations  tending  to  illustrate  hus- 
bandry, agriculture,  and  every  real  physical  improve- 
ment. In  this  country  nothing  is  left  to  private  rapacity, 
but  every  improvement  is  immediately  diffused,  and  its 
inventor  immediately  recompensed  by  the  state.  Happy 
were  it  so  in  other  countries  ;  by  this  means  every 
impostor  would  be  prevented  from  ruining  or  deceiving 
the  public  with  pretended  discoveries  or  nostrums,  and 
every  real  inventor  would  not,  by  this  means,  suSer 
the  inconveniences  of  suspicion. 


if-* 


M 


THE  BEE 


111  Hhort,  true  ecoiiuiiiy,  equally  iiukiiowii  (o  tlio 
pnxligal  and  avuriciouH,  hcoiiih  to  l)c  a  juHt  mean  U^twccn 
both  oxtromoH  ;  and  to  a  tranHgrvxsiun  of  this  at  present 
decried  virtue,  it  in  that  wo  are  to  attribute  a  great 
part  of  the  eviU  which  i'-fest  Bociety.  A  taste  for  Huiwr- 
fluity,  ainu)ieniont,  ...id  pleasure  bring  effominacy, 
idlenesH,  and  expento  in  their  train.  But  a  thimt  of 
riches  is  always  proportioned  to  our  debauchery,  and 
the  greatest  prodigal  is  too  frequently  found  to  bo  the 
greatest  raiser ;  so  that  the  vices  which  seem  the  most 
opposite,  are  frequently  found  to  produce  each  other  ; 
and,  to  avoid  both,  it  is  only  necessary  to  bo  frugal. 

Virlui  eat  medium  diwriim  ritiorum  cl  ulriiiqiw  rediirtum, — HoR. 


A  REVERIE 

Scarce  a  day  passes  in  which  we  do  not  hear  compli- 
ments paid  to  Drydon,  Pope,  and  other  writers  of  the 
last  age,  while  not  a  month  comes  forward  that  is  not 
loaded  with  invective  against  the  writers  of  this.  Strange, 
that  our  critics  should  bo  fond  of  giving  their  favours 
to  those  who  are  insensible  of  the  obligation,  and  their 
dislike  to  these  who,  of  all  mankind,  are  most  apt  to 
retaliate  the  injury. 

Even  though  our  present  writers  had  not  equal  merit 
with  their  predecessors,  it  would  bo  politic  to  use  them 
with  ceremony.  Every  compliment  paid  them  would 
be  more  agreeable,  in  proportion  as  they  leas  .  deservetl 
it.  Toil  a  lady  with  a  handsome  face  that  she  is  pretty, 
she  only  thinks  it  her  due  ;  it  is  i  i  at  she  has  heard  a 
thousand  times  before  from  others,  and  disregards  the 
compliment :  but  assure  a  lady,  the  cut  of  whose  visage 
is  something  more  plain,  that  she  looks  killing  to-day, 
she  instantly  bridles  up  and  feels  the  force  of  the  well- 


A  REVERIE 


S5 


timed  flattory  the  whole  day  after.  CuinpliiiieiitH 
which  we  think  are  deitervod,  we  only  acvcpt,  uh  dvlitN, 
with  iiiiliffcreiicu ;  b\it  those  which  I'ciiiHciciK'e  iiifurinH 
us  wo  ilo  not  merit,  wo  receive  with  the  itamo  gratitude 
that  wo  do  fa\ourH  given  away. 

Our  gentlemen,  however,  who  preside  at  the  distribu- 
tion  of  literary  fame,  seem  resolved  to  part  with  praise 
neither  from  motives  of  justice,  or  generosity  ;  one 
would  think,  when  they  take  pen  in  hand,  that  it  was 
oidy  to  blot  reputations,  and  to  put  their  seals  to  the 
]>acket  which  consigns  every  new-boru  effort  to  obliviim. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  republic  of  letters  hangs 
at  i)re»ent  so  feebly  together ;  though  those  friondshijis 
which  once  promoted  literary  fame  seem  now  to  bo  dis- 
continuetl ;  though  every  wTiter  who  now  draws  the  quill 
seems  to  aim  at  profit,  as  well  as  applause,  many  among 
them  are  probably  laying  in  stores  for  immortality,  and 
are  provided  with  a  sufficient  stock  of  reputation  to 
last  the  whole  jouriioy. 

As  1  was  indulging  these  reflections,  in  order  to  eko 
out  the  present  jwige,  I  could  not  avoid  pursuing  the 
metaphor,  of  going  a  journey,  in  my  imagination,  and 
formed  the  following  Reverie,  too  wild  for  allegory,  and 
too  regular  for  a  dream. 

I  fancied  myself  placed  in  the  yard  of  a  largo  inn,  in 
which  there  were  an  infinite  number  of  wagons  and 
stage-coacLds,  attended  by  fellows  who  cither  invited 
the  company  to  take  their  places,  or  were  busied  in 
packing  their  baggage.  Each  vehicle  had  its  inscription, 
showing  the  place  of  its  destination.  On  one  I  could 
read.  The  pleasvr-  stage-coach  ;  on  another,  The  tvagon 
of  industry ;  on  a  third.  The  vanity  whim  ;  and  on 
a  fourth.  The  landau  of  riches.  I  liad  some  inclination  to 
step  into  each  of  these,  ono  after  another ;  but,  I  know- 
not  by  what  means,  I  passed  them  by,  and  at  last  fixed 


M  THE  BKE 

ray  eye  upon  a  Binall  carriago,  Berlin  faHhioii,  which 
Beoined  tho  iiioHt  cuiivonient  vehicle  at  a  distance  in 
the  world  ;  and,  upon  my  nearer  approach,  (ound  it 
to  be  The  fame  machine. 

I  instantly  made  up  to  the  coachman,  whom  1  found 
to  be  an  affable  and  seemingly  good-natured  fellow.  He 
informed  me,  that  ho  had  but  a  few  days  ago  returned 
from  the  temple  of  fame,  to  which  he  had  been  carry- 
ing Addison,  Swift,  Poiie,  Steele,  Congrove,  and  Collcy 
CSbber ;  that  they  made  but  indifferent  i  (.iii,)iV'iy  by 
the  way ;  and  that  he  once  or  twice  was  going  to  empty 
his  berlin  of  the  whole  cargo  :  '  However,'  says  he, 
'  I  got  them  all  safe  home,  with  no  other  damage  than 
'  a  black  eye,  which  Colley  gave  Mr.  Pope,  and  am  now 
'  returned  for  another  coucuful.'  '  If  that  be  all,  friend,' 
said  I,  '  and  if  you  ore  in  want  of  company,  I'll  make 
'  one  with  all  i.iy  .  jart.  Open  tho  door  ;  I  hope  the 
'  machine  rides  ••aay.'  '  Oh  1  for  that,  sir,  extremely 
'  easy  '  But  still  keeping  the  door  shut,  and  measuring 
me  with  his  eye,  '  Pray,  sir,  have  you  no  luggage  ? 
'  You  seorn  to  be  a  good-natured  sort  of  a  gentleman  ; 
'  but  I  don't  find  you  have  got  any  luggage,  and  I  never 
'  permit  any  to  travel  with  me  but  such  as  have  wome- 
'  thing  valuable  to  pay  for  coach-hire.'  Examining  my 
pockets,  I  own  I  was  not  a  little  disconcerted  at  this 
unexpected  rebutf ;  but  considering  that  1  carried 
a  number  of  the  Bee  under  my  arm,  1  was  resolved  to 
open  it  in  his  eyes,  and  dazzle  him  with  the  splendour  of 
the  page.  He  read  the  title  and  contents,  however, 
without  any  emotion,  and  assured  me  he  had  never 
heard  of  it  before.  '  In  short,  friend,'  said  he,  now 
losing  all  his  former  respect,  '  you  must  not  come  in.  I 
'  expect  better  passengers  ;  but,  as  you  seem  a  harmless 
'  creature,  perhaps,  if  there  be  room  left,  I  may  let  you 
'  ride  a  while  for  charity.' 


A  REVERIE 


87 


I  now  took  my  sUml  by  the  coailmian  at  tho  door, 
and  Hince  I  could  not  command  a  mat,  wmh  rcw>lv«l  to 
bo  BN  useful  an  iwHHiblc,  and  earn  by  my  uHuiUuitv, 
what  I  could  not  by  my  merit. 

Tho  next  that  prPHcntcd  for  a  place,  won  a  moHt 
whimsical   figure  indml.     Ho  woh   hf"«  niimd   with 
iwiiers  of  hiN  own  conipoHing,  not  uniiltu  those  who 
sing  ballods  in  tho  stre«>ts,  and  came  dancing  up  to  tho 
door  with  all  the  conHdonce  of  instont  admittance. 
The  volubility  of  his  motion  and  oddress  prevented  my 
being  able  to  road  more  of  his  cargo  than  the  woril 
Inspector,  which  was  written  in  great  letters  at  tho  top 
of  some  of  the  jiopcrs.     Ho  opened  tho  coach-door 
himself  without  any  ceremony,  and  was  just  slipping  in, 
when  the  coachman,  with  as  little  ceremony,  pulled  him 
back.    Our  figure  seemctl  perfectly  angry  at  this  repulse, 
and  demanded  gentleman's  satisfaction.     '  Lord,  sir  I ' 
replied  tho  coachman,  '  instead  of  proper  luggage,  by 
'  your  bulk  you  seom  loaded  for  a  West  India  voyage. 
'  You  are  big  enough,  with  all  your  papers,  to  ciack 
'  twenty  stage-coaches.     Excuse  me,  indeed,  sir,  for  you 
'  must  not  enter."    Our  figure  now  began  to  expostulate  ; 
he   assured   tho   coachman,  that  though  his  baggage 
seemed  so  bulky,  it  was  perfectly  light,  and  that  ho 
would  be  contented  with  the  smallest  comer  of  room. 
But  Jehu  was  inflexible,  and  tho  carrier  of  the  Inapeelora 
was  sent  to  dance  back  again,  with  all  his  papers  flut- 
tering in  tho  wind.    We  expected  to  have  no  more  trouble 
from  this  quarter,  when,  in  a  few  minutes,  the  same 
figure  change<l  his  apjwarance,  like  harlequin  upon  tho 
stage,  and  with  tho  same  confidence  again  made  his 
approaches,  dressetl  in  lace,  and  carrying  nothing  but 
a  nosegay.     Upon  coming  near,  he  thrust  the  nosegay 
to  the  coachman's  nose,  grasped  the  brass,  and  seemed 
now  resolved  to  enter  by  violence.    I  found  the  struggle 


58 


THE  BEE 


Boou  begin  to  grow  hot,  and  the  coachman,  who  was 
»  little  old,  unable  to  continue  the  contest ;  so,  in  order 
to  ingratiate  myself ,  I  stepped  in  to  his  assistance,  and  our 
united  efforts  sent  our  hterary  Proteus,  though  worsted, 
unconquered  still,  clear  off,  dancing  a  rigadoon,  and 
smelling  to  his  own  nosegay. 

The  person  who  after  him  appeared  as  candidate  for 
a  place  in  the  stage,  came  up  with  an  air  not  quite  so 
confident,  but  somewhat,  however,  theatrical ;  and, 
instead  of  entering,  made  the  coachman  a  very  low  bow, 
which  the  other  returned,  and  desired  to  see  his  baggage  ; 
upon  which  he  instantly  produced  some  farces,  a  tragedy, 
and  other  miscellany  productions.  The  coachman, 
casting  his  eye  upon  the  cargo,  assured  him,  at  present 
he  could  not  possibly  have  a  place,  but  hoped  in  time  he 
might  aspire  to  one,  aa  he  seemed  to  have  read  in  the 
book  of  nature,  without  a  careful  perusal  of  which  none 
ever  found  entrance  at  the  temple  of  fame.  '  What ! 
'  (replied  the  disappointed  poet)  shall  my  tragedy,  in 
'  which  I  have  vindicated  the  cause  of  hberty  and 

'  virtue '  '  Follow  nature,  (returned  the  other)  and 

'  never  expect  to  find  lasting  fame  by  topics  which  only 
'  please  from  their  popularity.  Had  you  been  first  in 
'  the  cause  of  freedom,  or  praised  in  virtue  more  than 
'  an  empty  name,  it  is  possible  you  might  have  gained 
'  admittance  ;  but  at  present  1  beg,  sir,  you  will  stand 
'  aside  for  another  gentleman  whom  I  see  approaching.' 
This  was  a  very  grave  personage,  whom  at  some 
distance  1  took  for  one  of  the  most  reserved,  and  even 
disagreeable  figures  I  had  seen  ;  but  as  he  approached, 
his  appearance  improved,  and  when  I  could  distinguish 
him  thoroughly,  I  perceived,  that,  in  spite  of  the  severity 
of  his  brow,  he  had  one  of  the  most  good-natured 
countenances  that  could  be  imagined.  Upon  coming  to 
open  the  stage  door,  he  lifted  a  parcel  of  folios  into  the 


A  REVERIE  59 

«eat  before  him,  but  our  inquisitorial  coachman  at  once 
shoved  them  out  again.     '  What,  not  take  in  my  dic- 
tionary !  ■  exclaimed  tlie  other  in  a  rage.    '  Be  patient 
sir,  (replied the  coachman)!  havedrove  a  coach.man  and 
boy,  these  two  thousand  years  ;  but  I  do  not  remember 
to  have  carried  above  one  dictionary  during  the  whole 
time.    That  little  book  which  I  perceive  peeping  from 
one  of  your  pockets,  may  I  presume  to  ask  what  it 
contains  /  '     '  A  mere  trifle,  (replied  the  author)  it  is 
called  the  RmMer.'    '  The  Ramikr  !   (says  the  coach- 
man) I  beg,  sir,  you'll  take  your  place  ;   I  have  heard 
our  ladies  in  the  court  of  Apollo  frequently  mention 
It  with  rapture ;   and  Clio,  who  happens  to  'be  a  little 
grave,  has  been  heard  to  prefer  it  to  the  Spectator  • 
though  others  have  observed,  that  the  reflections,  by 
being  refined,  sometimes  become  minute." 
This    grave    gentleman    was    scarce    se,.    d,    when 
another,  whose  appearance  was  someihing  more  modem 
seemed  willing  to  enter,  yet  afmid  to  ask.    He  carried 
in  his  hand  a  bundle  of  essays,  of  which  the  coachman 
was  curious  enough  to  inquire  the  contents.     '  These 
(rephed   the  gentlemen)   are  rhapsodies  against   the 
religion  of  my  country.'     '  And  how  can  you  expect 
to  come  into  my  coach,  after  thus  choosing  the  wrong 
sideof  the  question  ?'    'Aye,  but  I  am  right  (replied 
the  other  ;)  and  if  you  give  me  leave,  I  shall  in  a  few 
minutes  state  the  argument.'     '  Right  or  wrong  (said 
the  coachman)  he  who  disturbs  religion  is  a  blockhead, 
and  he  shall  never  travel  in  a  coach  of  mine.'    '  If  then 
(said  the  gentleman,  mustering  up  all  his  courage)  if 
1  am  not  to  have  admittance  as  an  essayist,  I  hope 
1  shall  not  be  repulsed  as  an  historian  ;  the  last  volume 
of  my  history  met  with  applause.'     '  Yes,  (replied  the 
coachman)  but  I  have  heard  only  the  first  approved  at 
the  temple  of  fame  ;  and  as  I  see  you  have  it  about  vou, 


i)t| 


m 


60 


THE  BEE 


'  enter  without  further  ceremony.'  My  attention  was 
now  diverted  to  a  crowd,  who  were  pushing  forward  a 
person  that  seemed  more  inclined  to  the  ata^e-coach  of 
riches ;  but  by  their  means  he  was  driven  forward  to 
the  same  machine,  which  he,  however,  seemed  heartily 
to  despise.  Impelled,  however,  by  their  solicitations, 
he  steps  up,  flourishing  a  voluminous  history,  and 
demanding  admittance.  '  Sir,  I  have  formerly  heard 
'  your  name  mentioned  (says  the  coachman)  but  never 
'  as  an  historian.  Is  there  no  other  work  upon  which 
'  you  may  claim  a  place  ?  '  '  None  (replied  the  other) 
'  except  a  romance ;  but  this  is  a  work  of  too  trifling 
'  a  nature  to  claim  future  attention.'  '  You  mistake 
'  (says  the  inquisitor),  a  well-written  romance  is  no  such 
'easy  task  as  is  generally  imagined.  I  remember 
'  formerly  to  have  carried  Cervantes  and  Segrais ;  and 
'  if  you  think  fit,  you  may  enter.' 

Upon  our  three  literary  travellers  coming  into  the 
same  coach,  I  listened  attentively  to  hear  what  might 
be  the  conversation  that  passed  upon  this  extraordinary 
occasion ;  when,  instead  of  agreeable  or  entertaining 
dialogue,  I  found  them  grumbling  at  each  other,  and 
each  seemed  discontented  with  his  companions.  Strange ! 
thought  1  to  myself,  that  they  who  are  thus  born  to 
enlighten  the  world,  should  still  preserve  the  narrow 
prejudices  of  childhood,  and,  by  disagreeing,  make  even 
the  highest  merit  ridiculous.  Were  the  learned  and  the 
wise  to  unite  against  the  dunces  of  society,  instead  of 
sometimes  siding  into  opposite  parties  with  them,  they 
might  throw  a  lustre  upon  each  other's  reputation,  and 
teach  every  rank  of  subordinate  merit,  if  not  to  admire, 
at  least  not  to  avow  dislike. 

In  the  midst  of  these  reflections,  1  perceived  the  coach- 
man, unmindful  of  me,  had  now  mounted  the  box. 
Several  were  approaching  to  be  taken  in,  whose  preten- 


A  REVERIE 


61 


sioiiK  I  was  sensible  were  very  just ;  I  therefore  desired 
him  to  stop,  and  take  in  more  iiassengcrs  ;  but  ho  replied, 
as  he  had  now  mounted  the  box,  it  would  bo  improper 
to  come  down ;  but  that  he  should  take  them  all,  one 
after  the  other,  when  ho  should  return.  So  he  drove 
away,  and,  for  mj'self,  as  I  could  not  get  in,  I  mounted 
behind,  in  order  to  hear  the  conversation  on  the  way. 

[To  be  continued.] 


A  WORD  OR  TWO  ON  THE  LATE   FARCE 
CALLED  'HIGH  LIFE  BELOW  STAIRS  ' 

JtrsT  as  I  had  expected,  before  I  saw  this  farce,  I 
found  it,  formed  on  too  narrow  a  plan  to  afford  a  pleasing 
variety.  The  samtness  of  the  humour  in  every  scene 
could  not  at  last  fail  of  being  disagreeable.  The  poor, 
affecting  the  manners  of  the  rich,  might  be  carried  on 
through  one  character  or  two  at  the  most,  with  groat 
propriety  ;  but  to  have  almost  every  personage  on  the 
scone  almost  of  the  same  character,  and  reflecting  the 
folliea  of  each  other,  was  unartful  in  the  poet  to  the  last 
degree. 

The  scone  was  also  almost  a  contini.;  .ion  of  the  same 
absurdity  ;  and  my  Lord  Duke  and  Sir  Harry  (two  foot- 
men who  assume  these  characters)  have  nothing  else  to 
do  but  to  talk  like  their  masters,  and  are  only  introduced 
to  speak,  and  to  show  themselves.  Thus,  as  there  is 
a  sameness  of  character,  there  is  a  barrenness  of  incident, 
which,  by  a  very  small  share  of  address,  the  poet  might 
have  easily  avoided. 

From  a  conformity  to  critic  ndcs,  which,  perhaps, 
on  the  whole,  have  done  more  harm  than  good,  our 
author  has  sacrieced  all  the  vivacity  of  the  dialogue 


62 


THE  BEE 


to  nature ;  ami  though  ho  makes  his  characters  talk 
like  servants,  they  are  seldom  absurd  enough,  or  lively 
enough,  to  make  us  morry .  Though  he  is  always  natural, 
he  happens  seldom  to  be  humorous. 

The  satire  was  woU  intended,  if  we  regard  it  as  being 
masters  ourselves  ;  but,  probably,  a  philosopher  would 
rejoice  in  that  liberty  which  Englishmen  give  their 
domestics  ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I  cannot  avoid  being 
pleased  at  the  happiness  of  those  poor  creatures,  who, 
in  some  measure,  contribute  to  mine.  The  Athenians, 
the  politest  and  best-natured  people  upon  earth,  were 
the  kindest  to  their  slaves  ;  and  if  a  person  may  judge, 
who  has  seen  the  world,  our  English  servants  are  the 
best  treated,  because  the  generality  of  our  English 
gentlemen  are  the  politest  under  the  sun. 

But  not  to  lift  my  feeble  voice  among  the  pack  of 
critics,  who,  probably,  have  no  other  occupation  but 
that  of  cutting  up  everything  new,  I  must  own, 
there  are  one  or  two  scenes  that  are  fine  satire,  and 
sufficiently  humorous  ;  particularly  the  first  interview 
between  the  two  footmen,  which,  at  once,  ridicules  the 
manners  of  the  great,  and  the  absurdity  of  their 
imitators. 

Whatever  defects  there  might  be  in  the  composition, 
there  were  none  in  the  action ;  in  this  the  performers 
showed  more  humour  than  I  had  fancied  them  capable 
of.  Mr.  Palmer  and  Mr.  King  were  entirely  what  they 
desired  to  represent ;  and  Mrs.  Clive  (but  what  need  I 
talk  of  her,  since,  without  the  least  exaggeration,  she  has 
more  true  humour  than  any  actor  or  actress  upon  the 
English  or  any  other  stage  I  have  seen) — she,  I  say, 
did  the  part  all  the  justice  it  was  capable  of.  And, 
upon  the  whole,  a  farce,  which  has  only  this  to  recom- 
mend it,  that  the  author  took  his  plan  from  the  volume 
of   nature,  by  the  sprightly  manner  in  which  it  was 


ON  '  HIGH  LIFE  BELOW  STAIRS  ' 


63 


performed,  was,  for  one  night,  a  tolerable  entertainment. 
Thus  much  may  be  said  in  its  vindication,  that  people 
of  fashion  seemed  more  pleased  in  the  representation 
than  the  subordinate  ranks  of  people. 


UPON  UNFORTUNATE  MERIT 

Every  age  seems  to  have  its  favourite  pursuits,  which 
serve  to  amuse  the  idle,  and  relieve  the  attention  of  the 
industrious.  Happy  the  man  who  is  bom  excellent  in 
the  pursuit  in  vogue,  and  whose  genius  seems  adapted  to 
the  times  he  lives  in.  How  many  do  we  see,  who  might 
have  excelled  in  arts  or  sciences,  and  who  seem  furnished 
with  talents  equal  to  the  greatest  discoveries,  had  the 
road  not  been  already  beaten  by  their  predecessors, 
and  nothing  left  for  them,  except  trifles  to  discover, 
while  others,  of  very  moderate  abilities,  become  famous, 
because  happening  to  be  first  in  the  reigning  pursuit. 

Thus,  at  the  renewal  of  letters  in  Europe,  the  taste 
was  not  to  compose  new  books,  but  to  comment  on  the 
old  ones.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  new  books 
should  be  written,  when  there  were  so  many  of  the 
Ancients,  either  not  known  or  not  understood.  It  was 
not  reasonable  to  attempt  new  conquests,  while  they  had 
such  an  extensive  region  lying  waste  for  want  of  cultiva- 
tion. At  that  period,  criticism  and  erudition  were  the 
reigning  studies  of  the  times  ;  and  he,  who  had  only 
an  inventive  genius,  might  have  languished  in  hopeless 
obscurity.  When  the  writers  of  antiquity  were  sufficiently 
explained  and  known,  the  learned  set  about  imitating 
them  :  from  hence  proceeded  the  number  of  Latin 
orators,  poets  and  historians,  in  the  reigns  of  Clement 
the  Seventh  and  Alexander  the  Sixth.  This  passion 
for  antiquity  lasted  for  many  years,  to  the  utter  exclusion 


64 


THE  BEE 


of  every  other  pumuit,  till  Home  began  to  find,  that  those 
works  which  wore  imitated  from  nature,  were  more  like 
the  writings  of  antiquity,  than  even  those  written  in 
express  imitation.  It  was  then  modern  language  began 
to  be  cultivated  with  assiduity,  and  our  poets  and 
orators  poured  forth  their  wonders  upon  the  world. 

As  writers  become  more  numerous,  it  is  natural  for 
readers  to  become  more  indolent ;  from  whence  must 
necessarily  arise  a  desire  of  attaining  knowledge  with 
the  greatest  possible  ease.  No  science  or  art  offers  its 
instruction  and  amusement  in  so  obvious  a  manner  as 
statuary  and  painting.  From  hence  we  see,  that  a  desii'e 
of  cultivating  those  arts  generally  attends  the  decline 
of  science.  Thus  the  finest  statues,  and  the  most 
beautiful  paintings  of  antiquity,  preceded  but  a  little 
the  absolute  decay  of  every  other  science.  The  statues 
of  Antoninus,  Commodus,  and  their  contemporaries,  are 
the  finest  productions  of  the  chisel,  and  appeared  but 
just  before  learning  was  destroyed  by  comment,  criticism, 
and  barbarous  invasions. 

What  happened  in  Rome  may  probably  be  the  case 
with  us  at  home.  Our  nobility  are  now  more  solicitous 
in  patronizing  painters  and  sculptors  than  those  of  any 
other  polite  profession  ;  and  from  the  lord,  who  has  his 
gallery,  down  to  the  'prentice,  who  has  his  twopenny 
copperplate,  all  are  admirers  of  this  art.  The  great, 
by  their  caresses,  seem  insensible  to  all  other  merit  but 
that  of  the  pencil ;  and  the  vulgar  buy  every  book  rather 
from  the  excellence  of  the  sculptor  than  the  writer. 

How  happy  were  it  now,  if  men  of  real  excellence 
in  that  profession  were  to  arise  !  Were  the  painters 
of  Italy  now  to  appear,  who  once  wandered  like  beggars 
from  one  city  to  another,  and  produce  their  almost 
breathing  figures,  what  rewards  might  they  not 
expect  V  But  many  of  them  lived  without  rewards,  and 


UPON  UNFORTUNATE  MERIT 


65 


therefore  rewards  alone  will  never  produce  their  equals. 
Wo  have  often  found  the  great  exert  themselves,  not  only 
without  promotion,  but  in  spite  of  opposition.  We  have 
found  them  flourishing,  like  medicinal  plants,  in  a  region 
of  savageness  and  barbarity,  their  excellence  unknown, 
and  their  virtues  unheeded. 

They  who  have  seen  the  paintings  of  Caravagio  are 
sensible  of  the  surprising  impression  they  make  ;  bold, 
swelling,  terrible  to  the  last  degree ;  all  seems  animated, 
and  speaks  him  among  the  foremost  of  his  profession  ;  yet 
this  man's  fortune  and  his  fame  seemed  ever  in  opposition 
to  each  other. 

Unknowing  how  to  flatter  the  great,  he  was  driven 
from  city  to  city  in  the  utmost  indigence,  and  might 
truly  be  said  to  paint  for  his  bread. 

Having  one  day  insulted  a  person  of  distinction,  who 
refused  to  pay  him  all  the  respect  which  he  thought  his 
due,  he  was  obliged  to  leave  Rome,  and  travel  on  foot, 
his  usual  method  of  going  his  journeys  down  into  the 
country,  without  either  money  or  friends  to  subsist 
him. 

After  he  had  travelled  in  this  manner  as  long  as  his 
strength  would  permit,  faint  with  famine  and  fatigue, 
he  at  last  called  at  an  obscure  inn  by  the  wayside.  The 
host  knew,  by  the  appearance  of  his  guest,  his  indifferent 
circumstances,  and  refused  to  furnish  him  a  dinner 
without  previous  payment. 

As  Caravagio  was  entirely  destitute  of  money,  he 
took  down  the  innkeeper's  sign,  and  painted  it  anew  for 
his  dinner. 

Thus  refreshed,  he  proceeded  on  his  journey,  and  left 
the  innkeeper  not  quite  satisfied  with  this  method  of 
payment.  Some  company  of  distinction,  however, 
coming  soon  after,  and  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the 
new  sign,  bought  it  at  an  advanced  price,  and  astonished 


ooLDSumi.   m 


M 


THE  BEE 


the  innkeeper  with  their  generosity ;  he  was  resolved, 
therefore,  to  get  as  many  signs  as  possible  drawn  by 
the  same  artist,  as  he  found  he  could  sell  them  to  good 
advantage  ;  and  accordingly  set  out  after  Caravagio, 
in  order  to  bring  him  back.  It  was  nightfall  before  he 
came  up  to  the  pluce,  where  the  unfortunate  Caravagio 
lay  dead  by  the  roadside,  overcome  by  fatigue,  resent- 
ment, and  despair. 


Number  VI.    Saturday,  NovenAer  10,  1769. 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ACADEMIES 
OF   ITALY 

Tbebe  is  not,  perhaps,  a  country  in  Europe,  in  which 
learning  is  so  fast  upon  the  decline  as  in  Italy ;  yet 
not  one  in  which  there  are  such  a  number  of  academies 
instituted  for  its  support.  There  is  scarce  a  considerable 
town  in  the  whole  country  which  has  not  one  or  two 
institutions  of  this  nature,  where  the  learned,  as  they 
are  pleased  to  call  themselves,  meet  to  harangue,  to 
compliment  each. other,  and  praise  the  utility  of  their 
institution. 

Jarchius  has  taken  the  trouble  to  give  us  a  list  of 
those  clubs,  or  academies,  which  amount  to  five  hundred 
and  fifty,  each  distinguished  by  somewhat  whimsica'  in 
the  name.  The  academicians  of  Bologna,  for  instance, 
are  divided  into  the  Abbandonati,  the  Ausiosi,  Ociosio, 
Arcadi,  Confusi,  Dubbiosi,  Ac.  There  are  few  of  these 
who  have  not  published  their  transactions,  and  scarce 
a  member  who  is  not  looked  upon  as  the  most  famous 
man  in  the  world,  at  home. 

Of  all  those  societie.a,  I  know  of  none  whose  works 
are  worth  being  known  out  of  the  precincts  of  the  city 
in  which  they  were  written,  except  the  Cicalata  Acade- 


THE  ACADEMIES  OF  ITALY 


67 


mica  (or,  as  we  might  express  it,  the  Tickling  Society)  of 
Florence.  I  have  just  now  before  me  a  manuscript 
oration,  spoken  by  the  late  Tomaso  Crudeli,  at  that 
society,  which  will,  at  once,  serve  to  give  a  better 
picture  of  the  manner  in  which  men  of  wit  amuse  them- 
selves in  that  country,  than  anything  I  could  say  upon 
the  occasion.    The  oration  is  this  : 

'  The  younger  the  nymph,  my  dear  companions,  the 
more  happy  the  lover.  From  fourteen  to  seventeen,  you 
are  sure  of  finding  love  for  love  ;  from  seventeen  to 
twenty-one,  there  is  always  a  mixture  of  interest  and 
affection.  But  when  that  periotl  is  past,  no  longer  expect 
to  receive,  but  to  buy.  No  longer  expect  a  nymph  who 
gives,  but  who  sells,  her  favours.  At  this  age,  every 
glance  is  taught  its  duty  ;  not  a  look,  not  a  sigh,  without 
design  ;  the  lady,  like  a  skilful  warrior,  aims  at  the  heart 
of  another,  while  she  shields  her  own  from  danger. 

'  On  the  contrary,  at  fifteen,  you  may  expect  nothing 
but  simplicity,  innocence,  and  nature.  The  passions  are 
then  sincere ;  the  soul  seems  seated  in  tho  lips ;  the 
dear  object  feels  present  happiness,  without  being  anxious 
for  the  future  ;  her  eyes  brighten  if  her  lover  approaches  ; 
her  smiles  are  borrowed  from  the  Graces,  and  her  very 
mistakes  seem  to  complete  her  desires. 

'Lucretia  was  just  sixteen.  The  rose  and  lily  took 
possession  of  her  face,  and  her  bosom,  by  its  hue  and 
its  coldness,  seemed  covenxl  with  snow.  So  much 
beauty,  and  so  much  virtue,  seldom  want  admirers. 
Orlandino,  a  youth  of  sense  and  merit,  was  among  the 
lumber.  Ho  had  long  languished  fin  an  opportunity  of 
declaring  his  passion,  when  Cupiil,  as  if  willing  to  ind\\^J« 
his  happiness,  brought  the  chaviuing  yov\\\g  louplo  by 
mere  accident  to  an  arbour,  whero  every  pryiivg  i\\o, 
but  that  of  love,  was  absent.  Orlandino  tftlkinl  of  the 
sincerity  of  his  passion,  and  miActi  flattery  with  his 


68 


THE  BEE 


addrewwH  ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Tho  nymph  was 
pre-engaged,  and  had  long  devoted  tn  heaven  those 
charms  for  which  he  Hued,  "  My  dear  Orlandino," 
said  she,  "  you  know  I  have  long  been  dedicated  to 
"  St.  Catherine,  and  to  her  belongs  all  that  lies  below 
"  my  girdle  ;  all  that  is  above,  you  may  freely  possess, 
"  but  farther  I  cannot,  must  not,  comply.  The  vow  is 
"  passed;  Iwish  it  were  undone,  but  now  it  is  impossible." 
You  may  conceive,  my  companions,  the  embarrassment 
our  young  lovers  felt  upon  this  occasion.  They  kneeled 
to  St.  Catherine,  and  though  both  despaired,  both 
implored  her  assistance.  Their  tutelar  saint  was 
entreated  to  show  some  expedient,  by  which  both  might 
continue  to  love,  and  yet  both  be  happy.  Their  petition 
was  sincere.  St.  Catherine  was  touched  with  compassion ; 
for  lo,  a  miracle !  Lucretia's  girdle  unloosed,  as  if  without 
hands ;  and  though  before  bound  round  her  middle,  fell 
spontaneously  down  to  her  feet,  and  gave  Orlandino  the 
possession  of  all  those  beauties  which  lay  above  it,' 


Number  VII.    Saturday,  November  17,  1759, 
OF  ELOQUENCE 

Or  all  kinds  of  success,  that  of  an  orator  is  the 
most  pleasing.  Upon  other  occasions,  the  applause  we 
deserve  is  conferred  in  our  absence,  and  we  are  insensible 
of  the  pleasure  we  have  given  ;  but  in  eloquence,  the 
victory  and  the  triumph  are  inseparable.  We  read  our 
own  glory  in  the  face  of  every  spectator,  the  audience  is 
moved,  the  antagonist  is  defeated,  and  the  whole  circle 
bursts  into  unsolicited  applause. 

The  rewards  which  attend  excellence  in  this  way  are 
80  pleasing,  that  numbers  have  written  pinf  esaed  treatises 
to  teach  us  the  art ;  schools  have  been  established  with 


OF  ELOQUENCE  OB 

no  other  intent ;  rhetoric  has  taken  place  among  the 
institutions ;  and  pedants  have  ran^^ed  under  proper 
heads,  and  distinguished  with  long  leamed  names,  some 
at  the  strokes  of  nature,  or  of  passion,  which  orators  have 
used.  I  say  only  »ome,  for  a  folio  volume  could  not 
contain  all  the  figures  which  have  been  used  by  the  truly 
eloquent ;  and  scarce  a  good  speaker  or  writer  but  makes 
use  of  some  that  are  peculiar  or  new. 

Eloquence  ha  preceded  the  rules  of  rhetoric,  as 
languages  have  been  formed  before  grammar.  Nature 
renders  men  eloquent  in  great  interests,  or  great  passions. 
He  that  is  sensibly  touched,  sees  things  with  a  very 
different  eye  from  the  rest  of  mankind.  All  nature  to 
him  becomes  an  object  of  comparison  and  metaphor, 
without  attending  to  it ;  he  throws  life  into  all,  and 
inspires  his  audience  with  a  part  of  his  own  enthusiasm. 

It  has  been  remarked,  that  the  lower  parts  of  man- 
kind generally  express  themselves  most  figuratively, 
and  that  tropes  are  foimd  in  the  most  ordinary  forms  of 
conversation.  Thus,  in  every  language,  the  heart  burns ; 
the  courage  is  roused  ;  the  eyes  sparkle ;  the  spiritu  are 
cast  down ;  passion  inflames ;  pri(fe  swells,  and  pity 
sinks  the  soul.  Nature,  everywhere,  speaks  in  those 
strong  images,  which,  from  their  frequency,  pass  un- 
noticed. 

Nature  it  is  which  inspires  those  rapturous  enthusiasms, 
those  irresistible  tumt> ;  a  strong  passion,  a  pressing 
danger,  calls  up  all  the  imagination,  and  gives  the  orator 
irresistible  force.  Thus,  a  captain  of  the  first  caliphs, 
seeing  his  soldiers  fly,  cried  out,  '  Whither  do  you  run  V 
'  the  enemy  are  not  there  !  Vou  have  been  told  that  the 
'  caliph  is  dead  ;  but  God  is  still  living.  He  regards  the 
'  brave,  and  will  reward  the  courageous.    Advance  !  * 

A  man,  therefore,  may  he  called  eloquent,  who  transfers 
the  pension  or  sentiment  with  which  he  is  moved  himself. 


70 


THE  BEE 


inio  the  brfaat  of  another  ;  and  this  definition  appear)  the 
mure  juat,  an  it  comprehends  the  graceii  of  silence,  and 
of  action.  An  intimate  persuaHion  of  the  truth  to  bo 
proved,  is  the  sentiment  and  pasnion  to  )>o  transferred  ; 
and  he  who  effects  this,  is  truly  possessed  of  the  talent 
of  eloquence. 

I  have  called  eloquence  a  talent,  and  not  an  art,  as 
BO  many  rhetoricians  have  done,  as  art  is  acquired  by 
exercise  and  study,  and  eloquence  is  the  gift  of  nature. 
Rules  will  never  make  either  a  work  or  a  discourse 
eloquent  ;  they  only  serve  to  prevent  faults,  but  not 
to  introduce  beauties  ;  to  prevent  those  passages  which 
arc  truly  eloquent,  and  dictated  by  nature,  from  being 
blended  with  others  which  might  disgust  or,  at  least, 
abate  our  passion. 

What  we  cle»rly  conceive,  (says  Boileau)  we  can 
clearly  express.  I  may  add,  that  what  is  felt  with 
emotion,  is  expressed  also  with  the  same  movements;  the 
words  arise  as  readily  to  paint  our  emotions,  as  to  express 
our  thoughts  with  perspicuity.  The  cool  care  an  orator 
takes  to  express  passions  which  he  does  not  feel,  only 
prevents  his  rising  into  that  passion  he  would  seem 
to  feel.  In  a  word,  to  feel  your  subject  thoroughly,  and 
to  speak  without  fear,  are  the  only  rules  of  eloquence, 
properly  so  called,  which  I  can  offer.  Examine  a  writer 
of  genius  on  the  most  beautiful  parts  of  his  work,  and  ho 
will  always  assure  you  that  such  passages  are  generally 
those  which  have  given  him  the  least  trouble,  for  they 
came  as  if  by  inspiration.  To  pretend  that  cold  and 
didactic  precepts  will  make  a  man  eloquent,  is  only 
to  prove  that  be  is  incapable  of  eloquence. 

But,  as  in  being  perspicuous,  it  is  necessary  to  have 
a  full  idea  of  the  subject,  so  in  being  eloquent,  it  is  not 
sufficient,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  to  feel  by  halves.  The 
orator  should  be  strongly  impressed,  which  is  generally 


OF  ELOQUENCE 


71 


tho  pffeotR  of  a  fino  and  exquUite  aoniiibility,  and  not  that 
trunaient  and  superficial  emotion,  wbicli  he  excites  in 
the  greatest  part  of  hii  audience.  It  is  even  impoiwible 
to  aSeot  the  hearers  in  any  great  degree  without  being 
affected  ourselves.  In  vain  it  will  Ihj  objected,  hut 
many  writers  have  had  tho  art  toinspire  their  readcn^  with 
a  passion  for  virtue,  without  being  virtuous  themsi'Kes ; 
since  it  maj'  be  answered,  that  sentimontp  nf  vii-tue 
filled  their  minds  at  the  time  they  were  writ.niL;.  They 
felt  the  inspiration  strongly,  while  they  prnis'il  justico, 
generosity,  or  good  nature ;  but,  unhapi'ily  fur  tli'iri; 
these  passions  might  have  been  discontinued,  wiicn  they 
laid  down  the  pen.  In  vain  will  it  be  objected  npun., 
that  we  can  move  without  being  moved,  as  w«i  cuu 
convince  without  being  convinced.  It  is  much  easier  to 
deceive  our  reason  than  ourselves ;  a  trifling  defect  in 
reasoning  may  be  overseen,  and  lead  a  man  astray ;  for 
it  requires  reason  and  time  to  detect  tho  falsehood,  but  our 
passions  arc  not  so  easily  imposed  upon, — our  eyes,  our 
ear8,and  every  pense,  are  watchful  todetect  tho  imposture. 
No  discourse  can  be  eloquent  that  does  not  elevate  the 
mind.  Pathetic  eloquence,  it  is  true,  has  for  its  only 
object  to  affect ;  but  I  appeal  to  men  of  sensibility, 
whether  their  pathetic  feelings  are  not  accompanied  with 
some  degree  of  elevation.  We  may  then  call  eloquence 
and  sublimity  the  same  thing,  since  it  is  impossible  to 
be  one,  without  feeling  the  other.  From  hence  it  follows, 
that  we  may  be  eloquent  in  any  language,  since  no 
language  refuses  to  paint  those  sentiments  with  which 
we  are  thoroughly  impressed.  What  is  u"ually  called 
sublimity  of  style,  seems  to  be  only  an  error.  Eloquence 
is  not  in  the  words,  but  in  the  subject ;  and  in  great 
concerns,  the  more  simply  anything  is  expressed,  it  is 
generally  the  more  sublime.  True  eloquence  does  not 
consist,  as  the  rhetoricians  assure  us,  in  saying  great 


72 


THE  BEE 


things  in  a  sublime  style,  but  in  a  simple  style ;  tor 
there  is,  properly  speaking,  no  such  thing  as  a  sublime 
style,  the  sublimity  lies  only  in  the  things ;  and  when 
they  are  not  so,  the  language  may  be  turgid,  affected, 
metaphorical,  but  not  affecting. 

What  can  be  more  simply  expressed,  than  the  following 
extract  from  a  celebrated  preacher,  and  yet  what  was 
ever  more  sublime  ?    Speaking  of  the  small  number  of 
the  elect,  he  breaks  out  thus  among  his  audience  i  '  Let 
'  me  suppose  that  this  was  the  last  hour  of  us  all ;  that 
'  the  heavens  were  opening  over  our  heads  ;   that  time 
'  was  passed,  and  eternity  begun  ;  that  Jesus  Christ  in 
'  all  His  glory,  thati  man  of  sorrows  in  all  His  glory 
'  appeared  on  the  tribunal,  and  that  we  were  assembled 
^  here  to  receive  our  final  decree  of  life  or  death  eternal ! 
'Let  me  ask,  impressed  with  terror  like  you,  and  not 
'  separating  my  lot  from  yours,  but  putting  myself  ; 
the  same  situation  in  which  we  must  all  one  day 
'appear  before  Qod,  our  judge,-l«t  me  ask,  if  Jesus 
^  Christ  should  now  appear  to  make  the  terrible  separa- 
tion of  the  just  from  the  unjust,  do  you  think  the 
'  greatest  number  would  be  saved  ?    Do  you  think  the 
'  number  of  the  elect  would  even  bo  equal  to  that  of 
;  the  sinners  ?    Do  you  think,  if  all  our  works  were 
_  exammed  with  justice,  would  He  find  t«n  just  persons 
^  in  this  great  assembly  i   Monsters  of  ingratitude,  would 
he  find  one  ?  ■    Such  passages  as  these,  are  sublime  in 
every  language.    The  expression  may  be  less  striking,  or 
more  indistinct,   but  the  greatness  of  the  idea  still 
remains.     In  a  word,  we  may  be  eloquent  in  every 
language  and  in  every  style,  since  elocution  is  only  an 
assistant,  but  not  a  constitutor  of  eloquence. 

Of  what  use,  then,  will  it  be  said,  are  all  the  precepts 
given  us  upon  this  head,  both  by  the  ancients  and 
modems  ?  I  answer,  that  they  cannot  make  us  eloquent 


OF  ELOQUENCE 


73 


but  they  will  certainly  prevent  us  fro;j  becoming 
ridiculous.  They  can  seldom  procure  a  single  beauty, 
but  they  may  banish  a  thousand  faults.  The  true 
method  of  an  oratnr  is  not  to  attempt  always  to  move, 
always  to  affect,  to  be  continually  sublime,  but  at 
proper  intervals  to  give  rest  both  to  his  own  and  the 
passions  of  his  audience.  In  these  periods  of  relaxation, 
or  of  preparation  rather,  rules  may  teach  him  to  avoid 
anything  low,  trivial,  or  disgusting.  Thus  criticism, 
properly  speaking,  is  intended  not  to  assist  those  parts 
which  are  sublime,  but  those  which  are  naturally  mean 
and  humble,  wh''>h  are  composed  with  coolness  and 
caution,  and  where  the  orator  rather  endeavours  not  to 
offend,  than  attempts  to  please. 

I  have  hitherto  insisted  more  strenuously  on  that 
eloquence  which  speaks  to  the  passions,  as  it  is  a  species 
of  oratory  almost  unknown  i-i  England.  At  the  bar  it 
is  quite  discontinued,  and  I  think  with  justice.  In  the 
senate  it  is  used  but  sparingly,  as  the  orator  speaks  to 
enlightened  judges.  But  in  the  pulpit,  in  which  the 
orator  should  chiefly  address  the  vulgar,  it  seems  strange 
that  it  should  be  entirely  laid  aside. 

The  vulgar  of  England  are  without  exception,  the 
most  barbarous  and  the  most  unknowing  of  any  in 
Europe.  A  great  part  of  their  ignorance  may  be  chiefly 
ascribed  to  their  teachers,  who,  with  the  most  pretty 
gentleman-like  serenity,  deliver  their  f-ool  discourses, 
and  address  the  reason  of  men  who  have  never  reasoned 
in  all  their  lives.  They  are  told  of  cause  and  effect,  of 
beings  self-existent,  and  the  universal  scale  of  beings. 
They  are  informed  of  the  excellence  of  the  Bangorian 
controversy,  and  the  absurdity  of  an  intermediate  state. 
The  spruce  preacher  reads  his  lucubration  without  lifting 
his  nose  from  the  text,  and  never  ventures  to  earn  the 
shame  of  an  enthusiast. 

D3 


74 


THE  BEE 


By  this  means,  though  his  audience  feel  not  one  w<nd 
of  all  he  says,  he  earns,  however,  among  his  acquaintance, 
the  character  of  a  man  of  sense  ;  among  his  acquaintance 
only,  did  I  say  ?  nay,  even  with  his  bishop. 

The  polite  of  every  country  have  several  motives  to 
induce  them  to  a  rectitude  of  action  ;  the  love  of  virtue 
for  its  own  sake,  the  shame  of  offending,  and  the  desire 
of  pleasing.  The  vulgar  have  but  one,  the  enforcements 
of  religion  ;  and  yet  those  who  should  push  this  motive 
home  to  their  hearts,  are  basely  found  to  desert  their 
post.  They  speak  to  the  squire,  the  philosopher,  and 
the  pedant ;  but  the  poor,  those  who  really  want 
instruction,  are  left  uninstructed. 

I  have  attended  most  of  our  pulpit  orators,  who,  it 
must  be  owned,  write  extremely  well  upon  the  text 
they  assume.  To  give  them  their  due  also,  they  read 
their  sermons  with  elegance  and  propriety,  but  this  goes 
but  a  very  short  way  in  true  eloquence.  The  speaker 
must  be  moved.  In  this,  in  this  alone,  our  English 
divines  are  deficient.  Were  they  to  speak  to  a  few  calm 
dispassionate  hearers,  they  certainly  use  the  properest 
methods  of  address ;  but  their  audience  is  chiefly 
composed  of  the  poor,  who  must  be  influenced  by 
motives  of  reward  and  punishment,  and  whose  only 
virtues  lie  in  self-interest  or  fear. 

How  then  are  such  to  be  addressed  ?  not  by  studied 
periods,  or  cold  disquisitions  ;  not  by  the  labours  of  the 
head,  but  the  honest  spontaneous  dictates  of  the  heart. 
Neither  writing  a  sermon  \.ith  regular  periods  and  all 
the  harmony  of  elegant  expression  ;  neither  reading 
it  with  emphasis,  propriety,  and  deliberation  ;  neither 
pleasing  with  metaphor,  sim'te,  or  rhetorical  fustian ; 
neither  arguing  coolly,  and  untying  consequences  united 
in  o  priori,  nor  bundling  up  inductions  a  poMeriori ; 
neither  pedantic  jargon,   nor  academical  trifling,  can 


OF  ELOQUENCE 


7S 


peranade  the  poor.  Writing  a  discouree  coolly  in  the 
closet,  then  getting  it  by  memory,  and  delivering  it  on 
Sundaytt,  even  that  will  not  do.  What  then  is  to  be  done  ? 
I  know  of  no  expedient  to  speak — to  speak  at  once 
intelligibly  and  feelingly — except  to  understand  the 
language  :  to  be  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  object — 
to  be  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  subject  in  view — 
to  prepossess  yourself  with  a  low  opinion  of  your 
audience — and  to  do  the  rest  extempore.  By  this  means 
strong  expressions,  new  thoughts,  rising  passions,  and 
the  true  declamatory  style,  will  naturally  ensue. 

Fine  declamation  does  not  consist  in  flowery  periods, 
delicate  allusions,  or  musical  cadences  ;  but  in  a  plain, 
open,  loose  style,  where  the  periods  are  long  and  obvious ; 
where  the  same  thought  is  often  exhibited  in  several 
points  of  view  ;  all  this,  strong  sense,  a  good  memory, 
and  a  small  share  of  experience,  will  furnish  to  every 
orator ;  and  without  these  a  clergyman  may  be  called 
a  fine  preacher,  a  judicious  preacher,  and  a  man  of  sound 
sense ;  he  may  make  his  hearers  admire  his  under- 
standing, but  will  seldom  enlighten  theirs. 

When  I  think  of  the  Methodist  preachers  among  us, 
how  seldom  they  are  endued  with  common  sense,  and 
yet  how  often  and  how  juttly  they  affect  their  hearers, 
I  cannot  avoid  saying  within  myself,  had  these  been  bred 
gentlemen,  and  been  endued  with  even  the  meanest 
share  of  understanding,  what  might  they  not  effect  t 
Did  our  bishops,  who  can  add  dignity  to  their  expostula- 
tions, testify  the  same  fervour,  and  entreat  their  hearers, 
as  well  as  argue,  what  might  not  be  the  consequence  ! 
The  vulgar,  by  which  I  mean  the  bulk  of  mankind, 
would  then  have  a  double  motive  to  iove  religion  ;  first, 
from  seeing  its  professors  honoured  here,  and  next, 
from  the  consequences  hereafter.  At  present,  the 
enthusiasms  of  the  poor  are  opposed  to  law :   did  law 


7< 


THE  BEE 


conspire  with  tlieir  enthusiasms,  we  should  not  only  be 
the  happiest  nation  upon  earth,  but  the  wisest  also. 

Enthusiasm  in  religion,  which  prevails  only  among  the 
vulgar,  should  be  the  chief  object  of  politics.  A  society 
of  enthusiasts,  governed  by  reason  among  the  great,  is 
the  most  indissoluble,  the  most  virtuous,  and  the  most 
efficient  of  its  own  decrees  that  can  be  imagined.  Every 
country  that  has  any  degree  of  strength,  have  had  their 
enthusiasms,  which  ever  serve  as  laws  among  the  people 
The  Greeks  had  their  Kalokagathia,  the  Romans  their 
Amor  Patriae,  and  we  the  truer  and  firmer  bond  of  the 
Protestant  religion.  The  principle  is  the  same  in  aU  • 
how  much  then  is  it  the  duty  of  those  whom  the  law  has 
appoiated  teachers  of  this  religion,  to  enforce  its  obliga- 
tions, and  to  raise  those  enthusiasms  among  people,  by 
which  alone  political  society  can  subsist. 

BVom  eloquence,  therefore,  the  morals  of  our  people 
are  to  expect  emendation ;    but  how  little  can  they  be 
improved,  by  men  who  get  into  the  pulpit  rather  to 
show  their  parts  than  convince  us  of  the  truth  of  what 
they  deliver ;  who  are  painfully  correct  in  their  style, 
musical  in  their  tones ;  where  every  sentiment,  every 
expression,  seems  the  result  of  meditation  and  deep  study. 
Tillotson  has  been  commended  as  the  model  of  pulpit 
eloquence  ;    thus  far  he  should  be  imitated,  where  he 
generally  strives  to  convince,  rather  than  to  please  • 
but  to   adopt   his  long,  dry,  and   sometimes   tedious 
discussions,  which  serve  to  amuse  only  divines,  and  are 
utterly  neglected  by  the  generality  of  mankind— to  praise 
the  intricacy  of  his  periods,  which  are  too  long  to  be 
spoken,— to  continue  his  cool  phlegmatic  manner  of  en- 
forcing every  truth,- is  -ertainly  erroneous.    As  I  said 
before,  the  good  preacher  should  adopt  no  model,  write 
no  sermons,  study  no  periods  ;  let  him  but  understand 
his  subject,  the  language  he  speaks,  and  be  convinced  of 


OF  ELOQUENCE 


T7 


the  truths  he  flelivers.  It  is  amazing  to  what  heights 
eloquence  of  this  kind  may  reach  !  This  is  that  eloquence 
the  ancients  represented  as  lightning,  bearing  down  every 
opposer  ;  this  the  power  which  has  turned  whole  assem- 
blies into  astonishment,  admiration,  and  awe ;  that  is 
described  by  the  torrent,  the  flame,  and  every  other 
instance  of  irresistible  impetuosity. 

But  to  attempt  such  noble  heights,  belongs  only  to 
the  truly  great,  or  the  truly  good.  To  discard  the  lazy 
manner  of  reading  sermons,  or  speaking  sermons  by 
rote  ;  to  set  up  singly  against  the  opposition  of  men  who 
are  attached  to  their  own  errors,  and  to  endeavour  to  be 
great,  instead  of  being  prudent,  are  qualities  we  seldom 
see  united.  A  minister  of  the  Church  of  England,  who 
may  bo  po8.scssod  of  good  sense,  and  some  hopes  of 
preferment,  will  seldom  give  up  such  substantial  ad- 
vantages for  the  empty  pleasure  of  improving  society. 
By  his  present  method  he  is  liked  by  his  friends,  admired 
by  his  dependents,  not  displeasing  to  his  bishop  ;  he 
lives  as  well,  eats  and  sleeps  as  well,  as  if  a  real  orator, 
and  an  eager  asserter  of  his  mission ;  he  will  hardly, 
therefore,  venture  all  this  to  be  called,  perhaps,  an 
enthusiast ;  nor  will  he  depart  from  customs  established 
by  the  brotherhood,  when,  by  such  a  conduct,  he  only 
singles  himself  out  for  their  contempt. 


CUSTOM  AND  LAWS  COMPARED 

What,  say  some,  can  give  us  a  more  contemptible 
idea  of  a  large  state  than  to  find  it  mostly  governed  by 
custom  ;  to  have  few  WTJtten  laws,  and  no  boundaries 
to  mark  the  jurisdiction  between  the  senate  and  people  ? 
Among  the  number  who  speak  in  this  manner  is  the  great 
Montesquieu,  who  asserts  that  every  nation  is  free  in 
proportion  to  the  number  of  its  wiitten  laws,  and  seems 


78 


THE  BEE 


to  hint  at  a  despotic  and  arbitrary  conduct  in  the  present 
King  of  Prjsaia,  who  has  abridged  the  laws  of  his  country 
into  a  very  short  compass. 

As  Tacitus  and  Montesquieu  happen  to  differ  in 
sentiment  upon  a  subject  of  so  much  importance  (for 
the  Roman  expressly  asserts,  that  the  state  is  generally 
vicious  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  its  laws),  it  will 
not  be  amiss  to  examine  it  a  little  more  minutely,  and 
see  whether  a  state  which,  like  England,  is  burdened 
with  a  multiplicity  of  written  laws,  or  which,  like 
Switzerland,  Geneva,  and  some  other  republics,  is 
governed  by  custom  afid  the  determination  of  the  judge, 
is  best. 

And  to  prove  the  superiority  of  custom  to  written  law, 
we  shall  at  least  find  history  conspiring.  Custom,  or  the 
traditional  observance  of  the  practice  of  their  forefathers, 
was  what  directed  the  Bomans,  as  well  in  their  public 
as  private  determinations.  Custom  was  appealed  to  in 
pronouncing  sentence  against  a  criminal,  where  part  of 
the  formulary  was  more  majorum.  So  Sallust,  speaking 
of  the  expulsion  of  Tarquin,  says,  mtttato  mare,  and  not 
lege  muUtta  ;  and  Virgil,  pacisque  imponere  morem.  So 
that,  in  those  times  of  the  empire  in  which  the  people 
retained  their  liberty,  they  were  governed  by  custom  ; 
when  they  sunk  under  oppression  and  tyranny,  they  were 
restrained  by  new  laws,  and  the  laws  of  tradition 
abolished. 

As  getting  the  ancients  on  our  side  is  half  a  victory, 
it  will  not  be  amiss  to  fortify  the  argument  with  an 
observation  of  Chrysostom's :  That  the  enslaved  are  the 
fittest  to  be  governed  by  laws,  and  free  men  by  custom. 
Custom  partakes  of  the  nature  of  parental  injunction  ; 
it  is  kept  by  the  people  themselves,  and  observed  with 
a  willing  obedience.  The  observance  of  it  must,  there- 
fore, be  a  mark  of  freedom ;  and  coming  originally  to 


CUSTOM  AND  LAWS  COMPARED 


79 


a  state  from  the  reverenced  founders  of  its  liberty,  will 
be  an  encouragement  and  assistance  to  it  in  the  defence 
of  that  blessing ;  but  a  conquered  people,  a  nation  of 
slaves,  must  pretend  to  none  of  this  freedom,  or  then 
happy  distinctions  ;  having,  by  degeneracy,  lost  all  light 
to  their  brave  forefathers'  free  institutions,  their  masters 
will  in  policy  take  the  forfeiture  ;  and  the  fixing  a  con- 
quest must  be  done  by  giving  laws  which  may  every 
moment  serve  to  remind  the  people  enalaved  of  their 
conquerors :  nothing  being  more  dangerous  than  to  trust 
a  late-subdued  people  with  old  customs,  that  presently 
upbraid  their  degeneracy,  and  provoke  them  to  revolt. 

The  wisdom  of  the  Roman  republic,  in  their  veneration 
for  custom,  and  backwaidnees  to  introduce  a  new  law, 
was  perhaps  the  cause  of  their  long  continuance,  and  of 
the  virtues  of  which  they  have  set  the  world  so  many 
examples.  But  to  show  in  what  that  wisdom  consists, 
it  may  be  proper  to  observe,  that  the  benefits  of  new 
written  laws  are  merely  confined  to  the  consequences 
of  their  observance  ;  but  customary  laws,  keeping  up 
a  veneration  f  orthe  founders,  engage  men  in  the  imitation 
of  their  virtues,  as  well  as  policy .  To  this  may  be  ascribed 
the  religious  regard  the  Romans  paid  to  their  fore- 
fathers' memory,  and  their  adhering  for  so  many  ages 
to  the  practice  of  the  same  virtues,  which  nothing 
contributed  more  to  efface  than  the  introduction  of 
a  voluminous  body  of  new  laws  over  the  neck  of  vener- 
able custom. 

The  simplicity,  conciseness,  and  antiquity  of  custom 
gives  an  air  of  majesty  and  immutability  that  inspires 
awe  and  veneration ;  but  new  laws  are  too  apt  to  be 
voluminous,  perplexed,  and  indeterminate  ;  from  whence 
must  necessarily  arise  neglect,  contempt,  and  ignorance. 

As  every  human  institution  is  subject  to  gross  imper- 
fections, so  laws  must  necessarily  be  liable  to  the  same 


itil 


I- 


m  THE  BEE 

inconveniences,  and  their  defects  soon  discovered.  Thus, 
through  the  wealcness  of  one  part,  all  the  rest  are  liable 
to  be  brought  into  contempt.  But  such  weaknesses  in 
a  custom,  for  very  obvious  reasons,  evade  an  examina- 
tion ;  besides,  a  friendly  preju<lice  always  stands  up  in 
their  favour. 

But  let  us  suppose  a  new  law  to  be  perfectly  equitable 
and  necessary ;  yet,  if  the  prtcurers  of  it  have  betMkyc<l 
a  conduct  that  confesses  by-ends  and  private  motives, 
thedisgusttot')tecircumstance8dispo8e8us,un(«a8onably 
indeed,  to  an  irreverence  of  the  law  itself  ;  but  we  are , 
indulgently  blind  tp  the  most  vinible  imperfections  of 
an  old  custom.  Though  we  perceive  the  defects  ourselves, 
yet  we  remain  persuaded  that  our  wise  forefathers  had 
good  reasons  for  what  they  did  ;  and  though  such 
moti-es  no  longer  continue,  the  benefit  will  still  go  along 
with  the  ol)Bervance,  though  we  don't  know  how.  It  is 
thus  the  Boman  lawyers  speak,  Non  omnium  qvae  a 
majoribus  conatitula  sunt  ratio  reddi  potest,  et  idea  rationes 
eorum  quae  constituuntur  inquiri  non  oportet,  aliaquin 
nulla  ex  his  quae  certa  sunt  subvertuntur. 

Those  laws  which  preserve  to  themselves  the  greatest 
love  and  observance,  must  needs  be  best ;  but  custom, 
as  it  executes  itself,  must  be  necessarily  superior  to 
written  laws  in  this  respect,  which  are  to  be  executed  by 
another.  Thus  nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that 
numerous  written  laws  are  a  sign  of  a  degenerate  com- 
munity, and  are  frequently  not  the  consequence  of 
vicious  morals  in  a  state,  but  the  causes. 

From  hence  we  see  how  much  greater  benefit  it  would 
be  to  the  state  rather  to  abridge  than  increase  its  laws. 
We  every  day  find  them  increasing  ;  acta  and  reports, 
which  may  be  termed  the  acts  of  judges,  are  every  day 
becoming  more  voluminous,  and  loading  the  subject  with 
new  penalties. 


CUSTOMS  AND  LAWS  COMPARED 


81 


Laws  ever  increase  in  number  and  severity,  until 
they  at  length  are  strained  so  tight  as  to  break  them- 
selves. Such  was  the  case  of  the  latter  empire,  whose 
laws  were  at  length  become  so  strict,  that  the  barbarous 
invaders  did  not  bring  servitude  but  liberty. 


OF  THE  PRIDE  AND  LUXTTRY  OP  THE 
MIDDLING  CLASS  OF  PEOPLE 

Of  all  the  follies  and  absurdities  which  this  great 
metropolis  labours  under,  there  is  not  one,  I  believe,  at 
present,  appears  in  a  more  glaring  and  ridiculous  light 
than  the  pride  and  luxury  of  the  middling  class  of 
people ;  their  eager  desire  uf  being  seen  in  a  sphere 
far  above  their  capacities  and  circumstances,  is  daily — 
nay  hourly — instanced  by  the  prodigious  numbers  of 
mechanics,  who  flock  to  the  races,  and  gaming-tables, 
brothels,  and  all  public  diversions  this  fashionable  town 
affords. 

You  shall  see  a  grocer  or  a  tallow-chandler  sneak  from 
behind  the  counter,  clap  on  a  laced  coat  and  a  bag,  fly 
to  the  E.  0.  table,  throw  away  fifty  pieces  with  some 
sharping  man  of  quality,  while  his  industrious  wife  is 
selling  a  pennyworth  of  sugar,  or  a  pound  of  candles, 
to  support  her  fashionable  spouse  in  his  extrava- 
gances. 

I  was  led  into  this  reflection  by  an  odd  adventure, 
which  happened  to  me  the  other  day  at  Epsom  races, 
where  1  went,  not  through  any  desire,  I  do  assure  you, 
of  laying  bets,  or  winning  thousands  ;•  but  at  the  earnest 
request  of  a  friend  who  had  long  indulged  the  curiosity 
of  seeing  the  sport,  very  natural  for  an  Englishman. 
When  we  had  arrived  at  the  course,  and  had  taken  several 
t«ri;s  to  observe  the  diffe  '^t  objects  that  mad©  up 


8S 


THE  BEE 


this  whimsical  group,  a  figure  suddenly  darted  h„  „ 
mounted  and  dressed  in  aTthe  elegaZotSe  ^1^ 

and  rather  than  pay  their  just  debts  at  home,  generousfv 

u  *  .J^  waiKea  after  him,  and  met  him  as  hn 
came  back,  when,  to  my  no  small  surprise  i  beheld 
m  th.s  gay  Narcissus,  the  visage  of^J^k  V.rli  h" 
a  humble  vender  of  prints.  Disgusted  at  the  2' 
I  pulled  my  friend  by  the  sleeve,  pressed  him  J^f.vi!.' 
home  te„i„g  him  all  the  way,  tha^^:?,  ren^g'^T^ 
the  fellow  s  impudence.  I  was  resolved  never  toTaTout 
another  penny  with 'him.  ^ 

And  now,  pray,  sir,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  aive  this  a 
place  in  your  paper,  that  Mr.  Wmish  mar«nde«t„d 

aecrease  his  fnends  shun  him,  customers  fall  off  and 
tumseUthr^wnintoajail.   1  would  earnestly  reco^e^ 

and  he  who  strenuously  endea  voura  to  puraue  thZTl ' 


83 


SABINTS  AND  OLINDA 

Ik  a  fair,  rich,  and  flourishing  country,  whci  o  cliffs 
are  washed  by  the  German  Ocean,  lived  Sabinux,  a  youth 
formed  uy  nature  to  make  a  conqucnt  wherever  he 
thought  proper  ■  but  the  conntancy  of  hiH  difipoNitiun 
fixed  him  only  \iith  Olinda.  He  wos,  iiulood,  Hupcrlor 
to  her  in  fortune,  but  that  defect  on  her  Hide  was  ho 
amply  supplied  by  her  merit,  that  none  was  thought 
more  worthy  of  his  regards  than  she.  Ho  lovnl  her, 
he  was  beloved  by  her  ;  and,  in  a  short  time,  hy  joining 
hands  publicly,  they  avowed  the  uninn  of  their  he,  its. 
But,  alas  !  none,  however  fortunate,  however  happy, 
are  exempt  from  the  shafts  of  envy,  and  the  ni.Uignant 
effects  of  ungovemed  apjictite.  How  unsafe,  how 
detestable,  are  they  who  ha^  this  fury  for  th^'ir  guiilc  ' 
How  certainly  will  it  lead  them  from  ihemn-  Ives,  and 
plunge  them  in  errors  they  would  have  shuddered  at, 
even  in  apprehension.  Ariana,  a  lady  of  many  amiable 
qualities,  very  nearly  allie<l  to  Sabinus,  and  highly 
esteemed  by  him,  imagined  herself  slighted,  and  injuri- 
ously treated,  since  his  marriage  with  Olinda.  By 
incautiously  suffering  this  jealousy  to  corrode  in  her 
breast,  she  began  to  give  a  loose  to  pas-sion  ;  she  forgot 
those  many  virtues  for  which  she  had  been  so  long 
and  BO  justly  applauded.  Causeless  suspicion,  and  mis- 
taken resentment,  betrayed  her  into  all  the  gloom  of 
discontent ;  she  sighed  without  ceasing  ;  the  happiness 
of  others  gave  her  intolerable  pain ;  she  thought  of 
nothing  but  revenge.  How  unlike  what  she  was,  the 
cheerful,  the  prudent,  the  compassionate  Ariana  ! 

She  continually  laboured  to  disturb  a  union  so 
firmly,  so  affectionately  founded,  and  planned  every 
scheme  which  she  thought  most  likely  to  disturb  it. 

Fortune  seemed  willing  to  promote  her  unjust  inten- 


MICROCOfY   RESmUTION   TEST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A  APPLIED  IM^CBE    In, 

^^  1653  Eo»t   Main  Stfeot 

S^S  Rocn«ster,  Nen  Yorli         14609       USA 

'■J=  (?16)   482  -  0300  -  Phon. 

^S  ("6)   288-5989  -Fox 


84 


THE  BEE 


tions:    the  circumstances  of  Sabiuus  had  been  long 
embarrassed   by   a   tedious   law-suit,    and   the   court 
determining  the  cause  unexpectedly  in  favour  of  his 
opponent,  it  sunlc  his  fortune  to  the  lowest  pitch  of 
penury  from  the  highest  affluence.    From  the  nearness 
of  relationship,  Sabinus  expected  from  Ariana  those 
assistances  his  present  situation  required  ;  but  she  was 
insensible  to  all  his  entreaties,  and  the  justice  of  every 
remonstrance,  unless  he  first  separated  from  Olinda 
whom  she  regarded  with  detestation.     Upon  a  com- 
pliance with  her  desires  in  this  respect,  she  promised 
her  fortune,  her  interest,  and  her  all,  should  be  at  his 
command.    Sabinus*  was  shocked  at  the  proposal  •   he 
loved  his  wife  with  inexpressible  tenderness,  and  refused 
those  offers  with  indignation  which  were  to  be  purchased 
at  so  high  a  price.    Ariana  was  no  less  displeased  to 
find  her  offers  rejected,  and  gave  a  loose  to  all  that 
warmth  which  she  had  long  endeavoured  to  suppress 
Reproach  generally  produces  recrimination  ;  the  quarrel 
rose  to  such  a  height,  that  Sabinus  was  marked  for 
destruction  ;  and  the  very  next  day,  upon  the  strength 
of  ati  old  family  debt,  he  was  sent  to  jail,  with  none  but 
Ohnda  to  comfort  him  in  his  miseries.    In  this  mansion 
of  distress  they  lived  togetherwith  resignation,  and  even 
with  comfort.   She  provided  the  frugal  meal,  and  he  read 
for  her  while  employed  in  the  little  offices  of  domestic 
concern.    Their  fellow  prisoners  admired  their  content- 
ment, and  whenever  they  had  a  desire  of  relaxing  into 
mirth,  and  enjoying  those  little  comforts  that  a  prison 
affords,  Sabinus  and  Olinda  were  sure  to  be  of  the  party 
Instead  of  reproaching  each  other  for  their  mutual 
wretchedness,  they  both  lightened  it,  by  bearing  each 
a  share  of  the  load  imposed  by  Providence.    Whenever 
Sabinus  showed  the  least  concern  on  his  dear  partner's 
account,  she  conjured  him  by  the  love  he  bore  her 


SABINUS  AND  OLINDA 


85 


by  those  tender  ties  which  now  united  them  for  ever, 
not  to  discompose  himself  ;  that,  so  long  as  his  affection 
lasted,  she  defied  all  the  ills  of  fortune,  and  every  loss 
of  fame  or  friendship ;  that  nothing  could  make  her 
miserable,  but  his  seeming  to  want  happiness  ;  nothing 
pleased,  but  his  sympathizing  with  her  pleasure.  A 
continuance  in  prison  soon  robbed  them  of  the  little 
they  had  left,  and  famine  began  to  make  its  horrid 
appearance ;  yet  still  was  neither  found  to  murmur ; 
they  both  looked  upon  their  little  boy,  who,  insensible 
of  their  or  his  own  distress,  was  playing  about  the  room, 
with  inexpressible  yet  silent  anguish,  when  a  messenger 
came  to  inform  them  that  Ariana  was  dead,  and  that 
her  will,  in  favour  of  a  very  distant  relation,  who 
was  now  in  another  country,  might  be  easily  procured, 
and  burnt,  in  which  case,  all  her  large  fortune  would 
revert  to  him,  as  being  the  next  heir  at  law. 

A  proposal  of  so  base  a  nature  filled  our  unhappy 
couple  with  horror ;  they  ordered  the  messenger 
immediately  out  of  the  room,  and  falling  upon  each 
other's  neck,  indulged  an  agony  of  sorrow ;  for  now 
even  all  hopes  of  relief  were  banished.  The  messenger 
who  made  the  proposal,  however,  was  only  a  spy  sent 
by  Ariana  to  sound  the  dispositions  of  a  man  she  loved 
at  once  and  persecuted.  This  lady,  though  warped  by 
wrong  passions,  was  naturally  kind,  judicious,  and 
friendly.  She  found  that  all  her  attempts  to  shake  the 
constancy  or  the  integrity  of  Sabinus  were  ineffectual ; 
she  had,  therefore,  begun  to  reflect,  and  to  wonder 
how  she  could,  so  long,  and  so  unprovoked,  injure  such 
imcommon  fortitude  and  affection. 

She  had,  from  the  next  room,  herself  heard  the 
reception  given  to  the  messenger,  and  could  not  avoid 
feeling  all  the  force  of  superior  virtue ;  she  therefore 
reassumed  her  former  goodness  of  heart ;  she  camu  into 


86 


THE  BEE 


the  room  with  tears  in  hor  eyes,  and  acknowledged  the 
seventy  of  her  former  treatment.  She  bestowed  her  first 
care  m  providing  them  all  the  necessary  supplies  and 
acknowledged  them  as  the  most  deserving  heirs  of  her 
fortune.  From  this  moment  Sabinus  enjoyed  an  unin- 
terrupted happiness  with  Olinda,  and  both  were  happy 
in  the  friendship  and  assistance  of  Ariana,  who,  dying 
soon  after,  left  them  in  possession  of  a  large  estate  and 
m  her  last  moments,  confessed  that  virtue  was  the  only 
path  to  true  glory  ;  and  that,  however  innocence  may 
for  a  time  bo  depressed,  a  steady  perseverance  will, 
in  time,  lead  it  to  a  certain  victory. 


NCMBEE  Vni.    Saturday,  November  24,  1759. 

OF  THE  OPERA  IN  ENGLAND 
The  rise  and  fall  of  our  amusements  pretty  much 
resemble  that  of  empire.  They  this  day  flourish  without 
any  visible  cause  for  such  vigour  ;  the  next  they  decay 
away,  without  any  reason  that  can  be  assigned  for  their 
downfall.  Some  years  ago  the  Italian  opera  was  the 
only  fashionable  amusement  among  our  nobility  The 
managers  of  the  playhouses  dreaded  it  as  a  mortal 
enemy,  and  our  very  poets  listed  themselves  in  the 
opposition ;  at  present,  the  house  seems  deserted,  the 
caatrah  sing  to  empty  benches ;  even  Prince  Vologese 
himself,  a  youth  of  great  expectations,  sings  himself 
out  of  breath,  and  rattles  his  chain  to  no  purpose. 

To  say  the  truth,  the  opera,  as  it  is  conducted  among 
us,  IS  but  a  very  humdrum  amusement;  in  other 
countries,  the  decorations  are  entirely  magnificent  the 
singers  all  excellent,  and  the  burlettas,  or  interiudes, 
quite  entertaining ;  the  best  poets  compose  the  words, 
and  the  best  masters  the  music ;  but  with  us  it  is  other- 


i 


OF  THE  OPERA  IN  ENGLAND  87 

wise  ;  the  decorations  are  but  trifling,  and  cheap  ;  the 
singers,  Matei  only  exceptctl,  but  indifferent .  Instead  of 
interlude,  we  have  those  sorts  of  skipping  dances,  which 
are  calculated  for  the  galleries  of  the  theatre.  Every 
performer  sings  his  favourite  song,  and  the  music  is 
only  a  medley  of  old  Italian  airs,  or  some  meagre  modern 
Capricio. 

When  such  is  the  case,  it  is  not  much  to  be  wondered, 
If  the  opera  is  pretty  much  neglected  ;  the  lower  orders' 
of  people  have  neither  taste  nor  fortune  to  relish  such 
an  entertainment ;  they  would  find  more  satisfaction 
in  the  Roast  Beef  of  Old  England  than  in  the  finest  closes 
of  an  eunuch  ;  they  sleep  amidst  all  the  agony  of  recita- 
tive :  On  the  other  hand,  people  of  fortune  or  taste 
can  hardly  be  pleased  where  there  is  a  visible  poverty 
in  the  decorations,  and  an  entire  want  of  taste  in  the 
composition. 

Would  it  not  surprise  one,  that  when  Metastasio  is 
so  well  known  in  England,  and  so  universally  admired, 
the  manager  or  the  composer  should  hhve  recourse  to 
any  other  operas  than  those  written  by  him  ?  I  might 
venture  to  lay,  that  mrilten  by  21etastasio,  put  up  in 
the  bills  of  "-e  day,  would  alone  be  sufficient  to  fill  a 
house,  sine,  .us  the  admirers  of  sense,  as  well  as  sound, 
might  find  entertainment. 

The  performers  also  should  be  entreated  to  sing  only 
their  parts,  without  clapping  in  any  of  their  own 
favourite  airs.  I  must  own,  that  such  songs  are  generally 
to  me  the  most  disagreeable  in  the  world.  Every 
singer  generaUy  chooses  a  favourite  air,  not  from  the 
excellency  of  the  music,  but  from  the  difficulty ;  such 
songs  are  generally  chosen  as  surprise  rather  than  please, 
where  the  performer  may  show  his  compass,  his  breath' 
and  his  volubility. 

From  hence  proceed  those  unnatural  starlings,  those 


I 


«»  THE  BEE 

unmusical  closings,  and  shakes  lengthened  out  to  a 
painful  continuance;  such,  indeed,  may  show  a  voice,  but 
it  must  give  a  truly  delicate  ear  the  utmost  uneasiness. 
Such  tricks  are  not  music  ;  neither  Corelli  nor  Pergolesi 
ever  permitted  them,  and  they  begin  even  to  be  dis- 
continued in  Italy,  where  *Hey  first  had  their  rise. 

And  now  I  am  upon  th^  bject:  Our  composers  also 
should  affect  greater  simplicity,  let  their  base  clef  have 
all  the  variety  they  can  give  it ;  let  the  body  of  the  music 
(if  I  may  so  express  it)  be  as  various  as  they  please, 
but  let  them  avoid  ornamenting  a  barren  groundwork  ; 
let  them  not  attempt,  by  flourishing,  to  cheat  us  of  solid 
harmony. 

The  works  of  Mr.  Rameau  are  never  heard  without 
a  surprising  effect.  I  can  attribute  it  only  to  this 
simplicity  he  everywhere  observes,  insomuch  that  some 
of  his  finest  harmonies  are  often  only  octave  and  unison. 
This  simple  manner  has  greater  powers  than  is  generally 
imagined ;  and  were  not  such  a  demonstration  misplaced, 
I  think,  from  the  principles  of  music,  it  might  be  proved 
to  be  most  agreeable. 

But  to  leave  general  reflection.  With  the  present  set 
of  performers,  the  operas,  if  the  conductor  thinks  proper, 
may  be  carried  on  with  some  success,  since  they  have  all 
some  merit ;  if  not  as  actors,  at  least  as  singers.  Signora 
Matei  is  at  once  both  a  perfect  actress  and  a  very  fine 
singer.  She  is  possessed  of  a  fine  sensibility  in  her 
manner,  and  seldom  indulges  those  extravagant  and 
unmusical  flights  of  voice  complained  of  before.  Coma- 
oini,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  very  indifferent  actor  ;  has 
a  most  unmeaning  face ;  seems  not  to  feel  his  part ; 
is  infected  with  a  passion  of  showing  his  compass  ;  but 
to  recompense  all  these  defects,  his  voice  is  melodious; 
he  has  vast  compass  and  great  volubility ;  his  swell 
and  shake  are  perfectly  fine,  unless  that  he  continues 


OF  THE  OPERA  IN  ENGLAND  89 

the  ktter  too  long.  In  short,  whate'or  the  defects  of 
his  action  may  be.  they  are  amply  recompensed  by  his 
excellency  as  a  singer ;  nor  can  I  avoid  fancying  that 
he  might  make  a  much  greater  figure  in  an  oratorio, 
than  upon  the  stage. 

However,  upon  the  whole,  I  know  not  whether  ever 
operas  can  be  kept  up  in  England  ;  they  seem  to  bo 
entirely  exotic,  and  require  the  nicest  management 
and  care.  Instead  of  this,  the  care  of  them  is  a8signe<l 
to  men  unacquainte<l  with  the  genius  and  disposition 
of  the  people  they  would  amuse,  and  whose  only  motives 
are  immediate  gain.  Whether  a  discontinuance  of  such 
entertainments  would  be  more  to  the  loss  or  the  advan- 
tage of  the  nation,  I  will  not  take  upon  me  to  determine, 
since  it  is  as  much  our  interest  to  induce  foreigners  of 
taste  among  us  on  the  one  hand,  as  it  is  to  discourage 
those  tnfling  members  of  society  who  generally  compose 
the  operatical  dratnatia  peraonae,  on  the  other. 


ESSAYS. 


BY 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

COLLECTA      REVIRESCUNT. 
The  SECOND  EDITION,  corrcftcd. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  W.  Griffin  in  Catharine-Street. 

MDCCLXVI. 


I 


[Two  'EsMyi-  In  Verac:  'The  Double  Traiwformp'ion '  »n.' 
■  A  Now  Simile  in  the  Manner  of  Swifl  ■  arc  omitted.  They  may  be 
found  ta  the  companion  volume  of  Ooldamith's  Pooma.  The  titles 
to  the  Esaays  have  for  the  moat  part  been  tupplind  from  the  post- 
humous edition  of  1798.  A  thirf  essay  on  '  Beau  Tibbe ',  not  reprinted 
in  Eimy,,  1703  (od.  2,  1788),  wiU  be  found  in  an  Appendix  to  this 
volume.] 


THE  PREFACi; 

different  t.me«,  and  in  different  publicntionH.  The 
pamphlets  m  which  they  were  inserted  being  genemlly 
un«ucc..,:.,  the«,  shared  the  con.mon  fate  without 
»«H,8  mg  the  bookseller's  aims,  or  extending  the  writer  s 
reputafon.    The  nublio  were  too  strenuoufly  employ^ 

w.ththe.rownfollies,  to  be  assiduous  in  estimatingminr 
so  that  niany  of  my  best  attempts  in  this  way  have 
fanen  victims  to  the  transient  topic  of  '.he  times  ;  the 
Ghost  ni  Cock  Lane,  or  the  siege  of  Ticonderago 

But  though  they  have  passed  pretty  silently  into  the 
world,  I  can  by  no  means  complain  of  their  circulation 
T^e  magaz...es  and  papers  of  the  day  hav'c,  indeed, 
been  hberal  enough  in  this  respect.  Most  of  these  essays 
have  been  reguUly  reprinted  tw;.e  or  thrice  a  year,  and 
conveyed  to  the  public   through  the  kennel  of  ;ome 

reprmted,  and  claimed  by  different  parents  as  their  own 
I  have  seen  them  flourished  at  the  beginning  with  praise, 

Ph  -aS  V^",  r'  "'*'•  *'>"  "•""-  °'  fhilantos 
Phi,alethes  PhUalutheros,  and  Philanthropos.  Thes^ 
gentlemer.  have  kindly  sfood  sponsors  to  my  produ^ 
tions ;  and  to  flatter  me  more,  have  always  taken  my 
errors  on  themselves.  ^ 

It  is  time,  however,  at  last,  to  vindicate  my  claims- 
and  as  'He^  entertainers  of  the  public,  as  they  call 
them8e,...s,  have  partly  lived  upon  me  for  -ome  years 
let  me  now  try  if  I  cannot  live  little  upon  myself 
I  would  desire,  m  this  case,  to  imitate  the  fat  man,  whom 


m 


94 


SSSAYS 


I  have  Homewhero  rend  of,  in  a  Hhipwrcck,  who,  when 
the  Hailoni,  prcBiicd  by  famine,  wore  taking  Hliocx  from  hiH 
poKtcriorH  to  »ati»fy  their  hunger,  in(iiiite<l,  with  great 
jUHtice,  on  having  the  finit  out  for  himiiclf. 

Yet  after  all,  I  nnnnot  bo  angry  with  any  who 
have  taken  it  into  their  hoadB,  to  think  that  whatever 
I  write  Ih  worHi  reprinting,  particularly  when  I  conmder 
how  great  a  majority  will  think  it  ncarco  worth  reading. 
Trifling  and  nuperficial  are  terms  of  reproach  that  are 
easily  objected,  and  that  carry  an  air  of  penetration 
in  the  observer.  These  faults  have  boon  objected  to  the 
following  essays;  and  it  must  be  owned,  in  gome 
measure,  that  the  cha^  is  true.  However,  I  could  have 
made  them  more  metaphysical,  had  I  thought  fit ;  but 
I  would  ask  whether,  in  a  short  essay,  it  is  not  necessary 
to  be  superficial  ?  Before  we  have  prepared  to  enter 
into  the  depths  of  a  subject,  in  the  usual  forms,  we  have 
got  to  the  bottom  of  our  scanty  page,  and  thus  lose  the 
honours  of  a  victory,  by  too  tedious  a  preparation  for 
the  combat. 

There  is  another  fault  in  this  coUec'  jn  ..t  trifles, 
which,  I  fear,  will  not  be  so  easily  pardoned.  Xt  will  be 
alleged,  that  the  humour  of  them  (if  any  be  found)  is 
stale  and  hackneyed.  This  may  be  true  enough  as 
matters  now  stand,  but  I  may  with  great  truth  assert, 
that  the  humour  was  new  when  I  wrote  it.  Since  that 
time,  indeed,  many  of  the  topics  which  were  first  started 
here,  have  been  hunted  down,  and  many  of  the  thoughts 
blown  upon.  In  fact,  these  Essays  were  considered  as 
quietly  I.  .id  in  the  grave  of  oblivion  ;  and  our  modem 
compilers,  like  sextons  and  executioners,  think  it  their 
undoubted  right  to  pillage  the  dead. 

However,  whatever  right  I  have  to  complain  of  the 
public,  they  can,  as  yet,  hcve  no  just  reason  to  complain 
of  me.    K  I  have  written  dull  Essays,  they  have  hitherto 


THE  PREFACE  gg 

treated  them  an  dull  Eimayi..  Thun  far  we  an  at  tcait 
upon  par,  and  until  they  think  fit  to  nmk  me  their 
humble  debtor,  by  praiHe,  I  am  rowjlvcd  not  to  low 
a  gmgle  inch  of  my  Helf-importance.  In»tcad,  therefore, 
of  attempting  to  establish  a  credit  amongst  them,  it  will 
perhaps  be  wiser  to  apply  to  some  m.  ,o  distant  corre- 
spondent ;  and  as  my  drafts  arc  in  some  danger  of  being 
protested  at  home,  it  may  not  be  imprudent,  upon  this 
occasion,  to  draw  my  bills  v  -on  Pbsterity. 


ESSAYS 


ESSAY  I 

IXTRODUCTORY  PAPER 

[Altcml  from  '  Introduction  ■  in  TKc  Bcc.  No.  I] 
Thebe  is  not,  ,x,rhups,  a  more  whim«ical  figure  in 
nature,  than  a  man  of  real  modesty  who  assumpf !?  • 
o  impudence  ;  who.  while  hi.  heart  Latrrtra^etT 
studiesease,  and  affects  good  humour.  In  this  siZttn ' 
however,  every  unexperienced  writer  as  I  a '  «  °4 ' 
himself.  Impressed  with  the  te^rs  of  i^d  ] 
before  which  ,0  is  going  to  appear,  1  1^,  ^'Zt 

iZ^JtTZ    '"''''' ^'''''''^'"^^'^ 

For  my  part,  as  I  was  never  distinguished  for  address 
and  have  often  blunde«d  in  making  my  bow  Tam  at 
a  loss  whether  f«  be  merry  or  sad  on  this  solemn  oecal^ 
Should  I  modestly  decline  all  merit,  it  is  too  prCte 
the  hasty  reader  may  take  me  at  my  word  IfZTT 
other  hand,  like  labourers  in  the  ^ml^ne  t'rall 
humbly  presume  to  promise  an  epitome  of  aH  the  tod 

thmgsthatwereeversaidorwritten,thoser«adeLw 
desire  to  please  may  forsake  me.  * 

My  bookseller,  in  this  dilemma  perceiving  my  em- 

Vou  must  know,  sir,'  says  he,  'that  the  republic  of 
^ters  IS  a  present  divided  into  several  clasps.  One 
writer  excels  at  a  plan,  or  a  title-page  ;  another  works 
away  the  body  of  the  book;  and  L  third  is  a  dab 
at  an  index.  Thus  a  magazine  is  not  the  result  of  any 
single  man  s  industry ;  but  goes  through  as  many  hands 
r.r  r,;  '*'°™  '* '«  «'  ^-  '^^  P" '"-    I  fancy  at  ■ 

E 


98  ESSAYS 

continues  he,  '  I  can  provide  an  eminent  hand,  and  upon 
I  moderate  terms,  t»  draw  up  a  promising  plan  t/3  smooth 
'up  our  readers  a  little,  and  pay  them,  an  Colonel 
I  Chiirtres  paid  his  seraglio,  at  the  rate  of  three  half- 
'  pence  in  hand,  and  three  shillings  more  in  promises.' 

He  was  proceeding  in  his  advice,  which,  however, 
I  thought  proper  to  decline,  by  assuring  him,  that,  as 
I  intended  to  pursue  no  fixed  method,  so  it  was  impossible 
to  form  any  regular  plan  ;  determined  never  to  be 
tedious,  in  order  to  be  logical,  wherever  pleasure  pre- 
sented, I  was  resolved  to  follow. 

It  will  be  improper  therefore  to  palL  the  reader's 
curiosity  by  lessening  his  surprise,  or  anticipate  any 
pleasure  I  am  able  to  procure  him,  by  saying  what  shall 
come  next.  Happy  could  any  effort  of  mine,  but  repress 
one  criminal  pleasure,  or  but  for  a  moment  fill  up  an 
interval  of  anxiety  !  How  gladly  would  I  lead  mankind 
trom  the  vain  prospects  of  life,  to  prospects  of  innocence 
and  ease,  where  every  breeze  breathes  health,  and  every 
sound  is  but  the  echo  of  tranquillity. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  merit  of  his  intentions, 
every  writer  is  now  convinced  that  he  must  be  chiefly 
indebted  to  good  fortune  for  finding  readers  willing  to 
allow  him  any  degree  of  reputation.  It  has  been  remarked, 
that  almost  every  character  which  has  excited  either 
attention  or  pity,  has  owed  part  of  its  success  to  merit, 
and  part  to  an  happy  concurrence  of  circumstances  iii 
Jts  favour.  Had  Caesar  or  Cromwell  exchanged  countries, 
the  one  might  have  been  a  sergeant,  and  the  other  an 
exciseman.  So  it  is  with  wit,  which  generally  succeeds 
more  from  being  happily  addressed,  than  from  its  native 
poignancy.  A  jest  calculated  to  spread  at  a  gaming 
tabic,  may  be  received  with  perfect  indifference  should 
it  happen  to  drop  in  a  mackerel  boat.  We  have  all  seen 
dunces  triumph  in  some  companies,  where  men  of  real 


INTRODUCTORY  PAPER 


1 


99 

performances  for  readerR  of  «  ™  =      .         ^'^"^  ''"' 

are  to  bo  detcrmiiuHl  bv  i„,l„o  u  •  "'^  '"""'» 
of  a  book  f„.„  t.Sf  '^^fu^T'"""'"  *'"  ™""' 
mu«t  acquire  an  onytZ^i^^r'^^r'"''  "'''' 
eloquence  pronu«es  fL,!      .         ■•  "'""  l^'"-'""'«'ve 

natu;e  ^"'  ''""'"■  """""'''y  ™'""rc<I  from 

I  protest  is  more  than  I  know     Th.  ■  '  ^'"^ 

and  am  entirely  out  of  the  seJ  ""  "'— --e, 


100 


ESSAYS 


A  traveller,  in  hm  way  to  Italy,  found  Umself  in  a 
country  where  the  inhabitjintB  had  each  a  large  exoiBS- 
oence  depending  from  the  chin  ;  a  deformity  which  as 
It  was  endemic,  and  the  people  little  used  to  strangers 
It  had  been  t.  e  custom,  time  immemorial,  to  look  upon 
as  the  greatest  beauty.   Ladies  grew  toasts  from  the  size 
of  their  chms,  and  no  men  were  beaux  whose  faces 
were  not  broadest  at  the  bottom.     It  was  Sunday 
a  country  church  was  at  hand,  and  our  traveller  was 
wilhng  to  perform  the  duties  of  the  day.    Upon  his  first 
appearance  at  the  church  door,  the  eyes  of  all  were 
naturally  fixed  upon  the  stranger  ;   but  what  wa«  their 
amazement,  when  they  found  that  he  actually  wanted 
that  emblem  of  bo»uty.  a  pursed  chin.    Stifled'bursts  of 
laughter,  winks,  and  whispers,  circulated  from  visage 
to  visage  ;  the  prismatic  figure  of  the  stranger's  face  was 
a  fund  of  infinite  gaiety.    Our  traveller  could  no  longer 
patiently  continue  an  object  for  deformity  to  point  at 
Good  folks.'  said  he.  '  I  perceive  that  I  am  a  very 
ridiculous  figure  here,  but  I  assure  you  am  reckoned 
no  way  deformed  at  Home." 


ESSAY  II 
THE  STORY  OF  ALCANDER  AND  SEPTIMWS 
Taken  from  a  Byzantine  Historian 
[Altered  from  The  Bee,  No.  I] 
Athens,  long  after  the  decline  of  the  Roman  Empire 
still  continued   the   seat  of  learning,  politeness,   and 
wisdom     Theodoric.  the  r  .trogoth.  repaired  the  schools 
which  barbarity  was  surfering  to  fall  into  decay   and 
continued  those  pensions  to  men  of  learning,  which 
avaricious  governors  had  monopolized. 

In  this  city,  and  about  this  period,  Aloander  and 


ALCANDER  AND  SEPTIMIUS 


101 

Septimius  were  felW  students  together     The  on«  ,k 
moat  subtle  reasonor  nf  »li  n,„  i   *     ''"^-    ^"°  <"»e.  the 

most  eloquenTsZker  in  thn  "^f""'  =  "■"  °"""'  "-« 
adm,>atio\soo„CTa7rillr^^^^^^  F"--  «"»"". 
nearly  equal    and  fh«  '^^    Their  fortunes  were 

Athens  Septimius  came  dJr  ^"'""''^^  -«  °' 
previous  to  this,  placed  his  aff«.fiZ      '«      '       "  '**P 

unable  to  enjoy  any  LLttinn      .T^'"'"''  °'  ''"'"8 
friend    <5««.-    •        ^  sawMaction  without  makinir  his 

sooner  saw  her,  but  hVtas  li«i  '   l^'      P*""'"'  "" 
of  his  mind  in  a^hoTt     ^  ""J"'*'  *'■''  """"tions 

the  physicians  hv  th».         '"enasnip.    The  sagacity  of 

-L^f;r;j^:;rd:=riot°r;^^^^^ 

being  apprised  of  their  discoveT  ^1'  1"^  ^'"''"^«'- 
a  confession  from  the  reluctlt  d^L.ttTf ''  "'"^'=' 


^1 
f1 


102 


ESSAYS 


i   I 


It  would  but  delay  the  narrative  to  descril)c  the 
conflict  between  love  and  friend»hip  in  the  breast  of 
Alcandor  on  this  occasion  ;    it  is  enough  to  say,  that 
the  Athenians  were  at  that  time  arrived  at  such"  refine- 
ment in  morals,  that  every  virtue  was  carrial  to  excess 
In  shcrt,  forgetful  of  his  own  felicity,  he  gave  up  his 
intended  bride,  in  nil  her  charms,  ti  the  voung  Roman 
Ihey  were  married  privately  by  his  connivance,  and  this 
unlooked-for  change  of  fortune  wrought  as  unexpected 
a  change  in  the  constitution  of  the  now  happy  Septimius 
In  a  few  days  he  was  perfectly  recovered,  and  set  out 
with  his  fair  partner  for  Rome.    Here,  by  an  exertion 
of  those  talents  which  he  was  so  eminently  possessed  of 
Septimiua,  in  a  few  years,  arrived  at  the  highest  dignitiei 
of  the  state,  and  was  constituted  the  city  iudce    or 
praetor. 

In  the  meantime  Alcander  not  only  felt  the  pain  of 
being  separated  from  his  friend  and  his  mistress,  but 
a  prosecution  was  also  commenced  against  him  by  the 
relations  of  Hypatia,  for  having  basely  g.ven  up  his 
bnde,  as  was  suggested,  for  money.  His  innocence  of 
the  crime  laid  to  his  charge,  and  even  his  eloquence  in 
his  own  defence,  were  not  able  to  withstand  the  influence 
of  a  powerful  party.  He  was  cast  and  condtuined  to 
pay  an  enormous  fine.  However,  being  unable  to  raise 
so  large  a  sura  at  the  time  appointed,  his  possessions 
were  confiscated,  he  himself  was  stripped  of  the  habit 
of  freedom,  exposed  as  a  slave  in  the  market-place,  and 
sold  to  the  highest  bidder. 

A  merchant  of  Thrace  becoming  his  purchaser, 
Alcander,  with  some  other  companions  of  distress,  was 
carried  into  that  region  of  desolation  and  sterility.  His 
stated  employment  was  to  follow  the  herds  of  an  im- 
perious master,  and  his  success  in  hunting  was  all  that 
vas  allowed  him  to  supply  his  precarious  subsistence. 


ALCANDEB  AND  SEPTIMIUS  108 

Every  morning  waked  hin,  to  a  renewal  oi  famine  or 
toll,  and  every  change  of  seanon  served  but  to  aggravate 
h.8  unsheltered  distress.    After  some  years  of  b^„lage. 
however     an    opportunity    of    escaping    offered;     he 
^mbraced  ,t  with  ardour ;   so  that  travelling  by  night, 
and  odgmg  m  caverns  by  day,  to  shorten  a  long  story 
he  at  last  arrived  i„  Rome.    The  same  day  on  which 
Aieander  arrived,  Septimius  sat  administering  justice  in 
the  forum  whither  our  wanderer  came,  expecting  to  be 
instantly  known,  and  publicly  acknowledged,  by  his 
former  fmnd.    Here  he  stood  the  whole  day  amongst 
the  crowd,  watchmg  the  eyes  of  the  judge,  and  expecting 
to  be  taken  notice  of ;   but  he  was  so  much  altei-ed  by 
» long  succession  of  hardships,  that  he  continued  umioted 
among  the  rest ;    and,  m  the  evening,  when  ho  was 
gomg  up  to  the  praetor's  chair,  he  was  brutally  repulsed 
by  the  attending  lictors.    The  attention  of  the  poor  is 
generally  driven  from  one  ungrateful  object  to  another  ■ 
for  night  coming  on,  he  now  found  himself  under  a 
necessity  of  seeking  a  piace  to  lie  in,  and  yet  knew  not 
where  to  apply.    All  emaciated,  and  in  rags  as  he  was 
none  of  the  citizens  would  harbour  so  much  wretchedness  • 
and  sleeping  in  the  streets  might  be  attended  with 
mtemijition  or  danger  :  in  short,  he  was  oKiged  to  take 
up  his  lodging  in  one  of  the  tombs  without  the  city  the 
usual  retreat  of  guilt,  poverty,  and  despair.     In  this 
mansion  of  horror,  laying  his  head  upon  an  inverted  urn 
he  forgot  his  miseries  for  a  while  in  sleep  ;  and  found,  on 
lus  flinty  couch,  more  ease  than  beds  of  down  can  supply 
to  the  guilty. 

M  he  continued  here,  about  midnight,  two  robbers 
came  to  make  this  their  retreat ;  but  happening  to 
disagree  about  the  division  of  their  plunder,  one  of  them 
stabbed  the  other  to  the  heart,  and  left  him  weltering  in 
blood  at  the  entrance.    In  these  circumstances  he  was 


104 


FSSAYS 


found  next  moming  dead  at  the  mouth  of  the  vault 

WM  spread ,  the  cave  was  examined ;  and  Alcand«r 
being  found,  was  immediately  apprehended  and  accu^ 
of  robbery  and  murder.  The  circumstances  agai'  t  h^ 
were  strong,  and  the  wretchedness  ,f  his  apZ™ '^ 
confirmed  suspicion.  Misfortune  and  he  wereTow  1 
long  acquainted,  that  ho  at  last  becam    l^X.  7f 

taU^l^tSo^dirc^lirt'"  H"'^ 
U.  maice  no  defence  ;  anl'thuSLi'n;  IZ'ZZ:^ 

oept,miU8.  As  the  proofs  were  positive  again=:t  him  and 
he  offered  nothing  i„  his  own  vindication^  the  judge  was 
proceeding  to  doom  him  to  a  most  cruel  a^d  ignoSiZ 
i^LT"  """  """""""  °'  *'«>  ""ititude  w^s  In 
«eally  guilty,  was  apprehended  selline  his  nI„nT, 
and.  struck  with  a  panic,  had  .onfessed^is  cri^l  "  He 

the  ^uel  be  related  ?    Alcander  was  acquitted  "^shaS 


105 


ESSAY  III 
ON  HAPPINESS  OF  TEMPER 

[Altered  from  ■  H.pp.„c«  i„  .  g™t  mea.ur„  d..peudcnt  on  Con.t|. 
tution,"  in  The  Btt,  No.  II] 

wh!!hT  ^  '^T  ""/'"'  """""Wtioua  retirement  in 
which  I  passed  the  earlier  part  of  my  life  in  the  country 
I  cannot  avo.d  feeling  some  pain  in  thinking  that  tho^' 
happy  days  are  never  to  return.    In  that  retreat,  all 
nature  seemed  capable  of  affording  pleasure  ;    I  then 
made  no  refinements  on  happiness,  but  could  be  pleased 
with  the  most  awkward  efforts  of  rustic  mirth  ,  thought 
oross-purposes  the  highest  stretch  of  human  wit ;   and 
•luestions  and   commands   the   most   rationul   way  of 
spending-  the  eyening.     Happy  could  so  charming  an 
Illusion  s^ill  continue  !    I  find  that  age  and  knowledge 
only  contribute  to  sour  our  dispositions.    My  present 
enjoyments  may  be  more  refined,  but  they  are  infinitely 
less  pleasmg.    The  pleasure  the  best  actor  giyes,  can  no 
way  compare  to  that  I  have  received  from  a  country 
wag  who  imitated  a  Quaker's  sermon.     The  music  of 
the  finest  singer  is  dissonance  to  what  I  felt  when  our 
old  dairymaid  sung  me  into  tears  with  '  Joh  ,nv  A.-m. 
S?'  ^*  ^°^  ^''^^^  '•  °'  '  "^^^  ^'""^^y  "^  Barbara 
Writers  of  every  age  have  endeavoured  to  show  that 
pleasure  is  in  us,  and  not  in  the  objects  offered  for  our 
amusement.     If  the  soul  be    happily  disposed,  every 
thing  becomes  capable  of  affording  entertainment  •  and 
distress  will  almost  want  a  name.     Every  occurrence 
passes  in  review  like  the  figures  of  a  procession  ;   some 
may  be  awkward,  others  ill  dressed ;  but  none  but  a  fool 
IS  for  this  enraged  with  the  master  of  the  ceremonies 
1  remember  to  have  once  seen  a  slave  in  a  fortification 
B3 


106 


ESSAVS 


have  danced  but  tha^ro  t«„tS'ltL    '  )"  """«'  *°'"'' 

P«otioal  phillpheri,  he™  f  f  ™'""-  ^*""  » 
•upplied  philosophy  ZZ:J  "'^^  constitution 
of  wiadom.  he  waa  ^ally  wlU  vf„"t'»'"8'-^  "«"'»"*«' 
contributed  to  diBenohLTTK  ^° ""<''"8 "'"'"dy had 
Every  thi„gfu«ihl^°£  ..'  ^"""^''"^  »""""'  him. 
and,Thou«f ^e'^tt;;™-     -^^^^^^^ 

*o  e.ciS'  thV  7^'ztih:  rf  T'""«' 

events,  cither  to  themselves  or  nth  \  "'^''"nitous 

affliction  ;  the  whole  woridstTh  ""  'T^  "°  """ 
which  comedies  only  ar^^  aid  'm1  tie  r^'  "" 
heroism,  or  the  rants  of  amhif!  ^  ^"^*'«  "^ 

the  absurdity  ofThe  ^l^J^'lr^S  *°  '^'«''*^" 
Po.gm»nt.  They  feel,  in  short  aSl.  T"  °""* 
own  distress,  or  the  .^mDlainf'/V  .u  °^"''  "*  *''«>■• 
taker,  though  dresliT  b tk  fii'"'  ''  *'"'  ""'»- 
Of  all  the  men  I  ever  read  0/?^'  f""^  "*  "  ^""O""- 
Betz  possessed  this  hIpZ  J  of  '  "'  ''"'""'"  "" 
d^n^.  As  he  was  a  man  of  ll  J"^"  '"  *'""  ^'«^^' 
that  wor«   the   pedantic   i*'"''^' """^ '^^P'^^' all 

wherever  pleasure'^astbetThr   "'   '"'"""'"'y' 
most  to  raise  the  auction  ^t     ^''^.  8'^"«~"y  fo"- 

o^thefair.,.henhefo"undtelrycrCrglTi;r; 


HAPPINEHS  OK  TKMPER 


«ngrie8t  look,  and  he  atlj  foil  fnT  !r        *""'  *"" 
met  deadly  enemy   Card^.l  m  •"•  ''"**""  "'  ^^ 

attempts  to  -PPort ^72^:"^;"—^ 

•ophy.  for  he  pretended  to  neither    H„  '  nl^      J''',''"" 

himself  and  hig  pereeout.^  «.!h  .        ^  '""^''"^  '* 

-)ud«,  fr:::^^^:^^:;^^     ^^^-^^^ 
-t'iorortr  rdei  ::x:;r  r  ■  ■i'- 1- 

humo„'rbecof«byotS„rL"'';:^ 
idiotism-    if  i.  k.     ^  ""^"^'^ '"*°  msensibilitv,  or  even 


IM 


ESSAYS 


,te    ^"  r""''"*«' »""»»"  ^y  'm'tating  the  Hibernian 
«  eot  of    h„  one.  or  the  more  fashionable  cant  of  the 

l„«v  ''"''""«'"'.'""'  »""'"  ^  W"'.    Hi«  inattention  to 
•  hat  all  the  mterco»8ion  of  friends  in  y     avour  wa^ 

SrlT'l   ,'""1""  r*"""*"  '^"'  °"  -  •'"•"'..IIS^ 
The  whole  family,  and  Dick  among  the  number,  gathered 
•round  h.m.    •  I  leave  my  second  «.n,  Andren '  «id  S 
(  .piring  mi«e.|.  '  my  whole  estate,  and  desire  him  to  be 
frugal.     Andrew,  in  a  sorrowful  tone,  as  is  usual  on 
these  occasions,  p^yed  Heaven  to  prolong  hi.  life  and 
health  to  enjoy  .t  ^.imself .    •  I  recommend  Simon,  my 
_  third  son,  to  the  care  of  his  elder  brother,  and  leave  him 
b.«ide  four  thousand  pounds.'      Ah!    father,'  cried 
Hmion  (m  great  affliction  to  be  sure),  'may  Heaven 
Kive  you  life  and  health  to  enjoy  it  yourself.'    At  last 
turning  to  poor  Dick. '  As  for  you.  you  have  always  been 
'  »  /  °18  ;  y«u  "  never  come  to  good  ;  you'll  never  be 
^  nc  ,  ;   I II  leave  you  a  shilling  to  buy  a  halter.'    '  Ah  1 
father,  cries  Dick  without  any  emotion,  '  may  Heaven 
give  you  life  and  health  to  enjoy  it  your-elf.'    This  was 
an  th..  trouble  the  loss  of  fortune  gave  t  -  thoughtless 
mprudent  creature.     Ho,v3ver,  the  tenoerness  of  Z 
uncle  recompensed  the  neglect  of  a  father;    and  my 

cZtf"  T  "^*  °"'^  excessively  good-humoured,  but 
competently  rich. 

Yes,  l^t  the  world  cry  out  at  a  bankrupt  who  appears 
at  a  ball ;  at  an  author  who  laughs  at  the  pub!ic,Xch 
pronounces  him  a  dunce ;  at  a  general  who  H.uite  at  the 
reproach  of  the  vulgar,  or  the  lady  who  Laps  he^  goS 
humour  m  spite  of  scandal;    but  such  is  the  wisest 

cttaZ"  v!»  ""^  "'  "'  '"^"  '^'"'Wy  assume;  it  is 
certainly  a  better  way  to  oppose  calamity  by  dissipation, 
^han  to  take  up  the  arm«  of  reason  or  resolution  t^ 
oppose  It  :   by  the  first  metbo.1,  we  forget  uur  v  series  • 


HAPPINESS  OP  TEMPKR  loo 

by  the  |,»t,  «o  only  oonoo.1  thorn  Imm  othon.  •  h„ 
•truggling  with  misfortune..  «„  .„  Su,  ,^oh"  'Jl 
woun<U  in  the  conflict  ;   but  a  gure  mMh™lT  f 

viotoriou..  i.  by  running  aw.y  °  ""^  '"  '"""'  "" 


ESSAY  IV 
DESCRIPTION  OF  VARIOUS  CLUBS 

ITht  llu,^  Hndy,  October  13,  I-.TO| 

cultivate  a  nearer  acquaintance  ^'       ^  *" 

But,  akhough  Buch  as  have  a  knowledge  of  the  town 
may  easily  class  themselves  with  temper  congenWto 
their  own  ;  a  countryman  who  comes  to  live  i„So^ 
finds  nothing  more  difficult.  With  regard  to  mLT 
ever  tried  With  more  a.iduity,  orTme^^osSrh 
md  fferent  success.  I  spent  a  whole  season  in  the  search 

dunngwhichtimemynamehasbeenenrolledinSes' 
lodges  convocations,  and  meetings  without  numZ  To 
«>me  I  was  introduced  by  a  friend,  to  others  invU^  by 
an  advertisement;  to  these  I  introduced  myself  and 


110 


ESSAYS 


to  those  I  changed  my  „amo  to  gain  admittance.    1„ 
ribbons  to  l^er  complexion,  than  I  to  suit  my  club  to 

rc:='/:it'  ^- '-  °^^""-  -  ^--^  -y-^^^ 

of  Se  Sioit '  ".f  ^■•l"?""  '=°«i"«  <«  town,  was  that 

my  taste  T  ^  \  ^'"'  "."""^  ""^  """^"'y  -'^^d  to 
my  taste  ,  I  was  a  lover  of  mirth,  good  humour  and 
even  sometimes  of  fun,  from  my  childhood 

As  no  other  passport  was  requisite  but  the  payment  of 
two  shillmgs  at  the  door,  I  intro<luced  myselfTilhout 
further  ceremony  to  the  members,  who  were  Zl^ 

hTh      *f '//^  "  '"''"^*  '"  '"'«  hand,  presided  at  the 
head  of  the  table.    I  could  not  avoid,  upon  my  entrance 

dTcovlX?  ''"  '"^  f "  7  Physiognly.  fn  oSto 
discover  that  superiority  of  genius  in  men,  who  had 
token  a  title  so  superior  to  the  rest  of  mankind  I  ex 
peeted  to  see  the  lines  of  every  face  marked  with  stron. 
hinking ;  but,  though  I  had  some  skill  in  this  scVenee 
I  could  for  my  life  discover  nothing  but  a  per^  Z^'' 
fat,  or  profound  stupidity.  simper, 

My  speculations  were  soon  interrupted  by  the  Grind 
who  had  knocked  down  Mr.  Spriggins  for  a  Lg.   1  was 

rt"mtVaf  n"',^  °"^  "'  *••«  -"P-y  whoTt 
next  me  that  I  should  now  see  something  touched  off 

lorn  in  all  its  glory.  Mr.  Spriggins  endeavoured  to 
excuse  h.m^lf  ;  for,  as  he  was  to  act  a  madZand 
a  king.  It  was  impossible  to  go  thi^ugh  the  part  propTrly 
without  a  crown  and  chains.  His  excuses  were  overrS 
by  a  great  majority,  and  with  much  vociferation.   S 

r  i"„    ""''"^  "P  ''''  J«^''-h-n.  and,  instead  o 

Z^'-  "".^   P^rf"™"'  covered  his  brows  with  an 

inverted  Jordan.     After  he  had  rattled  his  cha^  and 


DESCRIPTION  OF  VARIOUS  CLUBS       111 

shookhis  head,  to  thegreatdelightofthewhole  company 
he  began  hi,  song.  As  I  have  heanl  few  young  feUows 
offer  to  sing  ni  company,  that  did  not  expose  themselves, 
It  was  no  great  disappointment  to  me   to   find  Mr 

i?rf  ["7'"°"*  ""^  ""'"'^'=  however,  not  to  seem  an 
odd  hsh,  I  rose  from  my  seat  in  rapture,  cried  out, '  Bravo  I 

Encore  !   and  slapped  the  table  as  loud  as  any  of  the  rest 

The   gentleman   who   sat   next   me  seemed   highly 

pleased  with  my  taste,  and  the  ardour  of  my  approbation  • 

and  whispering,  told  me  that  I  had  suffered  an  immense' 

u  \  ?J;  ^  """"^  "  *""■  ""'""t^^  «°oner,  I  might  have 
heard  Gee-ho-Dobbin  '  sung  in  a  tip-top  manner  by  the 
pimple-nosed  spirit  at  the  president's  right  elbow  ■  but 
he  was  evaporated  before  I  came. 

As  I  was  expressing  my  uneasiness  at  this  disappoint- 
ment, I  found  the  attention  of  the  company  employed 
upon  a  fat  figure,  who,  with  a  voice  more  rough  than  the 
Staffordshire  giant's,  was  giving  us,  '  The  Softly  Sweet 
m  Lydian  Measure,'  of  AUmnder's  Feasl.    After  a  short 
pause  of  admiration,  to  this  succeeded  a  Welsh  dialogue 
with  the  humours  of  Teague  and  Taffy:  after  that,  came 
on    Old  Jackson  ',  with  a  story  between  every  stanza  • 
next  was  sung  '  The  Dust-cart  ',  and  then  '  Solomon's 
hong  .     The   glass    began    now    to    circulate    pretty 
freely  ;   those  who  were  silent  when  sober,  would  now 
be  heard  in  their  turn  ;   every  man  had  his  song,  and 
he  saw  no  reason  why  ho  should  not  be  heard  as  well 
as  any  of  the  rest  :    one  begged  to  b<.,  heard  while  he 
gave    Death  and  the  Lady  '  in  high  taste  ;  another  sung 
to  a  plate  which  he  kept  trundling  on  the  edges  ;  nothing 
was  now  heard  but  singing  ;  voice  rose  above  voice,  tUl 
tho  whole  became  one  universal  shout,  when  the  landlord 
came  to  acquaint  the  company  that  the  reckoning  was 
drank  out.    Rabelais  calls  the  moments  in  which  a  reck- 
oning IS  mentioned,  the  most  melancholy  of  our  lives  • 


112 


ESSAYS 


a  president  chosen  for  the  night  ensuing 

exactly.  '  We  h^v^l  T\L  ^  ""'^  "^  "^  ^^^Per 
'J--       we  nave,  at  the  Muzzy  Club  '  sftv»  1,«   <„ 

riotous  mirth,  nor  awkur«r,1  ,iK  m  •^      ®'    "° 

'  bawlin»       II  •        ''""^'^ard  ribaldry ;  no  confusion  or 

bawling ;   all  is  conducted  with  wisdom  and  decencv 

At  seven  o'clock  I  was  accordinriy  introd.,«.rI  w 


DESCRIPTION  OF  VARIOUS  CLUBS       II3 
In  this  pleasing  speonJation  I  continued  a  full  h«.f 

^oZi:Z^^  7:f  --y,**-  the  pipeLsS 

as  pnisible,  observed  that  th«  T.  '  [  '^  "'  *'^ 
a  lit.,  eoollsh  at  tlis  ttae^T^ltr  ThTafit^^ 
directed  to  none  of  t»,„  „  •  '  **  '*  ''*« 

whom  I  observed    that  tho  t^  '    *" 

my  neighbour  ,„ade  no  reply    but"b:  "T""'  '7"  = 
tobacco-smoke  ^^'  ^  "  ''"'8«  P^^  "f 

m.S    .'  »«l«l«i"g.     To  Ihl.  tlub  |„  ,TO>« 

e;  K"iz':sr''  '°^  ™"'-  -"•  -  ■»  «-'i 

of  the  daj,  drank  each  other's  healths,  snuffed  the 


114 


ESSAYS 


candles  with  our  fingers,  and  filled  our  pines  from  <J, 

telling  a  better  st„m,^f         u,      ^  **™^  *""«'  '"'as 
could'do  anSnf^A  2m"  ""*  "'*''  """"^  "e 

leather   brZhe"  at  f^fr       1  '"  "  '"'«'''  '^'g  ""^ 
ureecnes,   at  t  other   end   of   fho   foKi„ 

to  the  concert,  there  were  seveml  n*l.o».    i     ■    "^  ^ 
parts  by  themselves,  Td  elX  ;:XtTsr"- 
some  luckless  neighbour's  ear    Jh?  ^  I  "  °" 

ui»n  the  same  des^na^LT^e-oVer  """""  •*"' 

loudeet  voice  anH  tl,o  i„        x  ^  °^*  "ad  the 

K  voice,  ana  the  longest  story  to  tell  so  thaf  »,;. 

contmumg  narrative  filled  every  chTsm  i^Ll^Ir^^ 

Smokeum,  you  k^ow^J^f^r  *°  '"^'  **^  "^'^^ 

J-  u  Know  mere  is  no  man  upon  the  face  of 


DESCRIPTION  OF  VARIOUS  CLUBS       II5 
the  yearth  for  whom  I  have  so  hiirh         A  a 

or  another  ;  and  none  but  a  ghost,  you  know,  gentlemen 

upon  all  his  posterity,  by  simply  barely  tasting 

&.ur  grapes,  as  the  fox  said  once  when  he  c^^ld  not 
thai  w  I'ral  "'  '."•  '■"  *^"  ^""  -^  «*-y  -*'""';«* 

!nnl!^W^^^  ^""  ''"'^*  y°"'  ^'•^^^  *'tt  I„Ugbing  •  A  fox 

once--WiU  nobody  listen  to  the  song-l"  is  I  was 

muX^  ^'^   ^^°   ^^°'''   gentlemen,    can    be 

^^^  life"  fl  '""■  '■''''^  '^"^  ^^'  °-  «host  killed 
m  '^U  ™y  We,  and  that  was  stabbed  in  the  belly  with 

a        My  blood  and  soul  if  I  don't Mr.  ZZ, 

mender,  I  have  the  honour  of  drinking  your  ve^  Zl 
health— Blast  me  if  I  do— dam-blood-bugs-S 
-whizz— bhd-tit— rat— trip  ■ ^ 

Were  I  to  be  angry  at  men  for  being  fools  1  could 
here  find  ample  room  for  declamation;  but  ak  1 
I  have  been  a  fool  myself  ;  and  why  shou  d  it  anty 
with  them  for  '  somef  hi    - .,.  ^  *      1  .  ^^ 

of  humanity  ?  "  '"  "''*"™'  '"  '^'''y  "^il  J 

Fatigued   with   mis  society,  I   was  introduced,  the 


116 


E88a.iti 


following  night,  to  a  club  of  faahion.  On  taking  mv 
P^ace  found  the  co„ve«atio„  sufflcionUy  et?,nd 
tolerab  y  good-natured  ;  lor  n,y  bid  and  sl  pZ'^e^ 

fitted  and  resolving  to  seek  no  farther,  determined 
to  take  up  my  residence  hen,  for  the  winte^  ;  whire  mv 

I  saw  diffused  on  every  faee  in  the  room  :    but  the 

tf^Tr^ZT""'"'  "''^"  ''"'  -itercame  to  appSe 
us  that  his  lordship  and  Sir  Paul  we™  just  arrived^ 

From  this  moment  all  our  felicity  was  at  an  end  • 

our  new  guests  bustled  into  the  room    and  to^k  th    ' 

seats  at  the  head  of  the  Ub.e.    Adieu  no;:"^^^ 

every  creature  strive   who   should   most  recommend 

himself  to  our  members  of  distinction.     EaTrm^ 

ZT  ^'''^r  °'  P'*"*«"'«  ''"y  •>"*  "«  new  gTe^tr^ 
and.  wh»  before  wore  the  appearance  of  friendsWp  wL' 
now  turned  into  rivalry.  ^ 

.JV  """'''  ""'  "^'""^  *''^*'  ''■"'''«'  «"  this  flattery 

of  the  rest  of  the  company.  Their  whole  discourse  was 
addr.^  to  each  other.  Sir  Paul  told  his  "Up 
a  bug  Story  of  Moravia  the  Jew ;  and  his  lordship  gave 
Sir  Paul  a  very  long  account  of  his  new  method  of 
managing  silkworms  :  he  led  him,  and  consequemly  the 
rest  of  the  company,  through  all  the  stages  of  feeding 

trees.  a  digression  upon  grass-seeds,  and  a  lone  paren 

hesis  about  his  new  postilion.     In  this  maLerwe 

traveUed  on,  wishing  every  story  to  be  the  last ,  but  2 

'  HiUs  over  hills,  and  Alps  on  Alps  arose  • 
The  last  club  in  which  I  was  enrelled  a  member 
was  a  society  of  moral  philosophers,  as  they  called 
themselves,  who  assembled  twice  a  week,  in  order  to 


DESCRIPTION  OF  VARIOUS  CLUBS       117 

had  kirf  hV  ,  ^^  president  swore  that  he 

Dur  1  tt"*"    °"'"'  ''"''  '"  ^^"'^  ''"  th«  company 
laws,  and  also  the  members,  of  the  societv     Thf 

Pinnt  "°  "^'"'*""  «^'  ^"■"'^  »*f°"'  nine  of  the 

chck,  upon  pam  of  forfeiting  threepence,  to  be  Lnt  bv 
the  company  in  punch.  '^      ^ 

III.  That  as  members  are  sometimes  apt  to  eo  awav 
without  pavme  evnrv  «««„„  u  n  ■*! "  i"  go  away 
l;         ^  \  •'    ='  ®™'7  person  shall  pay  s  xpence  iinnn 

»iMir?™'  T"'  •""  •» «« Th.,  h 


"*  ESSAYS 

be  spent  in  punch       ^*  "P°"  ^"^'"8  '''^P«»'=«  ""'y.  to 

name  ^'  the  ti^^;';^'*'^   "^  -"«  -"andiZ 

Saunders   Mac  Wild,    President 
Anthony  Blewit,  Vice-President, 

"'»  X  marif. 
WiLUAM  TuRPiN,  Secretary. 

ESSAY  V 

rOn  the  U«  „,  U„«„.ge.    Altered  ,„„  r*e  i,..  No.  mj 

aiUes  private,  is  tl^.t  S;  J^irtol '"  Tr 
redressed;  and  that  the  true  use  oTITk^^  *'"'" 
much  to  expre.  our  wantsTtoTon^c^^^^  '^  ""*  «° 

«^:rtr.rurtrr:  :r""--^ 

pleasure  in  increasin/f^.;  P""'  ^^  »«  °'uc^ 

as  the  miser  who  ::f,f^~"'  ""^"  °'  *"«  "•">- 
Nor  is  there  in  thisTnvtv        ^'""''^ '"  '*«  '"««"«'• 

«ty.  seL:t\reftZs"T;t  t  *'^  r-  °' 

benefits,  the  present  should  alwlys^t  s^it^.^t'^f 


ON  THE  USE  OF  LANOUAOE 


119 

something  less  •    whilo  »h!  i  l    '  ""''  ''"'*""< 

-id  to  want  Xd  t  t,l  tT;  ii  r";  r  •*  '""^ 
bis  warmest  solicitation"      '^  ^"*'""«  «'«""''' 

anf  irs"::.  1 1  r  ""^  '^°'"''  -"" "-  •'"'^  '•'^  "i- 

wnen  a  mans  circumstances  arc  such  th«i  h^\ 
occasion  to  borrow  h«  fin^  !.  *'  ^  ''*''  "o 

but,  should  krwaistr^™ !"'"'"« *°''"^'^'"  : 
it  is  two  to  oL  whit  r  "'^^  ^"^^  '"'  "  *"««. 
-allest  sum.  Tc^lt  y  ung^lTowthom  T^  *'^ 
whenever  he  had  occasion  to  ask  hk  Wend  fo^„  "'' 

used  to  prelude  his  request  a«  if  L        .  ^  *  *^**' 

and  talked  so  familTarly  of  ul  """'^'l '*°  *»«dred  ; 
ever  think  he  wantSi  L  ,S:  ^"xZ  *''*  "°"^  """''' 
whenever  he  wanted  creZ  f  ^''^  f™^  gentleman. 

«ade  the  pr^pos^Hn  a"  ii^at";? hf/'^A  ^^^^ 
Perience,  that,  if  he  appeared  ZL        t  ^°""''  ^^  ^"^ 

-  ~-^  nS  s  .r^s;:  ;rr  r "  -  •"  "'■ 

r         ".u  F'l-y,  ana  oy  this  means  reliof  ■  K.,*  i„« 
a  poor  man  nrvcna  ;„•    „■  j  .  '"'"""' ""'"  ,  but  before 


120 


ESSAYS 


and  it  is  Impositiblo  that  both  can  reside  in  any  breast 
for  tho  NmalloHt  space,  without  imimirinf;  each  other. 
KriondMhip  ix  nmdo  up  of  cHtocm  and  pluuHure  ;  pity  ig 
composed  of  sorrow  and  contempt ;  the  mind  may, 
for  some  time,  fluctuate  between  them,  but  it  can  never 
entertain  both  at  once. 

In  fact,  pity,  though  it  may  often  relieve,  is  but,  at 
best,  a  short-lived  passion,  and  seldom  affords  distress 
more  than  transitory  assistance  ;   with  some  it  scarce 
lasts  from  the  first  impulse  till  the  hand  can  he  put  into 
the  pocket ;  with  others,  it  may  continue  for  twice  that 
space  ;  and  on  some  of  extraordinary  sensibility,  1  have 
seen  it  operate  for i half  an  hour  together:    but  still, 
last  as  it  may,  it  generally  produces  but  beggarly  effects  ; 
and  where,  from  this  motive,  wo  give  five  farthings, 
from  others  we  give  pounds.    Whatever  bo  our  feelings 
fro"!  the  first  impulse  of  distress,  when  the  same  distress 
solicits  a  second  time,  we  then  feel  with  diminished  sensi- 
bility ;  and,  like  the  repetition  of  an  echo,  every  stroke 
becomes  weaker ;  till  at  last  our  sensations  lose  all  mix- 
ture of  sorrow,  and  degenerate  into  downright  contempt. 
These   speculations   bring  to   my  mind  the  fate  of 
a  very  good-natured  fellow,  who  is  now  no  more.    He  was 
bred  in  a  compting-house,  and  his  father  dying  just  as 
he  was  out  of  his  time,  left  him  a  handsome  fortune  and 
many  friends  to  advise  with.    The  restraint  in  which  my 
friend  had  been  brought  up,  had  thrown  a  gloom  upon 
his  temper,  which  some  regarded  as  prudence  ;    and, 
from  such  considerations,  he  had  every  day  repeated' 
offers  of  friendship.    Such  as  had  money,  were  ready  to 
offer  him  their  assist^..    3  that  way  ;  and  they  who  had 
daughters,  frequently,  in  the  warmth  of  affection,  advised 
him  to  marry.    My  friend,  however,  was  in  good  circum- 
stances ;  he  wanted  neither  money,  friends,  nor  a  wife, 
and  therefore  modestly  declined  their  proposals. 


ON  THE  UCE  OF  LANGUAGE 


.  121 

oome  errorH,  however    in   »»,« 
affairH.  „„,l  ^yJuoZ:.   n  tl  !l  """""««■"«•»'  °f  '"« 

that  it  ^7i:^:'zt;!tw"^^''  r  .'"■"  ^""""''"-•• 

he  Icn,...  ™  -^  ""**  fnendHhip,  at  a  time  wh<  n  perhai)- 
ne  kiiev/  thoTO  offew  would  have  bee..  ~».,  i  '• '"'^'"'i'"' 
therefor,,  confident  of  not  JnH.,  ,""  '  '^"'""'"• 
the  use  of  a  hund„.I  gu"!^^"  .  /  '^'  ""  ""»"''«'«' 
then  ha<I  occasion  forTonev  '  An  l"  'V, '"'  ^""^ 
the  scrivener,  'do  you  vTnt  ,11  tt  '"""''•  '^"'  '*P"^"' 
'  it.  Sir!  •  says  the  other     "f  l"  id '^  T""^  •  '/  '"^""^ 

;-"^:r;t;o'^T^"^^^'-- 

'  not  uLl  wit  hots  go"?"^  "  ""'"'  ^  "  ^'-'  « '«' "- 

Not  quite  disconcerted  by  this  r^f„<.„i 
was  resolved  to  apply  to  TnothLl'   ? '"'''""'"«"■ 

the  very  best  friendlVadS  ;.;'"' tJ^  ''T  '^- 
whom  he  now  addressci   J„7    Tu         ^he  gentleman 

the  affability  tl^^^hTX^'^JTr'  ^'''  "" 
friendship.    'Letm«««,^         expected   from  generous 

'and  pray  deir  jLT^T/""*  "" '"""'"'^  K"'"^''^  = 
'you  haCe  but  fif.  ,  '  *°"''^  ""'  "^'y  '"««■«'  '  •  '  If 
'  Fif"y  to  spar^  f /d     T"'  'V^'  '  ""'^'  **  -"'^-ted" 

•  but'tLTabo  L  ;r-  %£'/" '  "^'r '  '"'- 

'o.;he.  thirty  f.m  sle  oth^r  frij"'.  ^J"  *''! 

replied  the  friend,  'would  it  not  1^ ',.     ,  '"'"y' 

'  borrow  the  whoi;  money  f^mtha^o.b"    T'  7^  *" 

then  one  no,.    .,„  ser^e  fo^  at l^ t„  ^  '  v"' 

-"-.  m,  dear  .Si,  that  you  need    ,alete.mon°; 


122 


ESSAYS 


'  with  mo  at  any  timo  ;   you  know  I'm  your  iriond  ; 

'  and  when  you  ohoono  a  bit  of  dinner  or  no Vou, 

'  Tom,  nee  the  gentleman  down.  You  won't  forget  to 
'  dine  with  uh  now  and  then.  Your  very  humble  servant." 
Distressed,  but  not  discouroged,  at  this  treotment, 
he  was  at  last  rcsolvod  to  Hnd  thot  assistance  fiom  love, 
which  ho  could  not  have  from  friendship.  A  young 
lody,  a  distant  relation  by  the  mother's  side,  had  a  fortune 
in  her  own  bonds  ;  and,  as  she  had  already  made  all 
the  advances  that  her  sex's  modesty  would  permit, 
he  made  his  proposal  with  conHdcnco.  Ho  soon,  however,' 
perceived,  that  no  bankrupt  over  found  the  fair  one 
kmd.  Shis  had  lately  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  another, 
who  had  more  money,  and  the  whole  neighbourhood 
thought  it  would  be  a  match. 

Every  day  now  began  to  strip  my  poor  friend  of  his 
former  finery  ;   his  clothes  flew,  piece  by  piece,  U>     .a 
pawnbroker's,  and  he  seemed  at  length  equipped  in  the 
genuine  livery  of  misfortune.     But  still  he  thought 
himself  secure  from  actual  necessity  ;    the  numberless 
invitations   he   had   received   to  dine,  even   after   his 
losses,  were  yet  unanswered;    ho  was  therefore  now 
resolved  to  accept  of  a  dinner,  because  he  wanted  one  ; 
and  in  this  manner  he  actually  lived  among  his  friends 
a  whole  week  without  being  openly  affronted.    The  last 
place  I  saw  him  in  was  at  a  reverend  divine's.    He  had, 
as  he  fancied,  just  nicked  tho  time  of  dinner,  for  he  came 
in  as  the  cloth  was  laying.     He  took  a  chair  without 
being  desired,  and  talked  for  some  time  without  being 
attended  to.     He  assured  the  company,  that  nothing 
procured  so  good  an  appetite  as  a  walk  in  the  Park, 
where  ho  had  been  that  morning.     He  went  on,  and 
praised  the  figure  of  the  damask  table-cloth  ;  talked  of 
a  feast  wherv.  he  had  been  the  day  before,  but  that  the 
venison  w.'»3  overdone.     But  all  this  procured  him  no 


ON  THE  USE  OP  LANGUAGE  123 

Invitation:    fimlinR   thcrcfoit.   the   Kontlemnn   of   iho 
hoUHc  mH..nHiblo  t..  all  hin  fetch-H,  hf  fhouZ  Pn..^ 

whetheratthe«„,,-rnaor.St.GileHXmigTtVte«i 
to  «dv«o  „»  „  We„,l,  ..over  .^m  to  want  th^favl^j 

vanity,  from  self-interest,  or  from  avarice    but  from 
compassion  never.    The  very  eloquence  of  a  p^r  man 
.H  chsgustmg  ;  and  that  mouth  wWch  is  opened^,  cnbv 
o7f  5r """"  "'^"^  ^  "•-  withoSeir.^ 
To  y^ara  off  the  gripe  of  Poverty,  you  must  pn,tend 
to  be  a  stranger  to  her,  and  «he  ,ill  at  least  use  you 
with  ceremony.    If  you  be  caught  dining  uponThllf 
trwhor'"""'  "'  '^""'"•"'P  ""«>   Potat!!^s,   pJai 
ooserve   that  Dr.   Cheyne  has  prescribed   pease-broth 
for  the  gravel  ;   hint  that  you  are  not  one  of'ThL  who 
a^  ahvays  making  a  deity  of  your  belly.    If,  IgZ  you 
are  obhged  to  wear  flimsy  stuff  in  the  mids    oHnter 
be  the  fi,«t  to  remark,  that  stuffs  an,  very  much  wor^' 
at  Pans  ;  or  if  thete  be  found  some  irrepararellc^ 

bVaXartlnr '''"«*'■  ^'"'''^  ~^'»  ™^<^ 
Z'    that  t.  .h    ^    ^*  ""''"-legged,  coaxing,  or  darning, 

^r;  ond  Th  ^Z  ""'  ^'""«"'  «'^«°»  «e«'  ever 
S  or  Sen.  '•  I'  ^°"  "^  '^  Philosopher,  hint  that 
assurth:  ""^  '^  *"''""  y°»  "''°<"'«  to  e^Plov  • 

aw.  .     ""■"P""^  *■""*  "■""  ""ght  to  be  content  with 

L^fo,!!rrf'"T  *'"*  ""*  '"  «"  ■""«''  ''«  pride 
waM  formerly  h>s  sha.ne.     In  short,  however  caught' 

never  g.ve  out;    but  ascribe  to  the  frugality  of  /our 


124 


ESSAYS 


disposition  what  others  might  be  apt  to  attribute  to 
the  narrowness  of  your  ciroumstancec.  To  be  poor,  and 
to  geem  poor,  is  a  certain  method  never  to  rise  :  pride  in 
the  great  is  hateful  ;  in  the  wise  it  is  ridiculous  ;  but 
beggariy  pride  is  a  rational  vanity  which  I  have' been 
taught  to  applaud  and  excuse. 


ESSAY  VI 

[On  Generosity  and  Justice.    Altered  from  TIte  Bee.  No.  Ill] 

Lysippus  is  a  man  whose  greatness  of  soul  the  whole 
world  admires.  His  generosity  is  such,  that  it  prevents 
a  demand,  and  saves  the  receiver  the  trouble  and  the 
confusion  of  a  request.  His  liberality  also  does  not 
oblige  more  by  its  greatness,  than  by  his  inimitable  grace 
m  giving.  Sometimes  he  even  distributes  his  bounties 
to  strangers,  and  has  been  known  to  do  good  officen  to 
those  who  professed  themselves  his  enemies.  All  the 
world  are  unanimous  in  the  praise  of  his  generosity ; 
there  is  only  one  sort  of  people  who  complain  of  his 
conduct.    Lysippus  does  not  pay  his  debts. 

It  is  no  dilficult  matter  to  account  for  a  conduct  so 
seemingly  incompatible  with  itself.  There  is  greatnes.s 
m  being  generous,  and  there  is  only  simple  justice  in 
his  satisfying  creditors.  Generosity  is  the  part  of  a  soul 
raised  above  the  vulgar.  There  is  in  it  something  of  what 
we  admire  in  heroes,  and  praise  with  a  degree  of  rapture. 
Justice,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  mere  mechanic  virtue,  only 
fit  for  tradesmen,  and  what  is  practised  by  every  broker 
in  'Change  Alley. 

In  paying  his  debts  a  man  barely  does  his  duty,  and 
It  IS  an  action  attended  with  no  sort  of  glory.  Should 
Lysippus  satisfy  his  creditors,  who  would  be  at  the 


ON  GE^^R()SITV  AVD  JUSTICE  125 

pains  of  fx-lling  it  , .  U,.  w.Ud       Gencresity  is  a  virtue 
of  a  very  different  c.,„p,ex,ou.    It  i«  raised  above  duty 
and,  from  its  elevation,  attraets  the  attention  and  tie' 
praises  of  us  little  mortals  below. 
In  this  manner  do  men  generally  reasort  upon  justiee 

essential  to  the  good  of  society  ;  and  the  other  attracts 
our  esteem,  which  too  frequently  proceeds  fm,nnn 
.n„x,tuosity  of  temper,  rather  directed  ^'17^ 
reason.    Lysippus  is  told  that  his  banker  asks  a  debt  of 

the  latte  f  T  T'  ^^  «"■"" ''  "'"'''"'  hcsitatin^to 
'qu;::rL  a  debt'^'"-^"'^^  -  -  '-«-  «'>-  '^^^  ^--r 

wiJl'thtfm^rf" Tk'  """T  ''"'""^""y  -I-'"*-! 
with  the  import  of  the  word  Justice  :    it  is  commonly 

beheved  to  consist  only  in  a  performance  of  those  dut"es 
to  which  the  laws  of  society  can  oblige  us.  ^^1  aUow 
IS  sometimes  the  import  of  the  woiS,  and  in  tiiis  s  1" 
justice  IS  distinguished  from  equity  but  thelT 
a  justice  still  more  extensive,  and'w^h  can  b^^^how" 
to  embrace  aU  the  virtues  united 
Justice  may  be  defined,  that  virtue  which  impels  us 

Xn  °^*''t"'°'^'  ■*  comprehends  the  practice  of  eveiy 
virtue  which  reason  prescribes,  or  society  should  expecT 
Our  duty  to  our  Maker,  to  each  other,  and  to  ouXs 
are  fully  answered,  if  we  give  them  what  we  owe  them 

all  the  rr^'  ""T'^  ^J"""'"^'  ''  '^^  ""'y  virtue,  and 
aii  the  rest  have  their  origin  in  it 

The  qualities  of  candour,  fortitude,  charity,  and  gener- 

and,  rf  ever  they  deserve  the  title,  it  is  owing  oni; 
to  justice  which  impels  and  directs  them  ^4hout 
such  a  moderator,  candour  might  become  indis  rettn 


126 


ESSAYS 


fortitude  obstinacy,  charity  imprudence,  and  generosity 
mistaken  profusion. 

A  disinterested  action,  if  it  be  not  conducted  by 
justice,  IS,  at  best,  indifferent  in  its  nature,  and  not 
unfrcquently  e  ven  turns  to  vice.  The  expenses  of  society 
of  presents,  of  entertainments,  and  the  other  helps  to' 
cheerfulness,  are  actions  ineri-Iy  indifferent,  when  not 
repugnant  to  a  better  method  of  disposing  of  our  super- 
fluities ;  but  they  become  vicious  when  they  obstruct 
or  exhaust  our  abilities  from  a  more  virtuous  disposition 
of  our  circumstances. 

True  generosity  i,j  a  duty  as  indispensably  necessary 
as  those  imposed  uiK,n  us  by  law.  It  is  a  rule  imposed 
upon  us  by  reason,  which  should  be  the  sovereign  law  of 
a  rational  bemg.  But  this  generosity  does  not  consist  in 
obeying  every  impulse  of  humanity,  m  following  blind 
passion  for  our  guide,  and  impairing  our  cireumstances 
by  present  benefactions,  so  as  to  render  us  incapable 
of  luture  ones. 

Misers  are  generally  characterized  as  men  without 
honour,  or  without  humanity,  who  live  only  to  acoumu- 
^te,  and  to  this  passion  sacrifice  every  other  happiness. 
Ihey  have  been  described  as  madmen,  who,  in  the  midst 
of  abundance,  banish  every  pleasure,  and  make  from 
imaginary  wants  real  necessities.     But  few    very  tew 
correspond  to  this  exaggerated  picture  ;   and,  perhaps' 
there  IS  not  one  in  whom  all  these  circumstances  are' 
found  united.    Instead  of  this,  we  find  the  sober  and  the 
industrious  branded  by  the  vain  and  the  idle  with  this 
odious  appellation ;   men  who,  by  frugality  and  labour 
raise  themselves  above  their  equals,  and  contribute 
their  share  of  industry  to  the  common  stock. 

Whatever  the  vain  or  the  ignorant  may  say,  well 
were  It  for  society  had  we  more  of  these  characters 
amongst  us     In  general,  these  close  men  are  found  at 


ON  GENEROSITY  AND  JUSTICE  127 

last  tho  true  benefactors  of  society.  With  an  avarieiou, 
ma,,  we  seldom  lose  in  our  dealings,  but  too  f:^quemly 
in  our  commorco  with  prodigality  ^ 

A  French  priest,  whose  name  was  Godinot.  went 
or  a  long  fme  by  the  name  of  tho  Griper  He  r^fu!ed 
to   ^heve   the   most   apparent   wretchedness.  a,u      by 

fortune  to"'"^'""'^"*  °'  ''^  ^■'"•'^'''"'  ''«''  the  good 
fortune    to    acq.nre    nnmeuse    «ums   of    money       The 

mhab,t«nts  of  Rheims.  who  were  hi.  fello  ei.ij,f: 
detested  hnn;  „nd  the  p„p,„ace,  who  «eldon  To  ;* 
a  m,.,er,  wherever  he  went,  followe.l  him  with  «houts 
of  contempt.  He  «till,  however,  eonti.med  his  f™ 
smiphc,  y  of  life,  his  amazing  and  unremitte.1  f  ugX 
He  had  long  perc^-.  .d  the  wants  of  the  poor  in  thf  c  tv' 
particularly  in  ..,,...  „„  „,,t„  ,,„,  ^  ^^^  <^^^ 
obliged  to  buy  .  advanced  price ;  wherefore   tZ 

whole  fortune  wh.ch  he  had  been  amalsing,  he  l"d  ou 
man  aqueduct;  by  whichhedid  the  poormoreuseSaTd 
^  ting  service  than  if  he  had  distributed  his  whole 
income  in  chanty  every  day  at  his  door. 

Among  men  long  conversant  with  books  we  too 
^quently  find  those  misplaced  virtues,  of  whi;h  I  have 
b^n  now  complaining.  We  find  the  studious  animal 
«.th  a  strong  passion  for  the  great  virtues,  as  they  are 
mistakenly  called,  and  utterly  forgetful  of  'the  Sa.y 
ones.  The  declamations  of  philosophy  are  generallv 
rather  exhausted  on  those  supereregato'iy  dutfr  hln 
"wtV"  indispensably  necessary,  'a  man,  'thet 
tore,  who  has  taken  his  ideas  of  mankind  from  studv 
a^one,  ,„y  ^„„,^^   .^^^  ^^^  ^^^^^  m  study 

meltmg  at  every  fictitious  distress.  Thus  he  is  induced 
by  misplaced  liberality,  to  put  himself  into  th  indS 
circumstances  of  the  person  he  relieves  ^ 

I  Hhal!  conclude  this  pa,>er  with  the  a.lviee  of  one  of 
the   ancients  to  a  young  man  whom  he   saw  glling 


M 


128 


ESSAYS 


away  all  hia  substance  to  pretended  distress  '  Tf  ;= 
possible,  that  the  person  yo„  relieve  may  tan  hone 

,  man  ;  and  I  know  that  you,  who  reliev7him  are  ^h 
You  see  then,  by  your  generositv,  that  you  rob  a  man 

_  who  ,s  eerta.n^y  deserving,  to  bestow  ft  on  one  who 

^  may  possa,Iy  be  a  «,gue  :  and,  while  you  are  unTust 
.n  rewardmg  uncertain  merit,  you  are  doubly  g„Uty 
by  stnppmg  yourself.'  ^  ^    ^ 


,  ESSAY  VII 
ON  THE  EDUCATION   OF  YOUTH 

[Altered  from  The  Bcc,  No.  VI] 
N.B.  This   treatise  was   published  before  Rousseau's 

deemfd'a  pCt;:  "'  '''  ''~  -^^  -^"  -'  •» 

As  few  subjects  are  more  interesting  to  society   so 

i^n  SToX  S Tifa  S*^--.^" 

ha.  been  treaL  almoin  i^^rL^r-fr 

S  IZ  rtl^  '"^:'^  °°  *''«  advantiesThat 
result  from  .t,  both  to  individuals  and  to  society  and 
have  expaM  in  the  praise  of  what  none  u.^^  ever 
been  so  hardy  as  to  call  in  question  " 

Instead  of  giving  us  fine  but  empty  harangues  unon 

g.ven  us  the  result  of  their  observations  ^thLactt 
Bnnpl.e.ty.  Upon  this  subject,  the  smallest  errors  al 
of  the  most  dangerous  consequence ;    and  the  ZZ 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH  129 
should  venture  the  imputation  of  stupidity  upon  a 
topic,  where  his  slightest  deviations  may  tend  to  injure 
pofitenty.  However,  such  are  the  whimsical  and 
erroneous  productions  written  upon  this  subject  Their 
authors  have  studied  to  be  uncommon,  not  to  bo  just  • 
and,  at  present,  we  want  a  treatise  u,>on  education,  not 
to  tell  us  anything  new,  but  to  explode  the  errors  which 
have  been  mtroduced  by  the  admirers  of  novelty  It 
K  m  this  manner  books  become  numerous  ;  a  desire  of 
novelty  produces  a  book,  mid  other  books  are  required 
to  destroy  this  production. 

The  manner  in  which  our  youth  of  London  are  at 
present  educated,  is,  some  in  free-schools  in  the  city 
but  the  far  greater  number  in  boarding-schools  about 
town^   The  parent  justly  consults  the  health  of  his  child 
and  finds  an  education  in  the  country  tends  to  promote 
tlus,  much  more  than  a  continuance  in  town.    Thus  far 
he  18  right:  if  there  were  a  possibility  of  having  even 
our  free-schools  kept  a  little  out  of  town,  it  would 
certamly  conduce  to  the  health  and  vigour  of,  perhaps 
the  ramd  as  well  as  the  body.     It  may  be  thought 
whimsxcal,  but  it  is  truth  ;  I  have  found,  b,  experience, 
that   they  who   hava   spent  all   their  lives   in  cities 
contract  not  only  an  etfeminacy  of  habit,  but  even  of 
thinking. 

But  when  I  have  said  that  the  boanling-schools  are 
preferable  to  free-schools,  as  being  in  the  country,  this  is 
certamly  the  only  advantage  I  can  allow  them  other- 
wise It  IS  impossible  to  conceive  the  ignorance  of  those 
who  take  upon  them  the  important  trust  of  education 
Is  ^ny  man  unfit  for  any  of  the  professions,  he  finds 
his  last  resource  in  setting  up  a  school.  Do  any  become 
banlmipts  in  trade  they  still  set  up  a  boarding-school 
and  drive  a  trade  .nis  way,  when  all  other.s  fail  •   nay 

or.M™  "o,'"''^  °^  ''"*"''^"-«  ''"'I  ^'^^  -ho  have 


130 


ESSAYS 


turned  schoolmasters  ;  and,  more  surprising  still,  made 
fortunes  in  their  new  profession. 

Could  we  think  ourselves  in  a  country  of  civilized 
people — could  it  be  conceived  that  we  have  a  regard 
for  posterity,  when  such  persons  are  permitted  to  take 
the  charge  of  the  morals,  genius,  and  health  of  those 
dear  little  pledges,  who  may  one  day  be  the  guardians 
of  the  Uberties  of  Europe,  and  who  may  serve  as  the 
honour  and  bulwark  of  their  aged  parents  1  The  car« 
of  our  children,  is  it  below  the  state  '!  Is  it  fit  to  indulge 
the  caprice  of  the  ignorant  with  the  disposal  of  their 
children  in  this  particular  ?  For  the  state  to  take  the 
charge  of  all  its  children,  as  in  Persia  or  Sparta,  might  at 
present  be  inconvenient ;  but  surely,  with  great  ease, 
it  might  cast  an  eye  to  their  instructors.  Of  all  pro- 
fessions in  society,  I  do  not  know  a  more  useful  or 
a  more  honourable  one  than  a  schoolmaster ;  at  the 
same  time  that  I  do  not  see  any  more  generally  despised, 
or  men  whose  talents  are  so  ill  rewarded. 

Were  the  salaries  of  schoolmasters  to  be  augmented 
from  a  diminution  of  useless  sinecures,  how  might  it 
turn  to  the  advantage  of  this  people  ;  a  people  whom, 
without  flattery,  I  may,  in  other  respects,  term  the 
wisest  and  greatest  upon  earth.  But  while  I  would 
reward  the  deserving,  I  would  dismiss  those  utterly 
unqualified  for  their  employment :  in  short,  I  would 
make  the  business  of  a  schoolmaster  every  wf.y  more 
respectable,  by  increasing  their  salaries,  and  admitting 
only  men  of  proper  abiUties. 

It  is  true,  we  have  already  schoolmasters  appointed, 
and  they  have  small  salaries ;  but  where  at  present 
thore  is  only  one  schoolmaster  appointed,  there  should 
at  least  be  two  ;  and  wherever  the  salary  is  at  present 
twenty  pounds,  it  should  be  augmented  to  an  hundred. 
Do  wo  give  immoderate  benefices  to  our  own  instructors, 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH         131 

and  shall  we  deny  even  sulwistenco  to  those  who  inHtruct 
our  children  ?  Every  member  of  society  should  be  paid 
in  proportion  as  he  is  necessary ;  and  I  will  bo  bold 
enough  to  say,  that  schoolmasters  in  a  state  are  more 
necessary  than  clergymen,  as  children  stand  in  more 
need  of  instruction  than  their  parents. 

But  instead  of  this,  as  I  have  already  observed  we 
send  them  to  board  in  the  country  to  the  most  ignorant 
set  of  men  that  can  bo  imagined  ;  and,  lest  the  ignorance 
of  the  master  bo  not  sufficient,  the  child  is  generally 
consigned  to  the  usher.  This  is  commonly  some  poor 
needy  animal,  little  superior  to  a  footman  either  in 
learning  or  spirit,  invited  to  his  place  by  an  advertise- 
ment, and  kept  there  merely  from  his  being  of  a  comply- 
ing disposition,  and  making  the  children  fond  of  him 
•  You  give  your  child  to  be  educated  to  a  slave  '  says 
a  phUosopher  to  a  rich  man  ;  'instead  of  one 'slave 
'  you  will  then  have  two.'  ' 

It  were  well,  however,  if  parents,  upon  f.xing  their 
chi  dren  m  one  of  these  houses,  would  examine  the 
abihties  of  the  usher,  as  well  as  the  master;  for  what- 
ever they  are  told  to  the  contrary,  the  usher  is  generally 
the  person  most  employed  in  their  education.  If,  then 
a  gentleman,  upon  putting  out  his  son  to  one  A  these' 
houses,  sees  the  usher  "disregarded  by  the  master  he 
may  depend  upon  it,  that  he  is  equally  disregarded  by 
the  boys:  the  truth  is,  in  spito  of  all  their  endeavours 
to  please,  they  are  generally  the  laurrhing-stock  of  the 
school.  Every  trick  is  played  upon  the  usher ;  the 
oddity  of  his  manners,  his  dress,  or  his  language  are  a 
fund  of  eternal  ridicule  ;  the  master  himself,  now  and 
then,  cannot  avoid  joining  in  the  laugh  ;  and  the  poor 
wretch,  eternally  resenting  this  ill  usage,  seems  to  live 
m  a  state  of  war  with  all  the  family.  This  is  a  very 
proper  person,  is  it  not,  to  give  children  a  relish  for 


l\ 


132 


ESSAYS 


learning  t  They  must  esteem  learning  very  much,  when 
they  see  its  professors  used  with  such  ceremony.  If  the 
usher  be  despised,  the  father  may  bo  assured  his  child 
will  never  be  properly  instructed. 

But  let  me  suppose,  that  there  arc  some  schools 
without  these  inconveniences,  where  the  masters  and 
ushers  are  men  of  learning,  reputation,  and  assiduity.  If 
there  are  to  be  found  such,  they  cannot  bo  prized  in 
a  state  sufficiently.  A  boy  will  learn  more  true  wisdom 
in  a  public  school  in  a  year,  than  by  a  private  education 
in  five.  It  is  not  from  masters,  but  from  their  equals, 
youth  learn  a  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  the  little  tricks 
they  play  each  other,  the  punishment  that  frequently 
attends  the  commission,  is  a  just  picture  of  the  great 
world,  and  all  the  ways  of  men  are  practised  in  a 
public  school  in  miniature.  It  is  true,  a  child  is  early 
made  acquainted  with  some  vices  in  a  school  ;  but  it  is 
better  to  know  these  when  a  boy,  than  be  first  taught 
them  when  a  man  ;  for  their  novelty  then  may  have  irre- 
sistible charms. 

In  a  public  education  boys  early  learn  temperance  ; 
and  if  the  parents  and  friends  would  give  them  less 
money  upon  their  usual  visits,  it  would  be  much  to 
their  advantage  ;  since  it  may  justly  be  said,  that  a  great 
part  of  their  disorders  arise  from  surfeit, — plua  occidit 
gula  qvam  gladiws.  And  now  I  am  come  to  the  article 
of  health,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  observe,  that  Mr.  Locke 
and  some  others  have  advised  that  children  should 
be  inured  to  cold,  to  fatigue,  and  hardship,  from  their 
youth  ;  but  Mr.  Locke  was  but  an  indifferent  physician. 
Habit,  I  grant,  has  great  influence  over  our  constitutions, 
but  we  have  not  precise  ideas  upon  this  subject. 

We  know,  that  among  savages,  and  even  among  our 
peasants,  there  are  found  children  bom  with  such  con- 
stitutions, tha^  they  cross  rivers  by  swimming,  endure 
w' 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH         133 

cold,  thint,  hunger,  and  want  of  sleep,  to  n  surprising 
degree  ;  that  when  they  happen  to  fall  sick,  they  are 
curcfl  without  thr  h-Ai-  of  metlicine,  by  nature  niono. 
Such  oxampleH  are  .-xdduced  to  perKUiulo  us  to  imitate 
their  manner  of  education,  and  accustom  ourselves 
betimes  to  support  the  same  fatigues.  But  had  these 
gentlemen  considered  first,  how  many  lives  are  lost  in 
this  ascetic  discipline  ;  had  they  considered,  that  these 
savages  and  peasants  are  generally  not  so  long-lived  as 
those  who  have  led  a  more  indolent  life  ;  that  the  more 
laborious  the  life  is,  the  less  populous  is  the  country  : 
had  they  considered  that  what  physicians  call  the 
alamina  vitae  by  fatigue  and  labour  become  rigid,  and 
thus  anticipate  old  age  :  that  the  numbers  who  survive 
those  rude  trials,  bear  no  proportion  to  those  who  die 
in  the  experiment ;  had  these  things  been  properly 
considered,  they  would  not  have  thus  extolled  an 
education  begun  in  fatigue  and  hardships.  Peter  the 
Great,  willing  to  irire  the  children  of  his  seamen  to 
a  life  of  hardship,  ordered  that  they  should  only  drink 
sea-water,  but  they  unfortunately  all  died  under  the 
trial. 

But  while  I  would  exclude  all  unnecessary  labours, 
yet  still  I  would  recommend  temperance  in  the  highest 
degree.  No  luxurious  dishes  with  high  seasoning,  nothing 
given  children  to  force  an  appetite,  as  little  sugared  or 
salted  provisions  as  possible,  though  ever  so  pleasing ; 
but  milk,  morning  and  night,  should  be  their  constant 
food.  This  diet  would  make  them  more  healthy  than 
any  of  those  slops  that  are  usually  cooked  by  the 
mistre'js  of  a  boarding-school ;  besides,  it  corrects  any 
consumptive  habits,  not  infrequently  found  amongst 
the  children  of  city  parents. 

As  boys  should  be  educated  with  temperance,  so  the 
first  greatest   lesson  that  should  be  taught  them  is,  to 


I! 


134 


ESSAYS 


admiro  frugality.  It  18  by  tho  exercise  of  thin  virtue 
alone,  they  can  ever  expect  to  be  useful  memlx-rs  of 
society.  It  is  true,  lectures  continually  repeated  upon 
this  subject,  may  make  some  boys,  when  they  grow  up, 
run  into  an  extreme,  and  become  misers  ;  but  it  were 
well,  had  we  more  misers  than  wo  have  among  us. 
I  know  few  characters  more  useful  in  society  ;  for 
a  man's  having  a  larger  or  smaller  share  of  money  lying 
useless  by  him,  no  way  injures  the  commonwealth; 
since,  should  every  miser  now  exhaust  his  stores,  this 
might  make  gold  more  plenty,  but  it  would  not  increase 
the  commodities  pleasures  of  life  ;  they  would  still 
remain  as  they  u.r  .„  present :  it  matters  not,  therefore, 
whether  men  are  misers  or  not,  if  they  be  only  frugal, 
laborious,  and  fill  the  station  they  hove  chosen.  If 
they  deny  themselves  the  necessaries  of  life,  society  is 
no  way  injured  by  their  folly. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  romances,  which  praise  young 
men  of  spirit,  who  go  through  a  variety  of  adventures, 
and  at  last  conclude  a  life  of  dissipation,  folly,  ond 
extravagance,  in  riches  and  motrimony,  there  should  be 
some  men  of  wit  employed  to  compose  books  that 
might  equally  i.iterest  the  passions  of  our  youth ;  where 
such  an  one  might  be  praised  for  having  resisted  allure- 
ments when  young,  and  how  he,  at  last,  b<.-oame  Lord 
Mayor ;  how  he  was  married  to  a  lady  of  great  sense, 
fortune,  and  beauty :  to  be  as  explicit  as  possible,  the  old 
story  of  Whittington,  were  his  cat  left  out,  might  be  more 
serviceable  to  the  tender  mind,  than  either  Tom  Jones, 
Joseph  Andrews,  or  an  hundred  others,  where  frugality 
is  the  only  good  quality  the  hero  is  not  possessed  of. 
Were  our  schoolmasters,  if  any  of  theiri  have  sense  enough 
to  draw  up  such  a  work,  thus  employe  ,  it  would  be  much 
more  serviceable  to  their  pupils  than  all  the  grammars 
and  dictionaries  they  may  publish  these  ten  years. 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH         135 

Children  should  early  be  inxtructcd  in  the  artH  from 
which  they  may  aftenvardH  draw  the  greatest  advan- 
tages. When  the  wonders  of  nature  are  never  exposed 
to  our  view,  we  have  no  great  desire  to  become  acquainted 
with  those  parts  of  learning  which  pretend  to  account 
for  the  phenomena.  One  of  the  ancients  complains,  that 
as  soon  as  young  men  have  left  school,  and  are  obliged 
to  converse  in  the  worlil,  they  fancy  themselves  trans- 
ported into  a  new  region.  '  Ut  cum  in  forum  vcnerint 
'existimcnt  se  in  alium  tcrrarum  orbem  delates.'  We 
should  early,  therefore,  instruct  them  in  the  experiments, 
if  I  may  so  express  it,  of  knowledge,  and  leave  to 
maturer  age  the  accounting  for  the  causes.  But,  instead 
of  that,  when  boys  begin  natural  philosophy  in  colleges, 
they  have  not  the  least  curiosity  for  those  parts  of  the 
science  which  are  proposed  for  their  instruction  ;  they 
have  never  before  seen  the  phenomena,  and  conse- 
!tiy  have  no  curiosity  to  learn  the  reasons.  Might 
natural  philosophy,  therefore,  be  made  their  pastime  at 
school,  by  this  means  it  would  in  college  bccc.  lo  their 
amusement. 

In  several  of  the  machines  now  in  use,  there  would  be 
ample  field  both  for  instruction  and  amusement  ;  the 
different  sorts  of  the  phosphorus,  the  artificial  pyrites, 
magnetism,  electricity,  the  experiments  upon  the  rare- 
faction and  weight  of  the  air,  and  those  upon  elastic 
bodies,  might  employ  their  idle  hours,  and  none  should 
be  called  from  play  to  see  such  experiments,  but  such 
as  thought  proper.  At  first  then  it  would  be  sufficient 
if  the  instruments,  and  the  effects  of  their  combination, 
were  only  shown  ;  the  causes  should  be  deferred  to 
a  maturer  age,  or  to  .^hose  times  when  natural  curiosity 
prompts  us  to  discover  the  wonders  of  nature.  Mon  is 
placed  in  this  world  as  a  spectator  ;  when  he  is  tired  of 
wondering  at  all  the  novelties  about  him,  and  not  till 


las 


ESSAYS 


then,  does  ho  dcHiro  to  lie  made  acquainted  with  the 
cauMw  that  create  thiiHc  wonderH. 

Wliat  I  have  ohwrvod  with  regard  to  natural  philo- 
Hophy,  I  would  ext<<nd  to  every  other  Hcienco  whatHoever. 
We  Hhould  teaeh  them  aH  many  of  the  fnctH  aH  poHtiible, 
and  defer  the  cuuHeH  until  they  Heomed  of  themselves 
dexirouH  of  knowing  them.  A  mind  thuH  leaving  school, 
stored  with  all  the  simple  experiences  of  science,  would 
be  the  fittest  in  the  world  for  the  college  course  ;  and 
though  such  a  youth  might  not  appear  m>  bright,  or  so 
talkative,  as  those  who  had  learned  the  real  principles 
and  causes  of  some  of  the  sciences,  yet  he  would  make 
a  wiser  man,  and  would  retain  a  more  lasting  passion 
for  letters,  than  ho  who  was  early  burdened  with  the 
disagreeable  institution  of  cause  and  effect. 

In  history,  such  stories  alone  should  be  laid  bcfoi« 
them  as  might  catch  the  imagination  :  instead  of  this, 
at  present,  they  are  too  frequently  obliged  to  toil  through 
the  four  empires,  as  they  are  called,  where  their  memories 
are  burdened  by  a  number  of  disgusting  names,  that 
destroy  all  their  future  relish  for  our  best  historians,  who 
may  be  termed  the  truest  teachers  of  wisdom. 

Every  species  of  flattery  should  be  carefully  avoided  ; 
a  boy  who  happens  to  say  a  sprightly  thing  is  generally 
applauded  so  much,  that  he  sometimes  continues  a 
coxcomb  all  his  life  after.  He  is  reputed  a  wit  at  fourteen, 
and  becomes  a  blockhead  at  twenty.  Nurses,  footmen, 
and  such,  should  therefore  be  dr)"en  away  as  much  as 
possible.  I  was  even  going  to  aud,  that  the  mother 
herself  should  stifle  her  pleasure,  or  her  vanity,  when 
little  master  happens  to  say  a  good  or  a  smart  thing. 
Those  modest  lubberly  boyj  who  seem  to  want  spirit, 
become  at  length  more  shining  men  ;  and  at  school 
generally  go  through  their  business  with  more  ease  to 
themselves,  and  more  satisfaction  to  their  instructors. 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH        137 

There  ha«  of  late  s  gentleman  appeared,  who  thinks 
the  study  of  rhcturio  essential  to  u  iicrfect  education. 
That  bold  male  eloquence,  which  often,  without  pleasing, 
oonvincoH,  is  generally  destroyed  by  such  un  institution. 
Convincing  eloquence  is  infinitely  more  serviceable  to  its 
pootegsor  than  the  most  florid  harangue,  or  the  most 
pathetic  tones  that  can  be  imagined  ;  and  the  nmn  who 
U  thoroughly  convinced  himself,  who  understands  his 
subject,  and  the  language  ho  speaks  in,  will  be  more 
apt  to  silence  opposition  than  he  who  studies  the  force 
of  his  periods,  and  fills  our  cars  with  sounds,  while  our 
minds  are  destitute  of  convict  Inn. 

It  was  reckoned  the  fault  of  the  orators  at  the  decline 
of  the  Roman  empire,  when  they  had  been  long  instructed 
by  rhetoricians,  that  their  perioils  were  so  harmonious, 
that  they  could  be  sung  as  well  an  spoken.  What  a 
ridiculous  figure  must  one  of  these  gentlemen  cut,  thus 
measuring  syllables,  and  weighing  words,  when  he  should 
pU:;ifl  the  cause  of  his  client !  Two  architects  were  once 
caudiaates  for  the  building  a  certain  temple  at  Athens  : 
the  first  harangued  the  crowd  very  learnedly  upon  the 
different  orders  of  architecture,  and  showed  them  in 
what  manner  the  temple  should  be  built ;  the  other,  who 
got  up  after  him, only  observed,  that  what  his  brother  had 
spoken,  he  could  do ;  ond  thus  he  at  once  gained  his 
cause. 

To  teach  men  to  be  orators,  is  little  less  than  to 
teach  them  to  be  poets  ;  and,  for  ray  part,  I  should  have 
too  great  a  regard  for  my  child,  to  wish  him  a  manor 
only  in  a  bookseller's  shop. 

Another  passion  which  the  prewjnt  age  is  apt  to  run 
into,  is  to  make  children  learn  all  things  ;  the  knguages, 
the  sciences,  music,  the  exercises,  and  painting.  Thus 
the  child  soon  becomes  a  Talker  in  all,  but  a  Master  in 
none.  He  thus  acquires  a  superficial  fondness  for  every- 
F3 


138 


ESSAYS 


thing,  and  only  shows  his  ignorance  when  he  attempts 
to  exhibit  his  skill. 

As  I  deliver  my  thoughts  without  method  or  con- 
nexion, so  the  reader  must  not  be  surprised  to  find  me 
once  more  addressing  schoolmasters  on  the  present 
method  of  teaching  the  learned  languages,  which  is 
commonly  by  literal  translations.  I  would  ask  such, 
if  they  were  to  travel  a  journey,  whether  those  parts  of 
the  road  in  which  they  found  the  greatest  difficulties, 
would  not  be  the  most  strongly  remembered  V  Boys 
who,  if  I  may  continue  the  allusion,  gallop  through  one 
of  the  ancients  with  the  assistance  of  a  translation,  can 
have  but  a  very  slight  acquaintance  either  with  the 
author  or  his  language.  It  is  by  the  exercise  of  the 
mind  alone,  that  a  language  is  learned ;  but  a  literal 
translation,  on  the  opposite  page,  leaves  no  exercise  for 
the  memory  at  all.  The  boy  will  not  be  at  the  fatigue 
of  remembering,  when  his  doubts  are  at  once  satisfied 
by  a  glance  of  the  eye  ;  whereas,  were  every  word  to  be 
sought  from  a  dictionary,  the  learner  would  attempt  to 
remember  them,  to  save  himself  the  trouble  of  looking 
out  for  the  future. 

To  continue  in  the  same  pedantic  strain,  of  all  the 
various  grammars  now  taught  in  the  schools  about  town, 
I  would  recommend  only  the  old  common  one  ;  I  have 
forgot  whether  Lilly's,  or  an  emendation  of  him.  The 
others  may  be  improvements  ;  but  such  improvements 
seem,  to  me,  only  mere  grammatical  niceties,  no  way 
influencing  the  learner,  but  perhaps  loading  him  with 
trifling  subtleties,  which,  at  a  proper  age,  he  must  be 
at  some  pains  to  forget. 

Whatever  pains  a  master  may  take  to  make  the 
learning  of  the  languages  agreeable  to  his  pupil,  he 
may  depend  upon  it,  it  will  be  at  first  extremely  un- 
pleasant.   The  nidiments  of  every  language,  therefore, 


ON  THE  EDUCATION  OF  YOUTH         139 

must  be  given  as  a  task,  not  as  an  amusement.  Attempt- 
ing to  deceive  children  into  instruction  of  this  kind, 
is  only  deceiving  ourselves  ;  and  I  know  no  passion 
capable  of  conquering  a  child's  natural  laziness,  but 
fear.  Solomon  has  said  it  before  me  ;  nor  is  there  any 
more  certain,  though  perhaps  more  disagreeable  truth, 
than  the  proverb  in  verse,  too  well  known  to  repeat  on 
the  present  occasion.  It  is  very  probable  that  parents 
are  told  of  some  masters  who  never  use  the  rod,  and 
consequently  are  thought  the  properest  instructors  for 
their  children  ;  but,  though  tenderness  is  a  requisite 
quality  in  an  instructor,  yet  there  is  too  often  the 
truest  tenderness  in  well-timed  correction. 

Some  have  justly  observed,  that  all  passion  should  be 
banished  on  this  terrible  occasion  ;  but,  I  know  not  how, 
there  is  a  frailty  attending  human  nature,  that  few 
masters  are  able  to  keep  their  temper  whilst  they  correct. 
I  knew  a  good-natured  man,  who  was  sensible  of  his 
own  weakness  in  this  respect,  and  consequently  had 
recourse  to  the  following  expedient  to  prevent  his 
passions  from  being  engaged,  yet  at  the  same  time 
administer  justice  with  impartiality.  Whenever  any  of 
his  pupils  committed  a  fault,  he  summoned  a  jury  of  his 
peers,  I  mean  of  the  boys  of  his  own  or  the  next  classes 
to  him  :  his  accusers  stood  forth  ;  he  had  liberty  of 
pleading  in  his  own  defence  ;  and  one  or  two  more  had 
the  liberty  of  pleaduig  against  him  :  when  found  guilty 
by  the  panel,  he  was  consigned  to  the  footman,  who 
attended  in  the  house,  and  had  previous  orders  to  punish, 
but  with  lenity.  By  this  means  the  master  took  off  the 
odium  of  punishment  from  himself  ;  and  the  footman, 
between  whom  and  the  boys  there  could  not  be  even 
the  slightest  intimacy,  was  placed  in  such  a  light  as  to 
be  shunned  by  every  boy  in  the  school. 


140 

ESSAY  vin 

ON  THE  INSTABILITY  OF  POPULAR  FAVOUR 

[Altered  from  The  Bee,  No.  VI] 
An  alehouse-keeper,  near  Islington,  who  had  long 
lived  at  the  sign  of  the  French  King,  upon  the  commence- 
ment of  the  last  war  pulled  down  his  old  sign,  and  put 
up  that  of  the  Queen  of  Hungary.  Under  the  influence 
of  her  red  face  and  golden  sceptre,  he  continued  to  sell 
ale,  till  she  was  no  longer  the  favourite  of  his  customers ; 
he  changed  her,  therefore,  some  time  ago,  for  the  King  of 
Prussia,  who  may  pfobably  be  changed,  in  turn,  for 
the  next  great  man  that  shall  be  set  up  for  vulgar 
admiration. 

In  this  manner  the  great  are  dealt  out,  one  after  the 
other,  to  the  gazing  crowd.  When  we  have  sufficiently 
wondered  at  one  of  them,  he  is  taken  in,  and  another 
exhibited  in  his  room,  who  seldom  holds  his  station 
long  ;  for  the  mob  are  ever  pleased  with  variety. 

I  must  own  I  have  such  an  indifferent  opinion  of  the 
vjilgar,  that  I  am  ever  led  to  suspect  that  merit  which 
raises  their  shout ;  at  least  I  am  certain  to  find  those 
great  and  sometimes  good  men,  who  find  satisfaction  in 
such  acclamations,  made  worse  by  it ;  and  history  has 
too  frequently  taught  me,  that  the  head  which  has 
grown  this  day  giddy  with  the  roar  of  the'  million, 
has  the  very  next  been  fixed  upon  a  pole. 

As  Alexander  VI  was  entering  a  little  town  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Rome,  which  had  been  jfist  evacuated 
by  the  enemy,  he  perceived  the  townsmen  busy  in  the 
market-place  in  pulling  down  from  a  gibbet  a  figure 
which  had  been  designwl  to  represent  himself.  There 
were  some  also  knocking  down  a  neighbouring  statue  of 
one  of  the  Orsini  family,  with  whom  he  was  at  war,  in. 
order  to  put  Alexander's  effigy  in  its  place.    It  is  possible 


THE  INSTABILITY  OF  POPULAR  FAVOUR     141 

a  man  who  knew  less  of  the  world,  would  have  con- 
demned the  adulation  of  those  bare-faced  flatterers  ; 
but  Alexander  seemed  pleased  at  their  zeal;  and,' 
turning  to  Borgia,  his  son,  said  with  a  smile,  '  Vides,  mi 
I  fili,  quam  leve  discrimen  patibulum  inter  et  statuam.' 
'  You  see,  my  son,  the  small  difference  between  a  gibbet 
'and  a  statue.'  If  the  great  could  be  taught  any  lesson, 
this  might  serve  to  teach  them  upon  how  weak  a 
foundation  their  glory  stands  ;  for,  as  popular  applause 
IS  excited  by  what  seems  like  merit,  it  as  quickly 
condemns  what  has  only  the  appearance  of  guilt. 

Popular  glory  is  a  perfect  coquette  ;  her  lovers  must 
toil,  feel  every  inquietude,  indulge  every  caprice  ;  and, 
perhaps,  at  last,  be  jilted  for  their  pains.  True  glory, 
on  the  other  hand,  resembles  a  woman  of  sense  ;  her 
admirers  must  play  no  tricks;  they  feel  no  great 
anxiety,  for  they  are  sure,  in  the  end,  of  being  rewarded 
in  proportion  to  their  merit.  When  Swift  used  to  appear 
m  public,  he  generally  had  the  mob  shouting  in  his 
train.  'Pox  take  these  fools,'  he  would  say,  'how 
'  much  joy  might  all  this  bawling  give  my  Lord  Mayor ! ' 
We  have  seen  those  virtues  which  have,  while  living, 
retired  from  the  public  eye,  generally  transmitted  to 
posterity,  as  the  truest  objects  of  admiration  and  praise. 
Pterhaps  the  character  of  the  late  Duke  of  Marlborough 
may  one  day  be  set  up,  even  above  that  of  his  more- 
talked-of  predecessor ;  since  an  assemblage  of  all  the 
mild  and  amiable  virtues  is  far  superior  to  those 
vulgarly  called  the  great  ones.  I  mist  be  pardoned 
for  this  short  tribute  to  the  memory  of  a  man,  who 
while  living,  would  as  much  detest  to  receive  an^^thing 
that  wore  the  appearance  of  flattery,  as  I  should  to 
offer  it. 

I  know  not  how  to  turn  so  trite  a  subject  out  of  the 
beaten  road  of  commonplace,  except  by  Ulustrating  it. 


142 


ESSAYS 


rather  by  the  assistance  of  my  memory  than  judgement ; 
and,  instead  of  malting  reflections,  by  telling  a  story. 

A  Chinese,  who  had  long  studied  the  works  of  Con- 
fucius, who  knew  the  characters  of  fourteen  thousand 
words,  and  could  read  a  great  part  of  every  book  that 
came  in  his  way,  once  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel 
into  Europe,  and  observe  the  customs  of  a  people  which 
he  thought  not  very  much  inferior  even  to  his  own 
countrymen.  Upon  his  arrival  at  Amsterdam,  his 
passion  for  letters  naturally  led  him  to  a  bookseller's 
slo  ;  and,  as  he  could  speak  a  little  Dutch,  he  civilly 
asiiod  the  bookseller'  for  the  works  of  the  immortal 
Xixofou.  The  bookseller  assured  him  he  had  never 
heard  the  book  mentioned  before.  '  Alas  !  '  cries  our 
traveller, '  to  what  purpose,  then,  has  he  fasted  to  death, 
'  to  gain  a  renown  which  has  never  travelled  beyond 
'  the  precincts  of  China  ! ' 

There  is  soaree  a  village  in  Europe,  and  not  one 
university,  that  is  not  thus  furnished  with  its  little 
great  men.  The  head  of  a  petty  corporation,  who 
opposes  the  designs  of  a  prince  who  would  tyrannically 
force  his  subjects  to  save  their  best  clothes  for  Sundays  ; 
the  puny  pedant,  who  finds  one  undiscovered  property 
in  the  polype,  or  describes  an  unheeded  process  in  the 
skeleton  of  a  mole,  and  whose  mind,  like  his  microscope, 
perceives  nature  only  in  detail ;  the  rhymer,  who  makes 
smooth  verses,  and  paints  to  our  imagination,  when  he 
should  only  sp?ak  to  our  hearts,— all  equally  fancy 
themselves  walking  forward  to  immortality,  and  desire 
the  crowd  behind  them  to  look  on.  The  crowd  takes 
them  at  their  word.  Patriot,  philosopher,  and  poet,  are 
shouted  in  their  train.  '  Where  was  there  ever  so  much 
'  merit  seen  ;  no  times  so  important  as  our  own  ;  ages, 
'  yet  unborn,  shall  gaze  with  wonder  and  applause ! '  To 
such  music  the  important  pigmy  moves  forward,  bustling 


THE  INSTABILITY  OF  POPULAR  FAVOUR     143 

and  swelling,  and  aptly  compared  to  a   puddle  in  a 
storm, 

I  have  lived  to  see  generals  who  once  had  crowds 
hallooing  after  them  wherever  they  went,  who  were 
bepraised  by  newspapers  and  magazines,  those  echoes 
of  the  voice  of  the  vulgar,  and  yet  they  have  long  sunk 
into  merited  obscurity,  with  scarce  even  an  epitaph  left 
to  flatter.  A  few  years  ago  the  herring-fishery  employed 
all  Grub  Street ;  it  was  the  topic  in  every  coffee-house, 
and  the  burden  of  every  ballad.  We  were  to  drag  up 
oceans  of  gold  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea  ;  we  were 
to  supply  all  Europe  with  herrings  upon  our  own  terms. 
At  present,  we  hear  no  more  of  all  this.  We  have  fished 
up  very  little  gold  that  I  can  learn  ;  nor  do  we  furnish 
the  world  with  herrings,  as  was  e.xpected.  Let  us  wait 
but  a  few  years  longer,  and  we  shall  find  all  our  ezpwta- 
tions  an  herring-fishery. 


ESSAY  IX 
SPECIMEN  OF  A  MAGAZINE  IN  MINIATURE 

We  essayists,  who  are  allowed  but  one  subject  at 
a  time,  are  by  no  means  so  fortunate  as  the  writers  of 
magazines,  who  write  upon  several.  If  a  magaziner  be 
dull  upon  the  Spanish  war,  he  soon  has  us  up  again 
with  the  Ghost  in  Cock  Lane  ;  if  the  reader  begins  to 
doze  upon  that,  he  is  quickly  roused  by  an  Eastern  tale  ; 
tales  prepare  us  for  poetry,  and  poetry  for  the  meteoro- 
logical history  of  the  weather.  The  reader,  like  the 
sailor's  horse,  when  he  begins  to  tire,  has  at  least 
the  comfortable  refreshment  of  having  the  spur 
changed. 

As  I  see  no  reason  why  these  should  carry  off  all  the 
rewards  of  genius,  I  have  some  thoughts,  for  the  future, 


144 


ESSAYS 


of  making  my  Essays  a  magazine  in  miniatuiu :  I  shall 
hop  from  subject  to  subject ;  and,  if  properly  en- 
couraged, I  intend  in  time  to  adorn  my  feuiUe  vdtanU 
with  pictures,  coloured  to  the  perfection.  But  to  begin, 
in  the  usual  form, 

A  MODEST  Address  to  the  Public  in  Bbhau  of  the 
Infernal  Magazine. 

The  public  has  been  so  often  imposed  upon  by  the 
unperforming  promises  of  others,  that  it  is  with  the 
utmost  modesty  we  assure  them  of  our  inviolable  design 
to  give  the  very  bes^  collection  that  ever  astonished 
society.  The  public  we  honour  and  regard,  and  therefore 
to  instruct  and  entertain  them  is  our  highest  ambition, 
with  labours  calculated  as  well  to  the  head  as  the  heart. 
If  four  extraordinary  pages  of  letterpress  be  any  recom- 
mendation of  our  wit,  we  may  at  least  boast  the  honour 
of  vindicating  our  own  abilities.  To  say  more  in  favour 
of  the  Infernal  Magazine,  would  be  unworthy  the 
Public  ;  to  say  less,  would  be  injurious  to  ourselves.  As 
we  have  no  intere.steJ  motives  for  this  undertaking, 
being  a  society  of  gentlemen  of  distinction,  we  disdain  to 
eat  or  write  like  hirelings  ;  we  are  all  gentlemen,  and 
therefore  are  resolved  to  sell  oiir  magazine  for  sixpence 
merely  for  our  own  amusement. 

Be  careful  to  ask  for  the  Infernal  Magazine. 


Dedication  to  the  Tripolinb  Ambassador. 
May  it  please  your  Excellency, 

As  your  taste  in  the  fine  arts  is  universally  allowed 
and  admired,  permit  the  authors  of  the  Infibnal 
Magazine  to  lay  the  following  sheets  humbly  at  your 
Excellency's  toe ;  and,  should  our  labours  ever  have 
the  happiness  of  one  day  adorning  the  courts  of  Fez,  we 


SPECIMEN  OF  A  MAGAZINE 


145 


doubt  not  that  the  influence  wherewith  we  are  honoured, 
shall  be  ever  retained  with  the  most  warm  ardour,  by, 
May  it  please  your  excellency. 

Your  most  devoted  humble  servants. 

The  Authors  of  the  Infernal  Magazine. 

A  Speech  spoken  in  the  Political  Club  atCatbaton 

NOT  TO   DECLARE  WaB   AOAINST  SpAIN. 

My  honest  friends  and  brother  politicians ;  I  perceive 
that  the  intended  war  with  Spain  makes  many  of  you 
uneasy.  Yesterday,  as  we  were  told,  the  stocks  rose, 
and  you  were  glad  ;  to-day  they  fall,  and  you  are 
again  miserable.  But,  my  dear  friends,  what  is  the  rising 
or  the  falling  of  the  stocks  to  us,  who  have  no  money  Y 
Let  Nathan  Ben  Funk,  the  Dutch  Jew,  be  glad  or  sorry 
for  this  ;  but,  my  good  Mr.  Bellows-mender,  what  is  all 
this  to  you  or  me  ?  You  must  mend  broken  bellows, 
and  I  write  bad  prose,  as  long  as  we  live,  whether  we 
like  a  Spanish  war  or  not.  Believe  me,  my  honest 
friends,  whatever  you  may  talk  of  Uberty  and  your  own 
reason,  both  that  liberty  and  reason  are  conditionally 
resigned  by  every  poor  man  in  every  society  ;  and,  as 
we  are  bom  to  work,  so  others  are  bom  to  watch  over 
us  while  we  are  working.  In  the  name  of  common 
sense  then,  my  good  friends,  let  the  great  keep  watch 
over  us,  and  let  us  mind  our  business,  and  perhaps 
we  may  at  last  get  money  ourselves,  and  set  beggars  to 
work  in  our  turn.  I  have  a  Latin  sentence  that  is  worth 
its  weight  in  gold,  and  which  I  shall  beg  leave  to  translate 
for  your  instruction.  An  author,  called  Lilly's  Grammar, 
finely  observes,  that '  Aes  in  praesenti  perfectum  format ; ' 
that  is,  '  Ready  money  makes  a  man  perfect.'  Let  us, 
then,  to  become  perfect  men,  get  ready  money ;  and 
let  them  that  will,  spend  theirs  by  going  to  war  with 


146 


ESSAYS 


RULBS    FOB    BeHAVIOCE    DRAWN    UP    BY    AN   InDIOENT 

Philosophbr. 

thlL^rJH  "  ""''  *"""'  y""  ""y  ""»«'  'he  room  with 
three  loud  hems,  march  deliberately  up  to  the  chL-^ney 
and  turn  your  ba,  '.  to  the  fire.  If  you  be  a  poor  man 
I  would  advise  you  to  shrink  into  the  room^fast  as 
you  can,  and  place  yourself,  as  usual,  upon  the  comer  of 

home  chair  m  a  comer. 

When  you  are  desired  to  sing  in  company,  I  would 

advse  you  to  refuse.    It  is  a  thousand  to  one  but  that 

you  torment  us  with , affectation,  ignorance  of  music 

or  a  bad  voice.    This  is  a  very  good  rule 

If  you  be  young,  and  live  with  an  old  man,  I  would 

Don't  laugh  much  in  public  ;  the  spectators  that  are 
not  as  merry  as  you,  will  hate  yo,i,  either  because  they 
envy  your  happiness,  or  fancy  themselves  the  subject 
of  your  mirth.  ' 

RvLw  FOR  RAISING  THE  Dbvii..  Translated  from  the 
Latin  of  Danaeus  de  Sortiariis,  a  Writer  contemporary 
with  Calvin,  and  one  of  the  Reformers  of  oii 
Church. 

The  person  who  desires  to  raise  the  Devil    ig  to 

to  iJeelzebub.  He  is  to  swear  an  etemal  obedience,  and 
then  to  receive  a  mark  in  some  unseen  place,  either 
under  the  eyehd,  or  in  the  roof  of  the  mo^th,  4flicted 
by  the  Devil  him«,lf.  Upon  this  he  has  power  given 
him  over  three  spirits  ;  one  for  earth,  another  for  air 
and  a  thud  for  the  sea.  Upon  certain  times  the  Devil 
holds  an  assembly  of  magicians,  in  which  each  is  to  (rive 
an  account  of  what  evil  he  has  done,  and  what  he  wishes 


SPECIMEN  OF  A  MAGAZINE  147 

to  do.  At  this  assembly  he  appears  in  the  Bhape  of  an 
old  man,  or  often  like  a  goat  with  largo  horns.  They, 
upon  this  occasion,  renew  their  vows  of  obedience  ;  and 
then  form  a  grand  dance  in  honour  of  their  false  deity. 
The  Devil  instructs  them  in  every  method  of  injuring  man- 
kind, in  gathering  poisons,  and  of  riding  upon  wcasion 
through  the  air.  Ho  shows  them  the  whole  method,  upon 
examination,  of  gi\ing  evasive  answers  ;  his  spirits  have 
power  to  assume  the  form  of  angels  of  light,  and  there 
is  but  one  method  of  detecting  them  ;  viz.  to  ask  them, 
in  proper  form.  What  mctho<l  is  the  most  certain  to 
propagate  the  faith  over  all  the  worid  »  To  this  they 
are  not  permitted  by  the  Superior  Power  to  make  a  false 
reply,  nor  are  they  willing  to  give  the  true  one,  where- 
fore they  continue  silent,  and  arc  thus  detected. 


ESSAY  X 

BEAU  TIBBS,  A  CHARACTER 

[Altered  from  Letter  LIV  in  The  Citizen  of  the  World] 

TH0170H  naturally  pensive,  yet  I  am  fond  of  gay 
company,  and  take  every  opportunity  of  thus  dismissing 
the  mind  from  duty.  From  this  motive  I  am  often 
found  in  the  centre  of  a  crowd  ;  and  wherever  pleasure 
is  to  be  sold,  am  always  a  purchaser.  In  those  places, 
without  being  remarked  by  any,  I  join  in  whatever 
goes  forward,  work  my  passions  into  a  similitude  of 
frivolous  earnestness,  shout  as  they  shout,  and  condemn 
as  they  happen  to  disapprove.  A  mind  thus  sunk  for 
a  while  below  its  natural  standard,  is  qualified  for 
stronger  flights  ;  as  those  first  retire  who  would  spring 
forward  with  greater  vigour. 

Attracted  by  the  serenity  of  the  evening,  a  friend  and 
I  lately  went  to  gaze  upon  the  company  in  one  of  the 


148 


ESSAYS 


puW..  ivalks  near  the  city.  Here  we  sauntered  together 
for  some  time,  either  praising  the  beauty  of  such  aa  were 
handsome,  or  the  dresses  of  such  as  had  nothing  else 
to  recommend  them.  We  had  gone  thus  deliberately 
forward  for  some  time,  when  my  frietd  stopping  on  a 
sudden,  caught  me  by  the  elbow,  imd  led  me  out  of  the 
public  walk  ;  I  could  peroeive,  by  the  quickness  of  his 
pace,  and  by  his  frequently  looking  behind,  that  he  was 
attempting  to  avoid  somebody  who  followed  ;  we  now 
turned  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left ;  as  we  went  forward, 
he  still  went  faster,  but  in  vain ;  the  person  whom  he 
attempted  to  escape,  hunted  us  through  every  doubling, 
and  gained  upon  us  each  moment ;  so  that,  at  last, 
we  fairly  stood  still,  resolving  to  face  what  we  could 
not  avoid. 

Our  pursuer  soon  came  up,  and  joined  us  with  all  th» 
familiarity  of  an  old  acquaintance.  '  My  dear  Charlei 
cries  he,  shaking  my  friend's  hand,  'where  have  >. 
'  been  hiding  this  half  a  century  ?  Positively  I  L,d 
'  fancied  you  were  gone  down  to  cultivate  matrimony 
'and  your  estate  in  the  country.'  During  the  reply, 
I  had  an  opportunity  of  surveying  the  appearance  of  our 
new  companion.  His  hat  was  pinched  up  with  peculiar 
smartness  ;  his  looks  were  pa  e,  thin,  and  sharp  ;  round 
his  neck  he  wore  a  broad  black  ribbon,  and  in  his 
bosom  a  buckle  stu  ed  with  glass ;  his  coat  was  trimmed 
with  tarnished  twist ;  he  wore  by  his  side  a  sword  with 
a  black  hilt ;  and  his  stockings  of  silk,  though  newly 
washed,  were  grown  yellow  by  long  service.  I  was  so 
much  engaged  with  the  peculiarity  of  his  dress,  that  I 
attended  only  to  the  latter  part  of  my  friend's  reply, 
in  which  he  complimented  Mr.  Tibbs  on  the  taste  of  his 
clothes,  and  the  bloom  in  his  countenance.  '  Psha,  psha, 
'  Charles,"  cried  the  figure,  '  no  more  of  that  if  you  love 
'  me  ;   you  know  I  hate  flattery,  on  my  soul  I  do  ;  and 


BEAU  TIBBS,  A  CHARACTER 


149 


yet  to  be  sure  an  intimacy  with  the  great  will  improve 
'  one's  appearance,  and  a  course  of  venison  will  fatten  ; 
'  and  yet,  faith,  I  despise  the  great  as  much  as  you  do  ; 
'  but  there  are  a  great  many  damned  honest  fellows 
'  among  them  ;  and  we  must  not  quarrel  with  one  half 
'  because  the  other  wants  breeding.  If  they  were  all 
'  such  as  my  Lord  Mudlor,  one  of  the  most  good-natured 
'  creatures  that  ever  squeezed  a  lemon,  I  should  myself 
'  be  among  the  number  of  their  admirers,  I  was  yester- 
'  day  to  dine  at  the  Duchess  of  Piccadilly's,  My  lord  was 
'  there.  "  Ned,"  says  he  to  me,  "  Ned,"  says  he,  "  I'll 
'  hold  gold  to  silver  I  can  tell  where  you  were  poaching 
'last  night."  "Poaching,  my  lord,"  says  I;  "faith, 
'  you  have  missed  already ;  for  I  stayed  at  home 
'  and  let  the  girls  poach  for  me."  That 's  my  way  ; 
'  I  take  a  fine  woman  as  some  animals  do  their 
'  prey ;  stand  still,  and  swoop,  they  fall  into  my 
'  mouth.' 

'  Ah,  Tibbs,  thou  art  a  happy  fellow,'  cried  my 
companion  with  looks  of  mfinite  pity,  '  I  hope  your 
'  fortune  is  as  much  improved  as  your  understanding 
'  in  such  company  ?  '  '  Improved ! '  replied  the  other ; 
'  you  shall  know, — but  let  it  go  no  farther, — a  great 
'  secret — five  hundred  a  year  to  begin  with — My  lord's 
'  word  of  honour  for  it — His  lordship  took  me  down  in 
'  his  own  chariot  yesterday,  and  we  had  a  l(te-d-l(te 
'  dinner  in  the  country,  where  we  talked  of  nothing 
'  else.'  '  I  fancy  you  forgot,  sir,'  cried  I,  '  you  told  us 
'  but  this  moment  of  your  dining  yesterday  in  town  !  " 
'  Did  I  say  so  ? '  replied  he  coolly.  '  To  be  sure,  if  I  said 
'  so  it  was  so. — Dined  in  town  :  egad,  now  I  do  re- 
'  member  I  did  dine  in  town  ;  but  I  dined  in  the  coimtry 
'  too  :  for  you  must  know,  my  boys,  I  eat  two  dinners. 
'  By  the  by,  I  am  grown  as  nice  as  the  devil  in  my 
'  eating.    I'll  tell  you  a  pleasant  affair  about  that :  we 


ISO 


ESSAYS 


were  a  gelect  party  of  us  to  dine  at  Lady  Orogram'.  • 
an  affected  piece,  but  let  it  go  no  farther ;  a  aecret  • 
Well,  Bayg  I,  111  hold  a  thou«ind  guinea.,  and  «iy 
<lono  fln.t.  that-But,  dear  Charlc,  yo.  ..re  an  honc/t 
creature,  lend  mo  half-a-crown  for  a  minute  or  two 
or  »o,  juHt  till-But  hnr!  ,  a«<  mo  for  it  tho  next 
time  wo  meet,  or  it  may  bo  n.cnty  to  one  but  I  foraet 
to  pay  you.' 

When  he  left  u»,  our  conversation  naturally  turned 
upon  80  extraordinary  a  character.     '  Hig  very  drew  ' 
one*  mj    „iend,   '!«  not   lew  extraordinary  than   h^ 
conduct     If  you  moot  him  this  day,  you  find  him  in 
■  -i;  >f  the  next,  in  embroidery.    With  those  persons 
o    distmction,  of  whom  he  talks  so  familiarly,  he  has 
•  scarce  a  coffee-house  acquaintance.    However,  both  for 
the  mterest   of   society,   and    perhaps   for   his   own. 
Heaven  has  made  him  poor  ;   and,  while  all  the  world 
perceives  his  wants,  ho  fancies  them  concealed  from 
^  every  eye.    An  agreeable  companion,  because  he  under 
stands  flattery ;    and  all  must  be  pleased   with  the 
^  first  part  of  his  conversation,  though  all  are  sure  of 
us  ending  with  a  demand  on  their  purse.     While  his 
_'  youth  countenances  the  levity  of  his  conduct,  he  may 
thus  earn  a  precarious  subsistence  ;    but,  when  age 
'  comes  on,  the  gravity  of  which  is  incomparable  with 
buffoonery,  then  will  he  find  himself  forsaken  by  all 
^  Condemned  in  the  decline  of  life  to  hang  upon  some 
_  rich  family  whom  he  once  dcHpised,  there  to  undergo 
^  all  the  ingenuity  of  studied  contempt ;  to  be  employed 
^  only  as  a  spy  upon  the  servants,  or  a  bugbear  to 
fright  children  into  duty.' 


161 


ESSAY  XI 
BEAU  I'IBRS  (co»/i«Mcrf) 

[Altered  from  Letter  LV  o(  TAr  (V/cii  ../  Mr  H'l^WJ 
There  are  soino  aoquuintunceH  whom  it  in  no  cngy 
matter  to  shake  off.  My  little  bvau  yeBterday  overtook 
me  again  in  one  of  the  public  walks,  and,  slapping  me 
on  the  shoulder,  saluted  mo  with  an  air  of  the  most 
perfect  familiarity.  His  dress  was  the  same  as  usual, 
except  that  he  had  more  |K>wder  in  his  hair,  wore  a 
dirtier  shirt,  and  had  on  a  pair  of  temple  spectacles,  with 
his  hat  under  his  arm. 

As  I  knew  him  to  be  a  harmless  amusing  little  thing, 
I  could  not  return  his  smiles  with  any  degree  of  severity  • 
so  we  walked  forward  on  terms  of  the  utmost  intimacy, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  discussed  all  the  usual  topics  of 
a  general  conversation. 

The  oddities  that  marked  his  character.  »",«<n'  i 
soon  began  to  appear  ;  he  bowed  to  scvcro'  «i  ii-divc.  1 
persons,  who,  by  their  manner  of  returnii  the  ■■ompi.. 
ment,  appeared  perfect  strangers.  At  intt>  ,  ,  '\'  rb.-^v 
out  a  pocket-book,  seeming  to  take  memoranilum: 
before  all  the  company,  with  much  importance  •! 
assiduity.  In  this  manner  he  led  me  through  the  j  ^.a 
of  the  whole  Mall,  fretting  at  his  absurdities,  and  fancy- 
ing  myself  laughed  at  as  well  as  he  by  every  spectator. 
When  we  were  got  to  the  end  of  our  procession, '  Blast 
'  me,'  cries  he,  with  an  air  of  vivacity,  '  I  nt  c  ,aw  the 
'  Park  so  thin  in  my  life  before  ;  there  's  no  company  at 
'  all  to-day.  Not  a  single  face  to  be  seen.'  '  No  com- 
'  pany  !  '  interrupted  I  peevishly  ;  '  no  company  where 
'  there  is  such  a  crowd  !  Why,  man,  there  is  too  much. 
'  What  are  the  thousands  that  have  been  laughing  at  us 
'  but  company  f  '   '  Lord,  my  dear,'  returned  he,  with 


152 


ESSAYS 


the    utmost    good    humour,    'you   seem    immensely 

chagnned  ;    but,  blast  me,  when  the  world  laughT^ 

■T:,  -li'^^t?*  '^^  '"''''''  "'"^  «>  "">  ''«'  even      My 

•  make  ''U^'"  ^T""  '"^  ^'^"'  ^^  ^-  -«««•-« 
make  a  party  at  being  ridiculous ;  but  I  see  you  are 
grave;  so  if  you  are  for  a  fine  grave  sentimental 
oompamon,  you  shall  dine  with  my  wife  ;     " 

_  ms«t  on  -t.     I'll  introduce  you  to  mL.  Tibte.  a  TJy 

•  i^'.,Tu  ^  '  ^*'^^"  ourselves,  under  the  inspec- 
t.on  of  the  Countess  of  Shor^toh.    A  charming  My 

■?ou  shall  °";°^°'*'""'«''^«'-" «'-"--»« 

•  111.  t-kT  ""^  ''*"'  «^'  **~'  C""'^"^  Wilhelmina 
'  ftr^v  T^^'rl''^'**  P''"^  •"*''*"™  :  I  design  her 
•^.Z\     "f.^""'"'"^''  *'''^^*  «"'':    »>"»  that's  in 

friendship,  let  it  go  no  farther  ;  she  's  but  six  years 
old  and  yet  she  walks  a  minuet,  and  plays  on  t^ 
guitar  immensely  already.    I  intend  she  shall  be  a! 

•  Lf  ..  "'  ^^  ^  !"  ^^""^  accomplishment.  In  the 
first  place,  I'll  make  her  a  scholar;    I'll  teach  her 

•™^  7r"'  ""^  ^  ^'""'^  *°  1««™  that  language 
purposely  to  instruct  her  ;  but  let  that  be  a  secret 
Thus  saymg,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  took  me 

Inv/T'.r"'*  ^f"^  """  '''""K-  W«  P^^  though 
many  darkalleys  and  winding  ways.  From  some  motives 
to  me  unknown,  he  seemed  to  have  a  particular  aversion 
to  every  frequented  street ;  but,  at  la^t,  we  got  to  the 
door  of  a  dismal-looking  house  in  the  outlets  of  the  town 
Tf  th"  11"^°"^'^  ""^  '"'  "hose  to  reside  for  the  benefit 

We  entered  the  lower  door,  which  seemed  ever  to 
he  most  hospitably  open  ;  and  began  to  ascend  an  old 
and  creakmg  staircase  ;  when,  as  he  momited  to  show 
me  the  way,  he  demanded  whether  I  delighted  in 
prospects;    to   which    answering   in   the    aflLative 


BEAU  TIBBS,  A  CHARACTER  153 

•Then,'  says  he,   'I  shall  show  you  one  of  the  most 
_  charming  out  of  my  windows,  for  I  live  at  the  top  of 
_  the  house  ;  wo  shall  see  the  ships  sailing,  and  the  whole 
_  """"♦'•y  for  twenty  miles  round,  tip-top,  quite  high. 
_  My  Lord  Swamp  would  give  ten  thousand  guineas  for 
_  such  a  one  ;    but,  as  I  sometimes  pleasantly  tell  him 
I  always  love  to  keep  my  prospects  at  home,  that  my 
friends  may  come  to  see  me  the  oftener.' 
By  this  time  we  were  arrived  as  high  as  the  staira 
would  permit  us  to  ascend,  till  we  came  to  what  he  was 
facetiously  pi,   sed   to  call   the   first   floor  down   the 
clumney  ;    and  knocking  at  the  door,  a  voice,  with 
a  Scotch  accent,  from  withi,.,  demanded, '  Wha  's  there  »  ' 
My  conductor  answered,  that  it  was  him.    But  this  not 
satisfying  the  querist,  the   voice  again  repeated   the 
demand  ;  to  which  he  answered  louder  than  before  •  and 
now  the  door  was  opened  by  an  old  maid-servant,  with 
cautious  reluctance. 

When  we  were  got  in,  he  welcomed  me  to  his  house 

with  great  ceremony,  and  turning  to  the  old  woman 

asked  where  her  lady  was.    '  Good  troth,'  replied  she  in 

the  northern  dialect,  'she  's  washing  your  twa  shirts  at 

the  next  door,    because   they   have   taken   an  oath 

agamst  lending  out  the  tub  any  longer.'     '  My  two 

shirts  !  '  cries  he,  in  a  tone  that  faltered  with  confusion 

what  does  the  idiot  mean  ?  '   '  I  ken  what  I  mean  well 

enough,'  replied  the  other  ;    'she  's  washing  your  twa 

shirts  at  the  next  door,  because—'  'Fire  and  fury  no 

more  of  thy  stupid  explanations,'  cried  he ;   'go  'and 

inform  her  we  have  got  company.    Were  that  Scotch 

hag,   continued  he,  turning  to  me,  '  to  be  for  ever  in 

my  family,  she  would  never  learn  politeness,  nor  forget 

that  absurd  poisonous  accent  of  hers,  or  testify  the 

smallest  specimen  of  breeding  or  high  life  ;  and  yet  it 

18  very  surprising  too,  as  I  had  her  from  a  Parliament- 


IM 


ESSAYS 


man,  a  friend  of  mine,  from  the  Highlands,  one  of  the 
'  politest  men  in  the  world  ;  but  that 's  a  secret.' 

We  waited  some  time  for  Mrs.  Tibbs's  arrival,  during 
which  interval  1  had  a  full  opportunity  of  surveying  the 
chamber  and  all  its  furniture  ;  which  consisted  of  four 
chairs  with  old  wrought  bottoms,  that  he  assured  me 
were  his  wife's  embroidery  ;  a  square  table  that  had  been 
once  japanned,  a  cradle  in  one  comer,  a  lumbering  cabinet 
in  the  other ;  a  broken  shepherdess,  and  a  Mandarin 
without  a  head,  were  stuck  over  the  chimney ;  and 
round  the  walls  several  paltry,  unfr^imed  pictures,  which 
he  observed  were  all  of  his  own  drawing :  '  What  do 
'  you  think,  sir,  of  that  head  in  the  comer,  done  in  the 
'  manner  of  Grisoni  ?  There 's  the  tme  keeping  in  it ; 
'  it 's  my  own  face ;  and,  though  there  happens  to  be  no 
'  likeness,  a  countess  offered  me  a  hundred  for  its  fellow  : 
'  I  refused  her,  for,  hang  it,  that  would  be  mechanical, 
'  you  know.' 

The  wife,  at  last,  made  her  appearance,  at  once 
a  slattern  and  a  coquette ;  much  emaciated,  but  still 
carrying  the  remains  of  beauty.  She  made  twenty 
apologies  for  being  seen  in  such  an  odious  dishabille  but 
hoped  to  be  excused,  as  she  had  stayed  out  all  night  at 
Vauxhall  Gardens  with  the  countess,  who  was  excessively 
fond  of  the  homs.  '  And,  indeed,  my  dear,'  added  she, 
turning  to  her  husband,  '  his  lordship  drank  your  health 
'  in  a  bumper.'  '  Poor  Jack,'  cries  he,  '  a  dear  good- 
'  natured  creature,  I  know  he  loves  me.  But  I  hope,  my 
'  dear,  you  have  given  orders  for  dinner ;  you  need 
'  make  no  great  preparations  neither,  there  are  but 
'  three  of  us  ;  something  elegant  and  little  will  do  ; 
'  a  turbot,  an  ortolan,  or  a — — .'  '  Or  what  do  you 
'  think,  my  dear,'  interrupts  the  wife,  '  of  a  nice  pretty 
'  bit  of  ox-cheek,  piping  hot,  and  dressed  with  a  little 
'  of  my  own  sauce  ?  '    '  The  very  thing,"  replies  he  ;  'it 


BEAU  TIBBS,  A  CHARACTER 


ISS 


'  will  eat  best  with  some  smart  bottled  beer ;  but  be  sure 
'  to  let 's  have  the  sauce  his  grace  was  so  fond  of.  I  hate 
'  your  immense  loads  of  meat ;  that  is  country  all  over  ; 
'extreme  disgusting  to  those  who  are  in  the  least 
'acquainted  with  high  life.' 

By  this  time  my  curiosity  began  to  abate,  and  my 
appetite  to  increase  ;  the  company  of  fools  may  at  first 
make  us  smile,  but  at  last  never  fails  of  rendering  us 
melancholy.  I  therefore  pretended  to  recollect  a  prior 
engage.aent,  and,  after  having  sh-  wn  my  respect  to  the 
house,  by  giving  the  old  servant  a  ^  iece  of  money  at  the 
door,  I  took  my  leave  ;  Mr.  Tibbs  assuring  me,  that 
dumer,  if  I  stayed,  would  be  ready  at  least  in  less  than 
two  hours. 


ESSAY  XII 

ON  THE  IRRESOLUTION  OF  YOUTH 

[Altered  from  Letter  LXI  of  The  Cilizen  of  the  WoM] 

As  it  has  been  obs >!.  ved  that  few  are  better  qualified 
to  give  others  advice,  than  those  who  have  taken  the 
least  of  it  themselves ;  so  in  this  respect  I  find  myself 
perfectly  authorized  to  oSFer  mine  ;  and  must  take " 
leave  to  throw  together  a  few  observations  upon  that 
part  of  a  young  man's  conduct  on  his  entering  into  life, 
as  it  is  called. 

The  most  usual  way  among  young  men  who  have  no 
resolution  of  their  own,  is  first  to  ask  one  friend's  advice, 
and  follow  it  for  some  time;  then  to  ask  advice  of 
another,  and  turn  to  that ;  so  of  a  third  ;  still  unsteady, 
always  changing.  However,  every  change  of  this  nature 
is  for  the  worse ;  people  may  tell  you  of  your  being 
unfit  for  some  peculiar  occupations  in  life  ;  but  heed 
them    not ;     whatever   employment   you   follow   with 


166 


ESSAYS 


perseverance  and  assiduity,  will  be  found  fit  for  yon ; 
it  will  be  your  support  in  youth,  and  comfort  in  age.  In 
learning  the  useful  part  of  every  profession,  very  moder- 
ate abilities  will  suffice  :  great  abilities  are  generally 
obnoxious  to  the  possessors.  Life  has  been  compared 
♦o  a  race  ;  but  the  allusion  still  improves,  by  observing, 
that  the  most  swift  are  ever  the  most  cpt  to  stray  from 
the  course. 

To  know  one  profession  only,  is  enough  for  one  man  to 
know  ;  and  this,  whatever  the  professors  may  tell  you 
to  the  contrary,  is  soon  learned.  Be  contented,  therefore, 
with  one  good  employment ;  for  if  you  understand  two 
at  a  time,  people  will  give  you  business  in  neither. 

A  conjurer  and  a  tailor  once  happened  to  converse 
together.  '  Alas  !  '  cries  the  tailor,  '  what  an  imhappy 
'  poor  creature  am  1 !  If  people  ever  take  it  into  their 
'  heads  to  live  without  clothes,  I  am  undone ;  I  have 
'  no  other  trade  to  have  recourse  to.'  '  Indeed,  friend, 
'  I  pity  you  sincerely,'  replies  the  conjurer ;  '  but,  thank 
'  Heaven,  things  are  not  quite  so  bad  with  me :  for,  if 
'  one  trick  should  fail,  I  have  a  hundred  tricks  more  for 
'  them  yet.  However,  if  at  any  time  you  are  reduced 
'  to  beggary,  apply  to  me,  and  I  will  relieve  you.'  A 
famine  overspread  the  land  ;  the  tailor  made  a  shift 
to  live,  because  his  customers  could  not  be  without 
clothes ;  but  the  poor  conjurer,  with  all  his  hundred 
tricks,  could  find  none  that  had  money  to  throw  away  : 
it  was  in  vain  that  he  promised  to  eat  fire,  or  to  vomit 
pins  ;  no  single  creature  would  relieve  him,  till  he  was 
at  last  obliged  to  beg  from  the  very  tailor  whose  calling 
he  had  formerly  despised. 

There  are  no  obstructions  more  fatal  to  fortune  than 
pride  and  resentment.  If  you  must  resent  injuries  at 
all,  at  least  suppress  your  indignation  till  you  become 
rich,  and  then  show  away.    The  resentment  of  a  poor 


ON  THE  IRRESOLUTION  OF  YOUTH     157 

man  is  like  the  efforts  of  a  harmless  insect  to  stmg  ;   it 
mayget  him  cinshed,  but  cannot  defend  him.  Who  values 
that  anger  which  is  consumed  only  in  empty  menaces  ? 
Once  upon  a  time  a  goose  fed  its  young  by  a  pond- 
side  ;    and  a  goose,  in  such  circumstances,  is  always 
extremely  proud,  and  excessive  punctilious.     If  any 
other  animal,  without  the  least  design  to  offend,  happened 
to  pass  that  way,  the  goose  was  immediately  at  it.    The 
pond,  she  said,  was  hers,  and  she  would  maintain  her 
right  in  it,  and  support  her  honour,  while  she  had  a  bill 
to  hiss,  or  a  wing  to  flutter.    In  this  manner  she  drove 
away  ducks,  pigs,  and  chickens  ;  nay,  even  the  insidious 
cat  was  seen  to  scamper.    A  lounging  mi.stiff,  however, 
happened  to  pass  by,  and  thought  it  no  harm  if  he 
should  lap  a  little  of  the  water,  as  he  was  thirsty.    The 
guardian  goose  flew  at  him  like  a  fury,  pecked  at  him 
with  her  beak,  and  slapped  him  with  her  feathers.    The 
dog  grew  angry,  and  had  twenty  times  a  mind  to  give 
her  a  sly  snap ;  but  suppressing  his  indignation,  because 
his  master  was  nigh,  '  A  pox  take  thee,'  cried  he,  '  for  a 
'  fool !  sure  those  who  have  neither  strength  nor  weapons 
'  to  fight,  at  least  should  be  civil.'    So  saying,  he  went 
forward  to  the  pond,  quenched  his  thirst,  in  spite  of  the 
goose,  and  followed  his  master. 

Another  obstruction  to  the  fortune  of  youth  is,  that, 
while  they  are  wiUing  to  take  offence  from  none,  they  are 
also  equally  desirous  of  giving  nobody  offence.  From 
hence  they  endeavour  to  please  all,  comply  with  every 
request,  and  attempt  to  suit  themselves  to  every  company ; 
have  no  will  of  their  own  ;  but,  like  wax,  catch  every  con- 
tiguous impression.  By  thus  attempting  to  give  universal 
satisfaction,  they  at  last  find  themselves  miserably 
disappointed  ;  to  bring  the  generality  of  admirers  on 
our  side,  it  is  sufficient  to  attempt  pleasing  a  very  few. 
A  painter  of  eminence  was  once  resolved  to  finish 


158 


ESSAYS 


a  piece  which  should  please  the  whole  world.  When, 
therefore,  he  had  drawn  a  picture,  in  which  his  utmost 
skill  was  exhausted,  it  was  exposed  in  the  public  market- 
place, with  directions  at  the  bottom  for  every  spectator 
to  mark  with  a  brush,  that  lay  by,  every  limb  and 
feature  which  seemed  erroneous.  The  spectators  came, 
and,  in  general,  applauded  ;  but  each,  willing  to  show 
his  talent  at  criticism,  stigmatized  whatever  he  thought 
proper.  At  evening,  when  the  painter  came,  he  was 
mortified  to  find  the  picture  one  universal  blot ;  not 
a  single  stroke  that  had  not  the  marks  of  disapprobation. 
Not  satisfied  with  thisi trial,  the  next  day  he  was  resolved 
to  try  them  in  a  different  manner ;  and  exposing  his 
picture  as  before,  desired  that  every  spectator  would 
mark  those  beauties  he  approved  or  admired.  The 
people  complied ;  and  the  artist  returning,  foimd  his 
picture  covered  with  the  marks  of  beauty ;  every  stroke 
that  had  been  yesterday  condemned,  now  received  the 
character  of  approbation.  '  Well,'  cries  the  painter, 
'  I  now  find,  that  the  best  way  to  please  all  the  world, 
'  is  to  attempt  pleasing  one  half  of  it.' 


ESSAY  xni 

ON  MAD  DOGS 

[Altered  from  Letter  LXIX  of  JTAc  Citizen  of  Ok  WorU\ 

Indulgent  nature  seems  to  have  exempted  this 
island  from  many  of  those  epidemic  evils  which  are  so 
fatal  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  A  want  of  rain  for 
a  few  days  beyond  the  expected  season,  in  some  parts  of 
the  globe,  spreads  famine,  desolation,  and  terror  over 
the  whole  country  ;  but,  in  this  fortunate  land  of  Britain, 
the  inhabitant  courts  health  in  every  breeze,  and  the 
husbandman  ever  sows  in  jojrful  expectation. 


ON  MAD  DOGS  159 

But.  though  the  nation  be  exempt  from  real  evils  it 
18  not  more  happy  on  this  account  than  others.  The 
peop  e  are  afflicted,  it  is  true,  with  neither  famine  nor 
pestilence  ;  but  then  there  is  a  disorder  peculiar  to  the 
country,  which  every  season  makes  strange  ravages 
among  them;  it  spreads  with  pestilential  rapidity,  and 
infects  almost  every  rank  of  people  ;  what  is  still  more 
strange,  the  natives  have  no  name  for  this  peculiar 
malady,  though  well  known  to  foreign  physicians  by  the 
appellation  of  Epidemic  Terror. 

A  season  is  never  known  to  pass  in  which  the  people 
are  not  visited  by  this  cruel  calamity  in  one  shape  or 
another,  seemingly  different,  though  ever  the  same;  one 
year  it  issues  from  a  baker's  shop  in  the  shape  of  a 
sixpenny  loaf;   the  next  it  takes  the  appearance  of 
a  comet  with  a  fiery  tail;  the  third  it  threatens  like 
a  flat-bottomed  boat,  and  the  fourth,  it  carries  con- 
sternation in  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog.    The  people,  when 
once  infected,  lose  their  relish  for  happiness,  samiter 
about  with  looks  of  despondence,  ask  after  the  calamities 
Of  the  day  and  receive  no  comfort  but  in  heighteninir 
each  other  s  distress.    It  is  insignificant  how  remote  or 
near,  how  weak  or  powerful,  the  object  of  terror  may  be 
when  once  they  resolve  to  fright  and  be  frighted ;   the 
merest  trifles   sow  consternation   and   dismay;    each 
proportions  his  fears,  not  to  the  object,  but  to  the  dread 
he  discovers  in  the  countenance  of  others ;   for   when 
once  fermentation  is  begun,  it  goes  on  of  itself,  though 
the  ongmal  cause  be  discontinued  which  first  set  it  in 
motion. 

A  dread  of  mad  dogs  is  the  epidemic  terror  which  now 
prevails,  and  the  whole  nation  is  at  present  actually 
groaning  under  the  malignity  of  its  influence.  The 
peopte  sally  from  their  houses  with  that  circumspection 
which  IS  prudent  in  such  as  expect  a  mad  dog  at  every 


160 


ESSAYS 


turning.  The  physician  publishes  his  prescription,  the 
beadle  prepares  his  halter,  and  a  few  of  unusual  bravery 
arm  themselves  with  boots  and  buff  gloves,  in  order  to 
face  the  enemy  if  he  should  offer  to  attack  them.  In 
short,  the  whole  people  stand  bravely  upon  their  defence, 
and  seem,  by  their  present  spirit,  to  show  a  resolution  of 
being  tamely  bit  by  mad  dogs  no  longer. 

Their  manner  of  knowing  whether  a  dog  be  mad  or 
no,  somewhat  resembles  the  ancient  Gothic  custom  of 
trying  witches.  The  old  woman  suspected  was  tied 
hand  and  foot,  and  thrown  into  the  water.  If  she  swam, 
then  she  was  instiintly  carried  off  to  be  burnt  for  a 
witch  ;  if  she  sunk,  then  indeed  she  was  acquitted  of 
the  charge,  but  drowned  in  the  experiment.  In  the 
same  manner  a  crowd  gather  round  a  dog  suspected  of 
madness,  and  they  begin  by  teasing  the  devoted  animal 
on  every  side.  If  he  attempts  to  stand  upon  the  de- 
fensive, and  bite,  then  he  is  unanimously  found  guilty, 
for  '  A  mad  dog  always  snaps  at  everything.'  If,  on  the 
contrary,  he  strives  to  escape  by  running  away,  then  he 
can  expect  no  compassion,  for  '  mad  dogs  always  nm 
'  straight  forward  before  them.' 

It  is  pleasant  enough  for  a  neutral  being  like  me,  who 
have  no  share  in  those  ideal  calamities,  to  mark  the 
stages  of  this  national  disease.  The  terror  at  first  feebly 
enters  with  a  disregarded  story  of  a  little  dog,  that  ha^ 
gone  through  a  neighbouring  village,  which  was  thought 
to  be  mad  by  tiveral  who  had  seen  him.  The  next  ac- 
count comes,  that  a  mastiff  ran  through  a  certain  town, 
and  had  bit  five  geese,  which  immediately  ran  mad, 
foamed  at  the  bill,  and  died  in  great  agonies  soon  after. 
Then  comes  an  affecting  history  of  a  little  boy  bit  in  the 
leg,  and  gone  down  to  be  dipped  in  the  salt  water.  When 
the  people  have  sufSciently  shuddered  at  that,  they  are 
next  congealed  with  a  frightful  account  of  a  man  who 


MAD  DOOS 


161 


was  said  lately  to  have  dieil  from  a  bite  he  had  received 
some  years  before.  This  relation  only  prepares  the  way 
for  another,  still  more  hideous  ;  as  how  the  master  of 
a  family  with  seven  small  children,  were  all  bit  by  a  mad 
lap-dog ;  and  how  the  poor  father  first  perceived  the 
infection  by  calling  for  a  draught  of  water,  where  he  saw 
the  lap-dog  swimming  in  the  cup. 

When  epidemic  terror  is  thus  once  excited,  every 
morning  comes  loaded  with  some  new  disaster ;  as  in 
stories  of  ghosts  each  loves  to  hear  the  account,  though 
it  only  serves  to  make  him  uneasy  ;  so  here  each  listens 
with  eagerness,  and  adds  to  the  tidings  with  new  circum- 
stances of  peculiar  horror.  A  lady,  for  instance,  in  the 
country,  of  very  weak  nerves,  has  been  frighted  by  the 
barking  of  a  dog;  and  this,  alns  !  too  frequently  happens. 
The  story  soon  is  improved  and  spreads,  that  a  mad  dog 
had  frighted  a  lady  of  distinction.  These  circumstances 
begin  to  grow  terrible  before  they  have  reached  the 
neighbouring  village  ;  and  there  the  report  is,  that 
a  lady  of  quality  was  bit  by  a  mad  mastiff.  This  account 
every  moment  gathers  new  strength,  and  grows  more 
dismal  as  it  approaches  the  capital  ;  and,  by  the  time 
it  has  arrived  in  town,  the  lady  is  described  with  wild 
eyes,  foaming  mouth,  rimniujr  mad  tijKm  all  four,  barking 
like  a  dog,  biting  her  scivants,  and  at  last  smothered 
between  two  beds  by  the  advice  of  her  dortovB  ;  while 
the  mad  mastiff  is,  in  the  meantime,  ViV\\Hii\g  the  whole 
country  over,  slawving  at  the  lunuth,  and  seeking  whom 
he  may  devour. 

My  landlady,  a  good-n«t«w<v\  Woman,  but  a  little 
credulous,  waked  me  some  mornings  ago,  before  the 
usual  hour,  with  horror  and  astonishment  in  her  look. 
She  desired  me,  if  I  had  any  reganl  for  my  safety,  to  keep 
within  ;  for,  a  few  days  ago,  so  dismal  an  accident  had 
happened,  as  to  put  all  the  world  upon  their  guard. 

OjLDSHTTH.     m  q 


162 


ESSAYS 


A  mad  (log  down  in  the  country,  she  amurod  m„  »,»  i  x.u 

to  Buffer  were  no  way  injured  ;  and  that  of  thZ  To 

devoted  animal's  services.  The  midnight S  if  W 
healthful  chase  repairs  many  a  worn  constitutir'  and 
esserhr^^n  ""'; '"  •'•^  ''"^  "^  ^'"-«  assistant  TageS 

•  cretS'   Tt°"'  °?.'''  "="8"^"  P°«*«.  '  -  «n  honest " 

creature,  and  I  am  a  friend  to  doKs  '    Of  all  th-.  »^    / 
that  graze  the  lawn  or  hunt  the  fZt  a  do^^is  .h        ■ 

ness  a^d  pleasure  ;  for  him  bean,  famine  and  fatigue  with 


MAD  DOOa 

Ifkl 

Patiencf  and  rcHignatmn  ■    n.  •   •    ■ 

fidelity;  „odiHt,.«fi'h.."°  "'J''"-:""  "'""o  h.3 

h«mb,o,  stcaSCCda    '"*!■;  ""r"'  "''  "  ""•»  - 
i«  not  flattery.    How  unkfrnl  /h        '"  •"'"  "''""'  '"'^'"g 

•^atu«..  who\a» left  theiuo"  ^'°"r '•''■" '-^^^ 
"»n  !  How  ungrateful  a  re^  1  ?    t""  "'''  "'•'"^''«''"  "' 
all  its  services  f  '"""  *°  ^^°  "-"^ty  animal  for 


ESSAY  XIV 

AOE,  that  lessenH  the  .  ujovment  nf  lif     ■ 
dcHire  of  living.    Those  daii™  whi/h      '  T""""'  ""^ 
youth,  we  had  learned  to  de^    ',t; '"  '"«  :'«°"  "' 
we  grow  old.     Our  eaution   !^'  "''"*'  '*'™™  as 

increase,  fear  beeomes  at  Ct    h         '"«  ""  °"  ■^'^ars 
the  mind  ;  and  the  s^„         *.''t,  ^"'^'''""g  Pa^-ion  of 

in  uselessWoit  CoffTtV'  '"^  ^^  *'"^''"  "^ 
continued  existence.  '  '"'  P'^^^^  'or  a 

Strange  contradiction  in  our  nnf.,™ 
even  the  wise  are  liable  !  If  T  I '7.  ',  "'"^  *°  ^''''^'' 
of  life  which  lies  Wore  me  L  t,  ;  J"u''«'  °*  '^"^  P"'* 
-n.  the  prospect  is  h^.l^u  "  E  ^^'^7  ""tf  ^ 
my  past  enjoyments  have  brought^" Tal  ^r-T'  '•"" 
sensation  assures  me  that  f I,       t  u  '  ^'''""'y  ^  and 

tban  those  which  a^   tu Tm   '  vlt'^'*  "^^  «'™"«" 
sensation  i„  vain  persuade     h  experience  and 

either,  dresses  out  the  rttL""*'  """''  ^^''''''  '"an 
«>">«  happiness    i„,Z,"'P~'P''^""'ancied  beaut  v; 

to  pursue      2    liietr""*""'  "*'"  '"'"'""''  ">« 

•Ji-pi-inticnTioiLes  „,';::"«  T'"''"'--  ^^'"^^'  -- 

WHen.  then  i^l:  ^^^rS "^  E 


164 


BSSAV8 


growH  upon  UR  with  our  your*  ;  whence  come*  it,  that 
we  thuH  make  greater  effortu  to  preaerve  our  existence, 
at  a  period  when  it  bocomeH  iicaroo  worth  the  keeping  t 
Is  it  that  Nature,  attentive  to  the  preservation  ol  man- 
kind, increases  our  wishes  to  live,  while  she  lessens  our 
enjoyments ;  and,  as  she  robs  the  senses  of  every 
pleasure,  equips  imagination  in  the  spoils  T  Life  would 
bo  insupportable  to  an  old  man,  who,  loaded  with 
infirmities,  feanxl  death  no  more  than  when  in  the 
vigour  of  manhood  ;  the  numberless  calamities  of 
decaying  nature,  and, the  consciousness  of  surviving  every 
pleasure,  would  at  once  induce  him,  with  his  own  hand, 
to  terminate  the  scene  of  misery ;  but  happily  the 
contempt  of  death  forsakes  him  at  a  time  when  it  could 
only  be  prejudicial ;  and  life  acquires  an  imaginary 
value,  in  proportion  as  its  real  value  is  no  more. 

Our  attachment  to  every  object  around  us  increases, 
in  general,  from  the  length  of  our  acquaintance  with  it. 
'  I  would  not  choose,'  says  a  French  philosopher,  '  to 
'  see  an  old  post  pulled  up  with  which  I  had  been  long 
'  acquainted.'  A  mind  long  habituated  to  a  certain  set 
of  objects,  insensibly  becomes  fond  of  seeing  them ; 
visits  them  from  habit,  and  parts  from  them  with 
reluctance  :  from  hence  proceeds  the  avarice  of  the  old 
in  every  kind  of  possession  ;  they  love  the  world  and 
all  that  it  produces ;  they  love  life  and  all  its  advantages ; 
not  because  it  gives  them  pleasure,  but  because  they 
have  known  it  long. 

Chinvang  the  Chaste,  ascending  the  throne  of  China, 
commanded  that  all  who  were  unjustly  detained  in 
prison,  during  the  preceding  reigns,  should  be  set  free. 
Among  the  number  who  came  to  thank  their  deliverer 
on  this  occasion,  there  appeared  a  majestic  old  mon,  who, 
falling  at  the  emperor's  feet,  axidressed  him  as  follows  : 
•  Great  father  of  China,  behold  a  wretch,  now  eighty-five 


INCREASKD  LOVE  OF  LIFE  WITH  ,,'".£    j 

'  years  old,  who  wan  nhut  up  in  a  dungeon  at  '  :io  age  of 
'  twenty-two.  I  wan  impriitoned,  though  a  Blrangcr  to 
'  crime,  or  without  being  oven  confrmii  d  by  my  accuncm. 
'  I  have  now  lived  in  nolitude  and  dnikm-Kit  for  more  than 
'  fifty  years,  and  am  grown  familinr  with  dlHtrcss.  Ah 
'yet,  dazzled  with  the  uplen'l.iir  nf  that  huh  to  which 
'you  have  restored  mo,  T  liivo  been  wandering  the 
'streets  to  fliid  out  some  frirtid  ilint  woul,'  nisi  or 
'relieve,  or  remember  me  ,  I  ut  Uiv  ii'ci  lU,  my  fuinily, 
'  and  relations,  are  all  dead,  and  J  n  m  f  -gof '•■n!  J'erniit 
'  me  then,  0  Chinvang,  to  wear  out  tin  ii.tclu-.l  remains 
'  of  life  in  my  former  prison  ;  the  w.iiU  ct  my  dungeon 
'  are  to  me  more  pleasing  than  the  most  splendid  pidaco  : 
'  I  have  not  long  to  live,  and  shall  be  unhappy  except 
'  I  spend  the  rest  of, my  days  where  my  youth  was  passed  ; 
'  in  that  prison  from  whence  you  were  pleawd  to  roIcaHe 
'  me.' 

The  old  man's  passion  for  confinement  is  similar  to 
that  we  all  have  for  life.  Wo  are  habituatofl  to  the 
prison,  we  look  round  with  discontent,  are  dinpliused 
with  the  abode,  and  yet  the  length  of  our  captivity  only 
increases  our  fondness  for  the  cell.  The  trees  we  have 
planted,  the  bouses  we  have  built,  or  the  posterity  we 
have  begotten,  alt  serve  to  bind  us  closer  to  the  earth, 
and  embitter  our  parting.  Life  sues  the  young  like 
a  new  acquaintance  ;  the  companion,  as  yet  unexhausted, 
is  at  once  instructive  and  amusing  ;  its  company  pleases ; 
yet,  for  all  this,  it  is  bii(  MttL  regarded.  To  us,  who  are 
declined  in  years,  life  appears  like  an  old  friend  ;  its 
jests  have  been  anticipated  in  former  conver-  tion  ;  it 
has  no  new  story  to  make  us  smile,  no  new  i  ovement 
with  which  to  surprise,  yet  still  we  love  it ;  destitute 
of  every  enjoyment,  still  we  love  it ;  husband  the 
wasting  treasure  with  increasing  fnigJvUty,  and  feel  all 
the  poignancy  of  anguish  in  the  fatal  separation. 


(i, 

m 


166 


ESSAYS 


Sir  Philip  Mordaimt  was  young,  beautiful,  sincere 
brave,  an  EigliBhman.  He  had  a  complete  fortunt  of 
h.s  ow^,  and  the  love  of  the  king  his  master,  which  Z 
cqnvalent  to  riches.  Life  opened  all  her  t,.asu..s 
He  cl  ;  ^j,^?'"'^^'^  "  '°n«  ^^^cesxion  of  happiness, 
even  T;^  ,!^  "^  '^'  entertainment,  but  was  disgusted 
even  at  the  begmnmg.  He  professed  an  aversion  to 
hvmg,  was  t.red  of  walking  round  the  same  circle- 
Had  tried  every  enjoyment,  and  found  them  all  grow 
weaker  at  every  repetition.  'If  life  be,  in  youth  si 
d.spleasmg,'  cried  he  to  himself,  '  what  w.lHt  appeir 

■sur't^v^lHh^'L""''  \f  *"  ^*  P"«^"'  ^<J'ff--'. 
.ZZ  fl  <.  ^  ''^««'''We.'  This  thought  embittered 
every  reflection  ;    till,  at  last,  -^th  all  the  serenity  of 

2ilt'  -'"^'-^ed  man  been  apprised   .  .at  exTstence 

hav7,r"'.  T':'f  *°  "'  *••«  '°"8«'  ^«  "-*.  he  would 
have  then  faced  old  age  without  shrinking ;  he  would 
have  boMly  da«,d  to  live  ;  and  served  that  society  bv 

J  serttr       ''•  ^''"''  "^  "^'y  ^^"^  ^y^ 


ESSAY  XV 
ON  THE  PASSION  OP  WOMEN  FOR  LEVELLING 
ALL  BISTINCTIONS  OF  DRESS 
[Altered  from  •  On  Dress '  in  The  Bt^,  No.  II] 
POEEIONERS  Observe  that  there  an,  no  ladies  in  the 
^rid  more  beautiful,  or  mor«  ill.<iressed,  than  those  of 
ttfi      ;  country-women  have  been  compared  to 

those  pictures  where  the  face  is  the  work  of  a  Raphael 
but  the  draperies  thrown  out  by  some  empty  pretender' 
destitute  of  taste,  and  unacquainted  with  design 
If  I  were  a  poet,  I  might  observe,  on  this  occasion, 


WOMEN  AND  DRESS  167 

that  80  much  beauty,  set  off  with  all  the  advantages  of 
dress,  would  be  too  powerful  an  antagonist  for  the 
opposite  sex  ;  and  therefore  it  was  wisely  ordered  that 
our  ladies  should  want  taste,  lest  their  admirers  should 
entirely  want  reason. 

But  to  confess  a  truth,  I  do  not  find  they  have  a 
greater  aversion  to  fine  clothes  than  the  women  of  any 
other  country  whatsoever.  I  can't  fancy  that  a  shop- 
keeper's  wife  in  Cheapside  has  a  greater  tenderness  for  the 
fortune  of  her  husband  than  a  citizen's  wife  in  Paris- 
or  that  Miss  in  a  boarding-school  is  more  an  economist 
m  dress  than  Mademoiselle  in  a  nunnery. 

Although  Paris  may  be  accounted  the  soil  in  which 
almost  every  fashion  takes  its  rise,  its  influence  is  never 
so  general  there  as  with  us.  They  study  there  the 
happy  method  of  uniting  grace  and  fashion,  and  never 
excuse  a  woman  for  being  awkwai-dly  dressed,  by  saying 
her  clothes  are  in  the  mode.  A  Frenchwoman  is  a  perfect 
architect  m  dress ;  she  never,  with  Gothic  ignorance 
mixes  the  orders  ;  she  never  tricks  out  a  squabby  Doric 
shape  with  Cormthian  finery;  or,  to  speak  without 
metaphor,  she  conforms  to  a  general  fashion  only  when  it 
hapiK-ns  not  to  be  repugnant  to  private  beauty. 

The  English  ladies,  on  the  contrary,  seem  to  have  no 
other  standard  of  grace  but  the  run  of  the  town  If 
fashion  gives  the  word,  .very  distinction  of  beauty 
complexion,  or  stature,  ceases.  Sweeping  trains,  Prussian 
bonnets,  and  trollopees,  as  like  each  other  as  if  cut  from 
the  same  piece,  level  all  to  one  standard.  The  Mall  the 
gardens,  and  playhouses,  are  filled  with  ladies  in  uniform  ; 
and  their  whole  appearance  shows  as  little  variety  or 
taste  as  if  their  clothes  were  bespoke  by  the  colonel  of 
a  marchmg  regiment,  or  fancied  by  the  artist  who  dresses 
the  three  battalions  of  guards. 
But  not  only  the  ladies  of  every  shape  and  complexion. 


168 


ESSAYS 


but  of  every  age  too,  are  posseBsed  of  this  unaccountable 
P«^.o„  for  leveling  all  diHtinction  in  d«s».  The  2 
of  no  quahty  travels  fa«t  behind  the  lady  of  «ome  qualitv 

itiLTr  "'  '"^''i:'  ^""'-^  ^"  •>-  granTda'ugte": 
th  .f  .■"■""•  "  «<^-"''t"'*d  old  man,  amused  me 
^e  other  day,  .ith  an  account  of  h.  jo'umey  to  The 
Mall.    It  Heems,  m  hi«  walk  thither,  he,  for  some  time 

t^f  «t  '  t"'  "^  '"  *''°"«'"  "^^  "-  -^-V  ™a» 
nlH  f  5.  i'-  ^'  '"''  '''^>''  ^'^g*"".  and  youthful  Mv 
old  fnend  had  called  up  all  his  uoetrv  on  thL  ■ 

aiir)  fo„„;„-i  *  X  „ "^  ""  i'°*"y  on  this  occasion, 
and  fancied  twenty  Cupids  prepared  for  execution  i.^ 
every  foldmg  of  her  white  negligee.   He  had  prepaid  h" 

T.ZTfl7:::T'''''-  •  •""*  -^^^^-^ort ! 

th!n  hi  «     '^l  ""-^^"O'  goddess  was  no  other 

than  hseousm  Hannah,  some  years  older  than  himself 
_    But  to  give  It  m  his  ow-n  words,  '  After  the  transport! 

'r  r;;f !r'"*^'"^'"t' '--"--i-uidraC 

running  my  eye  over  her  whole  appearance  Her 
gown  was  of  cambric,  cut  short  before,  i^  order  to 
^d|«=over  a  high-h«,led  shoe,  which  was  buckl^ 
almost  at  the  toe.  Her  cap  consisted  of  a  few  bits  2 
cambric   and  flowers  of  painted  paper  stuck  on  L^e 

but  the  hand  of  time  these  twenty  yea™,  rose  suing 

than  a  handkerchief  of  Paris  net  to  shade  her  beau"es 

•  L°  ktr:  ;rb:;i?^  rt^'i  ".«"-*°  -  --^ 

♦k       u-^  ^  ^  female  breast  is  generallv 

thought  more  beautiful  as  it  ismoresparmglydifr;^ 
•notL7u  ''"''  ""*  P"'  °"  ''l'  this  finery  fo 

'  whenThl;o"" 'I    'J  *""  '""^"'^  °"'  »°  *^«  ^-k 
when  I  had  overtaken  her.    Perceiving,  however  that 

I  haa  on  my  best  wig,  she  offered,  if  I  w';uld  'l^i^etl 

here,  to  send  home  the  foo*man.    Though  I  trembW 

for  our  reception  in  public,  yet  I  could  not,  S  atj 


vjmjmFT- 


m-^fHiSR 


WOMEN  AND  DRESS  171 

'  in  f* h^?  T-^  ^"-  ^""dabout,  I  mean  the  fat  Jadv 
m  the  lutestrmg  troUopee.    Between  you  and  I  ITl 
but  a  cutlers  wife.    .See  how  she'H  dressed,  a»  toe  a 
hands  and  pms  can  make  her,  while  her  tw^  man^^Le 
aWe  daughters,  like  hunters,  in  stuff  gow^s,  ar^mw 

House     Odious  puss,  how  she  waddles  along,  with  her 

have   he,r  .nonstrous  tails  trundled  along  i„  a  go^art 

lor  all  her  a„s.  it  goes  to  her  husband'!  heart' to  sel' 

_^ur  yards   of  good  lutestring  wearing  agains  tth^ 

peak  my  mmd,  cousm  Jeflery,  I  never  liked  those 

tails  ,  for  suppose  a  young  fellow  should  be  rude  and 

_  the  lady  should  offer  to  step  back  in  the  fright.  falt^S 

of  retirmg,  she  treads  upon  her  train,  and  faL  S 

Cy^ s^'iL^"^ ''"- -  ^- ---^-1^^^^^^ 

'i.!  't^p**!!'  ^^^"^  ■  ^^'^  ^^  «'^°"W  not  miss  her 
■Miss    th^th'  "  *';  ™°"'*™"''  ^"--  bonnet 

'ffnest     butt""":  ""'r  ''  ^''°  •""•  -'"i«^  her 

•  of  rssine  her      ^.     ''''  ^T'^  "'  '^''^^^  ''"^'  ^«t«ad 
o:  oressmg  her  customers,  laid  out  aU  her  goods  in 

,y  uaa  oeen  long  latunate  esteemed  friends  and 


m!Q 


172 


ESSAYS 


'  acquaintance.  Both  were  so  pleased  at  this  happy 
'  rencounter,  that  they  were  resolved  not  to  part  for  the 
'  day.  So  we  all  crossed  the  Park  together,  and  I  saw 
'  them  into  a  hackney-coach  at  St.  James's.' 


ESSAY  XVI 
ASEM  THE   MAN-HATER,   AN   EASTERN  TALE 

Where  Tauris  lifts  its  head  above  the  storm,  and 
presents  nothing  to  the  sight  of  the  distant  traveller 
but  a  prospect  of  nodding  rocks,  falling  torrents,  and  all 
the  variety  of  tremendous  nature  ;  on  the  bleak  bosom 
of  this  frightful  mountain,  secluded  from  society  and 
detesting  the  ways  of  men,  lived  Asem  the  Man-hater. 

Asem  had  spent  his  youth  with  men  ;  had  shared  in 
their  amusements  ;  and  had  been  taught  to  love  his 
fellow  creatures  with  the  most  ardent  affection  :  but 
from  the  tenderness  of  his  disposition,  he  exhausted  all 
his  fortune  in  relieving  the  wants  of  the  distressed.  The 
petitioner  never  sued  in  vain  ;  the  weary  traveller  never 
passed  his  door ;  he  only  desisted  from  doing  good  when 
he  had  no  longer  the  power  of  relieving. 

From  a  fortune  thus  spent  in  benevolence,  he  expected 
a  grateful  return  from  those  he  had  formerly  relieved  ; 
and  made  his  application  with  confidence  of  redress  : 
the  ungrateful  world  soon  grew  weary  of  his  importunity  ; 
for  pity  is  but  a  short-lived  passion.  He  soon,  therefore, 
began  to  view  mankind  in  a  very  different  light  from 
that  in  which  he  had  before  beheld  them  :  he  perceived 
a  thousand  vices  he  had  never  before  suspected  to  exist : 
wherever  he  turned,  ingratitude,  dissimulation,  and 
treachery,  contributed  to  increase  his  detestation  of  them. 
Resolved  therefore  to  continue  no  longer  in  a  world 
which  he  hated,  and  which  repaid  his  detestation  with 


WOMEN  AND  DRESS 


169 

•civiUty  refuse  ;  so,  to  be  as  gallant  as  possible,  I  took 

her  hand  m  my  arm,  and  thus  we  marched  on  together 

When  we  made  our  entry  at  the  Park,  two  antfquated 

_  figures,  so  pohte  and  so  tender,  soon  attracted  the  lyl 

of  the  company.    As  we  made  our  way  among  crowds 

•  et:  :r  °"'  ^V^-*"-  finery  as  w^ll  as  wf.wW 

C  hus  Th"''  'rr''Tr''  "^  ''•'"«'''  goodiumour 
with  us  The  pohte  could  not  forbear  smiling  and  the 
vulgar  bu^t  out  into  a  horse-laugh  at  our  gr'esque 

•ofTe're^TT  ",7"'''  "'°  ""'  P^^ectly  conscZ 
of  the  rectitude  of  her  own  appearance,  attributed  all 
this  mn^h  to  the  oddity  of  mine  ;   whUe  I  as  cordiaUv 
paced  the  whole  to  her  account.    Thus,  from  be'g  two 
of  the  best-natured  creatures  alive,  before  wo  got  half- 
_  way  up  the  Mall,  we  both  began  to  grow  peevfh  and, 
like  two  mice  on  a  string,  endeavoured  to  revenge  the 
_  impertmenee  of  the  spectators  upon  each  other     "I  am 
amazed,  cousin  Jeffery,"  says  Miss,  -that  I  can  never 
get  you  to  dress  like  a  Christian.    I  knew  we  shouTd 
have  the  eyes  of  the  Park  upon  us,  with  your  great  wig 
_^o  frizzled   and  yet  so  beggarly,  and  yLr  Tustrou's 

'Z  n  K  •"""  °^'°"'  ""^f""  I  «o"W  have 
patiently  borne  a  criticUm  on  all  the  rest  of  my 

a  little  and  hrowmg  my  eyes  with  a  spiteful  air 
on  her  bosom,  I  could  heartily  wish,  madam,"  replied 
1,     that,  for  your  sake,  my  muff  was  cut  into  a  tippet  " 

'asham^ofT"'  '^,  '''^  "'"^''  "'^^  «--"  ^^^^Y 
ashamed  of  her  gentleman-usher,  and  as  I  was  never 

very  fond  of  any  kind  of  exhibition  myself    it  wis 

mu  uaUy  agi^ed  to  retire  for  a  while  to  on;  of  The 

as  they  had  remarked  on  us. 

'When  seated  we  continued  silent  for  some  time 
O  3 


170 


ESSAYS 


'employed  in  very  different  speculations.  I  regarded 
'  the  whole  company,  now  passing  in  review  before  me, 
'  as  drawn  out  merely  for  my  amusement.  For  my 
'  entertainment  the  beauty  had,  all  that  morning,  been 
'  improving  her  charms  ;  the  beau  had  put  on  lace,  and 
'  the  young  doctor  a  big  wig,  merely  to  please  me.  But 
'  quite  different  were  the  sentiments  of  cousin  Hannah  ; 
'  she  regarded  every  well-dressed  woman  as  a  victorious 
'  rival ;  hated  every  face  that  seemed  dressed  in  good 
'  humour,  or  wore  the  appearance  of  greater  happiness 
'  than  her  own.  I  perceived  her  uneasiness,  and  at- 
'  tempted  to  lessen  it,  by  observing  that  there  was  no 
'company  in  the  Park  to-day.  To  this  she  readily 
'  assented  ;  "  and  yet,"  says  she,  "  it  is  full  enough  of 
'  scrubs  of  one  kind  or  another."  My  smiling  at  this 
'  observation  gave  her  spirits  to  pursue  the  bent  of  her 
'  inclination,  and  now  she  began  to  exhibit  her  skill  in 
'secret  history,  as  she  found  me  disposed  to  listen. 
Observe,"  says  she  to  me,  "  that  old  woman  in  tawdry 
'silk,  and  dressed  out  beyond  the  fashion.  That  is 
'Miss  Biddy  Evergreen.  Miss  Biddy,  it  seems,  has 
'  money ;  and  as  she  considers  that  money  was  never 
'  so  scarce  as  it  is  now,  she  seems  resolved  to  keep  what 
'  she  has  to  herself.  She  is  ugly  enough,  you  see  ;  yet, 
'  I  assure  you,  she  has  refused  several  offers,  to  my  own 
'  knowledge,  within  this  twelvemonth.  Let  me  see  ; 
'  three  gentlemen  from  Ireland  wno  study  the  law,  two 
'  waiting-captains,  her  doctOi-,  and  a  Scotch  preacher, 
'  who  had  like  to  have  carried  her  off.  A!(  her  time  is 
'  passed  between  sickcess  and  finery.  Thus  she  spends 
'the  whole  Mc<=k  in  a  close  chamber,  with  no  other 
'  company  but  her  monkey,  her  apothecary,  and  cat ; 
'  and  comes  dressed  out  to  the  Park  every  Sunday, 
'  to  show  her  airs,  to  get  new  lovers,  to  catch  a  new  cnid, 
'  and  to  make  new  work  for  the  doctor. 


ASEM,  AN  EASTERN  TALE  175 

formed  agreeable  to  your  own  ideas  ;  they  are  absolutely 
without  vice.  In  other  respects  it  resembles  your 
earth,  but  differs  from  it  in  being  wholly  inhabited  by 
men  who  never  do  wrong.  K  yon  find  this  world  more 
agreeable  than  that  you  so  lately  left,  you  have  fteo 
permission  to  spend  the  remainder  of  your  days  in  it  ; 
but  permit  me,  for  some  time,  to  attend  you,  that 
I  may  silence  your  doubts,  and  make  you  better 
acquainted  with  your  company  and  your  new  habita- 
tion.' 

'  A  world  without  vice  !  Rational  beings  without 
immorality  !  '  crie<l  Asem,  in  a  rapture  ;  '  I  thank 
thee,  O  ABah,  who  hast  at  length  heard  my  petitions  ; 
this,  this  indeed  will  produce  happiness,  ^stasy,  and 
ease.  O  for  an  immortality,  to  spend  it  among  men 
who  are  mcspable  of  ingratitude,  injustice,  fraud, 
violence,  and  a  thousand  other  crimes,  that  render 
society  miserable.' 

'  Cease  thine  acclamations,'  replied  the  Genius.  '  Look 
around  thee  ;  reflect  on  every  object  and  action  before 
us,  and  communicate  to  me  the  result  of  thine  observa- 
tions.    Lead  wherever  you  think  proper,  I  shaU  be 
your  attendant  and  instructor.'    Asem  and  his  com- 
panion travelled  on  in  silence  f.     some  time,  the  former 
being   entu^ly   lost   in   astonishment;     but.    at   last, 
recovering  his  former  serenity,  he  could  not  help  ob- 
serving, that  the  face  of  the  country  bore  a  near  resem- 
blance to  that  he  had  left,  except  that  this  subterranean 
world  still  seemed  to  retain  its  primaeval  wildness. 
'Here,'  cried   Asem,   'I   perceive  animals  of  prey, 
and  others  that  seem  only  designed  for  their  sub- 
sistence ;    it  is  the  very  same  in  the  world  over  our 
heads.     But  had  I  been  permitted  to  instruct  our 
Prophet,  r  would  have  removed  this  defect,  and  formed 
no  voracious  or  destructive  animals,  which  only  prey 


176 


ESSAYS 


'  on  the  other  parts  of  the  creation.'    '  Your  t«*deme«« 

'for  inferior  animals  is,  I  find,  remark»Wi^,'  sAid  the 

Oemus,  smiling     '  But,  with  regard  to  memer  ««ature«, 

this  world  exactly  resembles  the  other ;   »nd,  indeed, 

'  for  obvious  re  sons  :  for  the  e«rth  can  support  a  more' 

•considerable  r.umber  of  animals,  bv  llleir  thus  becora- 

^  ing  food  fo-  oach  other,  than  if  thev  had  lived  entirely 

on  the  vegotablo  protluctions.     So  that  animals  of 

different  natures  thus  formed,  instead  of  lessening  their 

I  multitude,  subsist  in  the  gr««teat  number  possible.  But 

'  let  us  hasten  on  to  the  inhabited  country  before  us,  and 

'  see  what  that  oflert  for  instruction.' 

They  soon  gained  the  utmost  verge  of  the  forest  and 
entered  the  country  inhabited  by  men  without  vice  ; 
and  Asem  anticipated  in  idea  the  rational  delight  he 
hoped  to  experience  in  such  an  mnocent  society.     But 
they  had  scarce  left  the  confines  of  the  wood,  when  they 
beheld  one  of  the  inhabitants  flying  with  hasty  steps 
and  terror  in  his  countenance,  from  an  army  of  squirrels 
that  closely  pursued  him.     '  Heavens  !  '    cried  Asem 
'  why  does  he  fly  ?    What  can  he  fear  from  animals  so 
contemptible  ?  '    He  had  scarce  spoke  when  he  per- 
ceived two  dogs  pursuing  another  of  the  human  species 
who,  with  equal  terror  and  haste,  attempted  to  avoid 
them.     'This,'  cried  Asem    to    his   guide,   'is    truly 
surprising;    nor  can   I  conceive  the   reason   for  so 
strange    an    action.'      'Every  species    of    animals" 
replied  the  Genius,  'has  of  late  grown  very  pov.erfu'l 
'  in  this  country  ;  for  the  inhabitants,  at  first,  thinking 
It  unjust  to  use  either  fraud  or  force  in  destroying  them 
'they  have  insensibly  increased,  and  now  frequently 
'ravage  their  harmless  frontiers.'     'But  they  should 
*  have   been   destroyed,'  cried   Asem  ;     '  you   see   the 
'  consequence   of  such  neglect.'     '  Where  is  then  that 
'tenderness  you  so  lately  expressed  for  subordinate 


ASEM,  AN  .EASTERN  TALE  173 

contempt,  he  retired  to  this  region  of  storility,  in  order  to 
brood  over  his  resentment  in  solitude,  nnd  ronverse  with 
the  only  honest  heart  he  knew  ;   nanicly,  with  his  own. 

A  cave  was  his  only  shvltii-  from  tlio  inilemcncy  of 
the  weather  ;  fruits  gathered  with  difticulty  from  the 
mountain's  side,  his  only  food;  and  his  drink  was 
fetched  with  danger  and  toil  from  the  headlong  torrent. 
In  this  manner  he  lived,  sequestered  from  society,  pas.sing 
the  hours  in  meditation,  and  sometimes  exulting  that 
ho  was  able  to  live  independently  of  his  fellow  creatures. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  an  extensive  lake  dis- 
played its  glassy  bosom  ;  reflecting,  on  its  broad  surface 
the  impending  horrors  of  the  mountain.    To  this  capa- 
cious mirror  ho  would  sometimes  descend,  and,  reclining 
on  its  steep  Ijank,  cast  nn  eager  look  on  the  smooth 
expanse  that  lay  )>efore  him.    '  How  beautiful,'  he  often 
cried,   '  is  Nature  !    how  lovely,  even  in   her  wildest 
scenes  !    How  finely  contrasted  is  the  level  plain  that 
lies  beneath  me,  with  yon  awful  pile  that  hides  its 
tremendous  head  in  clouds  !    But  the  beauty  of  tuese 
scenes  is  no  way  comparable  with  their  utility  ;   from 
hence  an  hundred  rivers  aio  supplied,  which  distribute 
health  and  verdure  to  the  various  countries  through 
which   they   flow.      Every   part   of   the   universe   is 
beautiful,  just,  and  wise,  but  man  :    vile  man  is  a 
solecism  in  Nature  ;  the  only  monster  in  the  creation. 
Tempests  and  whirlwinds  have  their  use  ;   but  vicious,' 
ungrateful  man  is  a  blot  in  the  fair  page  of  universal 
beauty.     Why  was  I  bom  of  that  detested  species, 
whose  vices  are  almost  a  reproach  to  the  wisdom  of 
the  Divine  Creator !   Were  men  entirely  free  from  vice, 
all  would  he  uniformity,  harmony,  and  order.    A  world 
of  moral  rectitude  should  be  the  result  of  a  perfectly 
moral  agent.     Why,  why  then,  O  Allah  !    must  I  be 
thu.s  confined  in  darkness,  doubt,  and  despair  V 


174 


ESSAYS 


Jurt  M  he  uttered  the  woH  despair,  he  was  goinB  to 
phmge  ,„to  the  lake  beneath  him.  .t  o^ce  to  ^af^n^Vu 
doubt,  and  put  a  period  to  hi»  anxiety;  when  he 
^ThJt  I  "«"•' -""je-tio  being  walldng  on  the  suliaoe 
1^     ^    •  ""**  "PP'^-'hing  the  banlc  on  which  he 

purpose  :  ho  stopped,  contemplated,  and  fancied  he  saw 
somethmg  awful  and  divine  in  his  a;pect. 

Son  of  Adam,'  cried  the  Oeniua,   'atop  thy  ra»h 

fuTr/h  *'^^''*''"  °'  "•"  ^''"*"«'  »•-  -"  % 

o  afford  iirr'^'  ^''^  '""""'"'  »«»  "-'h  »«"'  "- 
to  afford  and  admm«ter  relief.    Give  me  thine  hand, 

and  follow,  without  trembling,  wherever  I  shall  lead  ■ 

in  me  behold  the  Genius  of  Conviction,  kept  by  thJ 

great  Prophet,  to  t.™  from  their  er«,rs  tho^  who  go 

Follow         '""T  """"""y-  but  a  rectitude  of  intention, 
follow  me,  and  be  wise.' 

..ufTT  'T^fr*!'^  descended  upon  the  lake,  and  his 
gmde  conducted  him  along  the  surface  of  th;  water; 
tm,  commg  near  the  centre  of  the  lake,  they  both  begai^ 
U,  smk:  the  waters  closed  over  their  heads ;  tW 
descended  several  hundi^  fathoms,  till  Asem,  jus  ready 
to  g.ve  up  his  life  as  inevitably  lost,  found  himself  ^ 
hm  celestial  guide  in  another  world,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  waters  where  human  foot  had  never  trod  before 
His  astomshment  was  beyond  description,  when  he  saw 
a  sun  hke  that  he  had  left,  a  serene  sky  over  his  head 
and  bloommg  verdure  under  his  feet. 

'  I  plainly  perceive  your  amazement,'  said  the  Genius  • 
but  suspend  .t  for  a  while.  This  world  was  formed  ^ 
Allah,  at  the  request,  and  under  the  inspection  of 
our  great  Prophet,  who  once  entertained  the  same 
doubts  which  filled  your  mind  when  I  found  you.  and 
from  the  consequence  of  which  you  were  so  lately 
rescued.     The  rational  inhabitants  of  this  world  are 


A8EM,  AN  EASTERN  TALE 


170 

;it  bfo  min.,  J  They  nev.r  «^  po..,^^.,  ,.,  „  ^^ 
n^l  mor.  than  u,  ,„.ceH«ary ;  ami  *hut  i.  ,,Sy 
necessary  cannot  be  ,li»penHo<I  «ith.'  ■  Thov  «houd 
have  boon  supplied  ,,th  ,„„,,  ,h„„  ,-,  „rco«,„  v    erS. 

_  tuHion     Even  the  want  of  .ngrntit..<lo  i„  „„  virtu,,  h.-rr 

over  another  cxcolk e,  yet  behind  ;  the  love  of  the.r 

country  „  «till,  I  hope.,  on.    ..f  thei;  darhng  virtue  • 
Peace,  Anen,,' replied  theCiuanli..,,  «ith  a oof.nt  „„,^ 

P^tens.ons  to  wisdom  ;  the  same  selfinh  ,n,.ive«  by 
which  wo  prefer  our  own  int<.re«t  to  th.t  .,f  ..the™ 
mduoe  u.  .o  repard  our  c„M„,ry  preferably  t.,  Zoi 
another.  .Nothing  !,.«  th„.  unive^al  benevoW  -f 
free  from  v.oe,  and  that  ou  «■«  is  practiced  he,^' 
Strange  I     enes  the  disappointed  pilgrim.  i„  an  agony 

'  11  ^u'^T"^  "  ""«'"  '■''■*"'^'  »""  that  of  temper- 
ance,  which  they  practise;  and  in  that  they  are  no 
way  Hupenor  to  the  ve,^  brute  creation.  There  israree 
an  amuse„u.nt  which  they  enjoy  ;  fortitude,  liberality 

_  fnendsh.p  w>.,dom,  conversation,  and  love  ;f  cou^'^' 
aJl  are  virtues  entir.,ly  unknown  here ;  thun  it  seems' 
that,  to  be  unacquainted  with  ^ice  I  not  to  know 

'        u-    ^^'f  r'""'  °  "'^  «-"""•■  '»-k  <"  that  verT 

Allah  for  Its  contriver  is  much  more  wiselv  formed 
■   nltt  H   "'"'  '"  '^"  P'°i-*"'   'V  Mahomet 

for  perhaps  I  have  deserved  them.    When  I  arraigned 

the  wisdom  of  Providence.  I  only  showed  my  T^ 
_  -gnorance  ;  henceforth  let  me  keep  from  vice  my^T 

and  pity  it  in  others.'  "lyseu. 


MIOOCOrY   nSCHUTION   TBT  CHAIT 

(ANSI  ono  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


|2^ 

■  2J 

■  12 

US, 

■  25 

12.0 

fLS, 

[ 

11.6 

^     /IPPLIED  IIVMGE    Inc 

t65J  Easl  Main  Slreat 

RochatUr,  N«w  York         14609       USA 

(716)   *82  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)   280-5989  -  Foi. 


180 


ESSAYS 


He  had  Hcarce  ended,  when  the  Genius,  asRuming  nu 
air  of  terrible  complacency,  called  all  his  thunders 
around  him,  and  vanished  in  a  whirlwind.  Asem, 
astonished  at  the  terror  of  the  scene,  looked  for  his 
imaginary  world  ;  when,  casting  his  eyes  around,  ho 
perceived  himself  in  the  very  situation,  and  in  the  very 
place,  where  he  first  Ijegan  to  repine  and  despair  ;  his 
right  foot  had  been  just  advanced  to  take  the  fatal 
plunge,  nor  had  it  been  yet  withdrawn  ;  so  instantly  did 
Providence  strike  the  series  of  truths  just  imprinted  on 
his  soul.  He  now  departed  from  the  waterside  in 
tranquillity,  and,  leaving  his  horrid  mansion,  travelled 
10  Segestan,  his  native  city  ;  where  he  diligently  applied 
himself  to  commerce,  and  put  in  practice  that  wisdom 
he  had  learned  in  solitude.  The  frugality  of  a  few  years 
soon  produced  opulence  ;  the  number  of  his  domestics 
increased  ;  his  friends  came  to  him  from  every  part  of 
the  city ;  nor  did  he  receive  them  with  disdain  ;  and 
a  youth  of  misery  was  concluded  with  an  old  age  of 
elegance,  affluence,  and  ease. 


ESSAY  XVII 

ON  THE  ENGLISH  CLERGY  AND  POPULAR 
PREACHERS 

[From  The  Ladies'  Magazine] 
It  is  allowed  on  all  hands,  that  our  English  divines 
receive  a  more  liberal  education,  and  improve  that 
education,  by  frequent  study,  more  than  any  others  of 
this  reverend  profession  in  Europe.  In  general,  also,  it 
may  be  observed,  that  a  greater  degree  of  gentility  is 
annexed  to  the  character  of  a  student  in  England  than 
elsewhere  ;  by  which  means  our  clergy  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  better  company  while  young,  and  of 


ASEM,  AN  EASTERN  TALE 


177 


'  animalH  ? '  replied  the  Genius  smiling :  '  you  seem  to 
'  have  forgot  that  branch  of  justice.'  '  I  must  acknow  - 
'  ledge  my  mistake,'  returned  Asem ;  '  I  am  now 
'  convinced  that  wc  must  be  guilty  of  tyranny  and 
'  injustice  to  the  brute  creation,  if  we  would  enjoy  the 
'  world  ourselves.  But  let  us  no  longer  observe  the 
'  duty  of  man  to  these  irrational  creatures,  but  survey 
'  their  connexions  with  cue  another.' 

As  they  walked  farther  up  the  country,  the  more  he 
was  surprised  to  see  no  vestiges  of  handsome  houses, 
nocities,  nor  any  mark  of  elegant  d<-.ign.  His  conductor, 
perceiving  his  surprise,  observed,  that  the  inhabitants  of 
this  new  world  were  perfectly  content  with  their  ancient 
simplicity ;  each  had  a  house,  which,  though  homely,  was 
sufficient  to  lodge  hia  little  family  ;  they  were  too  good 
to  build  houses,  which  could  only  increase  their  own 
pride,  and  the  envy  of  the  spectator ;  what  they  built 
was  for  convenience,  and  not  for  show.  '  At  least, 
'  then,'  said  Asem,  '  they  have  neither  architects, 
'  painters,  or  statuaries,  in  their  society  ;  but  these 
'are  idle  arts,  and  may  be  spared.  However,  before 
'  I  spend  much  more  time  here,  you  should  have  my 
'  thanks  for  introducing  me  into  the  society  of  some 
'  of  their  wisest  men  :  there  is  scarce  any  pleasure  to 
'  me  equal  to  a  refined  conversation  ;  there  is  nothing 
'  of  which  I  am  so  enamoured  as  wisdom.'  '  Wisdom  ! ' 
replie<l  his  instructor,  '  how  ridiculous  !  We  have  no 
'  wisdom  here,  for  we  have  no  occasion  for  it ;  true 
'  wisdom  is  only  a  knowledge  of  our  own  duty,  and  the 
'  duty  of  others  to  us  ;  but  of  what  use  is  such  wisdom 
'  here  ?  each  intuitively  performs  what  is  right  in 
'  himself,  and  expects  the  same  from  others.  If  by 
'  wisdom  you  should  mean  vain  curiosity  and  empty 
'  speculation,  as  such  pleasures  have  their  origin  in 
'  vanity,  luxury,  or  avarice,  we  are  too  good  to  pursue 


178 


ESSAYS 


them.       All  this  may  bo  right,'  says  Asem  ;    'but 
_  methmks  I  observe  a  solitary  disposition  prevail  among 
_  the  people  ;  each  family  keeps  separately  within  their 
_  own  precincts,  without  society,  or  without  intercourse.' 
That   indeed,  is  true,'  replied  the  other;  'here  is  no 
_ established   society;    nor  should  there  be  any    all 
societies  are  made  either  through  fear  or  friendship  • 
the  people  we  are  among,  are  too  good  to  fear  each 
_  other  ;  and  there  are  no  motives  to  private  friendship 
where  aU  are  equally  meritorious.'    '  Well  then,'  saW 
the  sceptic,  'as  I  am  to  spend  my  time  here,  if  I  am 
_  to  have  neither  the  polite  arts,  nor  wisdom,  nor  friend- 
^  ship,  m  such  a  world,  I  should  be  glad,  at  least,  of  an 
_  easy  companion,  who  may  tell  me  his  thoughts,  and  to 
_  whom   I  may  co.nmunioate    mine.'     '  And  to  what 
purpose  should  either  do  this?'    says  the   Genius: 
^  flattery  or  curiosity  are  vicious  motives,  and  never 
allowed  of  here ;  and  wisdom  is  out  of  the  question.' 
Still,  however,'  said  Asem,  'the  inhabitants  must 
_  be  happy  ;  each  is  contented  with  his  o^vn  possessions 
_  nor  avariciously  endeavours  to  heap  up  more  than  is 
_  necessary  for  his  own  subsistence  :  each  has  therefore 
leisure  to  pity  those  that  stand  in  need  of  his  com- 
passion.'    He  had  scarce  spoken  when  his  ears  were 
assaulted  with  the  lamentations  of  a  wretch  who  sat  bv 
the  wayside,  and,  in  the  most  deplorable  distress,  seemed 
gently  to  murmur  at  his  own  misery.   Asem  immediately 
ran  to  his  relief,  and  found  him  in  the  last  stage  of 
a   consumption.      'Strange,'  cried  the  son  of  Adam 
^  that  men  who  are  free  from  vice  should  thus  suffer  so 
much  misery  without  relief  !  '      '  Be  not  surprised  ' 
said  the  wretch  who  was  dying;  'would  it  not  be  the 
_  utmost  injustice  for  beings,  who  have  only  just  sufficient 
^  to  support  themselves,  and  are  content  with  a  bare 
subsistence,  to  take  it  from  their  own  mouths  to  put 


THE  ENGLISH  CLERGY  183 

they,  of  all  profesRJons,  seem  the  most  bashful,  wLo  have 
the  greatest  right  to  glory  in  their  commission. 

The    French    preachers   generally   assume   all    that 
dignity  which  becomes  men  who  arc  ambassadors  from 
Christ ;    the   English  divines,   like  erroneous  envoys, 
seem  more  solicitous  not  to  offend  the  court  to  which 
they  are  sent,  than  to  drive  home  the  interests  of  their 
employer.    The  Bishop  of  Massillon,  in  the  first  sermon 
he  ever  preached,  found  the  whole  audience,  upon  his 
getting  into  the  pulpit,  in  a  disposition  no  way  favourable 
to  his  intentions  ;  their  nods,  whispers,  or  drowsy  be- 
haviour, showed  him  that  there  was  no  great  profit  to 
be  expected  from  his  sowing  in  a  soil  so  improper ;  how- 
ever, he  soon  changed  the  disposition  of  his  audience  by 
his  manner  of  beginning  :   '  If,'  says  he,  '  a  cause,  the 
'  most  important  that  could  be  conceived,  were  to  be 
I  tried  at  the  bar  before  qualified  judges  ;   if  this  cause 
I  interested  ourselves  in  particular  ;    if  the  eyes  of  the 
'  whole  kingdom  were  fixed  upon  the  event ;  if  the  most 
'  eminent  counsel  were  employed  on  both  sides  ;   and  if 
'  we  had  heard  from  our  infancy  of  this  yet  undeter- 
^  mined  trial ;  would  you  not  all  sit  with  due  attention, 
'  and  warm  expectations,  to  the  pleadings  on  each  side  1 
'  would  not  all  your  hopes  and  fears  be  hinged  upon  the 
I  final  decision  ?     And  yet,  let  me  tell  you,  you  have 
'  this  moment  a  cause  of  much  greater  importance  before 
'  you  ;  a  cause  where  not  one  nation,  but  all  the  world, 
'  are  spectators  ;  tried  not  before  a  faUible  tribunal,  but 
'  the  awful  throne  of  Heaven,  where  not  your  temporal 
^  and  transitory  interests  are  the  subject  of  debate,  but 
'  your  eternal  happiness  or  misery,  where  the  cause  is  stil? 
'  undetermined ;    but,  perhaps,  the  very  moment  I  am 
'  speaking,  may  fix  the  irrevocable  decree  that  shall  last 
'  for  ever ;   and  yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  you  can 
'  hardly  sit  with  patience  to  hear  the  tidings  of  your  own 


I(M 


ESSAYS 


attended  with  the  ^1!^  "f  ■  **"'  '"  ^''^  ''"'P''  ''  - 
which,  in  the  clo«e  XhrXTTT  ^  """  ''*^'-- 
tte  true  mode  of  e  oaue'e  h^  r""'  "'""y'  ««"»« 
compodtion.  under  Zt^tt  ?'  ^  '"'''""  "^""^  "^  «"" 
thi..lc  th.  .thor  hL  ifl  .t.""™""'  »'""  I  ''«  not 
to  be  used  mZm^ZT  .  7T  '  '"^  ''"'  ""«^"t« 
"peaking  well     iS^Ji  "!'"*'>','''*-  ^'om  those  of 

been  alLdy  ob^rve^  1,^"'"°"'*  ^"^  ''^'^^-  "«  »""' 
aeeomplishmenta  S;''^,;t^''l'l"^^^  ^''^'^  "« 
candidate  who  will  be  at  th^"-       '  "^  ''^  "^"'y 

with  a  Ben»e  Tfthe  trutLT  "T^^'  '"^^"^''^ 
preacher  disregard;  the  ann?  "  ''^'"'  *"  ''«''^«'.  <» 
audience,  and  Ltllwv  '  "^  *'"'  """''"»?'  °^  '^i" 
sincerity  With  thisT  T  f """''  "  •''"^'  ""^  '"""'y 
-dra^ardiSLtri— ^^^^ 
sense  ;  what  number*  converted  to  rh!?  !  ™'"'"°" 
way  sometimes  set  an  examnlff  ^^™*'«'"*y-  Folly 
and  our  regular  diW  .    '  '^"''°«  *°  P'l^tise, 

eveuMethoSts  ir^thelefT  "^'"^'"'°"  ^-- 
among  the  populace  E  vfn  S^  ma'  Tf  ™ 
a  model  to  some  of  our  yom^rS  '  T^,^  P''^."':''  ^ 

ex;:i,res':faTi:t:i*^^''  'y  -^'^rthe 

andopem.essofSirakftr'T/'^''''^^^^^'''''^^' 
for  estimation:   the;e  wSvl^"*''/^''''"""' t"" tiffing 

brought  up  on  tW^clio^  "T'"'  "''''"'  "'^"^^y 
elocution,  may  be  rera^^ '  fT'  ''""'"'^>  «^ace, 
complete  the  ^chara"rlr.:°'"*''^  "^''^^^'y  *° 
-mmon  sense  is  sridom^wrjed  brfi^f,'"  '^^"^'^^'^  = 
Penods,  ,ust  attitudes,  or  t^lX^,  ^--^t 


THE  ENGLISH  CLERGY  isi 

sooner  wearing  off  tho«,  preju.lieoH  young  men  are  apt 

uhich  "'"y  1-  ju  tly  tern.e<l  the  vulgar  errors  of  the  wi*. 
iet  w.th  «11  these  advantages,  it  is  very  obvious  that 
tl>e   elergy  are   nowhere   so   little   thought  of,  by   the 
populaee,  a«  here     and.  though  our  divines  are  forclost 
^u  h  respeet  to  abU.ties,  yet  they  are  f.und  last  in  th^ 
efleets  of  the.r  ministry ;   the  vulgar,  in  general,  amx.ar! 
mg  no  way  nupressed  with  a  sense  of  religious  duty 
I  am  not  for  whining  at  the  depravity  of  the  times,  or 
for  endeavourmg  to  paint  a  prospeet  more  gloomy  than 
m  nature  ;  but  eertain  it  is,  no  person  who  ha«  travelled 
^v.ll  con  rad.ct  n>e,  when  I  aver  that  the  lower  orders  of 
mankmd.  m  other  eountries,  testify,  on  every  occasion 
the  profoundest  awe  of  religion  ;  while  in  England  the^ 
are  scarcely  awakened  ir,to  a  sense  of  its  duties,  even  i^ 
circumstances  of  the  greatest  distress 

This  dissolute  and  fearless  conduct  foreigners  are  apt 
to  attribute  to  climate  and  constitution  ;   may  nZ  the 

f?or;h  ^^  Ti^  '""'=''  '''^^''""^  ^  °"^  exhortations 
from  the  pulpit,  be  a  conspiring  cause  V  Our  divines 
seldom   stoop   to   their   mean   capacities;     and    tZ 

a^tLrel""'""""'^  '""''  ''"'  '^^^^  -  °-  -''«-« 
Whatever  may  become  of  the  higher  orders  of  man- 
kmd  who  are  generally  possessed  of  collateral  motives 
to  virtue  the  vulgar  should  be  particularly  regarded 
whose  behaviour  in  civil  life  is  totally  hinged  upon  the^ 
hopes  and  fea^.  Those  who  constitute  the  basTof  the 
great  fabric  of  society  should  be  particularly  regarded  • 
tor  ui  policy  as  in  architecture,  ruin  is  most  fatal  when 
it  begms  from  the  bottom. 

Men  of  real  sense  and  understanding  prefer  a  prudent 
nediocnty  to  a  precarious  popularity;  and.  fearing  to 
outdo  then:  auty,  leave  it  half  done.    Their  discourses 


182 


ESSAYS 


from  the  pulpit  nro  generally  dry,  methodical,  and 
uuaffectmg  ;  delivered  with  the  most  insipid  calmness  • 
insomuch,  that,  should  the  peaceful  preacher  lift  his 
head  over  the  cushion,  which  alone  he  seems  to  address 
he  might  discover  his  audience,  instead  of  being  awakened 
to  reinorso,  actually  sleeping  over  his  methodical  and 
laboured  composition. 

This  method  of  preaching  is,  however,  by  some  called 
an  address  to  reason,  and  not  to  the  passions  ;   this  is 
styled  the  making  of  converts  fro;.;  conviction  •    but 
such  are  indiffe      tly  acquainted  with  human  nature 
who  are  not  sei.    ble,  that  men  seldom  reason  about 
their  debaucheries  till  they  are  committed  ,    reason  is 
but  a  weak  antagonist  when  headlong  passion  dictates  • 
in  all  such  cases  wo  should  arm  one  passion  against 
another  ;   it  is  with  the  human  mii.d  as  in  nature,  from 
the  mixture  of  two  opposites  the  result  is  most  frequently 
neutral  tranquillity.    Those  who  attempt  to  reason  us 
out  of  our  foUies,  begin  at  the  wrong  end,  since  the 
attempt  naturally  presupposes  us  capable  of  reason  •  but 
to  be  made  capable  of  this,  is  one  great  point  of  the  cure 
There  are  but  few  talents  requisite  to  become  a  popular 
preacher,  for  the  people  are  easily  pleased  if  they  perceive 
any  endeavours  in  the  orator  to  please  them;    the 
meanest   qualifications   will   work   this   effect     if   the 
preacher  sincerely  sets  about  it.    Perhaps  little,  indeed 
very  little,  more  is  required,  than  sincerity  and  assurance- 
and  a  becoming  sincerity  is  always  certain  of  producing 
a  becoming  assurance.     '  Si  vis  me  flere,  doknJum  est 
■^primum  tibi  ipsi,'  is  so  trite  a  quotation,  that  it  almost 
demands  an  apoloty  to  repeat  it ;  yet,  though  all  alow 
the  justice  of  the  remark,  how  few  do  wo  find  put  it  in 
practice  V    Our  orators,  with  the  mo,;,  faulty  bashfulness 
seem  impressed  rather  with  an  awe  c.  their  audience  than 
with  a  just  respect  for  the  truths  they  are  about  to  deliver- 


THE  ENGLISH  CLERGY 


185 


kerchief ;  oratorial  behaviour,  cxcej)!  in  very  able  handi. 
indeed,  gencruUy  sinks  into  awkward  and  paltry  affettn- 
tion. 

It  must  be  observed,  however,  that  these  rules  are 
ealculated  only  for  him  who  would  instruct  the  vulgar, 
who  stand  in  most  need  of  instruction;  to  address 
philosophers,  and  to  obtain  the  character  of  a  jxilite 
preacher  among  the  i)olite— a  much  more  useless,  though 
more  sought-for  character— requires  a  different  method 
of  proceeding.  All  I  shall  observe  on  this  head  is,  to 
entreat  the  polemic  divine,  in  his  controversy  with  the 
Deists,  to  act  rather  offensively  than  to  defend  ;  to  push 
home  the  grounds  of  his  belief,  and  the  impracticability 
of  theirs,  rather  than  to  spend  time  in  solving  the 
objections  of  every  opponent.  '  It  is  ten  to  one,'  savs 
a  lato  writer  on  the  art  of  war,  '  but  that  the  assailant 
'who  attacks  the  enemy -in  his  trenches,  is  always 
'  victorious.' 

Yet,  upon  the  whole,  our  clergy  might  employ  them- 
selves more  to  the  benefit  of  society,  by  declining  all 
controversy,  than  by  exhibiting  even  the  profouudest 
skill  in  polemic  disputes ;  their  contests  with  each  other 
often  turn  on  speculative  trifles  ;  and  their  disputes  with 
the  Deists  are  almost  ui  an  end  since  they  can  have 
no  more  than  victory,  and  that  they  are  already  possessed 
of,  as  their  antagonists  have  been  driven  into  a  confession 
of  the  necessity  of  revelation,  or  an  open  avowal  of 
theism.  To  continue  the  dispute  longer  would  only 
endanger  it ;  the  sceptic  is  ever  expert  at  puzzling  a 
debate  which  he  finds  himself  unable  to  conti-je; 
'  and,  like  an  Olympic  boxer,  generally  fights  best  when 
'  undermost.' 


188 


ESSAY  XVIII 

ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  TO  BE  DERIVEL     'ROM 

SENDlN(i  A  Jl'DiCIOL-S  TRAVELLER  INTO  ASIA 

[Al  .  n.<l  from  U'ttor  CVHI  of  Th,'  Cllhin  of  :!,,  MorW] 

I  iiAVK  frc<|iiently  Iwcu  aiiiuml  at  the  igiioniiicc  of 
iilmont  all  the  European  travellers  who  have  iH-netratcd 
any  conHiderable  way  eastward  into  Asia.  They  have 
all  been  infliiei.eed  either  by  motives  of  coninicice  or 
piety,  and  their  accounts  are  such  as  might  reasonably 
be  expected  from  men  of  a  very  narrow-  or  very  pre- 
judiced education,  the  dictates  of  superstition,  or  the 
result  of  Ignorance.  Is  it  not  surprisijig,  that,  of  such 
o  variety  of  adventurers,  not  one  single  philosopher 
should  be  found  omong  the  number  ?  For,  as  to  the 
travels  of  Gemelli,  the  learned  arc  long  agrewl  that  the 
whole  is  but  an  imposture. 

There  is  scprce  any  country,  how  rude  or  uncultivated 
soever,  where  the  inhabitants  are  not  possessed  of  some 
per-uliar  secrets,  either  in  nature  or  art,  which  might  Iw 
transplanted  with  success :  thus,  for  instance,  in  ,  -rian 
Tartary,  the  natives  extract  a  strong  spirit  from  nnlk, 
wh;Dh  is  a  secret  probably  unknown  to  the  chemists  of 
Europe.  In  the  most  savage  parts  of  India  they  are 
possessed  of  the  secret  of  dyeing  vegetable  substances 
scarlet,  ar. '  likewise  that  of  refining  lead  into  a  metal, 
which,  for  hardness  and  colour,  is  little  inferior  to  silver  ■ 
-lot  one  of  which  secrets  but  Mould  in  Europe,  make 
a  lean's  fortune.  The  power  of  the  Asiatics  in  producing 
wmds,  or  bringing  down  rain,  the  Europeans  are  apt  to 
treat  as  fabulous,  because  they  have  no  instances  of  the 
like  nature  among  themselves  ;  but  they  would  have 
treated  the  secrets  of  gunpowder,  and  the  mariner's 
compass,  in  the  same  manner,  had  they  been  told  the 


TRAVEL  IN  ASIA 


187 

"'in  tneniiH'lvcH  ut  hoii!; 

Of  nil  th,.  KngliHh  ,.hil„„„,,h..r«,   I  ,„.Mt  „.ve«.>u,. 
«««...,   th.t   ,<rcat  „,ul   lumly  „e„i„H  :    l.,-   it   i»  wl 

I.ro.n,.<.   hunrnu   ourionity   to   oxun.iu..   .wry   Z  ^i 

HUhjoet  the  tcniiK.-t,  the  thiuwler,  and  even  ...,rti  m,«keH 
t«hu.n„„e„ntr„l.  Oh!  ha..  „  „.„n  „,  hin  darl/.g  «' 
'f  hm  genn.H,  jK-netration,  „„,!  leanung,  travelled  „ 
thoHc  countneH  «hieh  have   Ix...  visited  ,.nlv         the 

c«T  HoV"'  Tr"'-  ^•'""  '"'«•'»  ""■'<'' 

expect  1   How  would  he  enlighten  the  regionn  to  whieh 
he  travelled!    and  what  a  variety  of  know!e.lge  and 

UHefum,prove.ne„t  would  he  n<.t  bring  ..aekinexehange! 
There  m  pM]y  no  eountry  .so  barbarouH,  that  would 

ready  to  give  n.ore  knowledge  .han  he  reeeiv'e.l  would 
he  w^ome  wl^erever  he  eame.  All  hin  care  in  travl  g 
^"M  only  bo  to  .uit  his  intclleetual  banquet  to  e 
people  with  wh.n.  he  eonver«3d  :  he  shoukl  ,„t  atten  " 
to   teaeh   the   unlettenxl   Tartar  astronon.y,   nor  3 

^  Bhould  endeavour  to  in.prove  the  barbarian  in  the 
rrorll  7  ^'"^"^'"">-=  «"'•  'I-  inhabitant  of 
Lrr  w  ""''  T'"'^  "'  '^^  «P<'<'"'"tive  pleasures  of 
se.enee.  How  much  m.re  nobly  would  a  philoiophe.  thus 
employed,  spend  his  time,  than  by  sittM.g  at  bo.m 
eameetly  i..tent  upon  adding  one 'tar  2re  '.'  h  s 
caalogu^.  or  one  „..>„ter  more  to  his  collection;    o 

tion  of  fleas,  or  the  sculpture  of  cherry-stones 

that  none  of  those  society-,  so  laudably  established  in 


188 


ESSAYS 


England  for  the  proniotiun  i>f  artK  and  learning,  have 
cvfr  thuuglit  of  Hcnding  one  of  their  nienilKTH  into  the 
nioHt  rantom  part*  of  Ania,  to  make  vliat  (liHcoverieH 
he  wnH  oble.  To  bo  convinced  of  the  utility  of  nuch  an 
undertaking,  let  them  but  read  the  relatiouK  of  their  own 
travelleni.  It  Mill  then?  Ix*  found,  that  they  are  aH  often 
deceived  themwIveB,  an  they  attempt  to  deceive  othem. 
The  inerehuntH  tell  uh,  |H'rhapH,  the  price  of  different 
conunoditicH,  the  mtthotlx  of  baling  them  up,  and  thu 
pro|)crcHt  maimer  for  a  EuroiKan  to  i)re«erve  Inn  health 
in  the  country.  The  iniimioner,  on  the  other  hand, 
informs  uh  with  what  pleUKUre  the  country  to  which  hu 
waH  Hcnt  embraced  (.'hriHtiunity,  and  the  immberH  hu 
eonvertt-d  ;  what  inethodH  ho  took  to  keep  Lent  in 
n  region  where  there  va8  no  fish,  or  the  shiftH  he  made 
t<i  eelebrato  the  rites  of  hid  religion,  ui  i)laces  where 
there  was  neither  bread  nor  wine  :  nuch  accounts,  with 
the  usual  appendage  of  marriages  and  funerals,  inseri])- 
ti(ms,  rivers,  and  mountains,  make  up  the  whole  of 
a  Kuroi)ean  traveller's  diary  ;  but  as  to  all  the  secrets 
of  which  tho  inhabitants  are  jtossessed,  those  are 
universally  attributed  to  magic  ;  and  when  the  traveller 
can  give  no  other  account  of  the  wonders  he  sees  per- 
formed, ho  very  contented' '  U'  .ibes  them  to  tho  devil. 
It  was  a  usual  observation  of  Boy'c,  the  English 
chemist,  that,  if  every  artist  would  but  discover  what 
new  observations  occurred  to  him  in  the  exercisa  of  his 
trade,  philosophy  would  thence  gain  iiummerablo 
improvements.  It  may  b©  observed,  with  still  greater 
justice,  that,  if  the  useful  knowledge  of  every  country, 
howsoever  barbarous,  was  gleaned  by  a  judicious  ob- 
server, the  advantages  would  bo  inestimable.  Are  there 
not,  even  in  Europe,  many  useful  inventions,  known  or 
practised  but  in  one  place  ?  The  instrument,  as  an 
example,  for  cutting  down  corn  in  Germany,  is  much 


TRAVEL  IN  ASIA  m 

morr  hnn.ly  nml  .■xp<..litioiiK,  j,,  ,„v  opinion,  (h.in  th.- 
Huklo  „Ho,l  in  EnKl-n,l.  Th.-  .K.m.,,  „n,l  ,.x,H.,litio„H 
manm  „f  nmUmg  vinognr.  ^.i(^,c..t  prrvi,.  s  f.-rmontn- 
ti<m,  iH  kn.wr.  „nly  in  n  p«rt  of  Kninw.  If  M„.h  ,ii„. 
c..vorirH  thcr..f..ro  rcmnin  ill  f„  («•  known  nt  ho„„. 
wh..t  fnndH  nf  kno«l,.,lK„  „,i„ht  not  l,o  ..olIiTt,.,!  in' 
"'"ntri.M  ,v,.(  un...xplor..,l,  or  only  pnKHcl  through  by 
iKiiornnt  trnvrllcrK  in  h,i»tv  carnvnnH  » 

The  cnution  will,  .hic.'h  forri^nrrH  arc  rofoivo.!  i  , 
AHin  nmy  Ix.  «il..K,.,l  „„  „„  „l,j,,.,|„„  ,„  „„^^  „  ^^ 
JJnt  how  rra.lily  hav,.  Hovcral  Enrop,.nn  nHTclmtttH 
foumi  a<l„  .Hum  into  r<KionH  the  m,m>  HiiNpioiouH,  niider 
fho  chnra,.  T  of  SanjapinH,  or  northern  pilgriniH  ?  To 
«iich,  not  own  China  itHcIf  donicH  aocoiiH. 

To  «.n<l  out  n  travcllrr  properly  ..iialifiod  for  thmr 
purpo«0H,  mipht  Ik.  an  object  of  national  concern  •  it 
would,  m  «on,e  measnrr  repair  the  breaches  made  by 
ambitmn ;  and  might  .w  that  there  were  still  some 
who  boasted  «  greater  name  than  that  of  patriots,  who 
professed  themselves  lovers  of  men. 

The  only  difficulty  would  remain  in  •^cosing  a  propc- 
person  for  so  ard.ious  an  enterpris.  He  shouk;  b« 
o  man  of  a  philosophical  ttim,  one  ai..  to  deduce  con- 
sequences of  general  utility  from  particular  occurrences 
neither  swollen  with  pride,  nor  hardened  by  prejudice! 
neither  wedded  to  one  particular  system,  nor  instructed 
only  in  one  particular  science  ;  neither  wholly  a  botanist 
nor  quite  an  antiquarian  :  his  mind  should  be  tinctured 
with  miscellaneous  knowledge,  and  his  mamiers  human- 
ized by  an  intercourse  with  men.  He  should  be  in 
some  measure,  an  enthusiast  to  the  design ;  fond  of 
ravelling  from  a  rapid  imagination,  and  an  innate 
ovc  of  change  ;  furnished  with  a  body  capable  of  sus- 
tammg  every  fatigue,  and  a  heart  not  easUy  terrified 


190 


ESSAY  XIX 

A  REVERIE  AT  THE  BOAR'S  HEAD  TAVERN  IN 
EAST-CHEAP 

The  improvements  we  make  in  mental  acquirements, 
only  render  us  each  day  more  sensible  of  the  defects  of 
our  constitution  :  with  this  in  view,  therefore,  Jet  us 
often  recur  to  the  amusements  of  youth  ;  endeavour  to 
forget  ago  and  wisdom,  and,  as  far  as  innocence  goes,  be 
as  much  a  boy  as  the  best  of  them. 

Let  idle  declaimers  mourn  over  the  degeneracy  of  the 
age;  but,  in  myopinion,  every  age  is  the  same.  This  I  am 
sure  of,  that  man,  in  every  season,  is  a  poor  fretful  being, 
with  no  other  means  to  escape  the  calamities  of  the 
tunes  but  by  endeavouring  to  forget  them  ;  for,  if  he 
attempts  to  resist,  he  is  certainly  undone.  If  1  feel 
poverty  and  pain,  I  am  not  so  hardy  as  to  quarrel  with 
the  executioner,  even  while  under  correction :  I  find 
mj'self  no  way  disposed  to  make  fine  speeches,  while  I  am 
making  wry  faces.  In  a  word,  let  me  drink  when  the 
fit  is  on,  to  make  me  insensible  ;  and  drink  when  it 
IS  over,  for  joy  that  I  feel  pain  no  longer. 

The  character  of  old  Falstaff,  even  with  all  his  faults, 
gives  me  more  consolation  than  the  most  studied  efforts 
of  wisdom:  I  here  behold  an  agreeable  old  fellow, 
forgetting  age,  and  showing  me  the  way  to  be  young  at 
sixty-five.  Sure  I  am  weU  able  to  be  as  merry,  though 
not  so  comical,  as  he.  Is  it  not  in  my  power  to  have, 
though  not  so  much  wit,  ut  least  as  much  vivacity  ?' 
Age,  care,  wisdom,  reflection,  be  gone— I  give  you  to  the 
winds.  Let 'shave  t'other  bottle:  here 's  to  the  memory 
of  Shakespeare,  Falstaff,  and  all  the  merry  men  of 
East-cheap. 
Such  were  the  reflections  that  naturaUy  arose  while 


AT  THE  BOAR'S  HEAD  TAVERN         loi 

I  sat  at  the  Boar's  Head  Tavern,  still  kept  at  East- 
cheap.  Here,  by  a  pleasant  fin.,  in  the  very  room  where 
oW  Sir  John  Falstaff  craeked  his  jokes,  in  the  very 
chair  which  was  sometimes  honoured  by  Prince  Henrv 
and  sometimes  polluted  by  his  immortal  merry  com- 
panions, I  sat  and  rnminated  on  the  follies  of  youth  ■ 
wi,she,l  to  l3e  young  again  ;  but  was  resolved  to  make 
the  best  of  l,f„  while  it  lasted,  and  now  ami  then  emn! 

mvlV^f/  ,  T""'  ''"""'  *"8''t'«''-  I  ™"«i'l«red 
myself  as  the  only  living  representative  of  the  old  knieht 
and   transported  my  imagination   back  to  the  times 

even  debauchery  not  disgusting.  The  room  also  con- 
Bpired  to  throw  my  reflections  back  info  antiquity  :  the 
oak  floor,  the  Gothic  windows,  and  the  ponderou! 
chimney-pieee,  had  long  withstood  the  tooth  of  time  • 

stolT  nff ""'"  f"^  ^""^  ''''^"'  '■  ™^  «°'"P«nio"«  had  ali 
lanHI    f'T    T"  ""'"  '"""'^'"^  '"h  ">«  but  the 
landlord.    From  him  I  could  have  wished  to  know  the 
history  of  a  taveru  that  had  such  a  long  succession  of 
customers.    I  eoidd  not  help  thinking  that  an  account  of 
this  kmd  would  be  a  pleasing  contrast  of  the  manners 
of  different  ages;    but  my  landlord  eould  give  me  no 
mformation.     He  continued  to  doze  and  sot    and  tell 
a  tedious  story,  as  most  other  landlords  usually  do  • 
and  though  he  said  nothing,  yet  was  never  silent :  one' 
good  joke  followed  another  good  joke  ;    and  the  best 
joke  of  all  was  generally  begun  towards  the  end  of 
a  bottle.     I  found  at  last,  however,  his  wine  and  his 
conversation  operate  by  degrees.    He  insensibly  began 
to  alter  his  appearance  :  his  cravat  seemed  quilled  tato 
a  ruff,  and  h^  br^ehes  swelled  out  into  a  fardingale. 
I  now  fancied  him  changing  sexes  :    and,  as  my  eves 
began  to  close  in  slumber,  I  imagined  my  fat  landlord 
actually  converted  into  as  fat  a  landlady.     However 


192 


ESSAYS 


sleep  made  but  few  changes  in  my  situation  :  the  tavern, 
the  apartment  and  the  table,  continued  as  before; 
nothing  suffered  mutation  but  my  host,  who  was  fairly 
altered  into  a  gentlewoman,  whom  I  knew  to  be  Dame 
Quickly,  mistress  of  this  tavern  in  the  days  of  Sir  John  ; 
and  the  liquor  we  were  drinking,  seemed  converted  into 
sack  and  sugar. 

'  My  dear  Mrs.  Quickly,'  cried  I  (for  I  knew  her 
perfectly  well  at  first  sight),  '  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see 
'  you.  How  have  you  left  Falstaff,  Pistol,  and  the  rest  of 
•  our  friends  below  stairs  ?  Brave  and  hearty,  I  hope  ?  ' 
_'In  good  sooth,"  replied  she,  'he  did  deserve  to 
'  live  for  ever ;  but  he  maketh  foul  work  on't  where  he 
=  hath  flitted.  Queen  Proserpine  and  he  have  quarrelled 
'for  his  attempting  a  rape  upon  her  divinity;  and 
'  were  it  not  that  she  stiU  had  bowels  of  compassion, 
■  it  more  than  seems  probable  he  might  have  been  now 
'  sprawling  in  Tartarus.' 

I  now  found  that  spirits  stiU  preserve  the  fraUties  of 

the  flesh ;   and  that,  according  to  the  laws  of  criticism 

and  dreaming,  ghosts  have  been  known  to  be  guilty  of 

even  more  than  platonio  affection  :  wherefore,  as  I  found 

her  too  much  moved  on  such  a  topic  to  proceed,  I  was 

resolved  to  change  the  subject ;  and  desiring  she  would 

pledge  me  in  a  bumper,  observed,  with  a  sigh,  that  our 

sack  was  nothing  now  to  what  it  was  in  former  days  : 

•  Ah    Mrs.  Quickly,  those  were  merry  times  when  you 

'  drew  sack  for  Prince  Henry  :  men  were  twice  as  strong, 

'  and  twice  as  wise,  and  much  braver,  and  ten  thousand 

•times  more  charitable,  than  now.     Those  were  the 

'  times  !  The  Battle  of  Agincourt  was  a  victory  indeed  ! 

'  Ever  since  that  we  have  only  been  degenerating  ;  and 

'  I  have  lived  to  see  the  day  when  drinking  is  no  longer 

'  fashionable  ;  when  men  wear  clean  shirts,  and  women 

'show  their  necks  and  arms.     All  are  degenerated. 


AT  THE  BOAR'S  HEAD  TAVERN         193 

'Mrs.  Quickly;  and  we  shall  probably,  in  another 
'  century,  be  frittered  away  into  beaux  or  monkcj-s.  Had 
'  you  been  on  earth  to  see  what  I  have  seen,  it  would 
'  congeal  all  the  blood  in  your  body  (your  soul,  I  mean). 
'Why,  our  very  nobility  now  have  the  intolerable 
■'  arrogance,  in  spite  of  what  is  every  day  remonstrated 
'  from  the  press  ;  our  very  nobility,  I  say,  have  the 
'  assurance  to  frequent  assemblies,  and  presume  to  be  as 
'  merry  as  the  vulgar.  See,  my  very  friends  have  scarce 
'  manhood  enough  to  sit  to  it  till  eleven  ;  and  I  only  am 
'  left  to  make  a  night  on  't.  Prithee  do  me  the  favour 
'  to  console  me  a  little  for  their  absence  by  the  story 
'  of  your  own  adventures,  or  the  history  of  the  tavern 
'  where  we  are  now  sitting  :  I  fancy  the  narrative  may 
'  have  something  singular.' 

'  Observe  this  apartment,'  interrupted  my  companion  ; 
'of  neat  device  and  excellent  workmanship — In  this 
'  room  I  have  lived,  child,  woman,  and  ghost,  more  than 
'  three  hundred  years  :  I  am  ordered  by  Pluto  to  keep 
'  an  annual  register  of  every  transaction  that  passed  here ; 
'and  I  have  whilom  compiled  three  hundred  tomes, 
'which  eftsoons  may  be  submitted  to  thy  regards.' 
'  None  of  your  whiloms  or  eftsoons,  Mrs.  Quickly,  if  you 
I  please,'  I  replied  :  '  I  know  you  can  talk  every  whit  as 
'  well  as  I  can  ;  for,  as  you  have  lived  here  so  long,  it 
'  is  but  natural  to  suppose  you  should  learn  the  con- 
'  versation  of  the  company.  Believe  me,  dame,  at  best, 
'  you  have  neither  too  much  sense  nor  too  much  language 
'  to  spare ;  so  give  me  both  as  well  as  you  can  :  but, 
'  first,  my  service  to  you  :  old  women  should  water  their 
'  clay  a  little  now  and  then  ;  and  now  to  your  story.' 

'  The  story  of  my  own  adventures,'  replied  the  vision, 
'  is  but  short  and  unsatisfactory ;  for,  believe  me, 
'  Mr.  Rigmarole,  believe  me,  a  woman  with  a  butt  of 
'sack  at  her  elbow  is  never  long-lived.     Sir  ujhn's 

OOLDSUITH.     Ill  Q 


194 


ESSAYS 


'death  afflicted  mo  to  such  a  degree,  that  I  sincerely 
'  believe,  to  drown  sorrow,  I  drank  more  liquor  myself 
'  than  I  drew  for  my  customers  :  my  grief  was  sincere, 
'  and  the  sack  was  excellent.  The  prior  of  a  neigh- 
'  bouring  convent  (for  our  priors  then  had  as  much  power 
'  as  a  Middlesex  justice  now),  he,  I  say,  it  was  who  gave 
'me  a  licence  for  keeping  a  disorderly  house,  upon 
■  condition,  that  I  should  never  make  hard  barga-ns  with 
'  the  clergy,  that  he  should  have  a  bottle  of  sack  every 
'morning,  and  the  liberty  of  confessing  which  of  my 
'  girls  he  thought  proper  in  private  every  night.    I  had 

*  continued,  for  several  years,  to  pay  this  tribute  ;  and 
'he,  it  must  be  confessed,  continued  as  rigorously  to 
'  exact  it.  I  grew  old  insensibly  ;  my  customers  con- 
'  tinned,  however,  to  compliment  my  looks  while  I  was 
'  by,  but  I  could  hear  them  say  I  was  wearing  when  my 
'  back  was  turned.  The  priot,  however,  still  was  constant, 
'  and  80  were  half  his  convent :  but  one  fatal  morning 
'  he  missed  the  usual  beverage ;  for  I  had  incautiously 
'  drank  over  night  the  last  bottle  myself.  What  will  you 
'  have  on  't  ? — ^The  very  next  day  Doll  Tearsheet  and 
'  I  were  sent  to  the  house  of  correction,  and  accused  of 
'  keeping  a  low  bawdy-house.    In  short,  we  were  so  well 

*  purified  there  with  stripes,  mortification,  and  penance, 
'  that  we  were  afterwards  utterly  unfit  for  worldly 
'  conversation  :  though  sack  would  have  killed  me,  had 
'I  stuck  to  it,  yet  I  soon  died  for  want  of  a  drop  of 
'  something  comfortable,  and  fairly  left  my  body  to  the 
'  care  of  the  beadle. 

'  Such  is  my  own  history ;  but  that  of  the  tavern, 
'  where  I  have  ever  since  been  stationed,  affords  greater 
'  variety.  In  the  history  of  this,  which  is  one  of  the 
'  oldest  in  London,  you  may  view  the  different  manners, 
'  pleasu-  J,  and  follies,  of  men  at  different  periods.  You 
'  will  find  mankind  neither  better  nor  worse  now  than 


AT  THE  BOAR'S  HEAD  TAVERN         105 

•  oZ  T  ''?  «  r'"'^-  ''  '"  ""'  '«""<'  '"xu2y  which 
formeriy  stuffed  your  alderman  with  plum.portd«e 
and  now  crams  him  with  turtle     It  is  til    ^        ,«"' 

;ambi,.on  that  formerly  ind.L'd  a  etHiX";^ 
h.H  rehgion  to  please  his  king,  and  now  persuaderh,™ 

_   o  g.ve  „p  h.s  conscience  to  please  his  m^is'r     it  ™ 

hi.  to  m.k.  h„  ,<>,k  jiiij,      „  j^  .  M 

Ita  „™  M,,  „j  ,1,,  „_  „„]y  TpS™ 

■  *r;,r„s  :m'  •" «'-  ^  '■*-"' 

V  you  please  then,  sir,'  returned  my  companion  '  I'll 

,  read  you  an  abstract  which  I  made  of  L  thTkuM 

volumes  I  mentioned  just  now.'  Hundred 

'My  body  was  no  sooner  laid  in  the  dust   than  tl, 

pnor  and  several  of  his  convent  came    o  puS    he 

hlled  It.    Masses  were  said  in  every  room   relics  were 
.  ^^PO^ed  upcn  every  piece  of  fumitL,  ank  tie  wlo^ 
house   washed   with   a   deluge    of   h;iy.wate  .      My 
habitation   was   soon   converted   into   a   monastcrv 

'  2  ;' m  •'"''""'™  "°"  *PP'^«  f-  «aek  andtZ' 
my  rooms  were  crowded  with  images,  relics  saints 
whore.,  and  friars.    Instead  of  bein^  a^c:„e  of  oecl-' 


106 


ESSAYS 


'  sional  debauchery,  it  wuh  now  filled  with  continual 
'  lewdness.  The  prior  led  the  fashion,  and  the  whole 
'convent  imitated  his  pious  example.  Matrons  came 
'  hither  to  confess  their  sins,  and  to  commit  new.  Virgins 
'  came  hither  who  seldom  went  virgins  away.  Nor  was 
'  this  a  convent  peculiarly  wicked  ;  every  convent  at 
'  that  period  was  equally  fond  of  pleasure,  and  gave 
'a  boundless  loose  to  appetite.  The  laws  allowed  it; 
'  each  priest  had  a  right  to  a  favourite  companion,  and 
'  a  power  of  discarding  her  as  often  as  he  pleased.  The 
•laity  grumbled,  quarrelled  with  their  wives  and 
'  daughters,  hated  their  confessors,  and  maintained  them 
'  in  opulence  and  ease.    These,  these  were  happy  times, 

•  Mr.  Rigmarole ;  these  were  times  of  piety,  bravery, 

•  and  simplicity  !  '— '  Not  so  very  happy,  neither,  good 
'  madam  ;    pretty  much  like  the  present ;    those  that 

•  labour  starve,  and  those  that  do  nothing  wear  fine 
'  clothes  and  live  in  luxury.' 

*  In  this  manner  the  fathers  lived,  for  some  years, 
'without  molestation;  they  transgressed,  confessed 
'themselves  to  each  other,  and  were  forgiven.  One 
'  evening,  however,  our  prior  keeping  a  lady  of  distinction 
'  somewhat  too  long  at  ooufession,  her  husband  unex- 
'  pectedly  came  upon  them,  and  testified  all  the  indigna- 
'  tion  which  was  natural  upon  such  an  occasion.  The 
'  prior  assured  the  gentleman  that  it  was  the  devil  who 
'  hud  put  it  into  his  heart ;  nd  the  lady  was  very 
'  certain,  that  she  was  under  the  influence  of  magic,  or 
'  she  could  never  have  behaved  in  so  unfaithful  a  manner. 
'  The  husband,  however,  was  not  to  be  put  off  by  such 
'  evasions,  but  summoned  both  before  the  tribunal  of 
'justice.  His  proofs  were  flagrant,  and  he  expected 
'  large  damages.  Such,  indeed,  he  had  a  right  to  expect, 
*  were  the  tribuna:  i  of  those  days  constituted  in  the  same 
'  manner  as  they  are  now.    The  cause  of  the  priest  was  to 


AT  THE  BOARS  HEAD  TAVERN         197 
'  be  tried  )K;foro  an  assembly  of  prieslH  ;   and  a  layman 
^  was  to  exjwct  redress  only  from  their  impartiality  and 
candour.    What  plea  then  do  you  think  the  prior  nmdo 
^  to  obviate  this  accusation  1    He  denied  the  fact,  and 
_  challenged  the  plaintiff  to  try  the  merits  of  their  cause 
^  by  smgle  combat.    It  was  a  little  hard,  you  may  be 
sure,  upon  the  poor  gentleman,  not  only  to  be  made 
a  cuckold,  but  to  bo  obliged  to  fight  »  duel  into  the 
bargam  ;   yet  such  was  the  justice  of  the  times.    The 
prior  threw  down  his  glove,  and  the  injured  husband 
^  was  obliged  to  take  it  up,  ui  token  of  his  accepting  the 
_  challenge.    Upon  this  the  priest  supplied  his  champion 
for  It  was  not  lawful  for  the  clergy  to  fight ;   and  the 
defendant  and  plaintiff,  according  to  custom,  were  put 
^  m  prison  ;  both  ordered  to  fast  and  pray,  every  method 
_  bemg  previously  used  to  induce  both  to  a  confession  of 
^  the  truth.    After  a  month's  imprisonment,  the  hair  of 
^  each  "as  cut,  the  bodies  anointed  with  oil,  the  field  of 
_  battle  appointed  and  guarded  by  soldiers,  while  his 
niajesty  presided  over  the  whole  in  person.    Both  the 
^  champions  were  sworn  not  to  seek  vietory  either  by 
fraud  or  magic.    They  prayed  and  confessed  upon  their 
^  knees ;   and  after  these  ceremonies,  the  rest  was  left 
^  to  the  courage  and  conduct  of  the  combatants.    As  th» 
champion   whom  the  prior  had   pitched  upon    ha 
_  fought  SIX  or  eight  times  upon  similar  occasions  it  wa. 
_  no  way  extraordinary  ♦.o  find  him  victorious  in  the 
present   combat.     In   short,    the   husband   was   dis- 
comfited;   he  was   taken    from    the  field  of  battle. 
_  stripped  to  his  shirt,  and,  after  one  of  his  legs  was 
cut  off,   as  justice  ordained  in  such  cases,   he  was 
_  hanged  as  a  ten-or  to  future  offenders.     These   these 
_  were  the  times,  Mr.  Rigmarole  ;    you  see  how'  much 
_  inore  just,  and  wise,  and  valiant,  our  ancestors  were 
than  us.'— 'I  rather  fancy,  madam,  that  the  times 


198 


ESSAYS 


'  lhe;i  were  pretty  much  like  our  own ;  where  a  mult'- 
'  plicity  of  lawH  give  a  judge  as  much  power  a8  a  want 
'  of  law  ;  since  he  is  ever  sure  to  find  among  the  number 
'  some  to  countenance  his  partiality.' 

'  Our  convent,  victorious  over  their  enemies,  now  gave 
'  a  loose  to  every  demonstration  of  joy.  The  lady 
'  became  a  nun,  the  pri  r  was  made  a  bishop,  and  three 
'  Wiokliflitcs  were  bunied  in  the  illuminations  and  fire- 
'  works  that  were  made  on  the  present  occasion.  Our 
'  convent  now  began  to  enjoy  a  very  high  degree  of 
'  reputation.  There  was  not  one  in  London  that  had 
'  the  character  of  hating  heretics  so  much  as  ours.  LaJies 
'  of  the  first  distinction  chose  from  our  convent  their 
'  confessors ;  in  short,  it  floarithed,  and  might  have 
'  flourished  to  this  hour,  but  for  a  fatal  accident  which 
'  terminated  in  its  over'hrow.  The  lady,  whom  the  prior 
'  had  placed  in  a  nunnery,  and  whom  he  continued  to 
'  visit  for  some  time  with  great  punctuality,  began  at 
'  last  to  perceive  that  she  was  quite  forsaken.  Secluded 
'from  convert  tion,  as  usual,  she  now  entertained  the 
'  visions  of  a  devotee  ;  found  herself  strangely  disturbed  ; 
'  but  hesitated  in  determining,  whether  she  was  possessed 
'  by  an  angel  or  a  demon.  She  was  not  long  in  suspense  ; 
'  for  upon  vomiting  a  large  quantity  of  crooked  pins,  and 
'  finding  the  palms  of  her  hands  turned  outwards,  she 
'  quickly  concluded  that  she  was  possessed  by  the  devil. 
'  She  soon  lost  entirely  the  use  of  speech ;  and,  when  she 
'  seemed  to  speak,  everybody  that  was  present  perceived 
'  that  her  voice  was  not  her  own,  but  that  of  the  devil 
'  within  her.  In  short,  she  was  bewitched  ;  and  all  the 
'  difficulty  lay  in  determining  who  it  could  be  that 
'  bewitched  her.  The  nuns  and  the  monks  all  demanded 
'  the  magician's  name,  but  the  devil  made  no  reply  ;  for 
'  he  knew  they  had  no  authority  to  ask  questions.  By 
'  the  rules  of  witchcraft,  when  au  evil  spirit  has  taken 


AT  THE  BOARS  HEAD  TAVERN  190 

;po»e«^n,  he  may  r^fuBo  to  „,.wor  any  queBtionn 
a*kcd  h.m.  unlesH  they  are  put  by  a  binhop  and  to 
the*  ho  «  obI.^.ed  to  «ply.  A  binhop.  there  ore  wa» 
Hent  or,  and  now  the  whole  Bc.cret  came  out  :  Z'ilril 

^  reluctantly  owned  that  ho  wan  a  servant  of  the  priol 

_  tion  ,  and  that,  without  hin  command,  he  was  resolved 

•  he  ZvlTTT-  l*""  ^''^"^  """  «"  "We  exorcist ; 
he  dreve  the  dev.l  out  by  force  of  mystical  arms  ;   the 

•  sZL  V""'^'''  '"'  *'*"''"™"  =  ^^-^  Witnesses  were 
strong  and  numerous  against  him,  not  less  than  fourteen 
persons  bemg  by  who  heard  the  devil  talk  Latin.  Theio 
was  no  resisting  such  a  cloud  of  witnesses  ;   the  prior 

^  was  condemned ;  and  he  ^.  ho  had  assisted  at  so  mTny 
'timTM'  T  ''"'T"'  '•''""^"  ^  *"">•  These  were 
_  not  mfidels  as  now,  but  sincere  believcw  !  •_'  Equally 
faulty  with  ourselves;  they  believed  what  the  devil 
was  pleased  to  teU  them ;  and  we  seem  resolved,  2 
last,  to  believe  neither  God  nor  devil- 

•  I'^J'^f  "  t^^  "P""  ""^  •'°"^«"'-  "  «•««  not  to  be 

■  Z^/   T"^^  '"^''*  ''"y  '""««' :  'he  fathers  were 

ordered  to  decamp,  and  the  house  was  once  again 

_  of  his  cast-off  mistresses  ;  she  was  constituted  landlady 

neghbourhood  of  the  court,  and  the  mistress  a  very 
_  pohte  woman,  it  began  to  have  more  business  than  ever 

and  sometimes  took  not  less  than  four  shillings  a  day.' 
_  But  perhaps  you  are  desirous  of  knowing  what  wer" 
_  the  peculiar  qualifications  of  women  of  fashion  at  that 
■  ^  ,;  u  ^  "  ^^^O'-'Ption  of  the  present  landlady, 
_  you  wiU  have  a  tolerable  idea  of  all  the  rest.  This  lady 
_  was  the  daughter  of  a  nobleman,  and  received  such  an 

education   m   the   country   as   became   her   quality 


MO 


ESSAYS 


'  beauty,  iiiul  groat  cxiK-ctationi.  She  could  make 
'  Hhi(t»  uiul  how)  for  herwlf  ami  all  the  wrvanlH  of  the 
■  family,  wlicu  tihc  wan  twelve  ycain  old.  fShe  knew  the 
'  iiamoB  of  the  four  and  twenty  lettern,  ho  that  it  waH 
'  impoHMiblc  to  bewitch  her ;  and  thin  wa»  a  greater 
'  piece  of  learning  than  any  lady  ii'  the  whole  country 
'  could  pn  tend  to.  She  wa»  alwavH  up  early,  and  now 
'  brcakfa»t  servetl  in  the  great  hall  by  six  o'clock.  At 
'  this  Hocno  of  fcKtivity  Hho  generally  improved  good 
'  humour,  by  telling  her  dreams,  relating  Btorics  of 
'  spirits,  several  of  v.hich  she  herself  had  seen,  and  oiio 
'  of  which  she  was  reported  to  have  killed  with  a  blacfi- 
'  hafted  knife.  From  hence  she  usually  went  to  make 
'  pastry  in  the  larder,  and  hero  she  was  followed  by  her 
'  sweethearts,  who  were  much  helped  on  in  conversation 
'  by  struggling  with  her  fof  kissos.  About  ten.  Miss 
'  generally  went  to  play  at  hot-cockles  ,\nd  blindman's 
'  buff  in  the  parlour  ;  and  when  the  young  folks  (for 
'  they  seldom  played  at  hot-cockles  when  grown  old) 
'  were  tired  of  such  amusements,  the  gentlemen  enter- 
'  taincd  Miss  with  the  history  of  their  greyhounds, 
'  bear-baitings,  and  victories  at  cudgel-playing.  If  the 
'  weather  was  fine,  they  ran  at  the  ring,  shot  at  butts, 
'  while  Miss  held  in  her  hand  a  ribbon,  with  which  she 
'  adorned  the  conqueror.  Her  mental  qualifications  were 
'  exactly  fitted  to  her  external  accomplishments.  Before 
'  she  was  fifteen,  she  could  tell  the  story  of  Jack  the 
'  Giant  Killer,  could  name  every  mountaiii  that  was 
'  inhabited  by  fairies,  knew  a  witch  at  first  sight,  and 
*  could  repeat  four  Latin  prayers  without  a  prompter. 
'  Her  dress  was  perfectly  fashionable  ;  her  arms  and  her 
'  hair  were  completely  covered  ;  a  monstrous  ruff  was 
'  put  round  her  neck  ;  so  that  her  head  seemed  like  that 
'  of  John  the  Baptist  placed  in  a  charger.  In  short, 
'  when  completely  equipped,  her  appearance  was  so  very 


AT  THE  BOARS  HEAD  TAVEUN  201 
I  modct,  that  »ho  diKiovcrcU  little  n.oit.  thu.i  her  noK) 
Tht.e  wore  the  timen.  Mr.  Rigmarole;  wh...  every 
lady  that  had  a  g,xxl  no«o  .night  «..t  up  f„r  «  beauty  • 
when  every  woman  thnt  could  t,.||  »t..rieH  might  u! 
cned  up  for  a  wit.'-'  I  „„,  ar  much  <lfspU.a„c.,l  at  tho«<. 
.re««c«  wluoh  c  .ccnl  t.K.  ,„uch,  an  «t  thone  whieh 
d.Hcover  too  much  :  I  „.„  equally  ..n  enen.y  to  a  female 
ilunco  or  a  female  pedunt.' 

.  '  ^°"  T^  ^  """^  ">at  MiBH  ehoHC-  a  huHban.l  with 
^  quahfications  re»embling  her  own  ;  »he  pit,.|,ed  u|H,n 
_  a  courtier,  equally  remarkable  for  hunting  an.l  drinking 

^  the  daughtcn.  of  his  tenants  ond  domenticH.    They  fell 
_  m  love  at  first  H^gh'.  (for  such  was  the  gallantry  of  the 
times)    wore  married,   came   to  court,   and   Madam 
appeared  with  superior  qualifications.    The  king  was 
struck  with  her  beauty.    All  property  was    t  the  king's 
command ;    the  husband  was  obliged  to  resign  aU 
pretensions  in  his  wife  to  the  sovereign  whom  God  had 
^omted,  to  commit  adultery  where  he  thought  proper. 
The  kmg  loved  her  for  some  time  ;    but  at  length 
repentmg  of  his  misdeeds,  and  instigated  by  his  father- 
confessor,  from  a  principle  of  conscience,  removed  her 
from  his  levee  to  the  bar  of  this  tavern,  and  took  a  new 
mistress  in  her  stead.     Ut  it  not  surprise  you  to 
^  behold  the  mistifiss  of  a  king  degraded  to  so  humble  an 
_  oflice.    As  the  ladies  had  no  mental  accomplishments 
_  a  good  face  was  enough  to  raise  them  to  the  royal 
couch;    and  she  who  was  this  day  a  royal  mistres., 
might  the  next,  when  her  beauty  palled  ujwn  enjoy- 
mcnt,  be  doomed  to  infamy  and  want. 
_    'Under  the  care  of  this  lady,  the  tavern  grew  into 
^  great  reputation  ;  the  courtiers  had  not  yet  learned  to 
^  game,  but  they  paid  it  off  by  drinking :  drunkenness  is 
ever  the  vice  of  a  barbarous,  and  gaming  of  a  luxurious. 

H  ' 


Ml 


ESSAYS 


'  age.  Thoy  hail  not  mich  frequent  entertainmrntM  bn 
■  the  modcmH  have,  but  were  luoro  cxpt-UHivo  anU  nioro 
'  luxuriouH  in  thuno  they  hud.  All  their  foolerioH  were 
'  more  claburute,  and  more  adinin-d  by  the  xrcut  and 
'  the  vulgar  than  now.  A  courtier  huit  Ixt-n  known  to 
'  »pcnd  hiH  whole  fortune  at  a  Mingle  feuHt,  a  king  to 
<  mortgage  hiii  dominiouii  to  fumiiih  out  the  fripiwry  of 
'  a  tournament.  There  were  certain  days  oppointcd  for 
'  riot  and  debi  uchery,  and  ti  Hober  at  Huch  timcM  wok 
'  reputed  a  crime.  KingH  ti..uiiielvc8  net  the  example  ; 
'  and  I  have  Keen  monaroh«  in  thiv  room  drunk  before 
'  the  entertainment  wan  half  com  'uded.  Those  were  the 
'  times,  sir,  when  kingx  kept  miHtrcwicB,  and  got  drunk  in 
'  public ;  they  were  too  plain  and  simple  in  those  happy 
'  times  to  hide  their  vices,  and  oct  the  hypocrite,  as  now.' 
— '  Lord  !  Mrs.  Quickly,'  intciTupting  her,  *  I  expected 
*  to  have  heard  a  story,  and  hero  you  are  going  to  i.  :i 
'  me  I  know  not  what  of  times  and  vices  ;  prithee  let 
'mo  entreat  thee  once  moits  to  waive  reflc-''  ;,  and 
'  give  thy  history  without  deviation.' 

'  No  lady  upon  earth,'  continued  my  visiomi  '  corre- 
spondent, '  knew  how  to  put  off  her  damaged  vine  or 
'  women  with  more  art  than  she.  When  these  grew 
'  flai,  or  those  paltry,  it  was  but  changing  the  names ; 
'  the  wine  became  excellent,  and  the  girls  agreeable.  She 
'was  also  nossessed  of  i  lo  engaging  leer,  the, chuck 
'  under  the  chin,  winked  at  a  double  entendre,  could 
'  nick  the  opportunity  of  calling  for  something  comfort- 
'  able,  and  perfectly  understood  the  discreet  moments 
'  when  to  withdraw.  The  gallants  of  those  times  pretty 
'  much  resembled  the  bloods  of  ours  ;  they  were  fond 
'  of  pleasure,  but  quite  ignorant  of  the  art  of  refining 
'  upon  it :  thus  a  court-bawd  of  those  times  resembled 
'  the  common  low-lived  tiarridan  of  a  modem  'oignio. 
'  Witness,  ye  powers  of  debauchery,  how  often  I  have 


1 


AT  THE  BOARS  HEAD  TAVERN  203 
;  been  pH-Hcnt  at  the  varioun  appt-oruncfH  of  Urunkcno^H 
•  huln"    «  ""•'  '"'••'"^  '  ^  '-■-"' '«  »  true  ,"£  "   ; 

Upon  th,.  |a<|y  ,  dccoaw  tho  tnv.ni  w«.  Huccx.H«ivelv 
occupied  by  adventumn.  hnlli...  „:  "uttT-wiivny 

lowardH  tho  concluwon  of  the  reign  of  Henry  V  IlgnminB 

'  r^^l        *   them«<.lveH  have  Uen  known  to  play  off 
at  ftimcro,  not  only  all  tho  ...oney  and  jomlH  thev 

a»t  Henry  pi„yed  ^way,  in  thin  very  roon,,  not  onl^ 

"nago  of  St.  Paul,  which  Htood  upon  the  top  of  tho 

•  ne" da°v  "  ''^''^^JT'"''-  -"«  '-"  them  d':!  he 
next  day,  and  »old  them  by  auction.  Have  you  then 
,  any  oau«,  to  «gret  being  born  in  the  timen  y^u  fow 
•tolriTf''"'"''^^*''»*'''''»-"'>'--ontirue! 
•a  Z  of  th  r"*  "'"'^  "'"'•  "  *"  "•'^^'vo  the 
••".ir^  found''  «'•>  ?*"*  '"  ■"»"''""••  >°"^  '"'-'"«™ 

•i^^lotl    than  Vr  «'°""'     ■'^"''-  «"d  "-^-n 

tusnonest,  than  you.     If,  forsiking  history    wo  onlv 

■  TJ^rzti '"""  °'  *""—"' ""''  ^^"^^S 

devoted  to  pleasure,  and  infmitely  more  «elfi«h.  "^ 

The  la«t  h08te«8  of  note  I  find  upon  record    was 

'oMhe  r"i     "'^"''^  •""'  <""-«  ^«  lower    aX 
of    he  people;    and,  by  frugality  and  extreme  com 

th«,  she  might  have  enjoyed  for  many  yean.,  had  .he 
not^fortunatelyquarrelled  with  one  o^herncighlr 

•  thr^rr  °  T  '"  '''8''  ™P"t«  '0^  sanctity  throuS 
the  whole  par«h.  In  the  times  of  which  I  «Jeak  two 
«omca  seldom  nuarrelled,  that  one  did  not  accuse  the 


204 


ESSAYS 


'other  of  witchcraft,  and  she  who  first  contrived  to 
'  vomit  croolied  pins  was  sure  to  come  off  victorious. 
'  The  scandal  of  a  modem  tea-table  differs  widely  from 
'  the  scandal  of  former  times :  the  fascination  of  a  lady's 
'  eyes,  at  present,  is  regarded  as  a  compliment ;  but  if 
'  a  lady,  formerly,  should  be  accused  of  having  witchcraft 
'  in  her  eyes,  it  were  much  better,  both  for  her  soul  and 
'  body,  that  she  had  no  eyes  at  all. 

'  In  short,  Jane  Rouse  was  accused  of  witchcraft ;  and, 
'  though  she  made  the  best  defence  she  could,  it  was  all 
'  to  no  purpose  ;    she  was  taken  from  her  own  bar  to 

•  the  bar  of  the  Old  Bailey,  condemned,  and  executed 
'  accordingly.  These  were  times,  indeed  !  when  even 
'  women  could  not  scold  in  safety. 

'  Since  her  time  the  tavern  underwent  several  revolu- 

•  tions,  according  to  the  spirit  of  the  times,  or  the  dis- 
'  position  of  the  reigning  monarch.  It  was  this  day 
'  a  brothel,  and  the  next  a  conventicle  for  enthusiasts. 
'  It  was  one  year  noted  for  harbouring  Whigs,  and  the 

•  next  infamous  for  a  retreat  to  Tories.  Some  years  ago 
'  it  was  in  high  vogue,  but  at  present  it  seems  declining. 
'  This  only  may  be  remarked  m  general,  that  whenever 
'taverns  flourish  most,  the  times  are  then  most  ex- 

'  travagant  and  luxurious.' '  Lord  !    Mrs.  Quickly,' 

interrupted  I,  '  you  have  really  deceived  mo  ;  I  expected 
'  a  romance,  and  here  you  have  been  this  half-hour 
'  giving  me  only  a  description  of  the  spirit  of  the  times  : 
'if  you  have  nothing  but  tedious  remarks  to  com- 
'  municate,  seek  some  other  hearer ;  I  am  determined 
'  to  hearken  only  to  stories.' 

I  had  scarce  concluded,  when  my  eyes  and  ears 
seemed  opened  to  my  landlord,  who  had  been  all  this 
while  giving  me  an  account  of  the  repairs  he  had  made 
in  the  house,  and  was  now  got  into  the  story  of  the 
cracked  glass  in  the  dining-room. 


205 


ESSAY  XX 
ON   QUACK   DOCTORS 

[Altered  from  Lottcm  XXIV  ami  LXVIII  of  The  Cillzen  nj  Ihe  World] 
Whatever  may  be  the  merits  of  the  English  in  other 
sciences,  they  seem  peculiarly  excellent  in  the  art  of 
healing.  There  is  scarcely  a  disorder  incident  to 
humanity,  against  which  our  advertising  doctors  are 
not  possessed  with  a  most  infallible  antidote.  The 
professors  of  other  arts  confess  the  inevitable  intricacy 
of  things  ;  talk  with  doubt,  and  decide  with  hesita- 
tion ;  but  doubting  is  entirely  unknown  in  medicine ; 
the  advertising  professors  here  delight  in  cases  of 
difficulty :  be  the  disorder  never  so  desperate  or  radical, 
you  will  find  numbers  in  every  street,  who,  by  levelling 
a  pill  at  the  part  afliected,  promise  a  certain  cure,  without 
loss  of  time,  knowledge  of  a  bedfellow,  or  hindrance  of 
business. 

When  I  consider  the  assiduity  of  this  profession,  their 
benevolence  amazes  me.  They  not  only,  in  general, 
give  their  medicines  for  half  value,  but  use  the  most 
persuasive  remonstrances  to  induce  the  sick  to  come 
and  be  cured.  Sure  there  must  be  something  strangely 
obstinate  in  an  English  patient,  who  refuses  so  much 
health  upon  such  easy  terms  !  Does  he  take  a  pride  in 
being  bloated  with  a  dropsy  ?  Does  he  find  pleasure  in 
the  alternations  of  an  intermittent  fever  ?  or  feci  as 
much  satisfaction  in  nursing  up  his  gout,  as  he  found 
pleasure  in  acquiring  it  ?  He  must,  otherwise  he  would 
never  reject  such  repeated  assurances  of  instant  relief. 
What  can  be  more  convincing  than  the  manner  in  which 
the  sick  are  invited  to  be  well  ?  The  doctor  first  begs 
the  most  earnest  attention  of  the  public  to  what  he 
is  going  to  propose  ;   ho  solemnly  affirms  the  pill  was 


206 


ESSAYS 


never  found  to  want  success ;  he  produces  a  list  of  those 
who  have  been  rescued  from  the  grave  by  taking  it.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  all  this,  there  are  many  here  who  now 
and  then  think  proper  to  be  sick.  Only  sick  !  did  I  say  ? 
There  are  some  who  even  think  proper  to  die.  Yes, 
by  the  head  of  Confucius,  they  die  ;  though  they  might 
have  purchased  the  health-restoring  specific  for  half 
a  crown  at  every  comer. 

I  can  never  enough  admire  the  sagacity  of  this  country 
for  the  encouragement  given  to  the  professors  of  this  art. 
With  what  indulgence  does  she  foster  up  those  of  her 
own  growth,  aij'l  kindly  cherish  those  that  come  from 
abroad  !  Like  a  skilful  gardener,  she  invites  them  from 
every  foreign  climate  to  herself.  Here  every  great  exotic 
strikes  root  as  soon  as  imported,  and  feels  the  geni> 
beam  of  favour  ;  while  the  mighty  metropolis,  like  one 
vast  munificent  dunghill,  receives  them  indiscriminately 
to  her  breast,  and  supplies  each  with  more  than  native 
nourishment. 

In  other  countries,  the  physician  pretends  to  cure 
disorders  in  the  lump  :  the  same  doctor  who  combats 
the  gout  in  the  toe,  shall  pretend  to  prescribe  for  a  pain 
in  the  head  ;  and  he  who  at  one  time  cures  a  consump- 
tion, shall  at  another  give  drugs  for  a  dropsy.  How 
absurd  and  ridiculous !  This  is  being  a  mere  jack  of  all 
trades.  Is  the  animal  machine  less  complicated  than 
a  brass  pin  ?  Not  less  than  ten  different  hands  are 
required  to  make  a  brass  pin  ;  and  shall  the  body  be  set 
right  by  one  single  operator  ? 

The  English  are  sensible  of  the  force  of  this  reasoning  ; 
they  have  therefore  one  doctor  for  the  eyes,  another  for 
the  toes ;  they  have  their  sciatica  doctors,  and  inocula- 
ting doctors  ;  they  have  one  doctor  who  is  modestly 
content  with  securing  them  from  bug-bites,  and  five 
hundred  who  prescribe  for  the  bite  of  mad  dogs. 


ON  QUACK  DOCTORS  207 

But  as  nothing  pleases  curiosity  more  than  anecdotes 
of  the  great,  however  minute  or  trifling,  I  must  present 
you,  madequate  as  my  abilities  are  to  the  subject  with 
an  account  of  one  or  two  of  those  personages  who  lead 
m  this  honourable  profession. 

The  first  upon  the  list  of  glory  is  Doctor  Richard  Rock 
This  great  man  is  short  of  stature,  is  fat,  and  waddles 
as  he  walks.  He  always  wears  a  white  three-tailed  wig 
nicely  combed,  and  frizzled  upon  each  check.  Some- 
times he  carries  a  cane,  but  a  hat  never;  it  is  indeed 
very  remarkable  that  this  extraordinarv  personage 
should  never  wear  a  hat,  but  so  it  is;  a  hat  he  never 
wears.  He  is  usually  drawn,  at  the  top  of  his  own  bills 
sittmg  in  his  arm-chair,  holding  a  little  bottle  between 
his  finger  and  thumb,  and  surrounded  with  rotten  teeth 
nippers,  pills,  packets,  and  gallipots.  No  man  can 
promise  fairer  or  better  than  he  ;  for,  as  he  observes, 
^  Be  your  disorder  never  so  far  gone,  be  under  no  un' 
'  easiness,  make  yourself  quite  easy,  I  can  cure  you.' 

The  next  in  fame,  though  by  some  reckoned  of  equal 
pretensions,  is  Doctor  Timothy  Franks,  living  in  the 
Old  Bailey.  As  Rock  is  remarkob'v  squab,  his  great 
rival  Pranks  is  remarkably  tall,  he  was  Ijom  in  the 
year  of  the  Christian  era  1602,  and  is,  MhUe  I  now 
write,  exactly  sixty-eiglit  years,  three  months  and  four 
days  old.  Age,  however,  has  no  ways  impair-d  his  usual 
health  and  vivacity  ;  I  am  told  he  generally  walks  with 
his  breast  open.  This  gentleman,  who  is  of  a  mixed 
reputation,  is  particulariy  remarkable  for  a  becoming 
assurance,  which  carries  him  gently  through  life ;  for, 
except  Doctor  Rock,  none  are  more  blessed  with  the 
advantage  of  face  than  Doctor  Franks. 

And  yet  the  great  have  their  foibles  as  well  as  the 
little.  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  mention  it— let  the 
foibles  of  the  great  rest  in  peace— yet  I  must  impart  the 


208  ESSAYS 

whole.  These  two  great  men  are  actually  now  at 
variance  ;  like  mere  men,  mere  common  mortals.  Bock 
advises  the  world  to  beware  of  bog-trotting  quacks ; 
Franks  retorts  the  wit  and  the  sarcasm,  by  fixing  on 
his  rival  the  odious  appellation  of  Dumpling  Dick.  He 
calls  the  serious  Doctor  Rock,  Dumplin  Dick  !  What 
profanation  !  Dumplin  Dick  !  What  a  pity,  that  the 
learned,  who  were  bom  mutually  to  assist  in  enlighten- 
ing the  world,  should  thus  differ  among  themselves,  and 
make  even  the  profession  ridiculous  !  Sure  the  world  is 
wide  enough,  at  least,  for  two  great  personages  to  figiu^ 
in  ;  men  of  science  should  leave  controversy  to  the  V*tle 
world  below  them ;  and  then  we  might  see  Rock  and 
Franks  walking  together,  hand  in  hand,  smiling,  onward 
to  immortality. 


ESSAY  XXI 
ADVENTURES   OF  A  STROLLING   PLAYER 

I  AM  fond  of  amusement,  in  whatever  company  it  is 
to  be  found ;  and  wit,  though  dressed  in  rags,  is  ever 
pleasing  to  me.  I  went  some  days  ago  to  take  a  walk 
in  St.  James's  Park,  about  the  hour  in  which  company 
leave  it  to  go  to  dinner.  There  were  but  few  in  the 
walks,  and  those  who  stayed,  seemed  by  their  looks 
rather  more  willmg  to  forget  that  they  had  an  appetite 
than  gain  one.  I  sat  down  on  one  of  the  benches,  at  the 
other  end  of  which  was  seated  a  man  in  very  shabby 
clothes. 

We  continued  to  groan,  to  hem,  and  to  cough,  as 
usual  upon  such  occasions  ;  and,  at  last,  ventured  upon 
conversation.  '  I  beg  pardon,  sir,'  cried  I,  '  but  I  think 
'  I  have  seen  you  I  jfore ;  your  face  is  familiar  to  me.' 
'  Yes,  sir,'  replied  he,  '  I  have  a  good  familiar  faoe,  as 


A  STROLLING  PLAYER  209 

'  my  friends  tell  me.  I  am  as  well  known  in  every  town 
'  in  England  as  the  dromedary,  or  live  crocodile.  You 
'  must  understand,  sir,  that  I  have  been  these  sixteen  years 
'  Merry  Andrew  to  a  puppet-show;  last  Bartholomew  Fair 
'  my  master  and  I  quarrelled,  boat  each  other,  and  parted ; 
'  he  to  sell  his  puppets  to  the  pincushion-makers  in' 
'  Rosemary  Lane,  and  I  to  starve  in  St.  James's  Park.' 

'  I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  a  person  of  your  appearance 
'  should  labour  under  any  difficulties.'  '  0,  sir,'  returned 
he,  '  my  appearance  is  very  much  at  your  service ;  but 
^  though  I  cannot  boast  of  eating  much,  yet  there  are 
'  few  that  are  merrier :  if  I  had  twenty  thousand  a  year, 
'  I  should  be  very  merry  ;  and,  thank  the  fates,  though 
^  not  worth  a  groat,  I  am  very  merry  still.  If  I  have 
'  three-pence  in  my  pocket,  I  never  refuse  to  be  ray 
'  three  halfpence ;  and  if  I  have  no  money,  I  never 
'  scorn  to  be  treated  by  any  that  are  kind  enough  to 
'  pay  my  reckoning.  What  think  you,  sir,  of  a  steak 
'  and  a  tankard  ?  You  shall  treat  me  now,  and  I  will 
'  treat  you  again  when  I  find  you  in  the  Park  in  love 
'  with  eating,  and  without  money  to  pay  for  a  dinner.' 

As  I  never  refuse  a  small  expense  for  the  sake  of  a 
merry  companion,  we  instantly  adjourned  to  a  neigh- 
bouring alehouse,  and  in  a  few  moments  had  a  frothing 
tankard  and  a  smoking  steak  spread  on  the  table  before 
us.  It  is  impossible  to  express  how  much  the  sight  of 
such  good  cheer  improved  my  companion's  vivacity. 
'I  like  this  dinner,  sir,'  says  he,  'for  three  reasons: 
'  first,  because  I  am  naturally  fond  of  beef  ;  secondly, 
'  because  I  am  hungry  ;  and,  thirdly  and  lastly,  because 
^  I  get  it  for  nothing  :  no  meat  eats  so  sweet  as  that  for 
'  which  we  do  not  pay.' 

He  therefore  now  fell  to,  and  his  appetite  seemed  to 

correspond  « ith  his  inclination.    After  dinner  was  over, 

observe    that  the  steak  was  tough  ;   '  and  yet,  sir,' 


810 


ESSAYS 


returns  he,  '  bad  aa  it  was,  it  seemed  a  rump-steak  to 
•  me.  Oh,  the  delights  of  poverty  and  a  good  appetite  ! 
'  We  beggars  ore  the  very  foundlings  of  Nature  ;  the 
'  rich  she  treats  lilte  an  arrant  stepmother ;  they  are 
'  pleased  with  nothing :  cut  a  steak  from  what  part  you 
'  will,  and  it  is  insupportably  tough  ;  dress  it  up  with 
'  pickles, — even  pickles  cannot  procure  them  an  appetite. 
'  But  the  whole  creotion  is  filled  with  good  things  for 
'  the  beggar  ;  Calvert's  butt  out-tastes  champagne,  and 
'Sedgeley's  home-brewed  excels  tokay.  Joy,  joy,  my 
'  blood  !  though  our  estates  lie  nowhere,  we  have  fortunes 
'  wherever  we  go.  If  an  inundation  sweeps  away  half 
'  the  grounds  of  Cornwall,  I  om  content ;  I  have  no 
'  lands  there :  if  the  stocks  sink,  that  gives  me  no 
'  uneasiness ;  I  am  no  Jew'.'  The  fellow's  vivacity, 
joined  to  his  poverty,  I  own,  raised  my  curiosity  to 
know  something  of  his  life  and  circumstances,;  and  I 
entreated  that  he  would  indulge  my  desire. — '  That  I  will 
'  sir,'  said  he,  '  and  welcome  ;  only  let  us  drink  to  prevent 
'our  sleeping;  let  us  have  another  tankard  while  we 
'  are  awake ;  let  us  have  another  tankard  ;  for,  ah,  how 
'  charming  a  tankard  looks  when  full  ! 

'  You  must  know,  then,  that  I  am  very  well  descended  ; 
'  my  ancestors  have  made  some  noise  in  the  world  ;  for 
'  my  mother  cried  oysters,  and  my  father  beat  a  drum  : 
'  I  am  told  we  have  even  had  some  trumpeters  in  our 
'  family.  Many  a  nobleman  cannot  show  so  respectful 
'  a  genealogy :  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  As 
'  I  was  their  only  child,  my  father  designed  to  breed  me 
'  up  to  his  own  employment,  v/hich  was  that  of  drummer 
'  to  a  puppet-show.  Thus  the  whole  employment  of  my 
'  younger  years  was  that  of  interpreter  to  P>unch  and 
'  King  Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  But,  though  my  father 
'  was  very  fond  of  instructing  me  in  beating  all  the 
'marches  and  points  of  war,  I  made  no  very  great 


A  STROLLING  PLAYER 


211 

'progress,  because  I  naturally  had  no  ear  for  music  • 
'  2  ?  h  ;  "'"  "l '''""'  '  "«"*  -'"'•  '-^  fori  sTdlr" 

'  that  i't^n^L"""  *"""■"«  " ''"""- «"  ^ «-" '-  d 

ttet  I  disliked  carrying  a  musket  also;    neither  the 
one  trade  nor  the  other  was  to  my  taste,  for  I  wt! 

obliged  to  obey  my  captain  ;   he  has  his  will,  I  hive 

■rmant^;^!    I      "'^'  """=•*  """'^  -mfortable  for 
a  man  to  obey  his  own  will  than  another's. 

Ihe  life  of  a  soldier  soon  therefore  gave  me  the 

'   tTtal  and^'t  '^"^  *°  '''''  ''^  ^^'^      "*•' 
'  kiTd  intl.  T^'  ""^  ""P*"*"  *'>»"''^'J  me  for  my 

kmd  intention,  and  said,  because  he  had  a  regard  for 
,  me,  we  should  not  part.  1  wrote  to  my  fathTa  very 
_  dismal   penitent   letter,  and   desired  Uiat  he  wouW 

■  mTwT"%  *°.T.  '"'  -"^  '*'-»'-««  ■'    but  the  Tot 
man  was  as  fond  of  drinking  as  I  was  (Sir,  my  service  Z 

you).-andtho^whoarefondof<Ui„gne'l™fS 

'  Zh  t1  ^''^*  """Id  be  done  ?  If  I  haye  not  money 
said  I  to  myself,  to  pay  for  my  discharge  ImuTt 
find  an  equiyalent  some  other  way ;  and  tha  musTte 
by  runmng  away.     I  deserted,  and  that  answered  my 

^purpose^eyerybitaswellasiflhadbourmj 

■mienf  /     1        ^  oyertaken,  took  the  most  infre 

'  to^ T;    P'T'"!!'*  "«'"■  ^bom  I  afterwards  founi 
to  be  the  curate  of  the  parish,  thrown  from  his  horse 

He  desired  my  assistance  ;  I  gaye  it,  and  drew  him  out 
with  some  difficulty.    He  thanked  me  for  my  troTible 


213 


ESSAYS 


'  and  was  going  off ;  but  I  followwl  him  home,  for  I 
'  loved  alwayH  to  have  a  man  thanic  me  at  hiH  own  door. 
'  The  curate  aslced  an  hundred  qucotionx ;  as,  whose  son 
'  I  was ;  from  whence  I  came  ;  and  whether  I  would 
'  be  faithful  ?  I  answered  hiin  greatly  to  his  satisfaction, 
'  and  gave  myself  one  of  the  best  characters  in  the 
'  world  for  sobriety  fSir,  I  have  the  honour  of  drinking 
'  your  health),  discretion,  and  fidelity.  To  make  a  long 
'  story  short,  he  wanted  a  servant,  and  hired  me.  With 
'  him  I  lived  but  two  months  ;  we  did  not  much  like 
'  each  other ;  I  was  fond  of  eating,  and  he  gave  me 
'  but  little  to  eat :  I  loved  a  pretty  girl,  and  the  old 
'  woman,  my  fellow  servant,  was  ill-natured  and  ugly. 
'  As  they  endeavoured  to  starve  me  between  them, 
'  I  made  a  pious  resolution  to  prevent  their  committing 
'  murder  ;  I  stole  the  eggs  as  soon  as  they  were  laid  ; 
'  I  emptied  every  unfinished'  bottle  that  I  could  lay  my 
'  hands  on  ;  whatever  eatable  came  in  my  way  was 
'  sure  to  disappear :  in  short,  they  found  I  would  not 
'  do  ;  so  I  was  discharged  one  morning,  and  paid  three 
'  shillings  and  sixpence  for  two  months'  wages. 

'While  my  money  was  getting  ready,  I  employed 
'  myself  in  making  preparations  for  my  departure ; 
'  two  hens  were  hatching  in  an  out-house ;  I  went  and 
'  habitually  took  the  eggs ;  and,  not  to  separate  the 
'  parents  from  the  children,  I  lodged  hens  and  all  in  my 
'  knapsack.  After  this  piece  of  frugality,  I  returned  to 
'  receive  my  money,  and,  with  my  knapsack  on  my  back, 
'  and  a  staff  in  my  hand,  I  bid  adieu,  with  tears  in  my  eyes, 
'  to  my  old  benefactor.  I  had  not  gone  far  from  the 
'  house  when  I  heard  behind  me  the  cry  of  "  Stop 
'  thief !  "  but  this  only  increased  my  dispatch  ;  it  would 
'  have  bjen  foolish  to  stop,  as  I  knew  *^-  voice  could 
'  not  be  levelled  at  me.  But  hold,  I  thii.  ^  passed  those 
'  two  months  at  the  curate's  without  drinking.     Come, 


A  STROLLING  PLAYER  213 

'  the  timeH  aro  dry,  and  may  tniH  bo  my  poiHon  if  ever 
'  I  spent  two  more  piouH,  utupid  months  in  nil  my  life. 

'  Well,  after  travelling  Honic  days,  whom  should  I 
^  hght  upon  but  a  compony  of  strolling  players.  The 
'  moment  I  how  them  at  a  distance  my  heart  warmed  to 
'  them  ;  I  had  n  sort  of  natural  love  for  evervthing  of  the 
'  vagabond  order:  they  were  employed  in  settling  their 
'  baggage,  which  had  been  overturned  in  a  narrow  way  ; 
'  I  offered  my  assistance,  which  they  accepted  ;  and  we 
'  soon  became  so  well  acquainted,  that  they  took  me  as 
'  a  servant.  This  was  a  paradise  to  me  ;  they  sung 
'  danced,  drank,  eat,  and  travelled,  all  at  the  same  time! 
'  By  the  blood  of  the  Mirabels,  I  thought  I  had  never 
'  lived  till  then  ;  I  grew  as  merry  as  a  grig,  and  laughed 
at  every  word  that  was  simken.  They  liked  mo  as 
^  much  as  I  liked  them  ;  I  was  a  very  good  figure,  as 
'  you  see  ;  and,  though  I  was  poor,  I  was  not  modest. 

'  I  love  a  straggling  life  above  all  things  in  the  world  ; 
'  sometimes  good,  sometimes  bad  ;   to  be  warm  to-day,' 

■  and  cold  to-morrow  ;  to  eat  when  one  can  get  it,  and 
'  drink  when  (the  tankard  is  out)  it  stands  before  me. 
_  We  arrived  that  evenmg  at  Tcnderdcn,  and  took  a 
'  large  room  at  the  Greyhound,  where  we  resolved  to 

■  exhibit  Romeo  and  Juliet,  with  the  funeral  procession, 
'  the  grave,  and  the  garden  scene.  Romeo  was  to  be 
'  performed  by  a  gentleman  from  the  Theatre  Royal  in 
'  Drury  Lane ;  Juliet  by  a  lady  who  had  never  appeared 
^  on  any  stage  before  ;  and  I  was  to  snuff  the  candles  : 
'  aU  excellent  in  our  way.  We  had  figures  enough,  but 
^  the  diificulty  was  to  dress  them.  The  same  coat'that 
'  served  Romeo,  turned  with  the  blue  lining  outwards, 
'  served  for  his  friend  Mercutio  :  a  large  piece  of  crape 
'  sufficed  at  once  for  Juliet's  petticoat  and  pall :  a  pestle 

and  mortar,  from  a  neighbouring  apothecary's,  answered 
'  aU  the  purposes  of  a  bell ;    and  our  landlord's  own 


214 


ESSAYS 


family,  wrapped  in  white  sheets,  served  to  fill  up  the 
procession.  In  short,  there  were  but  three  figures 
among  us  that  might  bo  said  to  bo  dressed  with  any 
propriety  :  I  mean  the  nurse,  the  starved  apothecary, 
and  myself.  Our  performance  gave  universal  satis- 
faction :  the  whole  audience  were  enchanted  with  our 
powers,  and  Tendcrden  is  a  town  of  taste. 

'  There  is  one  rule  by  which  a  strolling  player  may  bo 
ever  secure  of  succes!* ;  that  is,  in  our  theatrical  way  of 
expressing  it,  to  make  a  great  deal  of  the  character. 
To  speak  and  act  cs  in  common  life,  is  not  playing,  nor 
is  it  what  people  come  to  see  :  natural  sopaking,  like 
sweet  wine,  runs  glibly  over  the  palate,  and  scaioe 
leaves  any  taste  behind  it ;  but  being  high  in  a  part 
resembles  vinegar,  which  grates  upon  the  taste,  and 
one  feels  it  while  he  is  drinking.  To  please  in  town  or 
country,  the  way  is,  to  cry,  wring,  cringe  into  attitudes, 
mark  the  emphasis,  slap  the  pockets,  and  labour  like 
one  in  the  falling  sickness  :  that  is  the  way  to  work 
for  applause  ;  that  is  the  way  to  gain  it. 

'  As  we  received  much  reputation  for  our  skill  on  this 
first  exhibition,  it  was  but  natural  for  me  tu  ascribe 
part  of  the  success  to  myself :  I  snuffed  the  candles, 
and  let  me  toll  you,  that  without  a  candle-snuffer 
the  piece  would  lose  half  its  embellishments.  In  this 
manner  we  continued  a  fortnight,  and  drew  tolerable 
houses  ;  but  the  evening  before  our  intended  departure, 
we  gave  out  our  very  best  piece,  in  which  all  our 
strength  was  to  be  exerted.  We  had  great  expectations 
from  this,  and  even  doubled  our  prices,  when  behold 
one  of  the  principal  actors  fell  ill  of  a  violent  fever. 
This  was  a  stroke  like  thunder  to  our  little  company  : 
t^'  V  were  resolved  to  go,  in  a  body,  to  scold  the  man 
for  i.illing  sick  at  so  inconvenient  a  time,  and  that  too 
of  a  disorder  that  threatened  to  be  expensive  ;  I  seized 


A  STROLLING  PLAYER  215 

'  the  moment,  and  offered  to  act  the  iwrt  myself  in  hi. 
Btead.     The  case  was  desiwrato  ;    thev  accepted  niy 
offer ;   and  I  accordingly  Hat  down,  with  the  part  in 
my  hand  and  a  tankard  before  mo  (Sir,  vo.ir  health) 
and  studied  the  character,  which  »«»  to  be  rehearsed 
the  next  day,  and  played  soon  after. 
'  r  found  my  memory  excessively  hel|)ed  by  drinking  • 
I  Icarnwl  my  part  with  astonishing  rapidiiy,  and  bid 
adieu  to  snuffing  candles  over  after.     I  found  that 
Mature  had  designed  mo  for  more  noble  employments 
and  I  was  resolved  to  take  her  when  in  the  humour 
_  Wo  got  together  in  orrJer  to  r,.b,arse;  and  I  informed  mv 
_  companions,  masters  now  no  longer,  of  the  surprisinjt 
chanfeo  I  felt  within  me.     "  Let  the  sick  man,"  said 
_  1,      be  under  no  uneasiness  to  get  well  again  ;  I'll  fill 
_  his  place  to  universal  satisfaction :    he  may  even  die 
If  he  thinks  proper;    I'll  engage  that  ho  shall  never 
_  be  missed.      I  rehearsed  before  them,  strutted,  ranted 
and  received  applause.    They  soon  gave  out  that  a  new 
_  actor  of  eminence  was  to  appear,  and  immediately  aU 
the  genteel  places  were  bespoke.     Before  I  ascended 
^  the  stage,  however,  I  concluded  within  myself,  that  as 
_  1  brought  money  to  the  house,  I  ought  to  have  mv 
_  share  in  the  profits.    "  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  addressing 
^  our  company,  "  I  don't  pretend  to  direct  you  ;  far  be 
^  It  from  me  to  treat  you  with  so  much  ingratitude  •  you 
_  have  published  my  name  in  the  bills  with  the  utmost 
_  good  nature  ;  and,  as  affairs  stand,  caimot  act  without 
^  me  ;  so,  gentlemen,  to  show  you  my  gratitude,  I  expect 
_  to  be  paid  for  my  acting  as  much  as  anv  of  you,  other- 
_  wise  I  declare  off  ;   I'll  brandish  my  snuffers,  and  clip 
candlesas usual."  Thiswasaverydisagreeable  proposal, 
^  but  they  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  refuse  it  •   it 
^  was  irresistible,  it  was  adamant :  they  consented,  and 
I  went   on   in  King  Bajazet :    mv  frowning    brown 


210 


ESSAYS 


bound  with  a  Ktocking  ituflod  into  a  turban,  wbilv  on 
my  oaptiv'd  armii  I  brandiKhotl  a  jack-chain.  Nature 
Bcomed  to  haw  fltted  nio  for  the  jMirt ;  I  whh  tall,  and 
hail  a  loud  voice  ;  my  wry  entrance  excited  universal 
applauHo  ;  I  looked  round  on  the  audience  with  a  Huiile, 
and  made  a  moHt  low  and  graceful  bow,  for  that  in  the 
rule  among  uh.  Ah  it  wait  a  very  jMNHiunato  part, 
I  invigorated  my  HpiritH  with  three  full  glaxiieH  (the 
tankard  i»  alinoHt  out)  of  brandy.  By  Allah  1  it  is 
almoHt  inconceivable  how  I  went  through  it ;  Tamer- 
lane waH  but  a  fool  to  mo  ;  though  ho  wuh  sometimes 
loud  enough  too,  yet  I  was  Htill  louder  than  ho  :  but 
then,  besideB,  I  uod  attitudes  in  abundance  :  in  general 
I  kept  my  arms  folded  up  thug  upon  the  pit  of  my 
Htomach  ;  it  i»  the  way  at  Drury  Lane,  and  huH  always 
a  fine  effect.  The  tankard  would  sink  to  the  bottom 
before  I  could  get  through  the  whole  of  my  merits  : 
in  short,  I  came  off  like  a,  prodigy  ;  and  such  was  my 
success,  that  I  could  ravibh  the  laurels  even  from  a 
sirloin  of  beef.  The  principal  ger'Iemcn  nnd  ladies  of 
the  town  came  to  me,  after  the  play  was  over,  to 
compliment  me  upon  my  success  :  one  praised  my 
voice,  another  my  person.  "  Upon  my  word,"  says  the 
squire's  lady,  "  he  will  make  one  of  the  finest  actors 
in  Europe  ;    I  say  it,  and  I  think  I  am  something  of 

a    judge." Praise    in  the  beginning  is  agreeable 

enough,  and  we  receive  it  as  a  favour ;  but  when  it 
comes  in  great  quantities,  we  regard  it  only  as  a  debt, 
which  nothing  but  our  merit  could  extort  :  instead  of 
thanking  them,  I  internally  applauded  myself.  We 
were  desired  to  give  our  piece  a  second  time  ;  we 
obeyed,  and  I  was  applauded  even  more  than  before. 
'  At  last  we  left  the  town,  in  order  to  be  at  a  horse- 
race at  some  distance  from  thence.  I  shall  never 
think  of  Tenderden  without  tears  of  gratitude  and 


A  STROLLING  PLAYER  217 

'  reii|iect.  Tho  lulicH aiul KcntUiiU'ii  thfiv,  take  my  word 
•  for  it,  an-  vi-r.v  ({wkI  judge*  of  plajH  and  a<t.irH.  C'onu-, 
^  let  UN  drink  tlu-ir heultliH,  if  you  pkaw,  xir.  \Vi'  quittwl 
'  the  town,  I  »ay  ;  and  thrrt!  whh  a  wide  diffirc-mo 
'  betwc'tn  my  coming  iji  and  going  out  :   1  entered  the 

'  town  a  candle-»nu(Ier,  and  I  (luittetl  it  an  hero  ; 

'  Hueh  iM  tho  world  ;  little  to-day,  and  great  to-morrow. 
'  I  could  May  a  great  deal  more  upon  that  HuhjccI  ; 
'  Homethiiig  truly  »ublime,  iijion  tho  upn  an<l  downH  of 
I  fortune  ;  but  it  woukl  give  u»  both  the  Hplccn,  and  no 
'  I  shall  pa»B  it  over. 

•  Tho  raccH  were  ended  before  we  arrived  at  the  next 
^towii,  which  was  no  »mall  diBappointment  to  our 
'  company ;  however,  we  were  renolvcd  to  take  all  wo 
'  could  get.  I  played  capital  chnracterH  there  too,  and 
I  came  off  with  my  UHual  brilliancy.  I  nincerely  believe 
'  I  iihoujd  have  been  tho  first  actor  of  Europe]^  had  my 
'growing  merit  l-en  properly  cultivated;  but  there 
'  came  an  unkindly  frost,  which  nipped  me  in  tho  bud, 
'and  levelled  mo  once  more  down  to  the  common 
^  standard  of  humanity.  I  pli^yed  Sir  Harry  Wildair  ; 
'  all  the  country  ladies  were  charmed  :  if  I  but  drew 
'  out  my  snuff-box,  tho  whole  house  was  in  a  roar  of 
'  rapture  ;  when  I  exercised  my  cudgel,  I  thought  they 
'  would  have  fallen  into  convulsions. 

•  There  was  here  a  lady  who  had  received  an  education 
'  of  nine  months  in  London  ;  and  this  gave  her  pre- 
'  tensions  to  taste,  which  rendered  her  the  indisputable 
'mistress  of  the  ceremonies  wherever  she  came.  She 
'  was  informed  of  my  merits  ;  everybody  praised  me  ; 
^  yet  she  refused  at  first  going  to  see  me  perform  :  she 
'  could  not  conceive,  she  said,  anything  but  stuff  from 
'  a  stroller  ;  talked  something  in  praise  of  Garrick  inj 
'  amazed  the  ladies  with  her  skill  in  enunciations,  iMiea, 
'  and  cadences  :  she  was  at  last,  however,  prevailed  upon 


218 


ESSAYS 


'to  go  ;  and  it  was  privately  intimated  to  me  what 
'  a  judge  was  to  be  present  at  my  next  exhibition  : 
'  however,  no  way  intimidated,  I  came  on  in  Sir  Harry, 
'  one  hand  stuck  in  my  breeches,  and  the  other  in  my 
'  bosom,  as  usual  at  Drury  Lane  ;  but,  instead  of  looking 
'  at  me,  I  perceived  the  whole  audience  had  their  eyes 
'  turned  upon  the  lady  who  had  been  nine  months  in 
'  London  ;  from  her  they  expected  the  decision  which 
'  was  to  secure  the  general's  truncheon  in  my  hand, 
'  or  sink  me  down  into  a  theatrical  letter-carrier.  I 
'  opened  my  snuff-box,  took  snuff ;  the  lady  was 
'  solemn,  and  so  were  the  rest ;  I  broke  my  cudgel  on 
'  Alderman  Smuggler's  back  ;  still  gloomy,  melancholy 
'  all :  the  lady  groaned  and  shrugged  her  shoulders ; 
'  I  attempted,  by  laughing  myself,  to  excite  at  least 
'  a  smile  ;  but  the  devil  a  cheek  could  I  perceive  wrinkled 
'  into  sympathy  :  I  found  it  would  not  do  ;  all  my 
'  good  humour  now  became  forced ;  my  laughter  was 
'  converted  into  hysteric  grinning ;  and,  while  I  pre- 
'  tended  spirits,  my  eye  showed  the  agony  of  my  heart : 
'  in  short,  the  lady  came  with  an  intention  to  l)e  dis- 
'  pleased,  and  displeased  she  was  ;  my  fame  expired  ; 
'  I  am  here,  and  (the  tankard  is  no  more  !)  ' 


ESSAY  XXII 

RULES    ENJOINED   TO    BE    OBSERVED    AT   A 

RUSSIAN  ASSEMBLY 

[From  The  Ladies^  Magazint\ 
When  Catharina  Alexowna  was  made  Empress  of 
Russia,  the  women  were  in  an  actual  state  of  bondage, 
but  she  umdertook  to  introduce  mixed  assembUcs,  as  in 
other  parts  of  Europe  :  she  altered  the  women's  dress 
by  substituting  the  fashions  of  England  ;  instead  of 
furs,  she  brought  in  the  use  of  taffeta  and  damask  ;  and 


A  EUSSIAN  ASSEMBLY  219 

comets  and  commodes  instead  of  caps  of  sable.  The 
women  now  found  themselves  no  longer  shut  up  in 
separate  apartments,  but  saw  company,  visited  each 
other.  ?;u;  \\( -o  present  at  every  entertainment. 

Bu  us  the  liiw .,  i.j  this  effect  were  directed  to  a  savage 
peop  ,  if  is  amusi.ig  enough,  the  manner  in  which  the 
ordmi'.;./  r.ii).  Assemblies  were  quite  unknown  among 
them  ;  the  Czaruia  was  satisfied  with  introducing  them, 
for  she  found  it  impossible  to  render  them  polite.  An 
orduiance  was  therefore  published  according  to  their 
notions  of  breeding ;  which,  as  it  is  a  curiosity,  and  has 
never  been  before  printed,  that  we  know  of,  we  shall 
give  our  readers. 

'  I.  The  person  at  whoso  house  the  assembly  is  to 
'  be  kept,  shall  signify  the  same  by  hanging  out  a  bill, 
'or  by  giving  some  other  public  notice,  by  way  of 
'  advertisement,  to  iiersons  of  both  sexes. 

'  II.  The  assembly  shall  not  be  oix^n  sooner  than  four 
'  or  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  nor  continue  longer 
'  than  ten  at  night. 

'  III.  The  master  of  the  house  shall  not  be  obliged  to 
'  meet  his  guests,  or  conduct  them  out,  or  keep  them 
'  company  ;  but,  though  he  is  exempt  from  all  this,  he 
'  is  to  find  them  chairs,  candles,  liquors,  and  all  other 
'  necessaries  that  company  may  ask  for  :  he  is  likewise 
'  to  provide  them  with  cards,  dice,  and  every  necessary 
'  for  gaming. 

'  IV.  There  shall  be  no  fixed  hour  for  coming  or  going 
'  away;  it  is  enough  for  a  person  to  appear  iirthe  assembly. 

'  V.  Every  one  shall  be  free  to  sit,  walk,  or  game, 
'  as  he  pleases  ;  nor  shall  any  one  go  about  to  hinder 
'  him,  or  take  exceptions  at  what  he  does,  upon  pain  of 
'  emptying  the  great  eagle  (a  pint-bowl  full  of  brandy) : 
'  it  shall  likewise  be  sufficient,  at  entering  or  retiring,  to 
'  salute  the  company. 


220 


ESSAYS 


'  VI.  Persons  of  diHtinction,  noblemen,  superior 
'  officers,  merchants,  and  tradesmen  of  note,  head- 
'  workmen,  especially  carpenters,  and  persons  employed 
'  in  chancery,  arc  to  have  liberty  to  enter  the  assemblies ; 
'  as  likewise  their  wives  and  children. 

'  VII.  A  particular  place  shall  be  assigned  the  foot- 
'  men,  except  those  of  the  house,  that  there  may  be  room 
•  enough  in  the  apartments  designed  for  the  assembly. 

'  VIII.  No  ladies  are  to  get  drunk  upon  any  pretence 
'  whatsoever,  nor  shall  gentlemen  be  drunk  before  nine. 

'  IX.  Ladies  who  play  at  forfeitures,  questions  and 
•commands,  &c.  shall  not  be  riotous:  no  gentleman 
'  shall  attempt  to  force  a  kiss,  and  no  person  shall  offer 
'  to  strike  a  woman  in  the  assembly,  under  pain  of 
'  future  exclusion.' 

Such  are  the  statutes  upon  this  occasion,  which,  in 
their  very  appearance,  carry  an  air  of  ridicule  and 
satire.  But  politeness  must  enter  every  country  by 
degrees ;  and  these  rules  resemble  the  breeding  of  a 
clown,  awk'vard  but  sincere. 


ESSAY  XXIII 

THE  GENIUS  OF  LOVE,  AN  EASTERN  APOLOGUE 

[Altered  from  Letter  CXIV  of  The  Citizen  0/  tU  H'orW] 

The  formalities,  delays,  and  disappointments,  that 
precede  a  treaty  of  marriage  here,  are  usually  as  numerous 
as  those  previous  to  a  treaty  of  peace.  The  laws  of  this 
country  are  finely  calculated  to  promote  all  commerce 
but  the  commerce  between  the  sexes.  Their  encourage- 
ments for  propagating  hemp,  madder,  and  tobacco,  are 
indeed  admirable  !  Marriages  are  the  only  commodity 
that  meets  with  discouragement. 

Yet,  from  the  vernal  softness  of  the  air,  the  verdure  of 


THE  GENroS  OF  LOVE 


221 


the  fields,  the  transparency  of  the  streams,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  women,  I  know  few  countries  more  proper 
to  invite  to  courtship.  Here  Love  might  sport  among 
painted  lawns  and  warbling  groves,  and  revel  amidst 
gales,  wafting  at  once  both  fragrance  and  harmony. 
Yet  it  seems  he  has  forsaken  the  island  ;  and,  when  a 
couple  are  now  to  be  married,  mutual  love,  or  an  union  of 
minds,  is  the  last  and  most  trifling  consideration.  If  their 
goods  and  chattels  can  be  brought  to  unite,  their  sym- 
pathetic souls  are  ever  ready  to  guarantee  the  treaty.  The 
gentleman's  mortgaged  lawn  becomes  enamoured  of  the 
lady's  marriageable  grove  ;  the  match  is  struck  up, 
and  both  parties  are  piously  in  love — according  to  act 
of  parliament. 

Thus  they  who  have  fortune,  are  possessed  at  least 
of  something  that  is  lovely ;  but  I  actually  pity  those 
who  have  none.  I  am  told  there  was  a  time,  when 
ladies,  with  no  other  merit  but  youth,  virtue,  and  beauty, 
had  a  chance  for  husbands,  at  least  among  our  clergy- 
men and  officers.  The  blush  and  innocence  of  sixteen 
w  >  'd  to  have  a  powerful  influence  over  these  two 
pi  is.    But  of  late,  all  the  little  traffic  of  blushing, 

ogh  .g,  dimpling,  and  smiUng,  has  been  forbidden  by  an 
act  in  that  case  wisely  made  and  provided.  A  lady's 
whole  cargo  of  smiles,  sighs,  itnd  whispers,  is  declared 
utterly  contraband,  till  she  arrives  in  the  warm  latitude 
of  twenty-two,  where  commodities  of  this  nature  are 
too  often  found  to  decay.  She  is  then  permitted  to 
dimple  and  smile,  when  the  dimples  begin  to  forsake 
her ;  and,  when  perhaps  grown  ugly,  is  charitably 
entrusted  with  an  unlimited  use  of  her  charms.  Her 
lovers,  however,  by  this  time,  have  forsaken  her ;  the 
captain  has  changed  for  another  mistress  ;  the  priest 
himself  leaves  her  in  solitude,  to  bewail  her  virginity, 
and  she  dies  even  without  benefit  of  clergy. 


222  ESSAYS 

Thus  you  find  the  Europeans  discouraging  Love  with 
as  much  earnestness  as  the  nidett  savage  of  Sofala.  The 
Genius  is  surely  now  no  more.  In  every  region  there 
seem  enemies  in  arms  to  oppress  him.  Avarice  in  Europe, 
jealousy  in  Persia,  ceremony  in  China,  poverty  among 
the  Tartars,  and  lust  in  Circassif.,  are  all  prepared  to 
oppose  his  power.  The  Genius  is  certainly  banished  from 
earth,  though  once  adored  under  such  a  variety  of  forms. 
He  is  nowhere  to  1).>  found  ;  and  all  that  the  ladies  of 
each  country  can  produce,  are  but  a  few  trifling  relics, 
as  instances  of  his  former  residence  and  favour. 

'The  Genius  of  Love,'  says  the  Eastern  Apologue, 
'  had  long  resided  in  the  happy  plains  of  Abra,  where 
'  every  breeze  was  health,  and  every  sound  produced 
'  tranquillity.  His  temple  at  first  wa;  crDwded,  but 
'  every  age  lessened  the  number  of  his  votaries,  or 
'  cooled  ^heir  devotion.  Perceiving  therefore  his  altars 
'  at  length  quite  deserted,  he  was  resolved  to  remove  to 
'  some  more  propitious  region  ;  and  he  apprised  the  fair 
'  sex  of  every  country,  where  Lj  could  hope  for  a  proper 
'  reception,  to  assert  their  right  to  his  presence  among 
'  them.  In  return  to  this  proclamation,  embassies  were 
'  sent  from  the  ladies  of  every  part  of  the  world  to 
'  invite  him,  and  to  display  the  superiority  of  their 
'  claims. 

'  '  And,  first,  the  beauties  of  China  appeared.  No 
'  country  could  compare  with  them  for  modesty,  either 
'  of  look,  dress,  or  behaviour ;  their  eyes  were  never 
'  lifted  from  the  ground  ;  their  robes,  of  the  most 
'  beautiful  silk,  hid  their  hands,  bosom,  and  neck,  while 
'  their  faces  only  were  left  uricovered.  They  indulged 
'  no  airs  that  might  express  loose  desire,  and  they 
'  seemed  to  study  only  the  graces  of  inanimate  beauty. 
'  Their  black  teeth  and  plucked  eyebrows  were,  however, 
'  alleged  by  the  Genius  against  them,  but  he  set  them 


THE  GENIUS  OF  LOVE 


223 


'entirely  aside  when  he  came  to  examine  their  little 
'  feet. 

'  The  beauties  of  Circaasia  next  made  their  appearc nee. 
'  They  advanced  hand  in  hand,  singing  the  most  im- 
'  modest  airs,  and  leading  up  a  dance  in  the  most 
'  luxurious  attitudes.  Their  dress  was  but  half  a  cover- 
'  ing  ;  the  neck,  the  left  breast,  and  all  the  limbs,  were 
'exposed  to  view;  which,  after  some  time,  seemed 
'  rather  to  satiate  than  inflame  desire.  The  lily  and  the 
'  rose  contended  in  forming  their  complexions  ;  and 
'  a  soft  sleepiness  of  eye  added  irresistible  poignance  to 
'  their  charms  :  but  their  beauties  were  obtruded,  not 
'  offered,  to  their  admirers  ;  they  seemed  to  give  rather 
'  than  receive  courtship ;  and  the  Genius  of  Love 
'diLMisscd  them  as  unworthy  his  regard,  since  they 
'  exchanged  the  duties  of  love,  and  made  themselves  not 
'  the  pursued,  but  the  pursuing  sex. 

'  The  kingdom  of  Kashmire  next  produced  its  charm- 
'ing  deputies.  This  happy  region  seemed  peculiarly 
'  sequestered  by  nature  for  his  abode.  Shady  mountains 
'fenced  it  on  one  side  from  the  scorching  sun,  and 
'  sea-borne  breezes  on  the  other  gave  peculiar  luxuriance 
'  to  the  air.  Their  complexions  were  of  a  bright  yellow, 
'  that  appeared  almost  transparent,  while  the  crimson 
'  tulip  seemed  to  blossom  on  their  cheeks.  Their  features 
'  and  limbs  were  delicate  beyond  the  statuary's  power  to 
'  express  ;  and  their  teeth  whiter  than  their  own  ivory. 
'  He  war  almost  persuaded  to  reside  among  them,  when 
'  unfortunately  one  of  the  ladies  talked  of  appointing 
'  his  seraglio. 

'  In  this  procession  the  naked  inhabitants  of  Southern 
'  America  would  not  be  left  behind  ;  their  charms  were 
'found  to  surpass  whatever  the  warmest  imagination 
^  could  conceive;  and  served  to  show,  that  beauty 
'  could  bo  perfect,  even  with  the  seeming  disadvantage 


224 


ESSAYS 


■  of  a  brown  complexion.  But  their  savage  education 
'  remlerc<l  them  utterly  unqualifio<l  to  make  the  proper 
'  use  of  their  power,  and  they  were  rejected  as  being 
'  incapable  of  uniting  mental  with  sensual  satisfaction. 
'  In  this  manner  the  deputies  of  other  kingdoms  had 
'  their  suits  rejected  ;  the  black  beauties  of  Benin,  and 
'  the  tawny  daughters  of  Borneo ;  the  women  of  Wida 
'  with  scarred  faces,  and  the  hideous  virgins  of  C'affraria  ; 
'  the  squab  ladies  of  Lapland,  three  feet  high,  and  the 
'  giant  fair  ones  of  Patagonia. 

'  The  beauties  of  Europe  at  last  appeared  :  grace  in 
their  steps,  and  sensibility  smiling  in  every  eye.  It  was 
'  the  universal  opinion,  while  they  were  approaching, 
'  that  they  would  prevail ;  and  the  Genius  seemed  to 
'  lend  them  his  most  favourable  attention.  They  opened 
'  their  pretensions  with  the  utmost  modesty ;  but 
'  unfortunately,  as  their  orator  proceeded,  she  happened 
'  to  let  fall  the  words,  "  House  in  town,"  "  Settlement," 
'  and  "  Pin-money."  These  seemingly  harmless  terms 
'  had  instantly  a  surprising  effect :  the  Genius,  with 
'  ungovernable  rage,  burst  from  amidet  the  circle  ;  and, 
'  waving  his  youthful  pinions,  left  this  earth,  and  flew 
'  back  to  those  ethereal  mansions  from  whence  he 
'  descended. 

"  The  whole  assembly  was  struck  with  amazement ; 
'  they  now  justly  apprehended  that  female  power  would 
'  be  no  more,  since  Love  had  forsaken  them.  They 
'  continued  some  time  thus  in  a  state  of  torpid  despair ; 
'  when  it  was  proposed  by  one  of  the  number,  that,  since 
'the  real  Genius  of  Love  had  left  them,  in  order  to 
'  continue  their  power,  they  should  set  up  an  idol  in 
'  his  stead  ;  and  that  the  ladiei  of  every  country  should 
'  furnish  him  with  what  each  liked  best.  This  proposal 
'  was  instantly  relished  and  agreed  to.  An  idol  of  gold 
'  was  formed  by  uniting  the  capricious  gifts  of  all  the 


THE  GENIUS  OF  LOVE  225 

'assembly,  though  no  way  resembling  the  departed 
'  QeniuH.  The  ladies  of  China  furnished  the  monster  with 
I  wings ;  those  of  Kashmiro  supplied  him  with  horns ; 
'  the  dames  of  Europe  clapped  a  purse  into  his  hand  ; 
'and  the  virgins  of  Congo  furnished  him  wi'h  a  tail. 
'  Since  that  time,  all  the  vows  addressed  to  Love  are  in 
■  itfality  paid  to  the  idol ;  while,  as  in  other  false 
'  religions,  the  adoration  seems  most  fervent,  where  the 
'  heart  is  least  sincere.' 


ESSAY  XXIV 

THE  DISTRESSES  OF  A  COMMON  SOLDIER 
[Altered  from  Letter  CXIX  of  The  Citizen  of  the  World] 
No  observation  is  more  common,  and  at  the  same  time 
more  true,  than  that  one  half  of  the  world  are  ignorant 
how  the  other  half  lives.  The  misfortunes  of  the  great 
are  held  up  to  engage  our  attention  ;  are  enlarged  upon 
in  tones  of  declamation  ;  and  the  world  is  called  upon  to 
gaze  at  the  noble  sufferers  :  the  great,  under  the  pressure 
of  calamity,  are  conscious  of  several  others  sympathizing 
with  their  distress  ;  and  have,  at  once,  the  comfort  of 
admiration  and  pity. 

There  is  nothing  magnanimous  in  bearing  misfortunes 
with  fortitude,  when  the  whole  world  is  looking  on  :  men 
in  such  circumstances  will  act  bravely  even  from  motives 
of  vanity ;  but  he  who,  in  the  vale  of  obscurity,  can 
brave  adversity;  who,  without  friends  to  encourage, 
acquamtances  to  pity,  or  even  with  /ut  hope  to  alleviate 
his  misfortunes,  can  behave  with  tranquillity  and 
indifference,  is  truly  great :  whether  peasant  or  courtier, 
he  deserves  admiration,  and  should  be  held  up  for  our 
imitation  and  respect. 

While  the  slightest  inconveniences  of  the  great  ate 

OOLDSHITU.    Ill  * 


iu 


ESSAYS 


magnified  into  calamities ;  while  tragedy  mouths  out 
their  sufferings  in  all  the  strains  of  eloquence,  the  miseries 
of  the  poor  are  entirely  disregarded  ;  and  yet  som  j  t  the 
lower  ranks  of  people  undergo  more  real  hardships  in 
one  day,  than  those  of  a  more  exalted  station  suffer  in 
th?ir  whole  lives.  It  is  inconceivable  what  difficulties 
the  meanest  of  our  common  sailors  and  soldiers  ondure 
without  murmuring  or  regret;  without  passionately 
declaiming  against  Providence,  or  calling  their  fellows 
to  be  gazers  on  their  intrepidity.  Every  day  is  to  them 
a  day  of  misery,  and  yet  they  entertain  their  hard  fate 
without  repining. 

With  what  indignation  do  I  hear  an  Ovid,  a  CSoero,  or 
a  Rabutin,  complain  of  their  misfortunes  and  hardships, 
whose  greatest  calamity  was  that  of  being  unable  to 
visit  a  certain  spot  of  earth,  to  which  they  had  foolishly 
attached  an  idea  of  happiness.  Their  distresses  were 
pleasures,  compared  to  what  many  of  the  adventuring 
poor  every  day  endure  without  murmuring.  They  ate, 
drank,  and  slept ;  they  had  slaves  to  attend  them,  and 
were  sure  of  subsistence  ior  life  :  while  many  of  their 
fellow  creatures  are  obliged  to  wander  without  a  friend 
to  comfort  or  assist  them,  and  even  without  shelter 
from  the  severity  of  the  season. 

I  have  been  led  into  these  reflections  from  accidentally 
meeting,  some  days  ago,  a  poor  fellow,  whom  I  knew 
when  a  boy,  dressed  in  a  sailor's  jacket,  and  begging  at 
one  of  the  outlets  of  the  town,  with  a  wooden  leg.  I 
Imew  him  to  have  been  honest  and  industrious  when 
in  the  country,  and  was  curious  to  lecm  what  had 
reduced  him  to  his  present  situation.  Wherefore,  after 
giving  him  what  I  thought  proper,  I  desired  to  know 
the  history  of  his  life  and  misfortunes,  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  was  reduced  to  his  present  distress.  The 
disabled  soldier,  for  such  he  was,  though  dressed  in 


DISTRESSES  OF  A  COMMON  SOLDIER    227 
a  Miior'8  habit,  scratohinir  hu  hei«l  »nH  i      • 

Ihavetocompan:  therois  Bill  Tiki,      ,     "vin,  mac 

'another  puuh   umi  .h  .        ■?'  ^^  **"'  "■"  ^ 

'IthoZlTi  t  '  P*""""  *"»  "'«  •«  a  third 

'dav   and  hi!)  '  °"ly  "'"'ught  ten  hours  in  the 

'law  tA  .  '"^t"""*  ""'^  ''""''  P'°vidcd  for  my 
'  We  fo  f  L  ''  .1""  "°*  ^"'^''^  »°  «'-  -t  of  the 
■  what  ;,  ThntT  rA'^  ''''''■  ^  ^'"'"''J  '"»  "^^oy  :  but 
'  the  varf''^*;  ^  ''f,  *\^  '•'^^y  "f  the  whole  houl  and 
•me  Tt  /r  u**"  ''''°''  """^  '•"**  ^■'^  enough  for 
CnhnL  ,'"  '^""''  °"'  *°  "  former,  where  I  was 
•  ll?     T'^  ""''  ""^^  =  ''"*  I  "t^  ''nd  d;ark  well  and 

In  thas  znanner  I  went  fr^m  town  to  town,  worked 


228 


ESSAYS 


when  I  could  get  employment,  and  starved  when 
I  could  get  none  ;  when  bapiiening  one  day  to  go 
through  a  field  belonging  to  a  juHtieo  of  |N'ucc,  I  Hpied 
a  hare  croHHing  the  path  ju8t  before  mo  ;  and  I  believe 
the  devil  put  it  in  my  head  to  fling  my  Htick  at  it. — 
Well,  what  will  you  have  on  't  ?  I  killed  the  hare,  and 
was  bringing  it  away,  when  the  justico  himself  met  me  : 
he  called  mo  a  poacher  and  a  villain ;  and  collaring 
me,  desired  I  would  give  an  account  of  myself  :  I  fell 
upon  my  knees,  begged  his  worship's  pardon,  and 
began  to  give  a  full  account  of  all  that  I  knew  of  my 
breed,  seed,  and  generation ;  but  though  I  gave 
a  very  true  account,  the  justice  said  I  could  give  no 
account ;  so  I  was  indicted  at  sessions,  found  guilty 
of  being  poor,  ai.  1  sent '  up  to  London  to  Newgate, 
ir  order  to  be  transported  as  a  vagabond 

'  People  may  say  this  and  that  of  being  in  jail ;  but, 
for  my  part,  I  found  Newgate  as  agreeable  a  place  as 
ever  I  was  in  in  all  my  life.  I  had  my  bellyful  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  did  no  work  at  all.  This  kind  of  life 
was  too  good  to  last  for  ever ;  so  I  was  taken  out  of 
prison,  after  five  months,  put  on  board  a  ship,  and 
sent  off,  with  two  hundred  more,  to  the  plantations. 
We  had  but  an  indifferent  passage,  for,  being  all 
confined  in  the  hold,  more  than  a  hundred  of  our 
people  died  for  want  of  sweet  air ;  and  those  that 
remained  were  sickly  enough,  God  knows.  When  we 
came  ashore,  we  were  sold  to  the  planters,  and  I  was 
bound  for  seven  years  more.  As  I  was  no  scholar, 
for  I  did  not  know  my  letters,  I  was  obliged  to  work 
among  the  negroes  ;  and  I  served  out  my  time,  as  in 
duty  bound  to  do. 

'  When  my  time  was  expired,  I  worked  my  passage 
home,  and  glad  I  was  to  see  Old  England  again,  because 
I  loved  my  country.  I  was  afraid,  however,  that  I  should 


DISTRESSES  OF  A  COMMON  SOLDIER    229 

'be  indictH  for  a  vagabond  once  more,  ho  ditl  not 
'  much  care  to  go  down  into  the  country,  but  kept  about 
'  the  town,  and  did  little  jolw  when  I  could  get  them. 

'  I  was  very  happy  in  thin  manner  for  Home  time,  till 
'  one  evening,  coming  homo  from  work,  two  men  knocked 
•  me  down,  and  then  dcHired  me  to  Htand.  They  belonged 
'  to  a  pre»B-gang  :  I  was  carriwl  before  the  justice,  and, 
'  as  I  could  give  no  account  of  myself,  I  had  my  choice 
'  left,  whether  to  go  on  board  a  man-of-war,  or  list  for 
'  a  soldier.  I  chose  the  latter ;  ond,  in  this  [XMt  of 
'  a  gentleman,  I  served  two  campaigns  in  Flanders,  was 
'  at  the  battles  of  Val  and  F.)ntenoy,  and  ri-coiveci  but 
'one  wound,  through  the  breast  here  ;  but  the  doctor 
'  of  our  regiment  mmn  made  me  well  again. 

'  When  the  peace  catuo  on  I  was  discharged  ;  and 
^  as  I  could  not  work,  because  my  wound  was  sometimes 
'  troublesome,  I  listed  for  a  landman  in  the  East  India 
^  Company's  service.  I  hero  fought  the  French  in  six 
'  pitched  battles  ;  and  I  verily  believe,  that  if  ould 
'road  or  write,  our  captain  would  have  made  me  a 
■  corporal.  But  it  was  not  my  good  fortune  to  have  any 
'  promotion,  for  I  soon  fell  sick,  and  so  got  leave  to 
'  return  homo  again  with  forty  pounds  in  my  pocket. 
'This  was  at  the  beginning  u.  the  present  war,  and 
'  I  hoped  to  be  set  on  shore,  and  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
'spending  my  money;  but  the  Government  wanted 
'  men,  and  so  I  was  presaod  for  a  sailor  before  ever 
'  I  could  set  foot  on  shore. 

'  The  boatswain  found  me,  as  he  said,  an  obstinate 
'  follow  :  he  swore  he  know  that  I  understood  ray  business 
'  well,  but  that  I  shammed  Abraham,  to  be  idle ;  but 
'  God  knows,  I  knew  nothing  of  sea-business,  and  he 
'  beat  me  without  considering  what  he  was  about.  I  had 
'  nti!!,  however,  my  forty  pounds,  and  that  was  some 
'  comfort  to  me  under  every  beating  ;   and  the  money 


230 


E8HAY8 


*  I  might  havo  had  to  thin  day,  but  that  our  ithip  was 
'  talcrn  by  the  French,  and  no  I  lout  all, 

'  Our  crow  waH  carried  into  Brent,  and  many  of  them 
'  died,  bocauao  they  were  not  used  to  live  in  a  jail ;  but, 
'for  my  part,  it  yiuh  nothing  to  mo,  for  I  was  acaaoned. 
'  One  night,  as  I  was  sleeping  on  the  bed  of  boards, 
'  with  a  warm  blanket  about  me,  for  I  always  ?ovcd  to 
'  lie  well,  I  was  awakenc<l  by  the  boatswain,  who  had 
'  a  dark  lantern  in  hin  hand  ;  "  Jack,"  says  he  to  me, 
'  "  will  you  knock  out  the  French  sentrioa'  brains  ? " 
'  "  I  don't  care,"  says  I,  striving  to  keep  myself  awake, 
'  "  if  I  lend  a  han<l."  "  Then  follow  me,"  says  he,  "  and 
'  I  hope  we  shall  do  busineHs."  80  up  I  got,  and  tied  my 
'  blanket,  which  waH  all  the  clothes  I  had,  about  my 
'  middle,  and  went  with  him  to  fight  the  Frenchmen. 
'  I  hate  the  French  be';au«o  they  are  all  slaves,  and 
'  wear  wooden  shoes. 

'  Though  we  had  no  arms,  one  Englishman  is  able  to 
'  beat  five  French  at  any  tiiiio  ;  so  we  went  down  to 
'  the  door,  where  both  the  sf-ntries  were  poste  ,  and 
'  rushing  upon  them,  seized  their  arms  in  a  moment, 
'  and  knocked  them  down.  From  thence,  nine  of  us 
'  ran  together  to  the  quay,  and,  seizing  the  first  boat 
'  we  met,  got  out  of  the  harbour  and  put  to  seo.  We 
'  had  not  been  here  thrco  days  before  we  were  taken 
'  up  by  the  Dorset  privateer,  who  were  glad  of  so  many 
'  good  hands ;  and  we  consented  to  run  our  chance. 
'  However,  wo  had  not  as  much  luck  as  we  expected.  In 
'three  days  we  fell  in  with  the  Pompadcur  privateer, 
'  of  forty  guns,  while  we  had  but  twenty-three  ;  so  to 
'  it  we  went,  yard-arm  and  yard-arm.  The  fight  laMed 
'for  three  hours,  and  I  verily  believe  wc  should  have 
'  taken  the  Frenchman,  had  we  but  had  some  more  men 
'  left  behind  :  lut,  unfortunately,  we  lost  all  our  men 
'  just  as  we  were  going  to  get  the  victory. 


DISTREHSBS  OK  A  COMMON  SOLDIER    231 

'I  wan  once  more  in  the  power  of  the  French,  and 

■  I  believe  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  me  bad  I  been 

•  brought  bacli  to  BreHt ;  but,  by  goo<l  fortune,  »«  wew 
retaken  by  the  Viper.    I  had  almost  forgot  to  tell  you, 

'  that,  in  that  engagement,  I  was  woundcil  in  two  places  : 
'  I  loHt  four  fingem  of  the  left  hand,  and  my  leg  was 
'  shot  off.    If  I  had  had  the  goo«l  fortune  to  "have  lost 

•  my  leg  and  mho  of  my  hand  on  board  a  king's  iihip, 
'  and  not  aboard  a  privateer,  I  «hould  have  been  entitled 

■  to  clothing  and  maintenance  during  the  rest  of  my  life  ; 

•  but  that  was  not  my  chance  :   one  man  is  bom  with 

■  a  silver  H|i<)oii  in  his  mouth,  and  another  with  a  wf)oden 

■  ladle.    However,  blessed  bo  Go<l,  I  enjoy  goml  healUi. 

•  and  will  for  ever  love  liberty  and  Old  England.    Liberty, 

■  pro|Krty,  and  Old  Kngland,  for  ever,  huzza  I ' 

ThuN  sayinj?,  he  limped  off,  leaving  me  in  admiration 
at  his  intr.i>idity  and  content;  nor  could  I  avoid 
aeknowlctlging,  that  an  habitual  acquaintance  with 
misery  serves  better  than  philo«ophy  to  teach  us  to 
despise  it. 


ESSAY  XXV 

SUPPOSED  TO  BE  WRITTEN  BY  THE  ORDINARY 
OF  NEWGATE 

Man  is  a  most  frail  being,  incapable  of  directing  his 
steps,  unacquainted  with  what  is  to  happen  in  this  life  ; 
and  perhaps  no  man  is  a  more  manifest  instance  of  the 
truth  of  this  maxim,  than  Mr.  The.  Cibber,  just  now 
gone  out  of  the  world.  Such  a  variety  of  turns  of 
fortune,  yet  such  a  persevering  uniformity  of  conduct, 
appears  in  all  that  happened  in  his  short  span,  that  the 
whole  may  be  looked  upon  as  one  regular  confusion  : 
every  action  of  his  life  was  matter  of  wonder  and  surprise, 
and  his  death  -nnn  an  astonishment. 


232 


ESSAYS 


This  gentleman  was  bom  of  creditable  parents,  who 
gave  him  a  very  good  education,  and  a  great  deal  of 
good  learning,  so  that  he  could  read  and  write  before 
he  was  sixteen.  However,  he  early  discovered  an 
inclination  to  follow  lewd  courses ;  he  refused  to  take 
the  advice  of  his  parents,  and  pursued  the  bent  of  his 
inclination  ;  he  played  at  cards  on  Sundays ;  called 
himself  a  gentleman  ;  fell  out  with  his  mother  and 
laundress  ;  and,  even  in  these  early  days,  his  father  was 
frequently  heard  to  observe,  that  young  The. — ^would  be 
hanged. 

As  he  advanced  in  years,  he  grew  more  fond  of 
pleasure  ;  would  eat  an  ortolan  for  dinner,  though  he 
begged  the  guinea  that  bought  it ;  and  was  once  known 
to  give  three  pounds  for  a  plate  of  green  peas,  which 
he  had  collected  overnight  as  charity  for  a  friend  in 
distress :  he  ran  into  debt  with  everybody  that  would 
trust  him,  and  none  could  build  a  sconce  better  than  he ; 
so  that  at  last  his  creditors  swore,  with  one  accord,  that 
The. — would  be  hanged. 

But,  as  getting  into  debt  by  a  man  who  had  no 
visible  means  but  impudence  for  subsistence,  is  a  thing 
that  every  reader  is  not  acquainted  with,  I  must  explain 
that  point  a  little,  and  that  to  his  satisfaction. 

There  are  three  ways  of  getting  into  debt ;  first,  by 
pushing  a  face  ;  as  thus  :  '  You,  Mr.  Lutestring,  send 
'  me  home  six  yards  of  that  paduasoy,  dammee  ;  — ^but, 
'harkee,  don't  think  I  ever  intend  to  pay  you  for  it, 
'  dammee.'  At  this,  the  mercer  laughs  heartily  ;  cuts 
off  the  paduasoy,  and  sends  it  home  ;  nor  is  he,  till  too 
late,  surprised  to  find  the  gentleman  had  said  nothing 
but  truth,  and  kept  his  word. 

The  second  method  of  running  into  debt  is  called 
fineering ;  which  is  getting  goods  made  up  in  such  a 
fashion  as  to  be  unfit  for  every  other  purchaser ;  and 


THE  ORDINARY  OF  NEWGATE  233 

if  the  tradesman  refuses  to  give  them  upon  credit,  then 
threaten  to  leave  them  upon  his  hands. 
^   But  the  third  and  best  method  is  called,  '  Being  the 
good  customer  >    The  gentleman  first  buys  some  trifle, 
and  pays  for  ,t  m  ready  money :   he  comes  a  few  days 
after  with  nothmg  about  him  but  bank  bills,  and  buys 
we  will  suppose,  a  sixpenny  tweezer-case  ;  the  bills  ar^ 
too  great  to  be  changed,  so   he  promises  to  return 
punctually  the  day  af  K^r  and  pay  for  what  he  has  bought 
In  this  promise  he  is  punctual,  and  this  is  repeated  for 
eight  or  ten  times,  till  his  face  is  well  known,  and  he 
has  got,  at  last,  the  character  of  a  good  customer.    Bv 
this  means  he  gets  credit  for  something  considerable, 
ana  then  never  pays  for  it. 

In  all  this,  the  young  man  who  is  the  unhappy  subject 
of  our  present  reflections  was  very  expert ;  and  could 
face,  fineer,  and  bring  custom  to  a  shop  with  any  man 
m  England  :  none  of  his  companions  could  exceed  him 
m  this;  and  his  very  companions  at  last  said  that 
ihe.— would  be  hanged. 

As  he  grew  old,  he  grew  never  the  better ;  he  loved 
ortolans  and  green  peas  as  before ;  he  drank  gravy-soup 
when  he  could  get  it,  and  always  thought  his  oysteii 
tasted  best  when  he  got  them  for  nothing ;  or  which 
was  ju-t  the  same,  when  he  bought  them  upon  tick  : 
thus  the  old  man  kept  up  the  vices  of  the  youth  and 
what  he  wanted  in  power,  he  made  up  by  mclination  ; 
so  that  all  the  world  thought  that  old  The.-would  be 
hanged. 

And  now,  reader,  I  have  brought  him  to  his  last 
scene ;  a  scene  where,  perhaps,  my  duty  should  have 
obhged  me  to  assist.  You  expect,  perhaps,  his  dyins 
words,  and  the  tender  farewell  he  took  of  his  wife  and 
chUdren  ;  you  expect  an  account  of  his  eoflSn  and  whito 
gloves,  his  pious  ejaculations,  and  the  papers  he  left 
13 


234 


ESSAYS 


behind  him.    In  this  I  cannot  indulge  your  curiosity ; 

for,  oh  !  the  mysteries  of  fate,  The. was  drown'd  1 

'  Eeader,'  as  Hervey  saith,  '  pause  and  ponder  ;  and 
'  ponder  and  pause  ;  who  knows  what  thy  own  end  may 
'be!' 


ESSAY  XXVI' 

The  following  ivas  written  at  the  time  of  the  last  Coronation, 
and  supposed  to  come  from  a  Common  Council-man. 

Sib, 

I  have  the  honour  of  being  a  Common  Council- 
man, and  am  greatly  pleased  with  a  paragraph  from 
Southampton  in  yours  of  yesterday.  There  we  learn, 
that  the  mayor  and  alderman  of  that  loyal  borough,  had 
the  particular  satisfaction  of  celebrating  the  royal  nuptials 
by  a  magnificent  turtle  feast.  By  this  means  the  gentle- 
men had  the  pleasure  of  filling  their  bellies,  and  showing 
their  loyalty  together.  I  must  confess,  it  would  give  me 
some  pleasure  to  see  some  such  method  of  testifying  our 
loyalty  practised  in  this  metropolis,  of  which  I  am  an 
unworthy  member,  instead  of  presenting  His  Majesty 
(God  bless  him)  on  every  occasion  with  our  formal 
addresses,  we  might  thus  sit  comfortably  down  to  dinner, 
and  wish  him  prosperity  in  a  sirloin  of  beef  ;  upon  our 
army  levelling  the  walls  of  a  town,  or  besieging  a  fortifica- 
tion, we  might  at  our  city  feast  imitate  our  brave  troops, 
and  demolish  the  walls  of  venison  paaty,  or  besiege  the 
shell  of  a  turtle,  with  as  great  a  certainty  of  success. 

At  present,  however,  we  have  got  into  a  sort  of  dry, 
imsocial  manner  of  drawing  up  addresses  upon  every 
occasion ;  and  though  I  have  attended  upon  six 
cavalcades,  and  two  foot  processions  in  a  single  year, 
yet  I  came  away  as  lean  and  hungry  as  if  I  had  been 

*  Firat  inserted  in  second  edition. 


A  COMMON  COUNCIL-MAN  235 

lirrr  V^"  ^'^  ^"'y-    ^"^  -"y  P*rt>  Mr.  Printer, 
I  don  t  see  what «  got  by  these  processions  and  addresses 

Lserfo?if°l'T'  ^'*'"'"'  ^""  '-^'"«  "-  o*" 
.rT    v..  ;         "  *™^'  °"  K''"'"^  °f  ""•marine  blue 

ft  fhl'f /"':  "'*  "  P^^"y  ««"■•«  --gh,  parading 
.t  through  the  streets,  and  so  my  wife  tells  mo     I„  fact 

fuuX:  "^  W    1°  ""  "^  -<!-■"*--.  -hen  thus  iri 

neir  «r;het.lt'  ^^  ''^  '™"''  ""^  **'  '^''  "'°*''- 

But  even   though   all   this   bustling,  parading    and 

powdermg  through  the  streets  be  agrLble  .Zgh "o 

whether  the';   ""     \  """"  '""^  ""^  ''''''''^-  --Mor 
whether  the  frequent  repetition  of  it  be  so  very  agreeable 

0  our  betters  above.  To  be  intr^uced  to'^cfurt  t 
see  the  Queen,  to  kiss  hands,  to  smile  upon  lords  to 
ogle  the  ladies,  and  all  the  other  fine  things  th^.; 
may,  I  grant,  be  a  perfect  show  to  us  that  view  it  but 
seldom  ;  but  it  may  be  a  troublesome  business  enough 
to  those  who  are  to  settle  such  ceremonies  as  these  every 
day.  To  use  an  mstance  adapted  to  all  our  apprehensions  • 
-PPO-  my  family  and  I  should  go  to  B^artholZew 
siahtis!!'J  ?  '  f'"«  *°  Bartholomew  Fair,  the  whole 
Ind  aw!r^"b  f^T   "*  'T'  ^''°  ^''  °"ly  spectators  once 

anJ  fiT-         «  i  *""  °*  "P*"'""'  *•■**  '^^  wire-walker 
and  firewater  find  no  such  great  sport  in  all  this  ;  I  am 

o   opmion,  they  had  as  lief  remain  behind  the  curtain 

ToXTbar '"^''  '™'^'"«  "--■  -*^«  ^'^^^™p«.  --^ 

Besides,  what  can  we  tell  His  Majesty  i„  all  wo  say 
IV^    ■>  °tT,'°"''  ''"*  ^*''*  ^'  ''"°''«  Perfectly  weU 
fed  above  five  hundred  disaffected  in  the  whole  kingdom 
and  here  are  we  every  day  teUing  His  Majesty  how  loya 
we  are.    Suppow  the  addresses  of  a  people  for  instance 


236  ESSAYS 

should  run  thuB.    '  May  it  please  your  M y,  we  are 

'  many  of  us  worth  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  ;  and 
'  are  possessed  of  several  other  Inestimable  advantages. 
'  For  the  preservation  of  this  money  and  those  advantages 

'we  are  chiefly  indebted  to  your  M y.     We  are 

'  therefore  once  more  assembled  to  assure  your  M y 

'  of  our  fidelity.    This,  it  is  true,  we  have  lat«ly  assured 

'  your  M y  five  or  six  times,  but  we  are  willing  once 

'  more  to  repeat  what  can't  be  doubted,  and  to  kiss  your 
'  royal  hand,  and  the  Queen's  hand,  and  thus  sincerely 
'  to  convince  you,  that  we  shall  never  do  anything  to 
'  deprive  you  of  one  loyal  subject,  or  any  one  of  ourselves 
'  of  one  hundred  thousand  pounds.'  Should  we  not  upon 
reading  such  an  address,  think  that  people  a  little  silly, 

who  thus  made  such  unmeaning  professions  ? Excuse 

me,  Mr.  Printer,  no  man  upon  earth  has  a  more  profound 
respect  for  the  abilities  of  the  aldermen  and  the  Common 
Coimcil  than  I ;  but  I  could  wish  they  would  not  take 
up  a  monarch's  time  in  these  good-natured  trifles,  who 
I  am  told  seldom  spends  a  moment  in  vain. 

The  example  set  by  the  CSty  of  London  will  probably 
be  followed  by  every  other  community  in  the  British 
Empire.  Thus  we  shall  have  a  new  set  of  addresses  from 
every  little  borough  with  but  four  freemen  and  a  burgess  ; 
day  after  day  shall  we  see  them  come  up  with  hearts 
filled  with  gratitude,  laying  the  vows  of  a  loyal  people 
at  the  foot  of  the  throne.  Death  !  Mr.  Printer,  they'll 
hardly  leave  our  courtiers  time  to  scheme  a  single 
project  for  beating  the  French  ;  and  our  enemies  may 
gain  upon  us,  whUe  we  are  thus  employed  in  teUing  our 
governor  how  much  we  intend  to  keep  them  under. 

But  a  people  by  too  frequent  a  use  of  addresses  may 
by  this  means  come  at  last  to  defeat  the  very  purpose 
for  which  they  are  designed.  If  we  are  "hus  exclaiming 
in  raptures  upon  every  occasion,  we  deprive  ourselves 


A  COMMON  COUNCIL-MAN  237 

ment,  I  ve  go  the  cramp,  I've  got  the  cramp  ;  ■  the 
boa  men  pushed  off  once  or  twice,  and  they  found  it  Js 
fun,  he  soon  after  cried  out  in  earnest,  but  nobody 
believed  him,  and  so  he  sunk  to  the  bottom 
nJ™  *"*'  T  }  '"''  "l""^  displeased  with  any  un- 
necessary  cavalcade  whatever.  I  hope  we  shall  soon  have 
occasion  to  triumph,  and  then  I  shall  be  ready  mS 

and  will  lend  either  my  faggot  at  the  fire,  or  flourish 
my  hat  at  every  loyal  health  that  may  be  proposed. 
I  am. 

Sir,  &o. 


I 


Sib, 


ESSAY  XXVII ' 
TO  THE   PRINTER 


I  am  the  same  Common  Council-man  who  troubled 
you  some  days  ago.  To  whom  can  I  complain  but  to 
you  ?  for  you  have  many  a  dismal  correspondent ;  in  this 
time  of  joy  my  wife  does  not  choose  to  hear  me,  because 
she  says  I  m  always  melancholy  when  she's  in  spirits. 
I  have  been  to  see  the  Coronation,  and  a  fine  sight  it  was, 
as  I  am  told.  To  those  who  had  the  pleasu4  of  being 
near  spectators,  the  diamonds,  I  am  told,  were  as  thick 
as  Br«tol  stones  m  a  show-glass  ;  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men  walked  all  along,  one  foot  before  another,  and  threw 
their  eyes  about  them,  on  this  side  and  that,  perfectly 

iS.   '^^"'.^•u  ^^  ■  ^-  ^'"*«''  '*  •""»  ^"^  fine 
sight  mdeed,  ,f  there  wa.,  but  a  little  more  eating. 

'  First  inserted  in  second  edition. 


888  ESSAYS 

Instead  of  thvt,  there  we  sat,  penned  up  in  our 
scaffoldings,  like  sheep  upon  a  market-day  in  Smiihfield  ; 
but  the  devil  a  thing  could  I  get  to  eat  (God  pardon  me 
for  swearing)  except  the  fragments  of  a  plum-cake,  that 
was  all  squeezed  into  crumbs  in  my  wife's  pocket,  as  she 
came  through  the  crowd. 

You  must  know,  sir,  that  in  order  to  do  the  thing 
genteelly,  and  that  all  my  family  might  be  amused  at 
the  same  time,  my  wife,  my  daughter,  and  I,  took  two 
guinea  places  for  the  Coronation,  and  I  gave  my  two 
eldest  boys  (who,  by  the  by,  are  twins,  fine  children) 
eighteenpence  apiece  to  go  to  Sudrick  Fair,  to  see  the 
court  of  the  Black  King  of  Morocco,  which  will  serve 
to  please  children  well  enough. 

That  we  might  have  good  places  on  the  scaffolding, 
my  wife  insisted  upon  going  at  seven  o'clock  the  evening 
before  the  Coronation,  for  she  said  she  would  not  lose 
a  full  prospect  for  the  world.  This  resolution  I  own 
shocked  me.  '  Grizzle,'  said  I  to  her,  '  Grizzle,  my  dear, 
'  consider  that  you  are  but  weakly,  always  ailing,  and 
'  will  never  bear  sitting  out  all  night  upon  the  scaffold. 
'  You  remember  what  a  cold  you  caught  the  last  fast- 
'  day,  by  rising  but  half  an  hour  before  your  time  to  go 
'  to  church,  and  how  I  was  scolded  as  the  cause  of  it. 
'  Beside,  my  dear,  our  daughter  Anna  Amelia  Wilhelmina 
'  Carolina,  will  look  like  a  perfect  fright,  if  she  sits  up, 
'  and  you  know  the  girl's  face  is  something  at  her  time 
'  of  life,  considering  her  fortune  is  but  small.'  '  Mr. 
'  Qrogan,'  replied  my  wife,  '  Mr.  Grogan,  this  is  always 
'  the  case,  when  you  find  me  in  spirits  ;  I  don't  want  to 
'  go,  not  I ;  nor  I  don't  care  whether  I  go  at  all,  it  is 
'  seldom  that  I  am  in  spirits,  but  this  is  always  the  case.' 
In  short,  Mr.  Printer,  what  will  you  have  on  't  ?  to  the 
Coronation  we  went. 

What  difficulties  we  had  in  getting  a  coach,  how  we 


TO  THE  PRINTER 


239 


were  shoved  about  in  the  mob,  how  I  had  my  pocket 
picked  of  the  last  new  almanac,  and  my  steel  tobacco-box  • 
how  my  daughter  lost  half  an  eyebrow  and  her  laced 
shoe  m  a  gutter ;  my  wife's  Umentation  upon  this  with 
the  adventures  of  the  crumbled  plum  cake,  and  broken 
brandy-bottle,  what  need  I  relate  aU  these  ;  we  suffered 
this  and  ten  times  more  before  we  got  to  our  places. 

At  last,  however,  we  were  seated.  Mv  wife  is  certainly 
a  heart  of  oak;  I  thought  sitting  up  in  the  damp  night 
mr  would  have  killed  her ;  I  have  known  her  for  two 
months  take  possession  of  our  easy-chair,  mobbed  up  in 
flannel  nighteaps,  and  trembling  at  a  breath  of  air- 
but  she  now  bore  the  night  as  merrily  as  if  she  had  sat 
up  at  a  christening.  My  daughter  and  she  did  not  seem 
to  value  It  of  a  farthing.  She  told  me  two  or  three 
stones  that  she  knows  will  always  make  me  laugh  and 
my  daughter  sung  me  the  Noontide  air,  towards  one 

0  clock  m  the  morning.  However,  with  all  their  en- 
deavours I  was  as  cold  and  as  dismal  as  ever  I  remember. 
If  this  be  the  pleasures  of  a  coronation,  cried  I  to  myself 

1  had  rather  see  the  court  of  King  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory  at  my  ease  in  Bartholomew  Fair. 

Towards  morning  sleep  began  to  come  fast  upon  me- 
and  the  sun  rising  and  warming  the  air,  still  inclined  mo 
to  rest  a  little.  You  must  know,  sir,  that  I  am  naturally 
of  a  sleepy  constitution  ;  I  have  often  sat  up  at  table 
with  my  eyes  open,  and  have  been  asleep  all  the  whil^ 
What  will  you  have  on  't  ?  just  about  eight  o'clock  in  the 
mommg  I  fell  fast  asleep.  I  fell  into  the  most  pleasing 
dream  in  the  world.  I  shall  never  forget  it ;  I  dreamed 
that  I  was  at  my  Lord  Mayor's  feast,  and  had  scaled 
the  crust  of  a  venison  pasty.  I  kept  eating  and  eating, 
in  my  sleep,  and  thought  I  could  never  have  enough! 
After  some  time,  the  pasty  methought  was  taken  away, 
and  the  dessert  was  brought  in  its  room.    Thought  I  to 


240 


ESSAYS 


mjraeU,  if  I  have  not  got  enough  of  the  venison,  I  am 
resolved  to  make  it  up  by  the  largest  snap  at  the  sweet- 
meats. Accordingly,  I  grasped  a  whole  pyramid  ;  the 
rest  of  the  guests  seeing  me  with  so  much,  one  gave  me 
a  snap,  and  the  other  gave  me  a  snap,  I  was  pulled  this 
way  by  my  neighbour  on  the  right  hand,  and  that  by 
my  neighbour  on  the  left,  but  still  kept  my  groimd 
without  flinching,  and  continue  J  eating  and  pocketing 
a  >  fast  as  I  could.  I  never  was  so  pulled  and  hauled  in 
my  whole  life.  At  length,  however,  going  to  smell  to 
a  lobster  that  lay  before  me,  metbought  it  caught  me 
with  its  claws  fast  by  the  nose.  The  pain  I  felt  upon  this 
occasion  is  inexpressible  ;  in  fact  it  broke  my  dream  ; 
when,  awaking,  I  found  my  wife  and  t  \ughter  applying 
a  smelling-bottle  to  my  nose ;  and  tcJing  me  it  was 
time  to  go  home,  they  assured  me  every  means  had 
been  tried  to  awake  me,  while  the  procession  was  going 
forward,  but  that  I  still  continued  to  sleep  till  the  whole 
ceremony  was  over.  Mr.  Printer,  this  is  a  hard  case, 
and  as  I  read  your  most  ingenious  work,  it  will  be  some 

comfort,  when  I  sse  this  inserted,  to  find  that 1  write 

for  it  too. 

I  am, 
Sir, 

Your  distressed, 

Humble  Servant, 
L.  Gbooan. 


EIGHT  ESSAYS 

FIRST  COLLECTED  IN  THE 

POSTHUMOUS  EDITION  OF  1798 


':I| 


243 


NATIONAL   CONCORD 
1  TAKB  the  liberty  to  communicate  to  the  public 

oftl7h  ri  r'*"'  "P°"  "  ""'•J""*  *Wch.  though 
often  handled,  has  not  yet,  in  my  opinion,  been  fully 
d,«=„«»d,_I  n,o»„  national  concord,  or  unanimHv 
wUch  .„  tUs  kingdom  has  been  generally  considld  as' 

ti„^  «^T  ""^.'  *•"*  """^  ""*»'««'  but  in  specula- 
tion.   Such  a  union  is  perhaps  neither  to  be  expected 

uL7h«l      '"  ?:r"*'^  ^""^  "'"'*y  depends  mher 

Xch  tLrh""  .^  ^^'''  *'"'"  "P""  ''"y  pn^cautions 
which  they  have  taken  in  a  constitutional  way  for  the 
guard  and  preservation  of  this  inestimable  blessing. 

Ihere  »  a  very  honest  gentleman  with  whom  I  have 
been  acquamted  these  thirty  years,  during  which  there 
has  not  been  one  speech  uttered  against  the  ministry  in 
parliament,  nor  a  struggle  at  an  election  for  a  burgess  to 
«.rve  m  the  House  of  Commons,  nor  a  pamphlef  pub! 
.shed  in  opposition  to  any  measure  of  the  administra- 
tion  nor  even  a  private  censure  passed  in  his  hearing 
upon  the  misconduct  of  any  person  concerned  in  public 
afturs,   but   he   is   immediately  alarmed,   and   loudly 
exclaims  against  such  factious  doings,  in  order  to  set 
the  peopte   by   the  ears  together  at  such  a  delicate 
uncture       At  any  other  time,'  says  he,  •  such  opposi- 
tmn  might  not  be  improper,  and  I  don't  question  the 
acts  that  are  alleged  ;   but  at  this  crisis,  sir,  to  inflame 
the  nation  !_the  man  deserves  to  be  punished  as  a  traitor 

lniLr?K '^■'  ^  V°"*'  ''""°"^"8  '°  *•>*« gentleman's 
opinion,  the  nation  has  been  in  a  violent  crisis  at  any 
time  these  thirty  years ;  and  were  it  possible  for  him 
to  live  another  century,  he  would  never  find  any  period 
a  which  a  man  might  with  »afvty  impusn  the  infalli- 
miity  of  a  mimster. 


244 


ESSAYS 


The  oa«e  Ir  no  mors  than  thin  :  my  honeat  friend  haii 
inveited  hU  whole  fortune  in  the  stookit,  on  Oovcmment 
lecurity,  and  trembleH  at  every  whiff  ot  popular  din- 
content.  Wore  every  BritiHh  Huhjcet  of  tho  hbiiio  tame 
and  timid  diHpoaition,  Magna  Chnrta  (to  uho  tho  ooaree 
phraae  of  Oliver  Cromwr '  i  would  bo  no  more  regarded 
by  an  ambitious  prince  than  Magna  F— ta,  and  the 
liberties  of  Kii^luml  expire  without  a  groan.  Opposition, 
when  rcBtru!'j<;.i  within  due  boundit,  is  tho  salubrious 
gale  that  ventilates  the  opinions  of  tho  people,  which 
might  otherwise  stagnate  into  tho  most  abject  sub- 
misftion.  It  may  be  said  to  purify  the  atmosphere  of 
politics  ;  to  dispel  the  gross  vapours  raised  by  the 
influence  of  ministerial  artifito  and  corruption,  until  the 
constitution,  like  a  mighty  rock,  stands  full  disclosed 
to  the  view  of  every  individual  who  dwells  within  the 
shade  of  its  protection.  Even  when  this  gale  blows 
with  augmented  violence,  it  generally  tends  to  the 
advantage  of  the  commonwealth :  it  awakes  the  appre- 
hension, and  consequently  arouses  all  the  faculties  of 
the  pilot  at  the  helm,  who  redoubles  ••is  vigilance  and 
caution,  exerts  his  utmost  skill,  and,  becoming  acquainted 
with  the  nature  of  the  navigation,  in  a  little  time  learns 
to  suit  his  canvas  to  the  roughness  of  the  sea  and  the 
trim  of  the  vessel.  Without  these  intervening  storms 
of  opposition  to  exercise  his  faculties,  he  would  become 
enervate,  negligent,  and  presumptuous ;  and  in  the 
wantonness  of  his  power,  trusting  to  some  deceitful 
calm,  perhaps  hazard  a  step  that  would  wreck  the  con- 
stitution. Yet  there  is  a  measure  in  all  things.  A 
moderate  frost  will  fertilize  the  glebe  with  nitrous  par- 
ticles, and  destroy  the  eggs  of  pernicious  insects  that 
prey  upon  the  fancy  of  the  year:  but  if  this  frost 
increases  in  severity  and  duration,  it  will  ehill  the  seeds, 
and  even  freeze  up  the  roots  of  vegetables  ;    it  will 


NATIONAL  CONCOHI)  245 

check  the  bloom,  nip  the  budu,  and  blaHt  all  the  promiiw 
of  the  Bprinij.  The  vemal  broeie  that  '''-pii  the  frogs 
before  it,  thiit  bruMhea  the  cobweb*  f  .1  .  0  bougha, 
that  faiM  the  air,  am!  foHtent  vegcUtion,  if  augmented 
to  a  (>  ,npc«t,  will  Htrip  the  IcaveB,  overthrow  the  tree, 
and  deiwlate  the  ganlen.  The  auKpiciouH  gale  before 
which  the  trim  veiinel  ploughii  the  bonom  of  the  Bea, 
while  the  niarinerH  are  kept  alert  in  duty  and  in  gpiritui 
if  converU'il  to  a  hurricane,  overwhelnm  the  crew  with 
terror  and  confusion.  The  HailH  are  rent,  the  cordage 
cracked,  the  maata  give  way ;  the  ma»t<«r  cyea  the  havoc 
with  mute  denpair,  and  the  vcesel  founden.  in  the  Btomi. 
Oppoaition,  when  confined  within  ita  proper  channel, 
awocpg  away  thooe  beds  of  soil  and  bankii  of  aand  which 
corruptive  power  had  gathered  ;  but  when  it  overflowg 
its  banks,  and  deluges  the  plain,  its  course  is  marked 
by  ruin  and  devastation. 

The  opposition  necessary  in  a  free  state,  like  that 
of  Great  Britain,  is  not  at  all  incompatible  with  that 
national  concord  which  ought  to  unite  the  people  on 
all  emergencies  in  which  the  gener?'.  ,,  fety  is  at  stake. 
It  is  the  jealousy  of  patriotic..      .t  .h,  .,  „cour  of  party 

— the  warmth  of  candour,  -.n  tbe  vi:    i,:,-e  of  hate 

a  transient  dispute  amon|  -  .-u.  „ot  .n  "mplacable 
feud  that  admits  of  no  reconciiiiiiio»i.  F'-.e  h.story  of  all 
ages  teems  with  the  fatal  cHeofs  r  i-  .vial  discord; 
and  were  history  and  tradition  m  ^oed,  common 
sense  would  plainly  point  out  the  iiiischiefs  that  must 
arise  from  want  of  harmony  and  national  union.  Every 
schoolboy  can  have  recourse  to  the  fable  of  the  rods, 
which,  when  united  in  a  bur  "  no  strength  could  bend, 
but  when  separated  into  single  twigs,  a  child  could  break 
with  ease. 


»8 


FEMALE  WARRIORS 

I  HAVE  spent  the  greater  part  of  my  life  in  making 
observationH  on  men  and  things,  and  in  projecting 
schemes  for  the  advantage  of  my  country  ;  and  though 
my  labours  have  met  with  an  ungrateful  return,  I  will 
still  persist  in  ray  endeavours  for  its  service,  like  that 
venerable,  unshaken,  and  neglected  patriot,  Mr.  Jacob 
Henriquez,  who,  though  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  hath 
exhibited  a  shining  example  of  Christian  fortitude  and 
perseverance.  And  here  my  conscience  urges  me  to 
confess,  that  the  hint  upon  which  the  following  proposals 
are  built  was  taken  from  an  advertisement  of  the  said 
patriot  Henriquez,  in  which  he  gives  the  public  to  under- 
stand, that  Heaven  had  indulged  him  with  '  seven 
blessed  daughters.'  Blessed  they  are,  no  doubt,  on 
account  of  their  own  and  their  father's  virtues  ;  but 
more  blessed  may  they  bo,  if  the  scheme  I  offer  should 
be  adopted  by  the  legislature. 

The  proportion  which  the  number  of  females  bom  in 
these  kingdoms  bears  to  the  male  children  is,  I  think, 
supposed  to  be  as  thirteen  to  fourteen ;  but  as  women  are 
not  so  subject  as  the  other  sex  to  accidents  and  intem- 
perance, in  numbering  adults  we  shall  find  the  balance 
on  the  female  side.  If,  in  calculating  the  numbers 
of  the  people,  we  take  in  the  multitudes  that  emigrate 
to  the  plantations,  from  whence  they  never  return  ; 
those  that  die  at  sea,  and  make  their  exit  at  Tyburn ; 
together  with  the  consumption  of  the  present  war,  by 
sea  and  land,  in  the  Atlantic,  Mediterranean,  in  the 
German  and  Indian  Oceans,  in  Old  France,  New  France, 
North  America,  the  Leeward  Islands,  Germany,  Africa, 
and  Asia,  we  may  fairly  state  the  loss  of  men  during 
the  war  at  one  hundred  thousand.     If  this  bo  the  case, 


FEMALE  WARRIORS  247 

there  must  be  a  superplus  of  the  other  sex,  amounting 
to  the  same  number,  and  this  superplus  will  consist  of 
women  able  to  bear  arms  ;  as  I  take  it  for  granted,  that 
all  those  who  are  fit  to  bear  children  are  likewise  fit  to 
bear  arms.    Now,  as  we  have  seen  the  nation  governed 
by  old  women,  I  hope  to  make  it  appear,  that  it  may  be 
defended  by  young  women:  and  surely  this  scheme  will 
not  be  rejected  as  unnecessary  at  such  a  juncture  [17621 
when  our  armies,  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  are' 
Jn  want  of  recruits  ;  when  we  find  ourselves  entangled  in 
a  new  war  with  Spain,  on  the  eve  of  a  rupture  in  Italy 
and,  mdeed,  in  a  fair  way  of  being  obliged  to  make  head 
agamst  all  the  great  potentates  of  Europe. 

But,  before  I  unfold  my  design,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  obviate,  from  experience,  as  well  as  argument,  the 
objections  which  may  be  made  to  the  delicate  frame  and 
tender  deposition  of  the  female  sex,  rendering  them 
incapable  of  the  toils,  and  insuperably  averse  to  the 
horrors,  of  war.    All  the  world  has  heard  of  the  nation 
of  Amazons,   who  inhabited  the   banks  of  the  river 
Thermodoon  in  Cappadocia,  who  expelled  their  men  by 
force  of  arms,  defended  themselves  by  their  own  prowess 
managed    the    reins    of   government,    prosecuted   th^ 
operations  in  war,  and  held  the  other  sex  in  the  utmost 
contempt.  We  are  informed  by  Homer  that  Penthesilea, 
queen  of  the  Amazons,  acted  as  auxiliary  to  Priam' 
and  fell,   valiantly  fighting  in  his  cause,   before  the 
walls  of  Troy.     Quintus  Curtius  tells  us,  that  Thalestris 
brought  one   hundred  armed   Amazons  in  a  present 
•to  Alexander  the  Great.     Diodorus  Siculus  expressly 
says  there  was  a  nation  of  female  warriors  in  Africa 
who  fought  against  the  Lybian  Hercules.    We  read  in 
the  voyages  of  Columbus,  that  one  of  the  Caribbeo 
Islands  was  possessed  by  a  tribe  of  female  warriors 
who  kept  all  the  neighbouring  Indians  in  awe  ;   but  we 


248 


ESSAYS 


need  not  go  further  than  our  own  age  and  country  to 
prove,  that  the  spirit  and  constitution  of  the  fair  sex 
are  equal  to  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  war.  Every 
novice  who  has  read  the  authentic  and  important 
History  of  the  Pirates  is  well  acquainted  with  the  exploits 
of  two  heroines,  called  Mary  Read  and  Anne  Bonny. 
I  ni}rself  have  had  the  honour  to  drink  with  Anne 
Gassier,  alias  Mother  Wade,  who  had  distinguished  her- 
self among  the  Buccaneers  of  America,  and  in  her  old 
age  kept  a  punch-house,  in  Port-Royal  of  Jamaica. 
I  have  likewise  conversed  with  Moll  Davis,  who  had 
served  as  a  dragoon  in  all  Queen  Anne's  wars,  and  was 
admitted  on  the  pension  of  Chelsea.  The  late  war  with 
Spain,  and  even  the  present,  hath  produced  instances  of 
females  enlisting  l)oth  in  tim  land  and  sea  service,  and 
behaving  with  remarkable  bravery  in  the  disguise  of 
the  other  sex.  And  who  has  not  heard  of  the  celebrated 
Jenny  Cameron,  and  some  other  enterprising  ladies  of 
North  Britain,  who  attended  a  certain  Adventurer  in  all 
his  expeditions,  and  headed  their  respective  clans  in 
a  military  character  ?  That  strength  of  body  is  often 
equal  to  the  courage  of  mind  implanted  in  the  fair  sex 
will  not  be  denied  by  those  who  have  seen  the  water- 
women  of  Plymouth ;  the  female  drudges  of  Ireland, 
Wales,  and  Scotland ;  the  fishwomen  of  Billingsgate  ; 
the  weeders,  podders,  and  hoppers,  who  swarm  in  the 
fields ;  and  the  hunters  who  swagger  in  the  streets  of 
London  ;  not  to  mention  the  indefatigable  trulls  who 
follow  the  camp,  and  keep  up  with  the  line  of  march, 
though  loaded  with  bantlings  and  other  baggage. 

There  is  scarcely  a  street  in  this  metropolis  without 
one  or  more  viragos,  who  discipline  their  husbands  and 
domineer  over  the  whole  neighbourhood.  Many  months 
are  not  elapsed  since  I  was  witness  to  a  pitched  battle 
between  two  athletic  females,  who  fought  with  equal 


FEMALE  WARRI0R8  249 

skill  and  fury  until  ono  of  them  gave  out,  after  having 
«us  amed  seven  falls  on  the  hard  stones.     They  were 
both  stripped  to  the  under  petticoat ;  their  breasts  were 
carefully  swathed  with  handkerchiefs  ;  and  as  no  vestiges 
of  features  were  to  be  seen  in  either  when  I  came  up 
1  imagined  the  combatants  were  of  the  other  sex,  until 
a  bystander  assured  me  of  the  contrary,  giving  me  to 
understand,  that  the  conqueror  had  lain-in  about  five 
weeks  of  twm-bastards,  begot  by  her  second,  who  was 
an  Insh  chairman.     When  I  sec  the  avenues  of  the 
Strand  beset  every  night  with  troops  of  fierce  Amazons 
who    with  dreadful  imprecations,  stop,  and  beat   and 
plunder  passengers,  I  camiot   help  wishing  that  such 
martial  talents  were  converted  to  the  benefit  of  the 
public  ;   and  that  those  who  were  so  loaded  with  tem- 
poral  fire    and  so  little  afraid  of  eternal  fire,  should, 
instead  of  ruining  the  souls  and  bodies  of  their  fellow 
citizens,  be  put  in  a  way  of  turning  their  destructive 
qualities  against  the  enemies  of  the  nation 

Having  thus  demonstrated  that  the  fair  sex  are  not 
deficient  m  strength  and  resolution,  I  would  humblv 
propo«,,  that  as  there  is  an  excess  on  their  side  in 
quantity  to  the  amount  of  one  hundred  thousand,  part 
of  that  number  may  be  employed  in  recruiting  the  army 
as  -m .:  as  in  raising  thirty  new  Amazonian  regiments, 

with  the  left  breast  bare,  an  open  jacket,  and  touseiB 
that  descended  no  farther  than  the  knee  ;  the  rieht 
breast  was  destroyed,  that  it  might  not  impede  them 
m  bending  the  bow,  or  darting  the  javelin:  but  there 
IS  no  occasion  for  this  cruel  excision  in  the  present 
discipline  as  we  have  seen  instances  of  women  who 
handle  the  musket,  without  finding  any  incunvenience 
trom  that  protuberance. 


250 


ESSAYS 


As  the  sex  love  gaiety,  they  may  be  clothed  in  vests 
of  pink  satin,  and  open  drawers  of  the  same,  with 
buskins  on  their  feet  and  legs,  their  hair  tied  behind, 
and  floating  on  their  shoulders,  and  their  hats  adorned 
with  white  feathers  :  they  may  be  armed  with  light 
carbines  and  long  bayonets,  without  the  encumbrance 
of  swords  or  shoulder-belts.  I  make  no  doubt  but  many 
young  ladies  ,of  figure  and  fashion  will  undertake  to 
raise  companies  at  their  own  expense,  provided  they  like 
their  colonels  ;  but  I  must  insist  upon  it,  if  this  scheme 
should  be  embraced,  that  Mr.  Henriquez's  seven  blessed 
daughters  may  be  provided  with  commissions,  as  the 
projoc't  is  in  some  measure  owing  to  the  hints  of  that 
venerable  patriot.  I,  moreover,  give  it  as  my  opinion, 
that  Mrs.  Kitty  Fishori  shall  have  the  command  of 
a  battalion,  and  the  nomination  of  her  own  officers, 
provided  she  will  warrant  them  all  sound,  and  be 
content  to  wear  proper  badges  of  distinction. 

A  female  brigade,  properly  disciplined  and  accoutred, 
would  not,  I  am  persuaded,  be  afraid  to  charge  a 
numerous  body  of  the  enemy,  over  whom  they  would 
have  a  manifest  advantage ;  for  if  the  barbarous 
Scythians  were  ashamed  to  fight  with  the  Amazons  who 
invaded  them,  surely  the  French,  who  pique  themselves 
on  their  sensibility  and  devotion  to  the  fair  ses,  would 
not  act  upon  the  offensive  against  a  band  of  female 
warriors,  arrayed  in  all  the  charms  of  youth  and  beauty. 


NATIONAL  PREJUDICES 

As  I  am  one  of  that  sauntering  tribe  of  mortals  who 
spend  the  greatest  part  of  their  time  in  taverns,  coQee- 
houses,  and  other  places  of  public  resort,  I  have  thereby 
an  opportunity  of  observing  an  infinite  variety  of 
characters,  which  to  a  person  of  a  contemplative  turn 


NATIONAL  PREJUDICES 


251 

is  a  much  higher  entertainment  than  a  view  of  all  f  K. 

as  they  were  equally  divided  in  ♦!«.,•>       .■  '"""''• 

Amongst   a   multiplicity  of  othpr  ffir.,v=  .     , 

h«  hat,  and  assummg  such  an  air  of  importance  as  tf 
he  had  possessed  all  the  merit  of  the  EngHshTation  in 
h.s  own  person,  declared  that  the  Dutch  wfre  a  1  "  ^ 
of  avancious  wretches  ;  the  IVench  a  1  of  fllf 
sycophants  ;  that  the  Germans  were  drunli  Its  ^ 
beastly  gluttons  ;  and  the  SpaniaHis  proud  WhTv 
and  surly  tyrants;    but  that  in  brave^^   geneS' 

This  very  learned  and  judicious  remark  was  received 
-Uh  a  general  smile  of  approbation  by  all  the  crmZj 
,W  i.  r"""'  ''"*  ^°"'-  •""»•"«  «"vant,  who,  endeZur 
my  Head  upon  my  arm,  continued  for  some  timp  n 
a  posture  of  affected  thoughtfulness,  a  "ThaTLn 
musmg  on  something  else,  and  did  not  seem  to  atS 

s  atid^tSis:;;::^:^:.;-?-  r^  *^'  " 


But  my  pseudo-patriot  had  no  mind  to  let  me  escane 

without  contradiction,  he  was  determined  to  havfu 
ratified  by  the  suffrage  of  every  one  in  the  oo^Zy- 


M,: 


252 


ESSAYS 


for  which  purpose,  addressing  himself  to  tne  with  an  air 
of  inexpressible  confidence,  he  asked  me  if  I  was  not  of 
the  same  way  of  thinking.  As  I  am  never  forward  in 
giving  my  opinion,  especially  when  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  it  will  not  be  agreeable  ;  so,  when  I  am 
obliged  to  give  it,  I  always  hold  it  for  a  maxim  to  speak 
my  real  sentiments.  I  therefore  told  him  that,  for  my 
own  part,  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  talk  in  such 
a  peremptory  strain  unless  I  had  made  the  tour  of 
Europe,  and  examined  the  manners  of  these  several 
nations  with  great  care  and  accuracy :  that  perhaps 
a  more  impartial  judge  would  not  scruple  to  affirm,  that 
the  Dutch  were  more  frugal  and  industrious,  the  French 
more  temperate  and  polite,  the  Germans  more  hardy 
and  patient  of  labour  iind  fatigue,  and  the  Spaniards 
more  staid  and  sedate,  than  the  English  ;  who,  though 
undoubtedly  brave  and  generous,  were  at  the  same 
time  rash,  headstrong,  and  impetuous ;  too  apt  to  be 
elated  with  prosperity,  and  to  despond  in  adversity. 

I  could  easily  perceive,  that  all  the  company  began 
to  regard  me  with  a  jealous  eye  before  I  had  finished 
my  answer,  which  I  had  no  sooner  done,  than  the  patriotic 
gentleman  observed,  with  a  contemptuous  sneer,  that 
he  was  greatly  surprised  how  some  people  could  have 
the  conscience  to  live  in  a  country  which  they  did  not 
love,  and  to  enjoy  the  protection  of  a  government  to 
which  in  their  hearts  they  were  inveterate  enemies. 
Finding  that  by  this  modest  declaration  of  my  senti- 
ments I  had  forfeited  the  good  opinion  of  my  com- 
panions, and  given  them  occasion  to  call  my  political 
principles  in  question,  and  well  knowing  that  it  was  in 
vain  to  argue  with  men  who  were  so  very  full  of  them- 
selves, T  threw  down  my  reckoning  and  retired  to  my 
own  lodgings,  reflecting  on  the  absurd  and  ridiculous 
nature  of  national  prejudice  and  prepossession. 


NATIONAL  PREyUDICES 


253 

nn^T!  f  ^^  ''""°"''  '»y'"8''  °f  ontiquity  there  is 
none  tha  doe«  greater  honour  to  the  author  or  StiH 
grater  pleanure  to  the  reader  (at  leant  if  he  LI  Sn 
of  a  generous  and  benevolent  heart)   th„n  *h  !  ^^ 

^p&tt^  •  •^'"«  -'"'  ^^X'^^:^ 

replied,  that  he  was  '  a  citizen  of  the  world  '    How  (2 

Sien  n![!h°°"  "t'^'""  "°  '""«''  Englishmen. 
wr!«^„  I  ^"*°'"."«°'  Spaniards,  or  Germans,  that 
we  are  no  longer  citizens  of  the  world  •   so  much  th« 

3  rhirntfo  zVot  t  ^r  r  r 

gra^dsoeietywhichco.prehS^rwn"h':"a;\r 

an?,owesrof^rfr:  '"r  °"'^  '""°"«  *•"«  ~ 
ana  lowest  of  the  people,  perhaps  they  might  be  excused 

as  they  have  few.  if  any.  opportu^ties  of  co^ctTnt 
them  byr^ad^g,  travelling.orconversingwithforS^S 
but  the  misfortune  s,  that  thev  infp^t  fh.      ."''sn*'™- 

iter  t  r  ""■^-"  ^  -  SiLtT'S^^^^^^^^ 

I  mean,  who  have  every  title  to  this  appel  ation  but 
an  exemption  from  prejudice,  which,  hoSr  °"  mv 

opmion,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  the  characteriltTc'almaA 
of  a  gentleman  ;  for  let  a  man's  birth  be  ever  so  hiih  I 
station  ever  so  exalted,  or  his  fortune  ever  so  la^ge' vt' 
If  he  IS  not  free  from  national  and  all  other  preudirs 
1  hould  make  bold  to  tell  him,  that  he  had  a  low  a^d 
vulgar  mmd.  and  had  no  just  claim  to  the  chlraclr  o1 
a^ntleman.  And.  in  fact,  you  will  always  Z  that 
tho^  are  most  apt  to  boast  of  national  merit,  w^o  have 

J^u^'Totr.*     *'""*" '°'*^P^»''-=*'»--'"ct^ 
De  sure,  nothing  is  more  natural:  the  slender  vine  twists 

but  becauseithasnot  strength  sufflcientto  support  itS. 


Lii 


254 


ESSAYS 


i 


Should  it  be  alleged  in  defence  of  nation»l  prejudice, 
that  it  is  the  natural  and  necessary  growth  of  love  to 
our  country,  and  that  therefore  the  former  cannot  be 
destroyed  without  hurting  the  latter,  I  answer  that  this 
is  a  gross  fallacy  and  delusion.  That  it  is  the  growth  of 
love  to  our  country,  I  will  allow  ;  but  that  it  is  the 
natural  and  necessary  growth  of  it,  I  absolutely  deny. 
Superstition  and  enthusiasm,  too,  are  the  growth  of 
religion;  but  who  ever  took  it  in  his  head  to  affirm, 
that  they  are  the  necessary  growth  of  this  noble  prin- 
ciple ?  They  are,  if  you  will,  the  bastard  sprouts  of 
this  heavenly  plant,  but  not  its  natural  and  genuine 
branches,  and  may  safely  enough  be  lopt  oft,  without 
doing  any  harm  to  the  parent  stock :  nay,  perhaps,  till 
once  they  are  lopped  off,  this  goodly  tree  can  never 
flourish  in  perfect  health'  and  vigour. 

Is  it  not  very  possible  that  I  may  love  my  own 
country,  without  hating  the  natives  of  other  countries  f 
that  I  may  exert  the  most  heroic  bravery,  the  most 
undaunted  resolution,  in  defending  its  laws  and  liberty, 
without  despising  all  the  rest  of  the  worid  as  cowards 
and  poltroons  t  Most  certainly  it  is ;  and  if  it  were 
not— But  why  need  I  suppose  what  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible ? — But  if  it  were  not,  I  must  own  I  should  prefer 
the  title  of  the  ancient  philosopher,  viz.  a  citizen  of 
the  world,  to  that  of  an  Englishman,  a  Frenchman, 
an  European,  or  to  any  other  appellation  whatever. 

SCHOOLS  OF  MUSTr- 

A  SCHOOL,  in  the  polite  arts,  propei  signifies  that 
succession  of  artists  which  has  learned  the  principles  of 
the  art  from  some  eminent  master,  either  by  hearing 
his  lessons  or  studying  his  works,  and  consequently  who 
imitate  his  manner  either  through  design  or  from  habit. 


SCHOOLS  OF  MITSIC  gSS 

uumoer  Of  parts,  nor  unexpected  fliBhts    mt  l,«   • 
-.versally  allowed  to  be  the  musical  CX  ia.;" 

^^.;crtoX7.^jC^^^^^^ 

«er^P„i:J,  1  ir  ."">' ■"^t«»««  t^at  song  i„  the 
The  Ita..«„a„utB  in  general  have  followed  hiHre'r, 


2S6 


ESSAYS 


yet  seem  fond  of  embellishing  the  delicate  simplicity  of 
the  original.  Thoir  style  in  music  seems  somewhat  to 
nssemblo  that  of  Senoca  in  writing,  where  there  are  some 
beautiful  starts  of  thought  ;  but  the  whole  is  Ulled  with 
studied  elegance  and  unaffccting  affectation. 

Lully,  in  Franco,  first  attempted  the  improvement  of 
their  music,  which  in  general  resembled  that  of  our  old 
solemn  chants  in  churches.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  in 
general,  that  the  music  of  every  country  is  solemn  in 
proportion  as  the  inhabitants  arc  merry ;  or,  in  other 
words,  the  merriest  sprightliest  nations  are  remarked 
for  having  the  slowest  music  ;  and  those  whoso  character 
it  is  to  be  melancholy  are  pleased  with  the  most  brisk 
and  airy  movements.  Thus,  in  France,  Poland,  Ireland, 
and  Switzerland,  the  national  music  is  slow,  melanc  holy, 
and  solemn  ;  in  Italy,  England,  Spain,  and  Germany, 
it  is  faster,  proportionably  as  the  people  arc  grave. 
Lully  only  changed  a  bad  manner,  which  he  found,  for 
a  bad  one  of  his  own.  His  drowsy  pieces  arc  played 
still  to  the  most  sprightly  audience  that  can  be  con- 
ceived ;  and  even  though  Ramcuu,  who  is  at  once 
a  musician  and  a  philosopher,  has  shown,  both  by 
precept  and  example,  what  improvements  French  music 
may  still  admit  of,  yet  his  countrymen  seem  little  con- 
vinced by  his  reasonings  ;  and  the  Pont-Neuf  taste,  as  it 
is  called,  still  prevails  in  their  best  performances. 

The  English  school  was  first  planned  by  Purcell :  he 
attempted  to  unite  the  Italian  manner  that  prevailed 
in  his  time  with  the  ancient  Celtic  carol  and  the  Scotch 
ballad,  which  probably  had  also  its  origin  in  Italy;  for 
some  of  the  best  Scotch  ballads,— '  The  Broo.n  of 
CowdenknowR,'  for  instance, — are  still  ascribed  to  David 
Bizzio.  But  be  that  as  it  will,  his  manner  was  some- 
thing peculiar  to  the  English  ;  and  he  might  have  con- 
tinued as  head  of  the  English  school,  had  not  his  merits 


SCHOOLS  OF  Ml'SIC  267 

onp,.al  y  a  German,  yea  adoptcl  the  English  ,n«nner  • 
he  haa  ong  Iabo„.«d  to  plcano  by  Italian' compcition,' 
a™  r  oula""""";  I';''  *'""'«''  '""  ^"«""''  °«*''"- 

«nnpl,c.ty :  Lully  wa«  lemarkahlc  for  cr^atiVg  a  now 
«pec>e»  of  mu«c,   whe«,  all   i»  elegant,   but  notWng 

«ubl.mity;   he  has  employed  all  the  variety  of  sound 
and  parts  m  all  his  pieees  :    the  performances  of  the 
rest  may  be  pleasing,  though  executed   by  f.w  per- 
formers  ;    his  require  the  full  band.     The  attentioris 
awakened,  the  soul  is  roused  up  at  his  pieces;    but 
dmtmct  passion  ,s  seldom  expressed.    1„  this  particular 
he  has  seldom  found  success  ;   he  has  been  obliged   in 
order  to  express  passion,  to  imitate  words  by  souiids 
wh,eh,  though  it  gives  the  pleasure  which  LrSn 
always  produces,  yet  it  fails  of  exciting  those  lasting 
affections  wh,ch  it  is  in  the  power  of  sounds  to  produce 
ma  word,  no  man  ever  understood  harmony  so  well 
as  he  ;  but  m  melody  he  has  been  exceeded  by  several. 


CAROLAN,   THE  IRISH  BARD 

There  can  be  perhaps  no  greater  entertainment  than 
to  compare  the  rude  ttltic  simplicity  with  ,„oden" 
refinement.  Books,  however,  seem  incapal'  Tu". 
nishmg  the  parallel;  and  to  be  acquainteu  with  th 
ancient  manners  of  our  own  ancestor,  we  should 
^ndeavour  to  look  for  their  remains  in  those  countries^ 
which  bemg  m  some  measure  retired  from  an  interc ,  ,urso 
with  other  nations,  are  still  untinctured  «ith  foreim 
reiuiement,  language,  or  breeding  " 

.    OOUIBIIRH.  in  _ 


2S8 


ESSAYS 


The  Irish  will  latiiify  curiosity  in  this  rrapect  prefer- 
ably to  all  other  nationn  I  have  seen.  They  in  several 
parts  of  that  country  still  adhere  to  their  ancient 
language,  dress,  furniture,  and  superstitions  ;  several 
customs  among  them  still  speak  their  original ;  and 
in  some  respects,  Caesar's  description  of  the  ancient 
Britons  is  applicable  to  those. 

Their  bards,  in  particular,  are  still  held  in  great 
veneration  among  them  ;  those  traditional  heralds  are 
invited  to  every  funeral,  in  order  to  flU  up  the  intervals 
of  the  howl  with  their  songs  and  harps.  In  these  they 
rehearso  the  actions  of  the  ancestors  of  the  deceased, 
bewail  the  bondage  of  their  country  under  the  English 
government,  and  generally  conclude  with  advising  the 
young  men  and  maidens  to  make  the  best  use  of  their 
time  ;  for  they  will  soon,  for  all  their  present  bloom, 
be  stretched  under  the  table,  like  the  dead  body  before 
them. 

Of  all  the  bards  this  country  ever  produced,  the  last 
and  the  greatest  was  Cabolan  the  Bund.  He  was  at 
once  a  poet,  a  musician,  a  composer,  and  sung  his  own 
verses  to  his  harp.  The  original  natives  never  mention 
his  name  without  rapture  ;  both  his  poetry  and  music 
they  have  by  heart  ;  and  even  some  of  the  English 
themselves,  who  have  been  transplanted  there,  find  his 
music  extremely  pleasing.  A  song  beginning, '  O'Rourke's 
noble  fare  will  ne'er  be  forgot,'  translated  by  Dean 
Swift,  is  of  his  composition;  which,  though  perhaps  by 
this  means  the  best  known  of  his  pieces,  is  yet  by  no 
means  the  most  deserving.  His  songs,  in  general,  may 
be  compared  to  those  of  Pindar,  as  they  have  frequently 
the  same  flights  of  imagination,  and  are  composed  (I 
don't  say  written,  for  he  could  not  write)  merely  to 
flatter  some  man  of  fortune  upon  some  excellence  of 
tho  same  kind.    lu  these  one  man  is  praised  for  the 


CAROLAN,  THE  IRISH  BARD  209 

oxcellenee  of  hm  rtable.  an  in  Pin'.r   ,        „  for  hi« 
hospitality,  a  third  for  the   beau  ,        *ife  „„,i 

^Idren,  and  a  fourth  for  ;'.o  anti  ,„h  family. 

Whenever  any  of  the  origu  ,l  ,  ativcH  u.         notion  »en, 
asKmbled  at  feasting  or  rovo  .ng,  Curolan  «...  generally 
there,  where  ho»«.»  alwayn  ready  with  hi»  harp  to 
celebrate  their  ,„,„.e».    He  «eemed  by  nature  formc.l 
for  hiH  profeHnioi.  ;   for  an  ho  wan  bom  blind,  «o  nJHo  he 
was   pow8«e<l   „(    a    moHt   aHtopi^hing   memory,   an.l 
a  facetious  aun  of  thinking,  whirh  gave  hi.  entertainers 
infinite  s.vtul  Mlion.     Being  once  at  the  house  of  an 
Insh  nobH-„„.n,  whm.  t!,.  ,.    «.„  a  musician  pres-nt 
whowa8..im..<.n.  i.,  ■I,<  (.rof,,.s«i„„.  Ca.^lan  immediately 
challenged  him  fa  „   frfn'  of  »kill.     To  carry  the  jest 
forward   h.8  lor<l  l,i,   jkts  udod  tlio  musidnn  to  accept 
the  challenge    and  ho  ..cordini^ly  played  over  on  hi. 
fiddle  the  fifth  concerto  of  Viv;,kU.    Carolan,  imraeii: 
ately  taking  his  harp,  jh.yed  ov.r  the  whole  piect,  aft,-i 
ium,  without  missing  a  note,  though  ho  had  nevt.  ,  ,•  „,j 
It  before  ;  which  produced  soino  sHrprisc  :    b;  „  thir 
astonishment  increased,  when  he  assured  them  1,.  ..,'iil!'l 
make  a  concerto  in  the  same  taste  himself,  ^  !,,, ;    I, 
instantly  composed,   and  that   \>ith  such   s|,ui'    ,.n,; 
elegance,  that  it  may  compare  (for  we  have  it  sti!:. 
with  the  finest  compositions  of  Italy. 

His  death  was  not  more  remarkable  than  his  life 
Homer  was  never  more  fond  of  a  gla«s  than  ho  •  ho' 
would  drink  whole  pints  of  usquebaugh,  and,  as  he  used 
to  think,  without  any  ill  consequence.  His  intemper- 
ance, however,  in  this  respect,  at  length  brought  on  an 
incurable  disorder,  and  when  just  at  the  poi'it  of  death 
ho  calU  .1  foi  a  cup  of  his  beloved  liquor.  Those  who 
were  standing  round  him,  surpri.,ed  at  the  demand 
endeavoured  to  persuade  hir ,  o  the  contrary  ;  but  he' 
persisted,  and  when  the  bow.    .s  brought  him,  attempted 


<-:» 


860 


ESSAYS 


to  drink,  but  could  not ;  wherefore,  giving  away  the 
bowl,  he  observed,  with  a  smile,  that  it  would  be  hard 
if  two  such  friends  as  he  and  the  cup  should  part  at 
least  without  kissing  ;  and  then  expired. 


ON  THE  TENANTS  OP  THE  LEASOWES 

Of  all  men  who  form  gay  illusions  of  distant  happi- 
ness, perhaps  a  poet  is  the  most  sanguine.  Such  is  the 
ardour  of  his  hopes,  that  they  often  are  equal  to  actual 
enjoyment ;  and  he  feels  more  in  expectance  than  actut  1 
fruition.  I  have  often  regarded  a  character  of  this  kind 
with  some  degree  of  envy.  A  man  possessed  of  such 
warm  imagination  commands  all  nature,  and  arrogates 
possessions  of  which  ths  owner  has  a  blunter  relish. 
While  life  continues,  the  alluring  prospect  lies  before 
him  ;  he  travels  in  the  pursuit  with  confidence,  and 
resigns  it  only  with  his  last  breath. 

It  is  this  happy  r  "idence  which  gives  life  its  true 
relish,  and  keeps  up  „..ir  spirits  amidst  every  distress 
and  disappointment.  How  much  less  would  be  done, 
if  a  man  knew  how  little  he  can  do  !  How  wretched 
a  creature  would  he  be  if  he  saw  the  end  as  well  as  the 
beginning  of  his  projects  I  He  would  have  nothing  left 
but  to  sit  down  in  torpid  despair,  and  exchange  employ- 
ment for  actual  calamity. 

I  was  led  into  this  train  of  thinking  upon  lately 
visiting  the  beautiful  gardens  of  the  late  Mr.  Shenstflne, 
who  was  himself  a  poet,  and  possessed  of  that  warm 
imagination  which  made  him  ever  foremost  in  the  pur- 
suit of  flying  happiness.  Could  he  but  have  foreseen 
the  end  of  all  hit  schemes,  for  whom  he  was  improving, 
and  what  changes  his  designs  were  to  undergo,  he 
would  have  scarcely  amused  his  innocent  life  with  what. 


ON  THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  LEASOWES   261 

for  several  years,  employed  him  in  a  most  harmless 
mamier,  and  abridged  his  scanty  fortune.  As  the  pro- 
gress  of  this  Improvement  is  a  true  picture  of  sublunary 
vicissitude,  I  could  not  help  calling  up  my  imagination 
which,  while  I  walked  pensively  along,  suggested  tho 
roUowmg  Reverie. 

As  I  was  turning  my  back  upon  a  beautiful  piece  of 
water,  enlivened   with  cascades  and  rock-work    and 
entering  a  dark  walk,  by  which  ran  a  prattling  biook 
the  Genius  of  the  place  appeared  before  mo,  but  more 
resembling  the  God  of  Time,  than  him  more  peculiarly 
appomted  to  the  care  of  gardens.    Instead  of  shears  he 
bore  a  scythe  ;  and  he  appeared  rather  with  the  imple- 
ments of  husbandry  than  those  of  a  modem  gardener 
Having  remembered  this  place  in  its  pristine  beauty, 
X  could  not  help  condoling  with  him  on  its  present 
rmnous  situation.    I  spoke  to  him  of  the  many  altera- 
tions which  had  been  made,  and  all  for  the  worse  •   of 
the  many  shades  which  had  been  taken  away,  of  the 
bowers  that  were  destroyed  by  neglect,  and  the  hedge- 
rows that  were  spoiled  by  clipping.    The  Genius,  with 
a  sigh,  received  my  condolement,  and  assured  me  that 
he  was  equally  a  martyr  to  ignorance  and  taste,  to 
refinement  and  rusticity.    Seeing  me  desirous  of  know- 
ing farther,  he  went  on  : 

You  see,  in  the  place  before  you,  the  paternal 
inheritance  of  a  poet ;  and,  to  a  man  content  with  little, 
fullysufficient  for  his  subsistence :  but  a  strong  imagina- 
tion, and  a  long  acquaintance  with  the  rich,  are  dangerous 
foes  to  contentment.  Our  poet,  instead  of  sitting  down 
to  enjoy  life,  resolved  to  prepare  for  its  future  enjoy- 
ment, and  set  about  converting  a  place  of  profit  into 
a  scene  of  pleasure.  This  he  at  first  supposed  could  be 
accomplished  at  a  small  expense ;  and  he  was  willing 
for  a  while  to  stint  his  income,  to  have  an  opportunity 


8M  ESSAYS 

'of  displaying  his  taste.  The  Improvement  in  thismanner 
'  went  forward ;  one  beauty  attained  led  him  to  wish  for 
some  other ;  but  he  still  hoped  that  every  emendation 
would  be  the  last.  It  was  now  therefore  found,  that 
the  Improvement  exceeded  the  subsidy— that  the  place 
was  grown  too  large  and  too  fine  for  the  inhabitant. 
But  that  pride  which  was  once  exhibited  could  not 
retire ;  the  garden  was  made  for  the  owner,  and  though 
it  was  become  unfit  for  him,  he  could  not  willingly 
resign  it  to  another.  Thus  the  firet  idea,  of  its  beauties 
contributing  to  the  happiness  of  his  life,  was  found 
unfaithful  ;  so  that,  instead  of  looking  within  tor 
satisfaction,  he  began  to  think  of  having  recourse  to 
the  praises  of  those  who  came  to  visit  his  Improve- 
ment. 

'  In  consequence  of  this  hope,  which  now  took  posses- 
sion of  his  mind,  the  gardens  were  opened  to  the  visits 
of  every  stranger  ;  and  the  country  flocked  round  to 
walk,  to  criticize,  to  admire,  and  to  do  mischief.  He 
soon  found  that  the  admirers  of  his  taste  left  by  no 
means  such  strong  marks  of  their  applause,  as  the 
envious  did  of  their  malignity.  All  the  windows  of  his 
temples  and  the  walls  of  his  retreats  were  impressed 
with  the  characters  of  profaneness,  ignorance,  and 
obscenity ;  his  hedges  were  broken,  his  statues  and 
urns  defaced,  and  his  lawns  worn  bare.  It  was  now, 
therefore,  necessary  to  shut  up  the  gardens  once  more, 
and  to  deprive  the  public  of  that  happiness  which  had 
before  ceased  to  be  his  own. 

'  In  this  situation  the  poet  continued  for  a  time,  in 
the  character  of  a  jealous  lover,  fond  of  the  beauty  he 
keeps,  but  unable  to  supply  the  extravagance  of  every 
demand.  The  garden  by  this  time  was  completely 
grown  and  finished  ;  the  marks  of  art  were  covered  up 
by  the  luxuriance  of  nature  ;  the  winding  walks  were 


ON  THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  LEASOWES   263 

'  grown  dark  ;  the  brook  ansumed  a  nataral  Hylvage ; 
'  and  the  rocks  were  covered  with  mow.  Nothing  now 
'  remained  but  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  place,  when 
'  the  poor  poet  died,  and  his  garrlen  was  oblige'i  to  be 
' sold  for  the  benefit  of  those  'iho  had  contributed  to  its 
'  embellishment. 

'  The  beauties  of  the  place  had  now  for  some  time 
'  been  celebrated  as  well  in  prose  as  in  verse  ;  and  all 
'  men  of  taste  wished  for  so  envied  a  spot,  where  every 
'turn  was  marked  with  the  poet's  pencil,  and  every 
'  walk  awakened  genius  and  meditation.  The  first  pur- 
'  chaser  was  one  Mr.  Truepenny,  a  button-maker,  who 
'  was  possessed  of  three  thousand  pounds,  and  was  willing 
'  also  to  be  possessed  of  taste  and  genius. 

'  As  the  poet's  ideas  were  for  the  natural  wildne*  of 
'  the  landscape,  the  button-maker's  were  for  the  more 
'  regular  productions  of  art.  Heconccived,  perhaps,  that 
'  as  it  is  a  beauty  in  a  button  to  be  of  a  regular  pattern, 
'  so  the  same  regularity  ought  to  obtain  in  a  landscape. 
'  Be  this  as  it  will,  he  employed  tlie  shears  to  some  pur- 
'  pose ;  he  clipped  up  the  bedfles,  cut  down  the  gloomy 
'  walks,  made  vistas  upon  the  stables  and  hog-sties,  and 
'  showed  his  friend*  tbat  a  man  of  taste  should  always 
'  be  doing. 

'  The  next  candidate  for  taste  and  genius  was  a  captain 
'  of  •  «hip,  who  bought  the  garden  because  the  former 
'  possessor  could  find  nothing  more  to  mend :  but  un- 
'  fortunately  he  had  taste  too.  His  great  passion  lay  in 
'building,  in  making  Chinese  temples  and  cage-work 
'  summer-houses.  As  the  place  before  had  an  appearance 
'  of  retirement  and  inspired  meditation,  he  gave  it  a  more 
'  peopled  air  ;  every  turning  presented  a  cottage,  or  ice- 
'  house,  or  a  temple ;  the  Improvement  was  converted 
'  into  a  little  city,  and  it  only  wanted  inhabitants  to  give 
'  it  the  air  of  a  village  in  the  East  Indies. 


ii  ! 


»*  ESSAYS 

'  In  this  manner,  in  less  than  ten  years,  the  Improve- 
ment has  gone  through  the  hands  of  as  many  proprietors, 
who  were  all  willing  to  have  taste,  and  to  show  their 
taste  too.  As  the  place  had  received  its  best  finishing 
from  the  hand  of  the  first  possessor,  so  every  innovator 
only  lent  a  hand  to  do  mischief.  Those  parts  which 
were  obscure,  have  been  enlightened  ;  those  walks 
which  led  naturally,  have  been  twisted  into  serpentine 
wmdings.  The  colour  of  the  flowers  of  the  field  is  not 
more  various  than  the  variety  of  tastes  that  have  been 
employed  here,  and  all  in  direct  contradiction  to  the 
onginal  aim  of  the  first  improver.  Could  the  original 
possessor  but  revive,  with  what  a  sorrowful  heart  would 
he  look  upon  his  favourite  spot  again  !  He  would 
scarcely  recollect  a  Driyad  or  a  Wood-nymph  of  his 
former  acquaintance,  and  might  perhaps  find  himself 
as  much  a  stranger  in  his  own  plantation  as  in  the 
f'eserts  of  Siberia.' 


SENTIMENTAL  COMEDY 

The  theatre,  like  all  other  amusements,  has  its 
fashions  and  its  prejudices  ;  and  when  satiated  with 
its  excellence,  mankind  begin  to  mistake  change  for 
improvement.  For  some  years  tragedy  was  the  reigning 
entertainment ;  but  of  late  it  has  entirely  given  way  to 
comedy,  and  our  best  efforts  are  now  exerted  in  these 
lighter  kinds  of  composition.  The  pompous  train,  the 
swelling  phrase,  and  the  unnatural  rant  are  displaced 
for  that  natural  portrait  of  human  folly  and  frailty,  of 
which  all  are  judges,  because  all  have  sat  for  the 
picture. 

But  as  in  describing  nature  it  is  presented  with 
a  double  face,, either  of  mirth  or  sadness,  our  modem 


I 


SENTIMENTAL  COMEDY  265 

writers  find  themgelves  at  a  loss  which  chiefly  to  copy 
from  ;  and  it  is  now  debated,  whether  the  exhibition 
of  human  distress  is  likely  to  afford  the  mind  more 
entertainment  than  that  of  human  absurdity  ? 

Comedy  is  defined  by  Aristotle  to  be  a  picture  of  the 
frailties  of  the  lower  part  of  mankind,  to  distinguish  it 
from  tragedy,  which  is  an  exhibition  of  the  misfortunes 
of  the  great.  When  comedy,  therefore,  ascends  to  pro- 
duce the  characters  of  princes  or  generals  upon  the 
stage,  it  is  out  of  its  walk,  since  low  life  and  middle  life 
are  entirely  its  object.  The  principal  question  therefore 
is,  whether,  in  describing  low  or  middle  life,  an  exhibition 
of  its  follies  be  not  preferable  to  a  detail  of  its  calamities  ? 

Or,  in  other  words,  which  deserves  the  preference, 

the  weeping  sentimental  comedy  so  much  in  fashion  at 
present  [1773],  or  the  laughing  and  even  low  comedy 
which  seems  to  have  been  last  exhibited  by  Vanbrugh 
and  Cibber  ? 

K  we  apply  to  authorities,  all  the  great  masters  in 
the  dramatic  art  have  but  one  opinion.  Their  rule  is, 
that  as  tragedy  displays  the  calamities  of  the  great,  so 
comedy  should  excite  our  laughter  by  ridiculously 
exhibiting  the  follies  of  the  lower  part  of  mankind. 
Boileau,  one  of  the  best  modem  critics,  asserts  that 
comedy  will  not  admit  of  tragic  distress  : 

la  comique,  ennemi  dea  soupin  ct  de«  picure, 
N'admet  point  dana  aes  vera  de  tragiquea  douleurs. 
Nor  is  this  rule  without  the  strongest  foundation  in  nature, 
as  the  distresses  of  the  mean  by  no  means  affect  us  so 
strongly  as  the  calamities  of  the  gitjat.  When  tragedy 
exhibits  to  us  some  great  man  fallen  from  his  height,  and 
struggling  with  want  and  adversity,  we  feel  his  situation 
in  the  same  manner  as  we  suppose  he  himself  must  feel, 
and  our  pity  is  increased  in  proportion  to  the  height  from 
whence  he  fell.    On  the  contrary,  we  do  not  so  strongly 


266  ESSAYS 

sympathize  with  one  bom  in  humbler  circumstanoes, 
and  encountering  accidental  distrew;  bo  that  while  we 
melt  for  Belioarius,  we  scarce  give  halfpence  to  the 
beggar  who  accoetj  us  in  the  street.  The  one  has  our 
pity  ;  the  other  our  contempt.  Distress,  therefore,  is 
the  proper  object  of  tragedy,  since  the  great  excite  our 
pity  by  their  fall  ;  but  not  equally  so  of  comedy,  since 
the  actors  employed  in  it  are  originally  so  mean,  that 
they  sink  but  little  by  their  fall. 

Since  the  first  origin  of  the  stage,  tragedy  and  comedy 
have  run  in  distinct  channels,  and  never  till  of  late 
encroached  upon  the  provinces  of  each  other.  Terence, 
who  seems  to  have  made  the  nearest  approaches,  always 
judiciously  stops  short  before  he  comes  to  the  downright 
pathetic  ;  and  yet  he  ia  even  reproached  by  Caesar  for 
wanting  the  via  comica.  All  the  other  comic  writers  of 
antiquity  aim  only  at  rendering  folly  or  vice  ridiculous, 
but  never  exalt  their  characters  into  buskuied  pomp, 
or  make  what  Voltaire  humorously  calls  a  tradesman's 
tragedy. 

Yet  notwithstanding  this  weight  of  authority,  and 
the  universal  {Hractice  of  former  ages,  a  new  species  of 
dramatic  composition  has  been  introduced,  under  the 
name  of  sentimental  comedy,  in  which  the  virtues  of 
private  life  are  exhibited,  rather  than  the  vices  exposed ; 
and  the  distresses  rather  than  the  faults  of  mankind 
make  our  interest  in  the  piece.  These  comedies  have 
had  of  late  great  success,  perhaps  from  their  novelty, 
and  also  from  their  flattering  every  man  in  his  favourite 
foible.  In  these  plays  almost  all  the  characters  are 
good,  and  exceedingly  generous ;  they  arc  lavish  enough 
of  their  tiu  money  on  the  stage ;  and  though  they  want 
humour,  have  abundance  of  sentiment  and  feeling.  If 
they  happen  to  have  faults  or  foibles,  the  spectator  is 
taught,  not  only  to  pardon,  but  to  applaud  them,  in 


SENTIMENTAL  COMEDY  267 

congidcration  of  the  goodness  of  their  hearts  ;  go  that 
folly,  instead  of  being  ridiculed,  jh  commended,  and  the 
comedy  aims  at  touching  our  passions  without  the 
power  of  being  truly  pathetic.  In  this  manner  we  are 
hkely  to  lose  one  great  source  of  entertainment  on  the 
stage  ;  for  while  the  comic  poet  is  invading  the  province 
of  the  tragic  muse,  he  leaves  her  lovely  sister  quit.' 
neglected.  Of  this,  however,  he  is  no  way  solidtous, 
as  he  measures  his  fame  by  his  profitH. 

But  it  will  be  said  that  the  theatre  is  formed  to 
amuse  mankind,  and  that  it  matters  little,  if  this  end 
be  answered,  by  what  means  it  is  obtained.  If  man- 
kmd  find  delight  in  weeping  at  comedy,  it  would  be  cruel 
to  abndge  them  in  that  ..r  any  other  innocent  pleasure 
If  those  pieces  are  denied  the  name  of  comedies  yet 
call  them  by  any  other  name,  and  if  they  are  delightful 
they  are  good.  Their  success,  it  will  be  said,  i>  a  mark 
of  their  merit,  and  it  is  only  abridging  our  happiness  to 
deny  us  an  inlet  to  amusement. 

These  objections,  however,  are  rather  specious  than 
solid  It  is  true  that  amusement  is  a  great  object  of 
the  theatre,  and  it  will  be  allowed  that  these  sentimental 
p»ces  do  often  amuse  us  ;  but  the  question  is,  whether 
the  true  comedy  would  not  amuse  us  more?  The 
question  is,  whether  a  character  supported  throughout 
a  piece  with  its  ridicule  still  attending,  would  not  give 
us  more  delight  than  this  species  of  bastard  tragedy, 
which  only  is  applauded  because  it  is  new  ? 

A  friend  of  mine,  who  was  sitting  unmoved  at  one  of 
these  sentimental  pieces,  was  asked  how  he  could  be  so 
indifferent  ?  'Why,  truly,'  says  he,  '  as  the  hero  is  but  a 
^  tradesman,  it  is  indifferent  to  me  whether  he  be  turned 
^  out  of  his  counting-house  on  Fish-street  Hill,  since  he 
WTLll  still  have  enough  left  to  open  shop  in  St.  Giles's.' 
The  other  objection  is  as  ill-grounded ;    for  though 


268 


ESSAYS 


we  should  give  these  pieces  another  name,  it  will  not 
mend  their  efficacy.  It  will  continue  a  kind  of  mulish 
production,  with  all  the  defects  of  its  opposite  parents, 
and  marked  with  sterility,  U  w«  are  permitted  to  make 
comedy  weep,  we  haw  »«  e<)«Ml  right  to  make  tragedy 
laugh,  and  to  set  dow»  in  blank  verse  the  jests  and 
repartees  of  all  tl»e  attendants  in  a  funeral  procession. 

But  there  is  one  ailment  in  favour  of  sentimental 
comedy,  which  will  ke»>p  it  on  the  stage,  in  spite  of  all 
that  can  be  said  ugainst  it.  It  is,  of  all  others,  the  most 
easily  written.  Those  abilities  that  can  hammer  out 
a  novel  are  fully  sufficient  for  the  production  of  a 
sentimental  comedy.  It  is  only  sufficient  to  raise  the 
characters  a  little ;  to  deck  out  the  hero  with  a  riband, 
or  give  the  heroine  a  title  ;  then  to  put  an  insipid 
dialogue,  without  character  or  humour,  into  their 
mouths,  give  them  mighty  good  hearts,  very  fine 
clothes,  furnish  a  new  set  of  scenes,  make  a  pathetic 
scene  or  two,  with  a  sprinkling  of  tender  melancholy  con- 
versation through  the  whole,  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
all  the  ladies  will  cry,  and  all  the  gentlemen  applaud. 

Humour  at  present  seems  to  be  departing  frcm  the 
stage,  and  it  will  soon  happen  that  oui  comic  plnyers 
will  have  nothing  left  for  it  but  a  fine  co.t  and  a  song. 
It  depends  upon  the  audience  whether  they  will  actually 
drive  those  poor  merry  creatures  from  the  stage,  or  sit 
at  a  play  as  gloomy  as  at  the  tabernacle.  It  is  not  easy 
to  recover  an  art  when  once  lost ;  and  it  will  be  but 
a  just  punishment,  that  when,  by  our  bsing  too  fastidious, 
we  have  banished  humour  from  the  stage,  we  should 
ourselves  be  deprived  of  the  art  A  laughing. 


I      If 


M9 


SCOTCH  MARRIAGES 

As  I  r«o  you  are  fond  of  gallantry,  and  soem  willing 
to  Bot  young  people  tog(-ther  n8  soon  as  you  can,  I  cannot 
help  lending  my  asBistance  to  your  endeavours,  as  I  am 
greatly  concerned  in  the  attempt.  You  must  know 
sir,  that  I  am  Inmilndy  of  one  of  the  most  noted  inns 
on  the  road  to  Scotland,  and  have  seldom  less  thavj 
eight  or  ten  couples  a  week,  who  go  down  rapturous 
lovers,  and  return  man  and  wife. 

If  there  be  in  this  world  an  agreeable  situation,  it 
must  be  that  in  which  a  young  couple  find  themselves, 
when  just  let  loose  from  confinement,  and  whirling  off 
to  the  land  of  promise.  When  the  post-chaise  is  driving 
off,  and  the  blinds  are  drawn  up,  sure  nothing  can 
equal  it.  And  yet,  I  do  not  know  how,  what  with  the 
fears  of  being  pursued,  or  the  wishes  for  greater  happi- 
ness, not  one  of  my  customers  but  seen\«  gloomy  and 
out  of  temper.  The  gentlemen  are  all  sullen,  and  the 
ladies  discontented. 

But  if  it  be  so  going  down,  how  is  ii  with  them  coming 
back  ?  Having  been  for  a  fortnight  together,  they  are 
then  mighty  good  company  to  be  sure.  It  is  then  that  the 
young  lady's  indiscretion  stares  her  in  the  face,  and  the 
gentleman  himself  finds  that  much  is  to  be  done  before 
the  money  comes  in. 

For  my  own  part,  sir,  I  was  married  in  the  usual  way  ; 
all  my  friends  were  at  the  wedding  ;  I  was  conducted 
with  great  ceremony  from  the  table  to  the  bed  ;  and 
I  do  not  find  that  it  any  ways  diminished  my  happi- 
ness with  my  husband,  while,  poor  man  !  ho  continued 
with  me.  For  my  part,  I  am  entirely  for  doing  things 
m  the  old  family  way;    I  hato  your  new-fashioned 


tTO 


ESSAYS 


mannen,  and  never  loved  an  outlandish  marriage  in 
my  life. 

Ab  I  have  had  numbem  call  at  my  houtie,  you  may 
be  sure  I  wag  not  idle  in  inquiring  who  they  were,  and 
how  they  did  in  the  world  after  they  left  me.  I  cannot 
Ray  that  I  ever  heard  much  good  come  of  them  :  and 
of  a  history  of  twenty-five  that  I  noted  down  in  my 
ledger,  I  do  not  know  a  single  couple  that  would  not 
have  been  full  as  happy  if  they  had  gone  the  plain  way 
to  work,  and  asked  the  consent  of  their  parents.  To 
convince  you  of  it,  I  will  mention  the  names  of  a  few, 
and  refer  the  rest  to  some  fitter  opportunity. 

Imprimis,  Miss  Jenny  Hastings  went  down  to  Scotland 
with  a  tailor,  who,  to  be  sure,  for  a  tailor,  was  a  very 
agreeable  sort  of  man.'  But,  I  do  not  know  how,  he 
did  not  take  proper  measure  of  the  young  lady's  dis- 
position they  quarrelled  at  my  house  on  their  return  ; 
so  she  left  him  for  a  comet  of  dragoons,  and  he  went 
back  to  his  shop-board. 

Miss  Rachel  Runfort  went  off  with  a  grenadier.  They 
spent  all  their  money  going  down ;  so  that  he  carried 
her  down  in  a  post-chaise,  and  coming  back,  she  helped 
to  carry  his  knapsack. 

Miss  Racket  went  down  with  her  lover  in  their  own 
phaeton  ;  but  upon  their  return,  being  very  fond  of 
driving,  she  would  be  every  now  and  then  for  holding 
the  whip.  This  bred  a  dispute  ;  and  before  they  were 
a  fortnight  together,  she  felt  that  he  could  exercise  the 
whip  on  somebody  else  besides  the  horses. 

Miss  Meekly,  though  all  compliance  to  the  will  of  her 
lover,  could  never  reconcile  him  to  the  change  of  his 
situation.  It  seems  he  married  her  supposing  she  had 
a  large  fortune  ;  but  being  deceived  in  his  expectations, 
they  parted ;  and  they  now  keep  separate  garrets  in 
Rosemary  Lane. 


SCOTCH  MARRIAGES 


271 


The  next  couple  uf  whom  I  have  any  account  nctually 
lived  together  in  great  harmony  and  uneloying  kimlnc-H 
for  no  lew  than  a  month  ;  hut  the  Indy,  who  ««»  n  little 
in  yearn,  having  parted  with  her  fortimo  to  her  dcnifttt 
life,  he  left  her  to  make  love  to  that  better  piirt  of  lier 
which  he  valued  more. 

The  next  pair  consiHted  of  an  Irish  fortuno-hunter 
and  one  of  the  prettient,  modeHte§t  i.ulicM  that  ever  mv 
eyes  beheld.  As  he  was  :i  well-looking  gentleman,  ull 
dressed  in  lace,  and  as  she  seemed  very  fond  of  him. 
1  thought  they  were  blest  for  life.  Yet  i  was  i|iiickly 
miataken.  The  luly  was  no  Ix-tter  thon  a  eommon 
woman  of  the  town,  iin^t  ho  was  no  Iwtter  than  a  sharper  ; 
so  thcj  agreed  upon  ,»  mutual  divorce  :  ho  now  dresses 
at  the  York  Ball,  and  she  is  in  keeping  by  the  member 
for  our  borough  in  Parliament. 

In  this  manner  we  see  that  nil  those  marriages,  in 
which  there  is  icterest  on  one  side,  and  disobedience  on 
the  other,  are  lot  likely  to  promise  a  long  har\est  of 
delights.  If  our  fortune-hunting  gentlemen  would  but 
speak  out,  the  young  lady,  instead  of  a  lover,  would 
often  find  a  sneaking  rogue,  that  only  wnnte<l  the  lady's 
purse,  and  not  her  heart.  For  my  own  part,  I  never 
saw  anything  but  design  and  falsehood  in  every  one  of 
them  ;  and  my  blood  has  Ixiiled  in  my  veins  when 
I  saw  a  young  fellow  of  twenty  kneeling  at  the  feet  of 
a  twenty-thousand  pounder,  professing  his  passion, 
while  ho  was  taking  aim  at  her  money.  I  do  not  deny 
but  there  may  be  love  in  .i  Scotch  marriage,  but  it  is 
generally  all  on  one  side. 

Of  all  the  sincere  admirers  I  ever  knew,  a  man  of  my 
acquaintance,  who  however  did  not  run  away  with  his 
mistress  to  Scotland,  was  the  most  so.  An  old  excise^ 
man  of  our  town,  who,  as  you  may  guess,  was  not  ^ery 
rich,  had  a  daughter  who,  as  you  shall  see,  was  not 


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272 


ESSAYS 


very  handsome.  It  wa«  the  opinion  of  everybody  that 
this  young  woman  would  not  soon  be  married,  as  she 
wanted  two  main  articles,  beauty  and  fortune.  But, 
for  all  this,  a  very  well-looking  man,  that  happened  to 
be  travelling  those  parts,  came  and  asked  the  excise- 
man for  his  daughter  in  marriage.  The  exciseman, 
willing  to  deal  openly  by  him,  asked  if  be  had  seen  the 
girl ;  '  for,'  says  he,  '  she  is  humpbacked.' — '  Very 
'  well,'  cried  the  stranger,  'that  will  do  for  me.' — 'Aye,' 
says  the  exciseman,  '  but  my  daughter  is  as  brown  as 

•  a  berry.' — '  So  much  the  better,'  cried  the  stranger  ; 

*  such  skills  wear  well.' — '  But  she  is  bandy-legged,' 
says  the  exciseman. — '  No  matter,'  cries  the  other ; 
'  her  petticoats  will  hidi  that  defect.' — '  But  then  she  is 
'  very  poor,  and  wants  an  eye.' — '  Your  description 
'  delights  me,'  cries  the  stranger :  '  I  have  been  long 
'  looking  out  for  one  of  her  make  ;  for  I  keep  an  ex- 
'  hibition  of  wild  beasts,  and  intend  to  show  her  oS 
'  for  a  chimpanzee.' 


THE 

LIFE 

O  F 

RICHARD  NASH,  Efq; 

LATE 

Mafter  of  the  Ceremonies  at  Bath. 

Extraded  principally  from 
HisORIGINALPAPERS. 


Non  e^  paucis 

Offendar  Maculis. Hor. 

THE   SECOND   EDITION. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Newbery,  in  St.  Paul's  Church- 
yard} W.  Frederick,  at  Bath;  and 
G.  Faulkener,  in  Dublin, 

M  DCC  LXII. 


TO 

THE  RIGHT  WORSHIPFUL, 
THE    MAYOR, 
RECORDER, 
ALDERMEN, 

AND 

COMMON    COUNCIL, 


CITY    OF    BATH; 
This   VOLUME 

Is   Humbly    INSCRIBED 
By  their 
Most   Obedient   Humble   Servant, 

The    EDITOR. 


PREFACE 

The  following  memoir  is  neither  calculated  to  inflame 
the  reader's  passions  with  deacriptions  of  gallantry,  nor 
to  gratify  his  malevolence  with  details  of  scandal.    The 
amours  of  coxcombs,  and  the  pursuits  of  debauchees,  are 
as  destitute  of  novelty  to  attract  us,  as  they  are  of 
variety  to  entertain,  they  still  present  us  but  the  same 
picture,  a  picture  we  have  seen  a  thousand  times  repeated. 
The  life  of  Mr.  Nash  is  incapable  of  supplymg  any 
entertainment  of  this  nature  to  a  prurient  curiosity. 
Though  it  was  passed  in  the  very  midst  of  debauchery, 
he  practis-^d  but  few  of  those  vices  he  was  often  obliged 
to  assent  to.    Though  he  lived  where  gallantry  was  the 
capital  pursuit,  he  was  never  known  to  favour  it  by  his 
example,  and  what  authority  he  had  was  set  to  oppose 
it.    Instead  therefore  of  a  romantic  history,  Bllcd  with 
warm  pict..    ,  and  fanciful  adventures,  the  reader  of 
the  following  account  must  rest  satisfied  with  a  genuine 
and  candid  recital  compiled  from  the  papers  he  left 
behind,  and  others  equally  authentic  ;  a  recital  neither 
written  with  a  spirit  of  satire  nor  panegyric,  and  with 
scarce  any  other  art  than  that  of  arranging  the  materials 
in  their  natural  order. 

But  though  little  art  has  been  used,  it  is  hoped  that 
some  entertainment  may  be  collected  from  the  life  of 
a  person  so  much  talked  of,  and  yet  so  little  known,  as 


276     THE  LIFE  OF  RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 

Mr.  Nash.  The  history  of  a  man,  who  for  more  than 
fifty  years  presided  over  the  pleasures  of  a  polite 
kingdom,  and  whose  life,  though  without  anything  to 
surprise,  was  ever  marked  with  singularity,  deserves 
the  attention  of  the  present  age  ;  the  pains  he  took  in 
pursuing  pleasure,  and  the  solemnity  he  assumed  in 
adjusting  trifles,  may  on.,  y  claim  the  smile  of  posterity. 
At  least  such  a  history  is  well  enough  calculated  to  supply 
a  vacant  hour  with  innocent  amusement,  however  it  may 
fail  to  open  the  heart,  or  improve  the  understanding. 

Yet  his  life,  how  trifling  soever  it  may  appear  to  the 
inattentive,  was  not  without  its  real  advantages  to 
the  public.  He  was  the  first  who  diffused  a  desire  of 
society,  and  an  easiness  of  address,  among  a  whole  people 
who  were  formerly  censured  by  foreigners  for  a  reserved- 
ness  of  behaWour  and  an  awkward  timidity  in  their 
first  approaches.  He  first  taught  a  familiar  intercourse 
among  strangers  at  Bath  and  Tunbridge,  which  still 
subsists  among  them.  That  ease  and  open  access  first 
acquired  there,  our  gentry  brought  back  to  the  metropolis, 
and  thus  the  whole  kingdom  by  degrees  became  more 
refined  by  lessons  originally  derived  from  him. 

Had  it  been  my  design  to  have  made  this  history 
more  pleasing  at  the  expense  of  truth,  it  had  been  easily 
performed ;  but  I  chose  to  describe  the  man  as  he  was, 
not  such  as  imagination  could  have  helped  in  completing 
his  picture  ;  he  will  be  found  to  be  a  weak  man,  govern- 
ing weaker  aubjeots,  and  may  be  considered  as  resem- 
bling a  monarch  of  Cappadocia,  whom  Ciceio  somewhere 
calls,  Ike  littk  king  of  a  Uttk  peopk. 


PREFACE  277 

But  while  I  have  been  careful  in  describing  the 
monarch,  his  dominions  have  claimed  no  Hmall  share 
of  my  attention ;  I  have  given  an  exact  account  of  the 
rise,  regulation,  and  nature  of  the  amusements  of  the 
city  of  Bath,  how  far  Mr.  Nash  contributed  to  establish 
and  refine  them,  and  what  pleasure  a  stranger  may 
expect  there  upon  his  arrival.  Such  anecdotes  as  are 
at  once  true  and  worth  preserving  are  produced  in  their 
order,  and  some  stories  are  added,  which,  though 
commonly  known,  more  necessarily  belong  to  this 
history  than  to  the  places  from  whence  they  have 
been  extracted.  But  it  is  needless  to  point  out  the 
pains  that  have  been  taken,  or  the  entertainment  that 
may  be  expected  from  the  perusal  of  this  performance. 
It  is  but  an  indifferent  way  to  gain  the  reader's  esteem, 
to  be  my  own  panegyrist,  nor  is  this  preface  so  much 
designed  to  lead  him  to  beauties,  as  to  demand  pardon 
for  defects. 


1 1  '. 


ADVERTISEMENT 

We  have  the  permiaaion  o^  George  Scott,  Esq.  (who  kindly 
undortook  to  settle  the  aflaira  o(  Mr.  Nash,  for  the  benefit  of  his 
famUy  and  creditors)  to  assure  the  pubUc,  that  all  the  pajwrs  found 
in  the  custody  of  Mr.  Nash,  which  any  ways  respects  his  life,  and 
were  thought  i..tere8ting  to  the  public,  were  communicated  to  the 
Editor  of  this  volume ;  so  that  thu  reader  wUl,  at  least,  have  the 
satisfaction  of  perusing  an  accou.it  that  is  genuine,  and  not  the 
work  of  imagination,  as  biographical  writings  too  frequently  are. 


THE 
LIFE  OF  RICHARD  NASH,  Esq. 

HiSTORv  owes  its  excellence  more  to  the  writer's 
manner  than  the  materials  of  which  it  i»  composed. 
The  intrigues  of  courts,  or  the  devastation  of  armies, 
are  regarded  by  the  remote  spectator  with  as  little 
attention  as  the  squabbles  of  a  village,  or  the  fate  of 
a  malefactor,  that  fall  under  his  own  observation.  The 
great  and  the  little,  as  they  have  the  same  H(;nse8,  and 
the  same  affections,  generally  present  the  same  picture 
to  the  hand  of  the  draughtsman  ;  and  whether  the 
hero  or  the  clown  be  the  subject  of  the  memoir,  it  is  only 
man  that  appears  with  all  his  native  minuteness  about 
him  ;  for  nothing  very  great  was  ever  yet  formed  from 
the  little  materials  of  humanity. 

Thus  none  can  properly  be  said  to  write  history,  but 
he  who  understands  the  human  heart,  and  its  whole 
train  of  affections  and  follies.  Those  affections  and 
follies  are  properly  the  materials  he  has  to  work  upon. 
The  relations  of  great  events  may  surprise  indeed  ;  they 
may  be  calculated  to  instruct  those  very  few  who 
govern  the  million  beneath,  but  the  genera.'=ty  of  man- 
kind find  the  most  real  improvement  from  relations 
which  are  levelled  to  the  general  surface  of  life  ;  which 
cell,  not  how  men  learned  to  conquer,  but  how  they 
endeavoured  to  live  ;  not  how  they  gained  the  shout 
of  the  admiring  crowd,  but  how  they  acquired  the 
esteem  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance. 

Every  man's  own  life  would  perhaps  furnish  the 
most  pleasing  materials  for  history,  if  he  only  had 
candour  enough  to  be  sincere,  and  skill  enough  to  select 


280 


THE  LIFE  OF 


guch  parts  as  once  making  him  more  pnident,  might 
servo  to  render  his  readers  more  cautious.  There  are 
few  who  do  not  prefer  a  page  of  Montaigne  or  Colley 
fibber,  who  candidly  I  II  us  what  they  thought  of  the 
world  and  the  world  thought  of  them,  to  the  moro 
stately  memoirs  and  transactions  of  Europe,  where  we 
see  kings  pretending  to  immortality,  that  are  now 
almost  forgotten,  and  statesmen  planning  frivolous 
negotiations,  that  scarce  outlive  the  signing. 

It  were  to  be  wishctl  that  ministers  and  kings  were 
left  to  write  their  own  histories  ;  they  are  truly  useful 
to  few  but  themselves  ;  '  -it  for  men  who  are  contented 
with  more  humblj  stations,  I  fancy  such  truths  only 
are  serviceable  as  may  conduct  them  safely  through  life. 
That  knowledge  which  we  can  turn  to  our  real  ben  >fit 
should  be  most  eagerly  purs  led.  Treasures  which  we 
cannot  use  but  little  increase  the  happiness  or  even  the 
pride  of  the  possessor. 

I  profess  to  write  the  history  of  a  man  placed  in 
the  middle  rankb  of  life  ;  of  or'  ,  whose  vices  and 
virtues  were  open  to  the  eye  of  the  most  undisceming 
spectator ;  who  was  placed  in  public  view,  without  power 
to  repress  censure,  or  command  adulation  ;  who  had  too 
much  merit  not  to  become  remarkable,  yet  too  much 
folly  to  arrive  at  greatness.  I  attempt  the  charactsr  of 
one,  who  was  just  such  a  man  as  probably  you  or  I  may 
be,  but  with  this  difference,  that  he  never  performed  an 
action  which  thf  world  did  not  know,  or  ever  formed 
a  wish  which  he  did  not  take  pains  to  divulge.  In  short, 
I  have  chosen  to  write  the  life  of  the  noted  Mr.  Nash, 
an  it  will  be  the  delineation  of  a  mind  without  disguise, 
of  a  man  ever  assiduous  without  industry,  and  pleasing 
to  his  superiors,  without  any  superiority  of  genius  or 
understanding.  . 

Yet  if  there  be  any  who  think  the  subject  of  too  little 


RICHARD  NASH,  KSQ.  (U 

importnneo  to  cnniiiianil  uttriitioii,  iiiul  h..(l  rather  gazo 
at  the  uctioiiN  of  the  urcat,  than  be  direeted  in  Kiiiding 
their  own, !  liave  one  undeii '  il>|.-  claini  to  their  attention. 
Mr.  Nash  waH  hiniMelf  a  king.  In  this  partieular,  iK'rhapn 
no  biographer  haH  been  »o  happy  .ih  I.  They  who  aro 
for  a  delineation  of  men  and  ninnnerM  may  tind  n,)mo 
Hatisfaction  that  way,  and  thoHc  who  delight  in  adven- 
tures of  kings  and  (juccus,  may  perhaps  find  their  hopes 
satisfied  in  another 

It  IS  a  matter  of  very  little  importance  who  were  the 
parents,  or  what  was  the  education,  of  a  man  who 
owed  so  little  of  his  advancement  to  cither.  Ho  seldom 
boasted  of  family  or  learning,  and  his  father's  name  a.id 
circumktances  were  so  little  known,  that  Doctor  Cheync 
used  frequently  to  say,  that  Nash  had  no  father.  The 
Duchess  of  Marlljorough  one  day  rallying  him  in  public 
company  upon  the  obscurity  of  his  birth,  compared  him 
to  Gil  Bias,  who  was  ashamed  of  his  father  '  No, 
'  Madam,'  replied  Nash,  '  I  seldom  mention  my  father  in 
'  company,  not  because  I  have  any  riason  to  be  ashame<i 
'  of  him,  bui.  Ijecause  ho  has  so.'io  reason  to  be  ashamed 
'  of  me.' 

However,  though  such  anecdotes  be  immaterial,  to 
go  on  In  the  usual  course  of  history,  it  may  be  proper 
to  observe,  that  Richard  Nash,  Esq.,  the  subject  of  this 
memoir,  was  born  in  the  town  of  Swansea,  in  Glamorgan- 
shire, on  the  18th  of  O:;tol)er,  in  the  year  1674.'  His 
father  Mas  a  gentleman,  whose  principal  income  arose 
'  This  iccount  of  bin  birt''  and  parentage  m  conlirmod  by  the 
following  memorandum,  wri.  .n  by  Mr.  Xwh  bimsclf  in  a  book 
bdongmg  to  Mr.  Charles  Moi^an,  at  the  Coffcc-Hou80  in  Bath  ; 
whence  it  was  transcribed  by  Ocorxo  Scott.  Esq.  ;  to  whom  we 
are  indebted  for  this  and  many  other  anecdotes  rcsiiecting  the  I'fe 
of  Mr.  ''    h. 

'Mj  ither  was  a  Welch  Gentleman,  my  mo. he-  niece  to  Col. 
Foyer,  who  was  murdered  by  Oliver  for  i  fcndinK  Pembroke.  I  wa« 
bora  Oct.  18,  1074,  in  Swansey,  GUmorgaashire." 


2S2 


THE  LIFE  OF 


from  .1  partnernhip  in  n  glaHH-houiw  ;  hiH  mother  wan 
niece  to  Colonel  Poyor,  who  wb«  killcil  by  Oliver  Crom- 
well, for  defending  Pembroke  Cn«tlo  ngninBt  the  rebels. 
Ho  WttH  educated  under  Mr.  MaddockH  at  Carmarthen 
School,  and  from  thence  ncnt  to  Jcbuh  College,  in  Oxford, 
in  order  to  prepare  him  for  the  Btudy  of  the  law.  Hin 
father  had  utrained  his  little  income  to  give  his  don  such 
an  education  ;  but  from  the  boy's  natural  vivacity,  he 
hoped  a  recompense  from  his  future  preferment.  In 
college,  however,  he  soon  showed  that  though  much 
might  be  expected  from  his  genius,  nothing  eould  be 
hoped  from  his  industry.  A  mind  strongly  turned  to 
pleasure,  always  is  first  seen  at  the  University :  there 
the  youth  first  finds  hin^elf  freed  from  the  restraint  of 
tutors,  and  being  treated  by  his  friends  in  some  measure 
as  a  man,  assumes  the  passions  and  desires  of  riper 
age,  and  discovers  in  the  boy,  what  are  likely  to  bo  the 
affections  of  his  maturity. 

The  first  method  Mr.  Nash  took  to  distinguish  himself 
at  college  was  not  by  application  to  study,  but  by  his 
assiduity  in  Intrigue.  In  the  neighbourhoc-f  of  every 
University  there  are  girls  who  with  sor  j  b>  .luty,  some 
coquetry,  and  little  fortune,  lie  upon  the  watch  for 
every  raw  amorous  youth,  more  inclined  to  make  love 
than  to  study.  Our  hero  was  quickly  caught,  and  went 
through  all  the  mazes  and  adventures  of  a  college 
intrigue,  before  he  was  seventeen  ;  he  offered  marriage, 
the  offer  was  accepted,  but  the  whole  affair  coming  to 
the  knowledge  of  his  tutor,  his  happiness,  or  perhaps 
his  future  misery,  was  prevented,  and  he  was  sent  home 
from  ( allege,  with  necessary  advice  to  him,  and  proper 
instructions  to  his  father.' 

'  Since  the  publication  of  the  fint  edition  of  this  book,  notice 
has  been  taken  in  some  of  the  newtpapcrs  of  Mr.  Nash's  leaving  the 
University  without  di»oh»rginf(  a  small  debt  which  he  owed  to  the 
college  where  he  was  placed,  -nd  which  stands  on  their  books  to  thia 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  283 

men  a  mon  kiiowH  >  ^h  p„w.r  ovor  tho  fai-  wx,  ho 
generally  cmnmvAvvH  their  n.I„„H.r  for  the  rent  „t  life 
Th«t  triumph  which  he  ..btairis  over  one,  ,  -ly  n.akeH 
him  tho  «lave  of  another  ;   an.l  thuH  he  pHK^eecIn,  etm- 
queriiig  and  conquered,  to  the  clo»inK  of  the  Hcene    Tlio 
army  Heemc<I  the  moHt  likely  profe»Hi,m  in  which  to 
display   this   mcliaation   for   gnllant,         he    thciffore 
purchased  a  pair  of  colours,  coininenced  «   profeKwd 
admirer  of  tho  sex,  and  dresHcd  to  the  verv  cIrc  of  his 
financeH,    But  the  life  of  o  Mol.lier  is  nmv  pleasing  to 
tho  spectator  at  a  distan.     than  to  the  j.erson  who 
makes  the  experiment.    Mr.  Nash  soon  found  that  a  red 
coat  alone  would  never  succeed,  that  tho  company  o' 
the  fair  box  is  not  to  bo  procured  without  expense,  and 
that  hig  scanty  commission  could  never  p.  cure  hin.  the 
proper  reimbursements.     Ho  found  too     lat  tho  pro- 
frssion  of  arms  required  attendance  and  uutv,  and  often 
encroached  upon  those  hours  ho  could  havo  wished  to 
dedicate  to  softer  purposes.    In  short,  he  soon  became 
disgusted  with  the  life  of  a  soldier,  quitted  tho  army 
entered  his  name  as  a  student  in  the  Temple  books,  and 
here  went  to  the  very  summit  of  second-rate  luxury. 
Though  very  poor  he  was  very  fine  ;  he  spread  the  little 
gold  he  had,   m  tho  most   ostentatious  manner,   and 
though  the  gilding  was  but  thin,  he  laid  it  on  as  far  as 
It  would  go.     They  who  know  tho  town,  cannot  be 

anothTatl       '  ""  ™«'"  ■"'"  '"  '■»'•<'  """■"  »»""'  "»""^  •>{ 
Zln         •  ,?"""""'"''*«'  «»  "».  "I'i.h  was.  that  when  ho 

P  »>».  a  tobacco-box,  and  a  fiddle,  which  had  engaged  mor,-  Lf  hi" 

.    weraV.t"„tt''"  ".""i-'".  •"  P"™'"  '-'"-■     !"■"•»<'■« 
Uor  h  ^  ■  ™"'''  """"^  """>"  entertainment  nor  cdifica 

tion,  they  were  purposely  omitted. 


284 


THE  LIFE  OP 


unacquainted  with  Huch  a  character  as  I  describe  ;  one, 
who,  though  he  may  have  dined  in  private  upon  a 
banquet  served  cold  from  a  cook's  shop,  shall  dress  at 
six  for  the  side-box ;  one  of  those,  whose  wan*s  are 
only  known  to  their  laundress  and  tradesmen,  and  their 
fine  clothes  to  half  the  nobility ;  who  spend  more  in 
chair  hire,  than  housekeeping ;  and  prefer  a  bow  from 
a  Lord,  to  a  dinner  from  a  Commoner. 

In  this  manner  Mr.  Nash  spent  some  years  about 
town,  till  at  last  his  genteel  appearance,  his  constant 
civiUty,  and  sti!'.  more,  his  assiduity,  gained  him  the 
acquaintance  of  several  persons  qualified  to  lead  the 
fashion  both  by  birth  and  fortune.  To  gain  the  friend- 
ship of  the  young  nobility,  little  more  is  requisite  than 
much  submission  and  very  fine  clothes ;  dress  has 
a  mechanical  influence  upon  the  mind,  and  we  paturally 
are  awed  into  respect  and  esteem  at  the  elegance  of 
those,  whom  even  our  reason  would  teach  us  to  contemn. 
He  seemed  early  sensible  of  human  weakness  in  this 
respect ;  he  brought  a  person  genteelly  dressed  to  every 
assembly ;  he  always  made  one  of  those  who  are  called 
very  good  company,  and  assurance  gave  him  an  air  of 
elegance  and  ease. 

When  King  William  was  upon  the  throne,  Mr.  Nash 
was  a  member  of  the  Middle  Temple.  It  had  been  long 
customary  for  the  Inns  of  Court  to  entertain  our 
monarchs  upon  their  accession  to  the  crown,  or  some 
such  remarkable  occasion,  with  a  revel  and  pageant.  In 
the  earlier  periods  of  our  history,  poets  were  the  con- 
ductors of  these  entertainments  ;  plays  were  exhibited, 
and  complimentary  verses  were  then  written ;  but  by 
degrees  the  pageant  alone  was  continued.  Sir  John  Davis 
being  the  last  poet  that  wrote  verses  upon  such  an 
occasion,  in  the  reign  of  James  I. 

This  ceremony,  which  hab  boon  at  length  totally 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  285 

discontinued,  was  last  exhibited  in  honour  of  King 
Wilham,  and  Mr.  Nash  was  chosen  to  conduct  the  whole 
with  proper  decorum.  He  was  then  but  a  very  young 
man,  but  we  see  at  how  early  an  age  he  was  thought 
proper  to  guide  the  amusements  of  his  country,  and  bo 
the  Arbiter  Elegantiarum  of  his  time  ;  we  see  how  early 
he  gave  proofs  of  that  spirit  of  regularity,  for  which  he 
afterwards  became  famous,  and  showed  an  attention  to 
those  little  circumstances,  of  which,  though  the  observ- 
ance be  trifling,  the  neglect  has  often  interrupted  men 
of  the  greatest  abilities  in  the  progress  of  their  fortunes. 

In  conducting  this  entertainment,  Nash  had  an 
opportur.ity  of  exhibiting  all  his  abilities,  and  King 
Wilham  was  so  well  satisfied  with  his  performance,  that 
he  made  him  an  offer  of  knighthood.  This,  however,  he 
thought  proper  to  refuse,  which  in  a  person  of  his 
disposition  seems  strange.  '  Please  your  Majesty,'  replied 
he,  when  the  offer  was  made  him,  '  if  you  intend  to 
'  make  me  a  knight,  I  wish  it  may  be  one  of  your  poor 
'  Knights  of  Windsor,  and  then  I  shall  have  a  fortune 
'  at  least  able  to  support  my  title.'  Yet  we  do  not  find 
that  the  King  took  the  hint  of  increasing  his  fortune  ; 
perhaps  he  could  not :  he  had  at  that  time  numbers 
to  oblige,  and  he  never  cared  to  give  money  without 
important  services. 

But  though  Nash  acquired  no  riches  by  his  late  office, 
yet  he  gained  many  friends,  or  what  is  more  easily 
obtained,  many  acquaintance,  who  often  answer  the 
end  as  well.  In  the  populous  city  where  he  resided,  to 
be  known  was  almost  synonymous  with  being  in  the 
road  to  fortune.  How  many  little  things  do  we  see, 
without  merit,  or  without  friends,  push  themselves 
forward  into  public  notice,  and  by  self-advertising, 
attract  the  attention  of  the  day.  The  wise  despise  them, 
but  the  public  are  not  all  wise.    Thus  they  succeed,  rise 


286 


THE  LIFE  OF 


upon  the  wing  of  folly,  or  of  fashion,  and  by  their 
success  give  a  new  sanction  to  e£frontery. 

But  beside  his  assurance,  Mr.  Nash  had  in  reality 
some  merit  and  some  virtues.  He  was,  if  not  a  brilliant, 
at  least  an  easy  companion.  He  never  forgot  good 
manners,  even  in  the  highest  warmth  of  familiarity,  and, 
as  I  hinted  before,  never  went  in  a  dirty  shirt  to  disgrace 
the  table  of  his  patron  or  his  friend.  These  qualifications 
might  make  the  furniture  of  his  head ;  but  for  his  heart, 
that  seemed  an  assemblage  of  the  virtues  which  display 
an  honest  benevolent  mind,  with  the  vices  which 
spring  from  too  much  good  nature.  He  had  pity  for 
every  creature's  distress,  but  wanted  prudence  in  the 
application  of  his  benefits.  He  had  generosity  for  the 
wretched  in  the  highest  degree,  at  a  time  when  his 
creditors  complained  of  his  justice.  He  often  spoke 
falsehoods,  but  never  had  any  of  his  harmless  tales 
tinctured  with  malice. 

An  instance  of  his  humanity  is  told  us  in  the  Spectator, 
though  his  name  is  not  mentioned.  When  he  was  to 
give  in  his  accompts  to  the  Masters  of  the  Temple, 
among  other  articles,  he  charged  '  For  making  onj  man 
'  happy,  £10.'  Being  questioned  about  the  meaning  of 
so  strange  an  item,  he  frankly  declared,  that  happening 
to  overhear  a  poor  man  declare  to  his  wife  and  a  large 
family  of  children,  that  £10  would  make  him  happy, 
he  could  not  avoid  trying  the  experiment.  He  added, 
that  if  they  did  not  choose  to  acquiesce  in  his  charge, 
he  was  ready  to  refund  the  money.  The  Masters,  struck 
with  such  an  uncommon  instance  of  good  nature,  publicly 
thanked  him  for  his  benevolence,  and  desired  that  the 
sum  might  be  doubled  as  a  proof  of  their  satisfaction. 

Another  instance  of  his  unaccountable  generosity, 
and  I  shall  proceed.  In  some  transactions  with  one  of 
his  friends,  Mr.  Nash  was  brought  in  debtor  twenty 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  287 

pounds.     His  friend  frequently  asked  for  the  money, 
and  was  as  often  denied.   He  found  at  last,  that  assiduity 
was  likely  to  have  no  effect,  and  therefore  contrived  an 
honourable  method  of  getting  back  his  money  without 
dissolving  the  friendship  that  subsisted  between  them. 
One  day,  returning  from  Nash's  chamber  with  the  usual 
assurance  of  being  paid  to-morrow,  he  went  to  one  of 
their  mutual  acquaintance,  and  related  the  frequent 
disappointments  he  had  received,  and  the  little  hopes 
he  had  of  being  ever  paid.    '  My  design,'  continues  he, 
'  is  that  you  should  go,  and  try  to  borrow  twenty  pounds 
'from  Nash,  and  brmg  me  the  money.    I  am  apt  to 
'  think  he  will  lend  to  you,  though  he  will  not  pay  me. 
'Perhaps  we  may  extort  from  his  generosity,  what 
'  I  have  failed  to  receive  from  his  justice.'    His  friend 
obeys,  and  going  to  Mr.  Nash,  assured  him,  that,  unless 
relieved  by  his  friendship,  he  should  certainly  be  undone; 
he  wanted  to  borrow  twenty  pounds,  and  had  tried  all  his 
acquaintance  without  success.    Mr.  Nash,  who  had,  but 
some  minutes  before,  refused  to  pay  a  just  debt,  was 
in  raptures  at  thus  giving  an  instance  of  his  friendship, 
and  instantly  lent  what  was  required.     Immediately 
upon  the  receipt,  the  pretended  borrower  goes  to  the 
real  creditor,   and   gives   him  the   money,   who   met 
Mr.  Nash  the  day  after ;    our  hero,  upon  seeing  him, 
immediately  began  his  usual  excuses,  that  the  billiard- 
room  had  stripped  him,  that  he  was  never  so  damnably 
out  of  cash  ;  but  that  in  a  few  days — '  My  dear  sir,  be 
'  under  no  uneasiness,'  replied  the  other,  '  I  would  not 
'  interrupt  your  tranquillity  for   the   world ;    you  lent 
'  twenty  poi.nds  yesterday  to  our  friend  of  the  back 
'  stairs,  and  he  lent  it  to  me  ;  give  him  your  receipt,  and 
'  you  shall  have  mine.'     '  Perdition  seize  thee,'  cried 
Nash, '  thou  hast  been  too  many  for  me.    You  demanded 
'  a  debt,  he  asked  a  favour  ;    to  pay  thee,  would  not 


288  THE  LIFE  OF 

'  increase  our  friendship,  but  to  lend  him  was  procuring 
'  a  new  friend,  by  conferring  a  new  obligation.' 

Whether  men,  at  the  time  I  am  now  talking  of,  had 
more  wit  than  at  present,  I  will  not  take  upon  me  to 
determine  ,  but  certam  it  is,  they  took  more  pains 
to  show  what  they  had.  In  that  age,  a  fellow  of 
high  humour  would  drink  no  wine  but  what  was 
strained  through  his  mistress's  smock.  He  would  eat 
a  pair  of  her  shoos  tossed  up  in  a  fricassee.  He  would 
swallow  tallow-candles  instead  of  toasted  cheese,  and 
even  run  naked  about  town,  as  it  was  then  said,  to  divert 
the  ladies.  In  short,  that  was  the  age  of  such  kind  of 
wit  as  is  the  most  distant  of  all  others  from  wisdom. 

Mr.  Nash,  as  he  spmetimes  played  tricks  with  others, 
upon  certain  occasions  received  very  severe  retaliations. 
Being  at  York,  and  having  lost  all  his  money,  some  of 
his  companions  agreed  to  equip  him  with  fifty  guineas, 
upon  this  proviso,  that  he  would  stand  at  the  great  door 
of  the  Minster,  in  a  blanket,  as  the  people  were  coming 
out  of  church.  To  this  proposal  he  readily  agreed,  but 
the  Dean  passing  by,  unfortunately  knew  him.  '  What,' 
cried  the  divine,  '  Mr.  Nash,  in  masquerade  ?  '  '  Only 
'  a  Yorkshire  penance,  Mr.  Dean,  for  keeping  bad 
'  company,'  says  Nash,  pointing  to  his  companions. 

Some  time  after  this,  he  won  a  wager  of  still  greater 
consequence,  by  riding  naked  through  a  village  upon 
a  cow.  This  was  then  thought  a  harmless  froUc ;  at 
present  it  would  be  looked  upon  with  detestation. 

He  was  once  invited  by  some  gentlemen  of  the  navy 
on  board  a  man-of-war,  that  had  sailmg  orders  for  the 
Mediterranean.  Tb'  was  soon  after  the  affair  of  the 
revels,  and  iieing  ii,norant  of  any  design  against  him,  he 
took  his  bottle  with  freedom.  But  he  soon  found,  to 
use  the  expression  then  in  fashion,  that  he  vi'as  absolutely 
bitten.    The  ship  sailed  away  before  he  was  aware  of 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  289 

his  situation,  and  ho  was  obliged  to  make  the  voyage  in 
the  company  where  he  had  spent  the  night. 

Many  lives  are  often  passed  without  a  single  adventure, 
and  I  do  not  know  of  any  in  the  life  of  our  hero  that  can 
be  called  such,  except  what  we  are  now  relating.  During 
this  voyage,  ho  was  in  an  engagement,  in  which  his  par- 
ticular friend  was  killed  by  his  side,  and  he  himself 
wounded  in  the  leg.  For  the  anecdote  of  his  being 
wounded,  we  are  solely  to  trust  to  his  own  veracity  ; 
but  most  of  his  acquaintance  were  not  much  inclmed  to 
believe  him,  when  he  boasted  on  those  occa.sions.  Telling 
one  day  of  the  wound  he  had  received  for  his  country,  in 
one  of  the  public  rooms  at  Bath  (Wiltshire's,  if  I  don't 
forget),  a  lady  of  distinction,  that  sat  by,  said  it  was 
all  false.  '  I  protest.  Madam,'  replied  he,  '  it  is  true  ; 
'and  if  I  cannot  be  believed,  your  Ladyship  may,  if 
'  you  please,  receive  farther  information,  and  feel  the 
'  ball  in  my  leg.' 

Mr.  Nash  was  now  fairly  for  life  entered  into  a  new 
course  of  gaiety  and  dissipation,  and  steady  in  nothing 
but  in  pursuit  of  variety.  He  was  thirty  years  old, 
without  fortune,  or  useful  talents  to  acquire  one.  He 
had  hitherto  only  led  a  life  of  expedients,  he  thanked 
chance  alone  for  his  support,  and  having  been  long 
precariously  supported,  he  became,  at  length,  totally 
a  stranger  to  prudence,  or  precaution.  Not  to  disguise 
any  part  of  his  character,  he  was  now,  by  profession, 
a  gamester,  and  went  on  from  day  to  day,  feeling  the 
vicissitudes  of  rapture  and  anguish,  in  proportion  to  the 
fluctuations  of  fortune. 

At  this  time,  London  was  the  only  theatre  in  England, 
for  pleasure,  or  intrigue.  A  spirit  of  gaming  had  been 
introduced  in  the  licentious  age  of  Charles  II,  and  had  by 
this  time  thriven  surprisingly.  Yet  all  its  devastations 
were  confined  to  London  alone.    To  this  great  mart  of 

OOLDSaOTH.    Ill  j^ 


»0 


THE  UFE  OF 


every  folly,  sharperii  from  every  country  daily  arrived, 
for  the  winter,  but  were  obliged  to  leave  the  kingdom 
at  the  approach  of  summer,  in  order  to  open  a  new 
campaign  at  Aix,  Spa,  or  the  Hague.  Bath,  Tunbridge, 
Scarborough,  and  other  places  of  the  same  kind  here, 
were  then  frequented  only  by  such  as  really  went  for 
relief ;  the  pleasures  they  afforded  were  merely  rural, 
the  company  splenetic,  rustic,  and  vulgnr.  In  this 
situation  of  things,  people  of  fashion  had  no  agreeable 
summer  retreat  from  the  town,  and  tisually  spent  that 
season  amidst  a  solitude  of  country  squires,  parsons' 
wives,  and  visiting  tenants,  or  farmers ;  they  wanted 
some  place  where  they  might  have  each  other's  company, 
and  win  each  other's  money,  as  they  had  done  during 
the  winter  in  towni 

To  a  person  who  docs  not  thus  calmly  trace  things  to 
their  source,  nothing  will  appear  more  strange,  than 
how  the  healthy  could  ever  consent  to  follow  the  sick 
to  those  places  of  spleen,  and  live  with  those,  whose 
disorders  are  ever  apt  to  excite  a  gloom  in  the  spectator. 
The  truth  is,  the  gaming-table  was  properly  the  salutary 
font  to  which  such  numbers  flocked.  Gaming  will  ever 
be  the  pleasure  of  the  rich,  while  men  continue  to  be 
men ;  while  they  fancy  more  happiness  in  being  possessed 
of  what  they  want,  than  they  experience  pleasure  in  the 
fruition  of  wha'^they  have.  The  wealtuy  only  stake 
those  riches,  which  give  no  real  content,  for  an  expecta- 
tion of  riches,  in  which  they  hope  for  satisfaction.  By 
this  calculation,  they  cannot  lose  happiness,  as  they 
begin  with  none  ;  and  they  hope  to  gain  it,  by  being 
possessed  of  something  they  have  not  had  already. 

Probably  upon  this  principle,  and  by  the  arrival  of 
Queen  Anne  there  for  her  health,  about  the  year  1703, 
the  city  of  Bath  became  in  some  measure  frequented 
by  people  of  distinction.    The  company  was  numerous 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  201 

enough  to  form  a  country  danre  upon  the  bowling  green  ; 
they  were  amused  with  a  fiddle  and  hautboy,  and  diverted 
with  the  romantic  walkH  round  the  city.  They  uHually 
sauntered  in  fine  weather  in  the  grove,  between  two 
rowH  of  sycamore  treen.  Several  learned  phy.si(ianN, 
Doctor  .Jordan  and  others,  had  even  then  praised  the 
salubrity  of  the  wells,  and  the  aniiiHcnuntn  were  i>ut 
under  the  direction  of  a  master  of  the  cereiiionitH. 

Captain  Webster  was  the  predecessor  of  Mr.  Natli. 
This  I  take  to  Ijc  the  same  gentleman  whom  Mr.  Lueai, 
describes  in  his  history  of  the  lives  of  the  gamesters,  by 
which  it  appears,  that  Bath,  even  before  (he  arrival  of 
Mr.  Nash,  was  found  a  proper  retreat  for  men  of  that 
profession.  This  gentleman,  in  the  year  1704,  carried 
the  balls  to  the  town  hall,  each  man  paying  half  a  guinea 
each  ball. 

Still,  however,  the  amusements  of  this  place  were 
neither  elegant,  nor  conducted  with  delicacy.  General 
society  among  people  of  rank  or  fortune  was  by  nc 
means  established.  The  nobility  still  preserved  a 
tincture  of  Gothic  haughtiness,  and  refused  to  keep 
company  with  the  gentry  at  any  of  the  public  entertain- 
ments of  the  place.  Smoking  in  the  rooms  was  per- 
mitted ;  gentlemen  and  ladies  appeared  in  a  disrespect- 
ful manner  at  public  entertainments  in  aprons  and  boots. 
With  an  eagerness  common  to  those  whoso  pleasures 
come  but  seldom,  they  generally  continued  them  too 
long ;  and  thus  they  were  rendered  disgusting  by  too 
free  an  enjoyment.  If  the  company  liked  each  other, 
they  danced  till  morning ;  if  any  person  lost  at  cards, 
he  insisted  on  continuing  the  game  till  luck  should  turn. 
The  lodgings  for  visitants  were  paltry,  though  expensive; 
the  dining-rooms  and  other  chambers  were  floored  with 
boards,  coloured  brown  with  soot  and  small  beer,  to 
hide  the  dirt ;   the  walls  were  covered  with  unpainted 


SOS 


THE  LIFE  OF 


wainscot;  the  I'urniturc  cnrreHpondcd  with  the  meanness 
.•'■  'be  architecture  ;  a  few  oak  chairn,  n  small  looking- 
glass,  with  a  fender  and  tongs,  composed  the  magnificence 
of  these  temporary  habitations.  The  city  was  in  itself 
mean  and  contemptible  :  no  elegant  buildings,  no  open 
streets,  nor  uniform  squares.  The  Pump-house  was 
without  any  director ;  the  chairmen  permitted  no 
gentlemen  or  ladies  to  walk  homo  by  night  without 
insulting  them  ;  and  to  ad<l  to  all  this,  <mc  of  the 
greatest  physicians  of  his  age  conceived  a  design  of 
ruining  the  city,  by  writing  against  the  efficacy  of  the 
WHters.  It  was  from  a  resentment  of  some  affronts  he 
had  received  there,  that  he  took  this  resolution  ;  and 
accordingly  published  a  pamphlet,  by  which  ho  said, 
he  would  mst  a  load  into  the  spring. 

In  this  situation  of  things  it  wits,  that  Mr.  Nash  first 
came  into  that  city,  and  hearing  the  threat  of  this 
physician,  he  humorously  assured  the  people,  that  if 
they  would  give  him  lea'.e,  ho  would  charm  away  the 
poison  of  the  Doctor's  toi  ',  as  they  usually  charmed  the 
venom  of  the  Tarantula,  by  music.  He  therefore  was 
immediately  empowered  to  set  up  the  force  of  a  band  of 
music,  against  the  poison  of  the  Doctor's  reptile ;  the 
company  very  sensibly  increased,  Nash  triumphed,  and 
the  sovereignty  of  the  city  was  decreed  to  him  by  every 
rank  of  people.  • 

We  arc  now  to  behold  this  gentleman  as  arrived  at 
a  new  dignity  for  which  nature  seemed  to  have  formed 
him  ;  we  are  to  see  him  directing  pleasures,  which  none 
had  better  learned  to  share  ;  placed  over  rebellious  and 
refractory  subjects,  that  were  to  be  ruled  only  by  the 
force  of  his  address,  and  governing  such  as  had  been 
accustomed  to  govern  others.  We  see  a  kingdom 
beginning  with  him,  and  sending  oS  Tunbridge  as  one  of 
its  colonies. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  293 

But  to  talk  more  Himply.  when  wo  talk  at  best  of 
triflcH.  None  could  poHHJbly  coiioeivo  a  pomon  more 
fit  to  fill  this  employment  than  i.nHh  :  he  had  Homo  wit, 
BH  I  have  Haid  once  or  twice  tiefore  ;  hut  it  woh  of  that 
sort  which  in  rather  happy  than  pj-rnianent.  Onco  a 
week  ho  might  »ay  a  good  thing  ;  this  the  little  ones 
about  him  took  care  to  divulge  ;  or  if  they  hapjiened  to 
forget  the  joke,  ho  usually  remembered  to  reix-at  it 
himself.  In  a  long  intercourse  with  the  world  he  had 
acquired  an  impenetrable  assurance  ;  and  the  freedom 
with  which  he  was  received  by  the  great,  furnished  him 
with  vivacity,  which  could  be  conminnded  at  any  time, 
and  which  some  mistook  for  wit.  His  former  intercourse 
among  people  of  fashion  in  town,  had  let  hini  into  most 
of  the  characters  of  the  nobility  ;  and  he  was  acquainted 
with  many  of  their  private  intrigues.  Ho  imderstood 
rank  and  precedence  with  the  utmost  exactness,  was 
fond  of  show  and  finery  himself,  and  generally  set  a 
pattern  of  it  to  others.  These  were  his  favourite 
talents,  and  he  was  the  favourite  of  such  as  had  no 
other. 

But  to  balance  these,  which  some  may  consider  as 
foibles,  he  was  charitable  himself,  and  generally  shamed 
his  betters  into  a  similitude  of  sentiment,  if  they  were 
not  naturally  so  before.  He  was  fond  of  ai'vising  those 
young  men,  who,  by  youth  and  too  much  money,  are 
taught  to  look  upon  extravagance  as  a  virtue.  He  was 
an  enemy  to  rudeness  in  others,  though  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life  he  did  not  much  seem  to  encourage  a 
dislike  of  it  by  his  own  example.  None  talked  with  more 
humanity  of  the  foibles  of  others,  when  absent,  than  he, 
nor  kept  those  secrets  with  which  he  was  entrusted 
more  inviolably.  But  above  all  (if  moralists  will  allow 
it  among  the  number  of  his  virtues)  though  he  gamed 
high,  he  always  played  very  fairly.     These  were  his 


2M 


THE  LIFE  OF 


qualifications.  Some  of  the  nobility  regarded  him  m  an 
inoffcnuivc,  UHefiil  companion,  the  niz*  of  whoso  under- 
standing was,  in  general,  level  with  their  own  ;  but 
their  little  imitators  admired  him  ns  a  person  of  fine 
sense,  and  gi^at  good  breeding.  Thus  jieople  became 
fond  of  ranking  him  in  the  number  of  their  acquaintance, 
told  over  his  jei  ts,  and  Beau  Nash  at  length  became  the 
fashionable  companion. 

His  first  care,  when  made  master  of  the  ceremonies, 
or  King  of  Bath,  as  it  is  called,  w.is  to  promote  a  music 
subscription,  of  one  guinea  each,  for  a  band  which  was 
to  consist  of  Kix  performers,  who  wore  to  receive  a  guinea 
a  week  each  fo-  their  trouble.  Ho  allowed  also  two 
guineas  a  week  for  lighting  and  sweeping  the  rooms,  for 
which  he  occoujited  to  the  subscribers  by  receipt. 

The  Pump-house  was  immediately  put  under  the  care 
of  an  officer,  by  tho  name  of  the  Pumper  ;  for  which  he 
paid  the  corporation  an  annual  rent.     A  row  oi  new 
houses  •<  18  begun  on  the  south  side  of  the  gravel  walks, 
before  which  a  handsome  pavement  was  then  made  for 
the  '  impany  to  walk  on.    Not  less  than  soventoen  or 
eighteen  hundred  pounds  was  raised  this  year,  and  in 
the  beginning  of  1706,  by  subscription,  and  laid  out  in 
repairing  the  roads  near  the  city.    The  streets  began  to 
be  better  paved,  cleaned  and  lighted,  the  licences  of  the 
chairmen  were  repressed,  and,  by  an  Act  of  Pariiament 
procured  on  this  occasion,  the  invalids,  who  came  to 
drink  or  bathe,  were  exempted  from  all  manner  of  toll, 
as  often  as  they  should  go  out  of  the  city  for  recreation. 
The  houses  and  streets  now  began  to  improve,  and 
ornaments  were  lavished  upon  them  even  to  profusion. 
But  in  the  midst  of  this  splendour  the  company  still 
were  obliged  to  assemble  in  a  booth  to  drink  tea  and 
chocolate,  or  to  game.    Mr.  Nash  imdertook  to  remedy 
this    inconvenience.      By  his  direction,  one  Thomas 


RICHARD  NASH,  E8Q.  205 

Harriaon  ereotml  a  hanilHomo  Aiuwmbly-houiio  for  thcHo 
purposes.  A  bettor  Imnd  of  muHio  was  also  procured, 
and  the  former  Hubncription  of  one  guinea  wbh  rained  to 
two.  Harrison  had  three  guineas  .veek  for  (he  room 
and  candles,  and  the  music  two  guineas  a  man.  The 
money  Mr.  Nash  received  and  accounted  for  with  the 
utmost  \,,ctnes«  and  punctuality.  To  this  house  were 
also  added  gardens  for  people  of  rank  and  fashion  to 
walk  in  ;  and  the  beauty  of  the  suburbs  continued  to 
increase,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  that  was  made 
by  the  corporation,  who,  at  that  time,  looked  upon  every 
useful  improvement,  particularly  without  the  walls,  as 
dangerous  to  the  inhabitants  within. 

His  dominion  was  now  extensive  and  secUA--,  and  ho 
determined  to  support  it  with  the  strictest  attention. 
But,  ir  order  to  proceed  in  everything  like  a  king,  he 
wos  resolved  to  give  his  subjects  a  law,  and  the  following 
rules  were  accordingly  put  up  in  the  Pump-room. 


RULES  to  be  observed  at  Bath. 

1.  That  a  visit  of  ceremony  at  first  coming  and 
another  at  going  away,  are  all  that  are  expected  or 
desired,  by  ladies  of  quality  and  faHhion.^-exccpt 
impertinents. 

2.  That  ladies  coming  to  the  ball  appoint  a  time  for 
their  footmen  coming  to  wait  on  them  home,  to  prevent 
disturbance  and  inconveniences  to  themselves  and  others. 

3.  That  gentlemen  of  fashion  never  appearing  in 
a  morning  before  the  ladies  in  gowns  and  caps,  show 
breeding  and  respect. 

4.  That  no  person  take  it  ill  that  any  one  goes  to 
another's  play,  or  breakfast,  and  not  theirs ; — except 
captious  \ty  nature. 

5.  That  no  gentleman  give  his  ticke>      .      .le  balls 


296 


THE  LIFE  OF 


to  any  but  gentlewomen.— N.B.  Unleim  he  hsH  none  of 
hii  acquaintance. 

6.  That  gentlemen  crowding  before  the  ladiei  at  the 
ball,  dhow  ill  manners  ;  and  that  none  do  no  for  the 
future, — except  such  aH  renpect  nolxxly  but  theniHelveH. 

7.  That  no  gentleman  or  lady  taken  it  ill  that  another 
dances  before  them  ;-  «xcept  such  a  ivo  no  pretence 
to  dance  at  all. 

8.  That  the  elder  ladies  and  children  be  content  with 
a  second  bench  at  the  ball,  as  being  past  ■  r  not  come  to 
perfection. 

9.  That  the  younger  ladies  take  notice  how  many 
eyes  observe  them.  N.B.  This  does  not  extend  to  the 
Havt-al-alU. 

10.  That  all  whisperers  of  lies  and  scandal,  bo  taken 
for  their  authors. 

11.  That  all  repeaters  of  such  l.es,  and  scandal, ' 
shunned  by  all  company ; — except  such  as  have  be 
guilty  of  the  same  crime. 

N.B.  Seiieral  men  of  no  character,  old  women  and 
young  ones  of  questioned  reputation,  are  greai  authors  of 
lies  in  these  places,  being  of  the  sect  of  levellers. 

Theso  laws  were  vitten  by  Mr.  '^sh  himself,  and,  by 
the  manner  in  which  they  are  drawn  up,  he  undoubtedly 
designed  them  for  wit.  The  reader,  however,  it  in 
feared,  will  think  them  dull.  Poor  Nash  was  not  born 
a  writer ;  for  whatever  humour  he  might  have  in 
conversation,  he  used  to  call  a  pen  his  torpedo ;  when- 
ever he  grasped  it,  it  numbed  all  .'lis  faculties. 

But  were  we  to  give  laws  to  a  nursery,  wo  should  make 
them  childish  laws ;  his  statutes,  though  stupid,  were 
addressed  to  fine  gentlemen  and  ladies,  and  were  probably 
received  with  sympathetic  approbation.  It  is  cert&in, 
they  were  in  general  religiously  observed  by  his  tubjects. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  297 

and  executed  by  him  with  impartiality ;  neither  rank  nor 
fortune  xhielded  the  refractory  from  hiH  nmntmcnt. 

The  bnllH,  by  hJN  ilircctionit,  were  to  begin  at  Mix,  anil 
to  emi  at  eleven.  Nor  would  he  nuffcr  thcni  to  rontinuo  a 
moment  longer,  lent  invniidii  might  commit  irregulorition 
to  counteract  the  lienefit  of  the  wate™.  Kverything  wan 
to  be  performed  in  proper  order.  Each  ball  wan  to  open 
with  a  minuet,  danced  by  two  pcrMmH  of  the  highcHt 
dutinction  preaent.  When  the  minuet  conclude<l,  the 
lady  wai  to  return  to  her  Heat,  and  Mr.  Nash  was  to  bring 
the  gentleman  a  new  partner.  ThiH  ceremony  wn«  to  be 
obeerved  by  every  guccecding  couple,  every  gentleman 
being  obliged  to  dance  with  two  ladled  till  the  minuets 
weid  over,  which  generally  continued  two  hourH.  At 
eight,  the  country  dances  were  to  begin;  ladies  of  quality, 
according  to  their  rank,  standing  up  first.  About  nine 
o'clock  a  short  interval  was  allowed  for  rest,  and  for  the 
gentlemen  to  help  their  partners  to  tea.  That  over, 
the  company  were  *■>  pursue  their  amusements  till  '.he 
clock  struck  eleven  Then  the  master  of  the  <  cremonie - 
entering  the  baUrpom,  ordered  the  music  to  desist,  L^ 
lifting  up  his  finger.  The  dances  discontinued,  and  some 
time  aUowed  for  becoming  cool,  the  ladies  were  handed 
to  their  chairs. 

Even  the  Royal  Family  themselves  had  not  influence 
enough  to  make  him  deviate  from  any  of  these  lules. 
The  Princess  Amelia  once  applying  to  him  for  one 
dance  more,  after  he  had  given  the  signal  to  withdraw, 
he  assured  Her  Royal  Highness,  that  the  establishtd  rules 
of  Bath  resembled  the  laws  of  Lycurgus,  which  would 
admit  of  no  alteration,  without  an  utter  subversion  of 
all  his  authority. 

He  was  not  less  strict  with  regard  to  the  dresses,  in 
which  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  to  apijear.     He  had 
the  strongest  aversion  to  a  white  apron,  and  absolutely 
L3 


298  THE  LIFE  OF 

excluded  all  who  ventured  to  come  to  the  assembly 
dressed  in  that  manner.    I  have  known  him  on  a  ball 

night  strip  even  the  Duchess  of  Q ,  and  throw  her 

apron  at  one  of  the  hinder  benches  among  the  ladies' 
women  ;  observing,  that  none  but  Abigails  appeared  in 
white  aprons.  This  from  another  would  be  insult,  in 
him  it  was  considered  as  a  just  reprimand  ;  and  the 
good-natured  duchess  acquiesced  in  his  censure,  and  with 
great  good  sense,  and  good  humour,  begged  his  Majesty's 
pardon. 

B'lt  he  found  more  difficulty  in  attacking  the  gentle- 
men's irregularities  ;  and  for  some  time  strove,  but  in 
vain,  to  prohibit  the  use  of  swords.  Disputes  arising 
from  love  or  play,  were  sometimes  attended  with  fatal 
effects.  To  use  his  own  expression,  he  was  resolved  to 
hinder  people  from  doing  what  they  had  no  mind  to ; 
but  for  some  time  without  effect.  However,  there 
happened  about  that  time  a  duel  between  two  gamesters, 
whose  names  were  Taylor  and  Clarke,  which  helped  to 
promote  his  peaceable  intentions.  They  fought  by 
torchlight  in  the  grove  ;  Taylor  was  run  through  the 
body,  but  lived  seven  years  after,  at  which  time  his 
wound  breaking  out  afresh,  it  caused  his  death.  Clarke 
from  that  time  pretended  to  be  a  Quaker,  but  the  ortho- 
dox brethren  never  cordially  received  him  among  their 
number  ;  and  he  died  at  London,  about  eighteen  years 
after,  in  poverty  and  contrition.  From  that  time  it  was 
thought  necessary  to  forbid  the  wearing  of  swords  at 
Bath,  as  they  often  tore  the  ladies'  clothes,  and  frighted 
them,  by  sometimes  appearing  upon  trifling  occasions. 
Whenever  therefore  Nash  heard  of  a  challenge  given, 
or  accepted,  he  instantly  had  both  parties  arrested.  The 
gentlemen's  boots  also  made  a  very  desperate  stand 
against  him,  the  country  squires  were  by  no  means 
submissive  to  his  usurpations;  and  probably  his  authority 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  299 

alone  would  never  have  carried  him  through,  had  he  not 
remforced  it  with  ridicule.  He  wrote  a  «ong  upon  the 
occasion  which,  f„r  the  honour  of  his  jKx^tical  talents 
the  world  shall  see. 

Fkontinella's  invitation  to  the  Assembly. 

Come,  one  and  all,  to  Hoyden  Hall, 
For  there  's  the  assembly  this  night ;  ' 

None  but  prude  fools, 

Mind  manners  and  rules  ; 
We  Hoydens  do  decency  slight. 

Come,  Trollops  and  Slatterns, 

Cock'd  hats  and  white  aprons, 
This  best  our  modesty  suits  ; 

For  why  should  not  wo 

In  dress  be  as  free 
As  Hogs-Norton  squires  in  boots  ? 

The  keenness,   severity,   and  paiticularly  the  good 

rhymes  of  this  little  morccau,  which  was  at  that  time 

highly  relished  by  many  of  the  nobility  at  Bath  gained 

hira  a  temporary  triumph.    But  to  push  his  victories  ho 

got  up  a  puppet-show,  in  which  Punch  came  in  booted 

and  spurred,  in  the  character  of  a  country  squire     He 

was  introduced  as  courting  his  mistress,  and  having 

obtained  her  consent  to  comply  with  his  wishes,  upon 

going  to  bed,  he  is  desired  to  pull  off  his  boots.     '  Mv 

boots  !  •  replies  Punch,  'why,  madam,  you  may  as  well 

bid  me  pull  off  my  legs;  I  never  go  without 'boots   I 

never  ride,  I  never  dance,  without  them  ;    and  this 

piece  of  politeness  is  quite  the  thing  at  Bath.     We 

always  dance  at  our  town  in  boots,  and  the  ladies  often 

move  mmuets  in  riding-hoods.'    Thus  he  goes  on   till 

Ins  mistress,  grown  impatient,  kicks  him  off  the  stage. 

From  that  lime  few  ventured  to  appear  at  the  assem- 


300 


THE  LIFE  OF 


blies  in  Bath  in  a  riding-dreas  ;  and  whenever  any 
gentleman,  through  ignorance,  or  haste,  appeared  in  the 
rooms  in  Ixwts,  Nash  would  make  up  to  him,  and, 
bowing  in  an  arch  manner,  would  tell  him,  that  he  had 
forgot  his  horse.  Thus  ho  was  at  last  completely 
victorious. 

Dolisque  coaeti 

Quos  neque  Tydides  nee  Lariasaeua  Achilles 

Non  anni  domuere  decern. 
He  began  therefore  f  '  reign  without  a  rival,  and  like 
other  kings  had  his  mistresses,  flatterers,  enemies  and 
calumniators.  The  amusements  of  the  place  however 
wore  a  very  different  aspect  from  what  they  did  formerly. 
Regularity  repressed  pride,  and  that  lessened,  people 
of  fortune  became  fit  for  society.  Let  the  morose  and 
grave  censure  an  attention  to  forms  and  ceremonies, 
and  rail  at  those,  whose  only  business  it  is  to  regulate 
them ;  but  though  ceremony  is  very  different  from 
politeness,  no  country  was  ever  yet  polite,  that  was 
not  first  ceremonious.  The  natural  gradation  of  breeding 
begins  in  savage  disgust,  proceeds  to  indifference, 
improves  into  attention,  by  degrees  refines  into  cere- 
monious observance,  and  the  trouble  of  being  cere- 
monious at  length  produces  politeness,  elegance  and 
ease.  There  is  therefore  some  merit  in  mending  society, 
even  in  one  of  the  inferior  steps  of  this  gradation  ;  and 
no  man  was  more  happy  in  this  respect  than  Mr.  Nash. 
In  every  nation  there  are  enough  who  have  no  other 
business  or  care,  but  that  of  buying  pleasure  ;  and  he 
taught  them,  who  bid  at  such  an  auction,  the  art  of 
procuring  what  they  sought,  without  diminishing  the 
pleasure  of  others. 

The  city  of  Bath,  by  such  assiduity,  soon  became 
the  theatre  of  summer  amusements  for  all  people  of 
fashion  ;    and  the  manner  of  spending  the  day  there 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  301 

must  amuse  any,  but  such  as  disease  or  spleen  had 
made  uneasy  to  themselves.    The  following  is  a  faint 
picture  of  the  pleasures  that  scene  affords.     Upon  a 
stranger's  arrival  at  Bath,  he  is  welcomed  by  a  peal  of 
the  Abbey  bells,  and  in  the  next  place,  by  the  voice  and 
music  of  the  city  waits.    For  these  civilities  the  ringers 
have  generally  a  present  made  them  of  half  a  guinea  • 
and  the  waits  of  half  a  crown,  or  more,  in  proportion  tci 
the  person's  fortune,  generosity,  or  ostentation.    These 
custoir-,   though  disagreeable,  are  however  generally 
like<l,  01  they  would  not  continue.    The  greatest  incom- 
modity  attending  them   is  the  disturbance  the   bells 
must  give  the  sick.    But  the  pleasure  of  knowing  the 
name  of  every  family  that  comes  to  town  recomiienses 
the   inconvenience.     Invalids  are  fond  of  news,   and 
upon  the  first  sound  of  the  bells,  everybody  sends  out 
to  mquire  for  whom  they  ring. 

After  the  family  is  thus  welcomed  to  Bath,  it  is  the 
custom  for  the  master  of  it  to  go  to  the  public  places 
andsubscribe  two  guineas  at  the  assembly-houses  towards 
the  balls  and  music  in  the  Pump-house,  for  which  h .  is 
entitled  to  three  tickets  every  ball  night.  His  next 
subscription  is  a  crown,  half  a  guinea,  or  a  guinea 
according  to  his  rank  and  quality,  for  the  liberty  of 
walking  in  the  private  walks  belonging  to  Simpson's 
Assembly-house;  a  cro^vn  or  half  a  guinea  is  also 
given  to  the  book,sellers,  for  which  the  gentleman  is  to 
have  what  books  he  pleases  to  read  at  his  lodgings. 
And  at  the  Coffee-house  another  subscription  is  taken 
for  pen,  ink  and  paper,  for  such  letters  as  the  subscriber 
shall  write  at  it  during  his  stay.  The  ladies  too  may 
subscnbe  to  the  booksellers,  and  to  a  house  by  the 
Pump-room,  for  the  advantage  of  reading  the  new.^,  and 
for  enjoying  each  other's  conversation. 
Thing.'i  being  thus  adjusted,  the  amusements  of  the 


302 


THE  LIFE  OF 


day  are  generally  begun  by  bathing,  which  in  no  iin- 
pleasing  method  of  passing  away  an  hour  or  so. 

The  baths  are  five  in  number.  On  the  south-west 
Hide  of  the  Abbey  church  is  the  King's  Bath,  which  is  an 
oblong  square  ;  the  walls  are  full  of  niches,  and  at  every 
corner  are  steps  to  descend  into  it :  this  bath  is  said  to 
contain  427  tons  and  60  gallons  of  water ;  and  on  its 
rising  out  of  the  giound  over  the  springs,  it  is  sometimes 
too  hot  to  be  endured  by  those  who  bathe  therein. 
Adjoining  to  the  King's  Bath  there  is  another,  called  the 
Queen's  Bath  ;  this  is  of  a  more  temperate  warmth, 
as  lK>rrowing  its  water  from  the  other. 

In  the  south-west  part  of  the  city  are  thi'ee  other 
baths,  viz.  :  The  Hot  Bath,  which  is  not  much  inferior 
in  heat  to  the  Kijig's  Bath,  and  contains  53  tons  2  hogs- 
heads and  11  gallons  of  water.  The  Cross  Bath,  which 
contains  52  tons  3  hogsheads  and  11  galJuns;  and  the 
Leper's  Bath,  which  is  not  so  much  frequented  as  the 
rest. 

The  King's  Bath  (according  to  the  best  observations) 
will  fill  in  about  nine  hours  and  a  half  ;  the  Hot  Bath  in 
about  eleven  hours  and  a  half ;  and  the  Cross  Bath  in 
about  the  same  time. 

The  hours  for  bathing  are  commonly  between  six 
and  nine  in  the  morning;  and  the  baths  are  every 
morning  supplied  with  fresh  water;  for  when  the 
people  have  done  bathing,  the  sluices  in  each  bath  are 
pulled  up,  and  the  water  is  carried  oS  by  drains  into 
the  river  Avon. 

In  the  morning  the  lady  is  brought  in  a  close  chair, 
dressed  in  her  bathing  clothes,  to  the  bath  :  and,  bemg 
in  the  water,  the  woman  who  attends  presents  her 
with  a  little  floating  dish  like  a  basin  ;  into  which  the 
lady  puts  a  handkerchief,  a  sr  jff-box,  and  a  nosegay. 
She  then  traverses  the  bath  ;  if  a  novice,  with  a  guide ; 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  303 

if  otherwise,  by  herself ;  and  having  amused  herself 
thus  while  she  thinks  proper,  calls  for  her  chair,  and 
returns  to  her  lodgings. 

The  amusement  of  bathing  is  immediately  succeeded 
by  a  general  assembly  of  people  at  the  Pump-house, 
some  for  pleasure,  and  some  to  drink  the  hot  waters. 
Three  glasses,  at  three  different  times,  is  the  usual 
portion  for  every  drinker ;  and  the  intervals  between 
every  glass  are  enlivened  by  the  harmony  of  a  small 
band  of  music,  as  well  as  by  the  conversation  of  the  gay, 
the  witty,  or  the  forward. 

From  the  Pump-house  the  ladies,  from  time  to  time, 
withdraw  to  a  female  coffee-house,  and  from  thence 
return  to  their  lodgings  to  breakfast.  The  gentlemen 
withdraw  to  their  coffee-houses,  to  read  the  papers,  or 
converse  on  the  news  of  the  day,  with  a  freedom  and 
ease  no',  to  bo  found  in  the  metropolis. 

People  of  fashion  make  public  breakfasts  at  the 
assembly-houses,  to  which  they  invite  their  acquain- 
tances, and  they  sometimes  order  private  concerts  ;  or 
when  so  disposed,  attend  lectures  upon  the  arts  and 
sciences,  which  are  frequently  taught  there  in  a  pretty 
superficial  manner,  so  as  not  to  tease  the  understanding, 
while  they  afford  the  imagination  some  amusement. 
The  private  concerts  are  performed  in  the  ballrooms, 
the  tickets  a  crown  each. 

Concert  breakfasts  at  the  Assembly-house  sometimes 
make  also  a  part  of  the  morning's  amusement  here,  the 
expenses  of  which  are  defrayed  by  a  subscription  among 
the  men.  Persons  of  rank  and  fortune  who  can  perform 
are  admitted  into  the  orchestra,  and  find  a  pleasure  in 
joining  with  the  performers. 

Thus  we  have  the  tedious  morning  fairly  over.  When 
noon  approachp-  and  church  (if  any  please  to  go  there) 
is  done,  some  3  compa.  y  appear  upon  the  Parade, 


304 


THE  LIFE  OF 


and  other  public  walks,  where  they  continue  to  chat 
and  amuse  each  other,  till  they  have  formed  parties  for 
the  play,  carda,  or  dancing  for  the  evening.  Another  part 
of  the  company  divert  themselves  with  reading  in  the 
booksellers'  shops,  or  are  generally  seen  tasting  the  air 
and  exercise,  some  on  horseback,  some  in  coaches. 
Some  walk  in  the  meadows  round  the  town,  winding 
along  the  side  of  the  river  Avon  and  the  neighbouring 
canal  ;  while  others  are  seen  scaling  some  of  those 
romantic  precipices  that  overhang  the  city. 

When  the  hour  of  dinner  draws  nigh,  and  the  company 
is  returned  to  their  different  recreations,  the  provisions 
are  generally  served  with  the  utmost  elegance  and 
plenty.  Their  mutton,  butter,  fish,  and  fowl,  are  all 
allowed  to  be  excellent,  and  their  cookery  still  exceeds 
their  meat. 

Aft.  r  dinner  is  over,  and  evening  prayers  ended,  the 
company  meet  a  second  time  at  the  Pump-house.  From 
this  they  retire  to  the  walks,  and  from  thence  go  to 
drink  tea  at  the  assembly-houses,  and  the  rest  of  the 
evenings  are  concluded  either  with  balls,  plays  or  visits. 
A  theatre  was  erected  in  the  year  1705  by  subscription, 
by  people  of  the  highest  rank,  who  permitted  their  arms 
to  be  engraven  on  the  inside  of  the  house,  as  a  public 
testimony  of  their  liberality  towards  it.  Every  Tuesday 
and  Friday  evening  is  concluded  with  a  public  ball,  the 
contributions  to  which  are  so  numerous,  that  the  price 
of  each  ticket  is  trifling.  Thus  Bath  yields  a  continued 
rotation  of  diversions,  and  people  of  all  ways  of  thinking, 
even  from  the  libertine  to  the  methodist,  have  it  in  their 
power  to  complete  the  day  with  employments  suited  to 
their  inclinations. 

In  this  manner  every  amusement  soon  improved  under 
Mr.  Nash's  administration.  The  magistrates  of  the  city 
found  that  he  was  necessary  and  useful,  and  took  every 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  306 

opportunity  of  paying  the  same  respect  to  his  fictitious 
royalty,  that  is  generally  extorted  by  real  power.  The 
same  satisfaction  a  young  lady  finds  upon  jeing  singled 
out  at  her  first  appearance,  or  an  applauded  poet  on 
the  success  of  his  first  tragedy,  influenced  him.  All 
admired  him  as  an  extraordinary  character  ;  and  some 
who  knew  no  better,  as  a  very  fine  gentleman  ;  he  was 
perfectly  happy  in  their  little  applause,  and  affected  at 
length  something  particular  in  his  dress,  behaviour  and 
conversation. 

His  equipage  was  sumptuous,  and  he  usually  travelled 
to  Tunbridge  in  a  post  chariot  and  six  greys,  with 
outriders,  footmen,  French  horns,  and  every  other 
appendage  of  expensive  parade.  He  always  wore  a 
white  hat,  and,  to  apologize  for  this  singularity,  said,  he 
did  it  purely  to  secure  it  from  being  stolen  ;  his  dress 
was  tawdry,  though  not  perfectly  genteel  ;  he  might  be 
considered  as  a  beau  of  several  generations,  and  in  his 
appearance  he,  in  some  measure,  mixed  the  fashions  of 
the  last  age  with  those  of  the  present.  He  perfectly 
understood  elegant  expense,  and  generally  passed  his 
time  in  the  very  best  company,  if  persons  of  the  first 
distinction  deserve  that  title. 

But  I  hear  the  reader  now  demand,  what  finances 
were  to  support  all  this  finery,  or  where  the  treasures, 
that  gave  him  such  frequent  opportunities  of  displaying 
his  benevolence,  or  his  vanity  V  To  answer  this,  wc  must 
now  enter  upon  another  part  of  his  character,  his  talents 
as  a  gamester ;  for  by  gaming  alone  at  that  period,  of 
which  I  speak,  he  kept  up  so  very  genteel  an  appearance. 
When  he  first  figured  at  Bath,  there  were  few  laws 
against  this  destructive  amusement.  The  gaming-table 
was  the  constant  resource  of  despair  and  indigence, 
and  the  frequent  ruin  of  opulent  fortunes.  Wherever 
people  of  fashion  came,  needy  adventurers  were  generally 


306 


THE  LIFE  OP 


found  in  waiting.  With  such  Bath  Hwarmed,  and 
among  thin  class  Mr.  Nash  wan  certainly  to  be  numbered 
in  the  beginning,  only  with  this  difference,  that  he 
wanted  the  corrupt  heart,  too  commonly  attending 
a  life  of  expedients  ;  for  he  was  generous,  humane  and 
honourable,  even  though  by  profession  a  gamester. 

A  thousand  instances  might  be  given  of  his  integrity, 
oven  in  this  infamous  profession  ;  whore  his  generosity 
often  impelled  him  to  act  in  contradiction  to  his  interest. 
Wherever  he  found  a  novice  in  the  hands  of  a  sharper, 
ho  generally  forewarned  him  of  the  danger ;  whenever  he 
found  any  inclined  to  play,  yet  ignorant  of  the  game,  ho 
would  offer  his  services,  and  play  for  them.  I  remember 
an  instance  to  this  effect,  though  too  nearly  concerned 
in  the  affair  to  publish  the  gentleman's  name  of  whom  it 
is  related.  In  the  year  1725,  there  came  to  Bath  a  giddy 
youth,  who  had  just  resigned  his  fellowship  at  Oxford. 
He  brought  his  whole  fortune  with  him  there ;  it  was 
but  a  trifle  ;  however,  he  was  resolved  to  venture  it  all. 
Good  fortune  seemed  kinder  than  could  bo  expected. 
Without  the  smallest  skill  in  play,  he  won  a  sum 
sufficient  to  make  any  unambitious  man  hippy.  His 
desire  of  gain  increasing  with  his  gains,  in  the  October 
following  he  was  at  all,  and  added  four  thousand  pounds 
to  his  former  capital.  Mr.  Nash  one  night,  after  losing 
a  considerable  sum  to  this  undeserving  son  of  fortune, 
invited  him  to  supper.  '  Sir,'  cried  this  honest,  though 
veteran  gamester,  '  perhaps  you  may  imagine  I  have 
'  invited  you,  in  order  to  have  my  revenge  at  home  ; 
'  but,  sir  !  I  scorn  so  inhospitable  an  action.  I  desired 
'  the  favour  of  your  company  to  give  you  some  ar'  '  e, 
'  which  you  will  pardon  me,  sir,  you  seem  to  st^.-a  in 
'  need  of.  You  are  now  high  in  spirits,  and  drawn  away 
'  by  a  torrent  of  success.  But  there  will  come  a  time, 
'  when  you  will  repent  having  left  the  calm  of  a  college 


RICHARn  NASH,  ESQ.  307 

'life  for  the  turbulent  profefision  of  a  gamester.  Ill 
'  runs  will  come,  an  sure  as  tiny  and  night  succeed  each 
'  other.  Be  therefore  ndvincd,  remain  content  with  your 
'  present  gains  ;  for  be  jx-rsuadcd,  that  had  you  the 
'  Bank  of  England,  with  your  present  ignorance  of  gaming 
'  it  would  vanish  like  a  fairy  dream.  You  are  a  stranger 
'  to  me,  but  to  convince  you  of  the  part  I  take  in  your 
'  welfare,  I'll  give  you  fifty  guineas,  to  forfeit  twenty, 
'  every  time  you  lose  two  hundred  at  one  sitting.'  The 
young  gentleman  refused  his  offer,  and  was  at  last 
undone ! 

The  late  Duke  t)f  B.  Ix-ing  chngrinifl  at  losing  a 
considerable  sum,  pressed  Mr.  Nash  to  tie  him  up  for 
the  future  from  playing  deep.  Accordingly,  the  beau 
gave  his  Grace  a  hundred  guineas,  to  forfeit  ten  thousand, 
whenever  ho  lost  a  sum  to  the  same  amount  at  play,  in 
one  sitting.  The  Duke  loved  play  to  distraction,  and 
soon  after  at  hazard  lost  eight  thousand  guineas,  and 
was  going  to  throw  for  three  thousand  more  ;  when 
Nash,  catching  hold  of  the  dice-box,  entreated  his  Grace 
to  reflect  upon  the  penalty  if  he  lost  :  the  Duke  for 
that  time  desisted  ;  but  so  strong  was  the  furor  of  play 
upon  him,  that  soon  after,  losing  a  considerable  sum  at 
Newmarket,  he  was  contented  to  pay  the  penalty. 

When  the  late  Earl  of  T d  was  a  youth,  he  was 

passionately  fond  of  play,  and  never  better  pleased  than 
with  having  Mr.  Nash  for  his  antagonist.  Nash  saw 
with  concern  his  lordship's  foible,  and  undertook  to 
cure  him,  though  by  a  very  disagreeable  remedy.  Con- 
scious of  his  own  superior  skill,  he  determined  to  engage 
him  in  single  play  for  a  very  considerable  sum.  His 
lordship,  in  proportion  as  he  lost  his  game,  lost  his 
temper  too  ;  and  as  he  approached  the  gulf,  seemed 
still  more  eager  for  ruin.  He  lost  his  estate  ;  some 
writings  were  put  into  the  winner's  possession  ;  bis  very 


308 


THE  LIFE  OF 


equipage  was  deposited  ai  a  last  Btako,  and  ho  lout  that 
also.  But,  when  our  gencroun  gamester  had  found  his 
lordship  sufficiently  punished  for  his  temerity,  ho 
returned  all ;  only  stipulating,  that  he  should  be  paid 
five  thousand  pounds  whenever  he  should  think  proper 
to  make  the  demand.  However,  ho  never  made  any 
such  demand  during  his  lordship's  life  ;  but  some  time 
after  his  decease,  Mr.  Nash's  affairs  being  in  the  wane, 
ho  demanded  the  money  oi  his  lordship's  heirs,  who 
honourably  paid  it  without  any  hesitation. 

But  whatever  skill  Nash  might  have  acquired  by  lon^ 
practice  in  play,  he  was  never  formed  by  nature  for 
a  successful  gamester.  Ho  was  constitutionally  passionate 
and  generous.  To  acquire  a  perfection  in  that  art, 
a  man  must  be  naturally  phlegmatic,  reserved  and  cool  ; 
every  passion  must  learn  to  obey  control ;  but  he 
frequently  was  unable  to  restrain  the  violence  of  his,  and 
was  often  betrayed  by  this  means  into  unbecoming 
rudeness,  or  childish  impertinence ;  was  sometimes 
a  minion  of  fortune,  and  as  often  depressed  by  adversity. 
While  others  made  considerable  fortunes  at  the  gaming- 
table, he  was  ever  in  the  power  of  chance  ;  nor  did  even 
the  intimacy  with  which  ho  was  received  by  the  great, 
place  him  in  a  state  of  independence. 

The  considerable  inconveniences  that  were  found  to 
result  from  a  permission  of  gaming,  at  length  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  legislature,  and  in  the  twelfth  year 
of  his  late  Majesty,  the  most  prevalent  games  at  that 
time  were  declared  fraudulent  and  unlawful.  Every  age 
has  had  its  peculiar  modes  of  gaming.  The  games  of 
Gleek,  Primero.  In  and  In,  and  several  others  now 
exploded,  em].ii._  .d  our  sharping  ancestors ;  to  these 
succeeded  the  Ace  of  Hearts,  Pharaoh,  Basset,  and 
Hazard,  all  games  of  chance  like  the  former.  But 
though  in  these  the  chances  seemed  equal  to  the  novice. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


309 


in  general  thoHe  who  kept  the  bank  were  coniiiderable 
winners.  The  Act  therefore,  paaiiecl  u]H>n  thiH  occaaion, 
declared  all  Niich  gameii  and  lottcricH  illicit,  and  directed, 
that  all  whu  Hhould  Hct  up  Huch  ganicH,  Khould  forfeit 
two  hundred  poundx,  to  be  levie<l  by  diHtrew  on  the 
offender's  gogda  ;  one-third  to  go  to  the  informer,  the 
residue  to  the  poor. 

The  Act  further  declared,  that  every  perxon  who 
player!  in  any  place,  except  in  the  royal  piilace  where 
His  Majesty  resided,  should  forfeit  fifty  pounds,  and 
should  be  condemned  to  pay  treble  costs  in  case  of  an 
appeal. 

This  law  was  scarcely  made,  before  it  was  eluded  by 
the  invention  of  divers  fraudulent  and  deceitful  games  ; 
and  a  particular  game,  called  Passage,  was  daily  prac- 
tised, and  contributed  to  the  ruin  of  thousands.  To 
prevent  this,  the  ensuing  year  it  was  enacted,  that  this 
and  every  other  gamu  invented,  or  to  be  invented,  with 
one  die,  or  more,  or  any  other  instrument  of  the  same 
nature,  with  numbers  thereon,  should  be  subject  to 
a  similar  penalty ;  and  at  the  same  time,  the  persons 
playing  with  such  instruments  should  be  punished  as 
above. 

This  amendment  of  the  law  soon  gave  birth  to  new 
evasions ;  the  game  of  Roily  Polly,  Marlborough's 
Battles,  but  particularly  the  E  0,  were  set  up  ;  and 
strange  to  observe  !  several  of  those  very  noblemen  who 
had  given  their  voices  to  suppress  gaming,  were  the 
most  ready  to  encourage  it.    This  game  was  at  first  set 

up  at  Tunbridge.    It  was  invented  by  one  C k,  and 

carried  on  between  him  and  one  Mr.  A e,  proprietor 

of  the  Assembly-room  at  that  place  ;  and  was  reckoned 
extremely  profitable  to  the  bank,  as  it  gained  two  and 
a  half  per  cent,  on  all  that  wan  loKt  or  won. 

At  all  goi    ig  was  suppressed  but  this,  Mr.  Nash  was 


SIO 


THE  LIFE  OF 


now  utterly  dpstituto  of  any  n.w.iirco  that  he  could 
expect  from  hiK  Hiijx'rior  Hkill,  and  long  experience  in 
the  art.  The  money  to  lie  Rained  in  private  gaming  in  at 
Ijcst  but  trifling,  and  the  opiwrtunity  preoariouH.  The 
minds  of  the  generality  of  mankind  nhrink  with  their 
oircumntanccs  ;  and  Nanh,  upon  the  immediate  prospect 
of  poverty,  wan  now  mean  enough  (I  will  call  it  no 
worse)  to  enter  into  a  base  eonfwlcraey  with  thodo  low 
creaturen  to  evade  the  law,  and  to  share  the  plunder. 
The  occasion  was  as  follows.    The  profits  of  the  table 

were,    as    1   observed,    dividetl    between    C k,    the 

inventor,  and  A e,  the  room -keeper.    The  first  year's 

profits  were  extraordinary,  and  A o  the  room- 
keeper  now  began  to  wish  himself  sole  proprietor.  The 
combinations  of  the  worthless  are  ever  of  short  duration. 

The  next  year,  therefore,  A c  turne<l  C k  out  of 

his  room,  and  sot  up  the  game  for  himself.  The  gentle- 
men and  ladies  who  frcqucnte<l  the  Wells,  immindful  of 
the  immense  profit  gained  by  these  reptik.;,  si.',  con- 
tinued to  game  as  before  ;   and  A e  was  triumphing 

m  the  success  of  his  politics,  when  he  was  infonned,  that 

C k  and  his  friends  hired  the  crier  to  cry  the  game 

down.    The  consequences  of  this  would  have  been  fatal 

*°  ■* e's  interest,  for  by  this  means  frauds  might  have 

been  discovered  which  would  deter  even  the  most 
ardent  lovers  of  play.  Immediately,  therefore,  while 
the  crier  was  yet  upon  the  walks,  he  applied  to  Mr.  Nash 
to  stop  these  proceedings,  and,  at  the  same  time,  offered 
him  a  fourth  share  of  the  bank,  which  Mr.  Nash  was 
mean  enough  to  accept.  Thi,s  is  the  greatest  blot  in  his 
hfe,  and  this  it  is  hoped  will  find  pardon. 

The  day  after,  the  inventor  offered  a  half  of  the  bank  ; 
but  this  Mr.  Nash  thought  proper  to  refuse,  being  pre- 
engaged  to  A e.    Upon  which,  being  tlisappointed 

he  applied  to  one  Mr  J v,  and  under  Lis  pix>tection 


I 


KIIHARD  NASH.  ESQ.  311 

another  tabic  was  nut  up,  and  ihu  c'uni|)any  xovnipd  to 
be  divided  e<jually  bttwctn  them.  I  cannot  reHeet, 
without  Hurpriw,  at  the  wiwlom  of  the  gi-ntlenicn  and 
ladien,  to  Huffor  thcmwIvcM  to  1*  thuH  iiurcillicl  out 
between  a  puck  of  HharprrM,  and  |K'rnilt  thcmwIvcH  to  be 
defrauded,  without  even  the  nhow  of  opimoition.  The 
company  thuH  divided,  Mr.  Nnsh  onoo  more  availed 
himself  of  their  partiex,  and  prevailed  upon  thcni  to 
unite  their  banks,  and  to  divide  the  gains  into  three 
■hares,  of  which  he  reserved  one  to  himself. 

Nash  had  hitherto  enjoyed  a  iluctuating  fortune  ;  and, 
had  he  taken  the  advantage  of  the  present  opportunity,  ho 
might  have  been  for  the  future  not  only  alxivu  want, 
but  even  in  circumstances  of  opulence .  Had  he  cautiously 
employed  himself  in  computing  the  benefits  of  the 
table,  and  exacting  his  stipulated  share,  he  might  hove 
soon  grown  rich  ;  but  he  entirely  left  the  management  of 
it  to  the  people  of  the  rooms  ;  he  took  them  (as  ho 
says  in  one  of  his  memorials  upon  this  occasion)  to  l)e 
honest,  and  never  inquired  what  wok  won  oi  ;>.8t ;  and, 
it  is  probable,  they  were  seldom  assiduous  in  informing 
him.  I  find  a  secret  pleasure  in  thus  diH|)laying  the 
insecurity  of  friendships  among  the  base.  They 
pretended  to  pay  him  regularly  at  first,  but  he  soon 
discovered,  as  ho  says,  that  at  Tunbridge  he  had  suffered 
to  the  amount  of  two  thousand  guineas. 

In  the  meantime,  as  the  E  0  tabic  thus  succeeded  at 
Tunbridge,  Mr.  Nash  was  resolved  to  introduce  it  ut 
Hath,  and  previously  asked  the  opinion  of  several 
lawyers,  who  declared  it  no  way  illegal.    In  consequence 

of  this,  ho  wrote  to  Mrs.  A e,  who  kept  one  of  the 

great  rooms  at  Bath,  acquainting  her  with  the  profits 
attending  such  a  scheme,  and  proposing  to  have  a  fourth 

share  with  her  and  Mr.  \V- ,  the  proprietor  of  the 

other  room,  for  his  authority,  and  protection.    To  this 


312 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Mr.  W and  she  returned  him  for  answer,  that  they 

would  grant  him  a  fifth  share  ;  which  he  consented  to 
accept.  Accordingly,  he  made  a  journey  to  London, 
and  bespoke  two  tables,  one  for  each  room,  at  the  rate 
of  fifteen  pounds  each  table. 

The  tables  were  no  sooner  set  up  at  Bath,  than  they 
were  frequented  with  a  greater  concourse  of  giimesters 
than  those  at  Tunbridge.  Men  of  that  infamous  pro- 
fession, from  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  even  other 
parts  of  Europe,  flocked  here  to  feed  on  the  ruins  of 
each  other's  fortune.  This  afforded  another  opportunity 
for  Mr.  Nash  to  become  rich  ;  but,  as  at  Tunbridge,  he 
thought  the  people  here  also  would  take  care  of  him, 
and  therefore  he  employed  none  to  look  after  his 
interest.  The  first  year  they  paid  him  what  he  thought 
just ;  the  next,  the  woman  of  the  room  dying,  her  son 
paid  him,  and  showed  his  books.  Some  time  after  the 
people  of  the  rooms  offered  him  one  hundred  pounds 
a  year  each  for  his  share,  which  he  refused  ;  every 
succeeding  year  they  continued  to  pay  him  less  and  less  ; 
till  at  length  he  found,  as  he  pretends,  that  he  had  thus 
lost  not  less  than  twenty  thousand  pounds. 

Thus  they  proceeded,  deceiving  the  public  and  each 
other,  till  the  legislature  thought  proper  to  suppress 
these  seminaries  of  vice.  It  was  enacted,  that  after  the 
24th  of  June,  1745,  none  should  be  permitted  to  keep  a 
house,  room  or  place,  for  playing,  upon  pain  of  such 
forfeitures  as  were  declared  in  former  Acts  instituted  for 
that  purpose. 

The  legislature  likewise  amended  a  law,  made  in  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  for  recovering  money  lost  at  play, 
on  the  oath  of  the  winner.  By  this  Act,  no  person  was 
rendered  incapable  of  being  a  witness ;  and  every 
person  present  at  a  gaming-table  might  be  summoned 
by  the  magistrate  who  took  cognizance  of  the  affair. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


313 


No  privilege  of  Parliament  was  allowed  to  those  con- 
victed of  having  gamii:r:  .  .i.lts  in  their  houses.  Those 
who  lost  ten  pound,  it  one  li.ii  ,  were  liable  to  be 
indicted  within  six  r  viihs  after  rue  offence  was  com- 
mitted; and  being  .c.>'viet(d,  vero  to  be  fined  five 
times  the  value  of  the  sum  won  or  lost,  for  the  use  of 
the  poor.  Any  offender,  before  conviction,  discovering 
another,  so  as  to  be  convicted,  was  to  Ix'  discharged 
from  the  penalties  incurred  by  his  own  offences. 

By  this  wise  and  just  act,  all  Nash's  future  hopes  of 
succeeding  by  the  tables  were  blown  up.  He  had  now- 
only  the  justice  and  generosity  of  his  confederates  to 
trust  to  ;  but  that  he  soon  found  to  be  a  vain  expecta- 
tion ;  for,  if  we  can  depend  on  his  own  memorials,  what 
at  one  time  they  confessed,  thej'  would  at  another  deny  ; 
and  though  upon  some  occasions  they  seemed  at  variance 
with  each  other,  yet  when  they  were  to  oppose  him, 
whom  they  considered  as  a  common  enemy,  they 
generally  united  with  confidence  and  success.  He  now 
therefore  had  nothing  but  a  lawsuit  to  confide  in  for 
redress  ;  and  this  is  ever  the  last  expedient  to  retrieve 
a  desperate  fortune.  He  accordingly  threw  his  suit  into 
Chancery,  and,  by  this  means,  the  public  became  ac- 
quainted with  what  he  had  long  endeavoured  to  conceal. 
They  now  found  that  he  was  himself  concerned  in  the 
gaming-tables,  of  which  he  only  seemed  the  conductor  ; 
and  that  he  had  shared  part  of  the  spoil,  though  he 
complained  of  having  been  defrauded  of  a  just  share. 

The  success  of  his  suit  was  what  might  have  been 
naturally  expected  ;  he  had  but  at  best  a  bad  cause, 
and  as  the  oaths  of  the  defendants  were  alone  sufficient 
to  cast  him  in  Chancery,  it  was  not  surprising  that  ho 
was  nonsuited.  But  the  consequence  of  this  affair  was 
much  more  fatal  than  he  had  imagined  ;  it  lessened  him 
in  the  esteem  of  the  public,  it  drew  several  enemies 


31* 


THE  LIFE  OF 


against  him,  and  in  oome  measure  diminished  the 
authority  of  any  defence  he  could  make.  From  that 
time  (about  the  year  1745),  I  iind  this  poor,  good- 
natured,  but  misguided  man  involved  in  continual 
disputes,  every  day  calumniated  with  some  new  slander, 
and  continually  endeavouring  to  obviate  its  effects. 

Upon  these  occasions  his  usual  method  was,  by 
printed  bills  handed  about  among  his  acquaintance,  to 
inform  the  public  of  his  most  private  transactions  with 
some  of  those  creatures  with  whom  he  had  formerly 
associated ;  but  thebe  apologies  served  rather  to  blacken 
his  antagonists,  than  to  vindicate  him.  They  were  in 
general  extremely  ill  written,  confused,  obscure,  and 
sometimes  unintelligible.  By  these,  however,  it  ap- 
peared, that  W was  originally  obliged  to  him  for 

the  resort  of  company  to  his  room  ;  that  Lady  H , 

who  had  all  the  company  before  W 'a  room  was 

built,  offered  Mr.  Nash  a  hundred  pounds  for  his  pro- 
tection ;  which  he  refused,  having  previously  promised 

to  support  Mrs.  W .    It  appears  by  these  apologies, 

that  the  persons  concerned  in  the  rooms  made  large 
fortunes,  while  he  still  continued  in  pristine  indigence  ; 
and  that  his  nephew,  for  whom  he  had  at  first  secured 
one  of  the  rooms,  was  left  in  as  great  distress  as  he. 

His  enemies  were  not  upon  this  occasion  contented 
with  aspersing  him,  as  a  confederate  with  sharpers : 
they  even  asserted,  that  he  spent  and  embezzled  the 
subscriptions  of  gentlemen  and  ladies,  which  were  given 
for  useful  or  charitable  purposes.  But  to  such  aspersions 
he  answered,  by  declaring,  to  use  his  own  expression, 
before  God  and  man,  that  he  never  diverted  one  shilling 
of  the  said  subscriptions  to  his  own  use  ;  nor  was  he 
ever  thought  to  have  done  it,  till  new  enemies  started 
up  against  him.  Perhaps  the  reader  may  be  curious  to 
see  one  of  these  memorials,  written  by  himself ;    and 


laCHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  315 

I  will  indulge  his  curiosity,  merely  to  show  a  specimen 
of  the  style  and  manner  of  a  man  whose  whole  life  was 
passed  in  a  round  of  gaiety  and  conversation,  whose 
jests  were  a  thousand  times  repeated,  and  whose 
company  was  courted  by  every  son  and  daughter  of 
fashion.  The  following  is  particularly  levelled  against 
those,  who,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  took  every 
opportunity  to  traduce  his  character. 

A  MONITOR. 

'  Fat  (he  Lord  halah  lying  and  deceilful  /t>j,— Psilm. 
'The  curse  denounced  in  my  motto,  is  sufficient  to 
'  intimidate  any  person  who  is  not  quite  abandoned  in 
'  their  evil  ways,  and  who  have  any  fear  of  God  before 
'  their  eyes  ;  everlasting  burnings  are  a  terrible  reward 
'  for  their  misdoings ;  and  nothing  but  the  most 
'  hardened  sinners  will  oppose  the  judgements  of  heaven, 
^  being  without  end  s  's  reflection  must  be  shocking 
'to  such,  as  are  Cv  s  to  themselves,  of  having 

'  erred  fro.n  the  sacrei  dictates  of  the  Psalmist,  and  who 
I  following  the  blind  impulse  of  passion,  daily  forging 
'  lies  and  deceit,  to  annoy  their  neighbour.  But  there 
'are  joys  in  heaven  which  they  can  never  arrive  at, 
'  whoso  whole  study  is  to  destroy  the  peace  and  harmony, 
'  and  good  order  of  society,  in  this  place." 

This  carries  little  the  air  of  a  bagatelle  ;  it  rather 
seems  a  sermon  in  miniature,  so  different  are  some  men 
in  the  closet  and  in  conversation.  The  following  I  have 
taken  at  random  from  a  heap  of  other  memorials,  all 
tending  to  set  his  combination  with  the  aforementioned 
partners  in  a  proper  light. 

'  E  O  was  first  set  up  in  A e  room,  the  profits 

divided  between  one  C k  (the  inventor  of  the  game) 

and  A e. 


316 


THE  LIFE  OF 


'  The  next  year,  A 
tageous,  turned  C — 


— i^  finding  the  game  so  advan- 
k  out  of  his  room,  and  set  the 

game  up  himself  ;   but  C It  and  his  friends  hired  the 

erier  to  cry  the  game  down  ;   upon  which  A e  came 

running  to  me  to  stop  it,  after  he  had  cried  it  once,  which 
I  immediately  did,  and  turned  the  crier  off  the  walks. 

'  Then  A c  asked  me  to  go  a  fourth  with  him  in  the 

bank,  which  I  consented  to  ;  C k  next  day  took  me 

into  his  room  which  he  had  hired,  and  proffered  me  to 
go  half  with  him,  which  I  refused,  being  engaged  before 
to  A e. 

'  'f e  then  set  up  the  same  game,  and  complained 

that  he  hid  not  half  play  at  his  room  ;  upon  which 
I  made  them  agree  to  join  their  banks,  and  divide 
equally  the  gain  <ind  loss,  and  I  to  go  the  like  share  in 
the  bank. 

'  I,  taking  them  to  be  honest,  never  inquired  what  was 
won  or  lost ;  and  thought  they  paid  me  honestly,  till  it  was 
discovered  that  they  had  defrauded  me  c'  2,000  guineas. 

'  I  then  arrested  A e,  who  told  me  I  must  go  into 

Chancery,  and  that  I  should  begin  with  the  people  of 
Bath,  who  had  cheated  me  of  ten  times  as  much  ;   and 

told  my  attorney,  that  J e  had  cheated  me  of  500, 

and  wrote  me  word  that  I  probably  had  it  not  under 
his  hand,  which  never  was  used  in  play. 

'  Upon  my  arresting  A e,  I  received  a  letter  not  to 

prosecute  J e,  for  he  would  bo  a  very  good  witness  : 

I  wrote  a  discharge  to  J e  for  £125  in  full,  though  he 

never  paid  me  a  farthing,  upon  his  telling  me,  if  his 
debts  were  paid,  he  was  not  worth  a  shilling. 

'  Every  article  of  this  I  can  prove  from  A e's  own 

mouth,  as  a  reason  that  he  allowed  the  bank- keepers 
but  10  per  cent,  because  I  went  20  ;  and  his  suborning 
*  *  *  *  to  alter  his  informations. 

'RicHAED  Nash.' 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  317 

ThiH  gentleman's  simplicity,  in  trusting  persons  whom 
he  had  no  previous  reasons  to  place  confidence  in,  seems 
to  be  one  of  those  lights  into  his  character,  which,  while 
they  impeach  his  understanding,  do  honour  to  his 
benevolence.  The  low  and  timid  are  over  suspicious  ; 
but  a  heart  impressed  with  honourable  sentiments, 
exjiects  from  others  sympathetic  sincerity. 

But  now  that  we  have  viewed  his  conduct  as  a  gamester, 
and  seen  him  on  that  side  of  his  charactia-,  which  is  by 
far  the  mo.st  unfa%ourable,  seen  him  declining  from  his 
former  favour  and  esteem,  the  just  consequence  of  his 
quitting,  though  but  ever  so  little,  the  paths  of  honour  ; 
let  me  turn  to  those  brighter  parts  of  his  life  and  character 
which  gained  the  aP-setion  of  his  friends,  the  esteem  of 
the  corporation  which  he  assisted,  and  may  possibly 
attract  the  attention  of  posterity.  By  his  successes  we 
shall  find,  that  figuring  in  life,  proceeds  less  from  the 
possess'on  of  great  talents,  than  from  the  proper  applica 
tion  of  moderate  ones.  Some  great  minds  are  only  fitted 
to  put  forth  their  powers  in  the  storm  ;  and  the  occasion 
is  often  wanting  during  a  whole  life  for  a  great  exertion  : 
but  trifling  opportunities  of  shining  are  almost  every 
hour  offered  to  the  little  sedulous  mind  ;  and  a  person 
thus  employed,  is  not  only  more  pleasing,  but  more 
useful  in  a  state  of  tranquil  society. 

Though  gaming  first  introduced  him  into  polit« 
company,  this  alone  could  hardly  have  carried  him 
forward,  without  the  assistance  of  a  genteel  address, 
much  vivacity,  some  humour,  and  some  wit.  But  once 
admitted  into  the  circle  of  the  Beau  Monde,  he  then  laid 
claim  to  all  the  privileges  by  which  it  is  distinguished. 
Among  others,  in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  he  entered 
himself  professedly  into  the  service  of  the  fair  sex  ;  he 
set  up  for  a  man  of  gallantry  and  intrigue  ;  and  if  we  can 
credit  the  boasts  of  his  old  age,  he  often  succeeded.    In 


S18 


THE  LIFE  OF 


fact,  the  business  of  love  somewhat  resembles  the  busi- 
ness of  physic ;  no  matter  for  qualifications,  he  that 
makes  vigorous  pretensions  to  either  is  surest  of  success. 
Nature  had  by  no  means  formed  Mr.  Nash  for  a  Beau 
Gar9on  ;  his  person  was  clumsy,  too  large  and  awkward, 
and  his  features  harsh,  strong,  and  peculiarly  irregular  ; 
yet  even,  with  those  disadvantages,  he  made  love, 
became  a  universal  admirer  of  the  sex,  and  was 
universally  admired.  He  was  possessed,  at  least,  of 
some  requisites  of  a  lover.  He  had  assiduity,  flattery, 
fine  clothes,  and  as  much  wit  as  the  ladies  he  addressed. 
Wit,  flattery,  and  fine  clothes,  he  used  to  say,  were 
enough  to  debauch  a  nunnery.  But  my  fair  readers  of 
the  present  day  are  exempt  from  this  scandal ;  and 
it  is  no  matter  now,  what  he  said  of  their  grand- 
mothers. 

As  Nestor  was  a  man  of  three  ages,  so  Nash  sometimes 
humorously  called  himself  a  beau  of  three  generations. 
He  had  seen  flaxen  bobs  succeeded  by  majors,  which  in 
their  turn  gave  way  to  negligents,  which  were  at  last 
totally  routed  by  bags  and  ramilies.  The  manner  in 
which  gentlemen  managed  their  amours,  in  these 
different  ages  of  fashion,  were  not  more  different  than 
their  periwigs.  The  lover  in  the  reign  of  King  Charles 
was  solemn,  majestic,  and  formal.  He  visited  his 
mistress  in  state  ;  languished  for  the  favour,  kneeled 
when  he  toasted  his  goddess,  walked  with  solemnity, 
performed  the  most  trifling  things  with  decorum,  and 
even  took  snuff  with  a  flourish.  The  beau  of  the  latter 
part  of  Queen  Anne's  reign  was  disgusted  with  so  much 
formality ;  he  was  pert,  smarts  and  lively ;  his  billets 
doitx  were  written  in  a  quite  different  style  from  that  of 
his  antiquated  predecessor  ;  he  was  ever  laughing  at  his 
own  ridiculous  situation  ;  till  at  last,  he  persuaded  the 
lady  to  become  as  ridiculous  as  himself.    The  beau  of 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  319 

the  third  age,  in  which  Mr.  Nash  died,  van  still  more 
extraordinary  thnn  cither ;  his  whole  secret  in  intrigue 
consisted  in  perfect  indifference.  The  only  way  to  make 
love  now,  I  have  heard  Mr.  Nash  say,  was  to  take  no 
manner  of  notice  of  the  lady,  which  method  was  found 
the  surest  way  to  secure  her  affections. 

However  these  things  (x.,  this  gentleman's  successes 
m  amour  were  in  reality   very  much  confined  in  the 
second  and  third  age  of  intrigue  ;    his  character  was 
too  public  for  a  lady  to  consign  her  reputation  to  his 
keeping.     But  in  the  Ix-ginning  of  life,  it  is  said,  he 
knew  the  secret  history  of  the  times,  and  contributed 
himself  to  swell  the  page  of  scandal.    Were  I  upon  the 
present  occasion  to"  hold  the  pen  of  a  novelist,  I  could 
recount  some  amours,  in  which  he  was  successful.     I 
could  fill  a  volume  with  little  anecdotes,  which  contain 
neither   pleasure   nor   instruction  ;     with    histories   of 
professing  lovers,  and  poor  believing  girls  deceived  by 
such    professions.      But    such    adventures    are    easily 
written,   and  as  easily  achieved.     The  plan  even  of 
fictitious  novel  is  quite  exhausted  ;    but  truth,  which 
I  have  followed  here,  and  ever  design  to  follow,  presents 
in  the  affair  of  love  scarce  any  variety.    The  manner  in 
which  one  reputation  is  lost,  exactly  resembles  that  by 
which  another  is  taken  away.    The  gentleman  begins  at 
timid  distance,  grows  more  bold,  becomes  rude,  till  the 
lady  is  married  or  undone  ;  such  in  the  substance  of  every 
modern  novel  ;   nor  will  I  gratify  the  pruriency  of  folly, 
at  the  expense  of  every  other  pleasure  my  naiTation  mav 
afford.  ^ 

Mr.  Nash  did  not  long  continue  a  universal  gallant  ; 
but  in  the  earlier  years  of  his  reign,  entirely  gave  up  his 
endeavours  to  deceive  the  sex,  in  order  io  become  the 
honest  protector  of  their  innocence,  the  guardian  of  their 
reputation,  and  a  friend  to  their  virtue. 


320 


THE  LIFE  OF 


This  was  a  character  he  boro  for  many  yearH,  and 
Biipportcd  it  with  integrity,  aNsiduity  and  succcsb.  It 
was  his  constant  practice  to  do  everything  in  his  power 
to  prevent  the  fatal  consequences  of  rash  and  inconsider- 
ate love ;  and  there  are  many  persons  now  alive,  who 
owe  their  prcscnl  happiness  to  his  having  interrupted  the 
progress  of  un  amour,  that  threatened  to  become  un- 
hai)py,  or  oven  criminal,  by  jM-ivately  making  their 
guardians  or  parents  acquainted  with  what  he  could 
discover.  And  his  manner  of  disconcerting  these  schemes 
was  such  as  generally  secured  him  from  the  rage  and 
resentment  of  the  disappointed.  One  night,  when  I  was 
in  Wiltshire's  room,  Nash  came  up  to  a  lady  and  her 
daughter,  who  were  people  of  no  inconsiderable  fortune, 
and  bluntly  told  the  mother,  she  had  better  be  at  home  : 
this  was  at  that  time  thought  an  audacious  piece  of 
impertinence,  and  the  lady  turned  away  piqued  and 
disconcerted.  Nash,  however,  pursued  her,  and  repeated 
the  words  again  ;  when  the  old  lady,  wisely  conceiving 
there  might  be  some  hidden  meaning  couched  under  this 
seeming  insolence,  retired,  and  coming  'o  her  lodgings, 
found  a  coach  and  six  at  the  door,  which  a  sharper  had 
provided  to  carry  off  her  eldest  daughter. 

I  shall  beg  leave  to  give  some  other  instances  of 
Mr.  Nash's  good  sense  and  good  nature  on  these  occa- 
sions, as  I  have  had  the  accounts  from  himself.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  treaty  of  peace  at  Utrecht,  Colonel 

M was   one   of   the   thoughtless,   agreeable,    gay 

creatures,  that  drew  the  attention  of  the  company  at 
Bath.  He  danced  and  talked  with  great  vivacity  ;  and 
when  he  gamed  among  the  ladies,  he  showed,  that  his 
attention  was  employed  rather  upon  thehr  hearts  than 
their  fortunes.  His  own  fortune  however  was  a  trifle, 
when  compared  to  the  elegance  of  his  expense  ;  and  his 
imprudence  at  last  was  so  great,  that  it  obliged  him  to 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


321 


(tell . 


I  an  annuity,  arising  from  hii*  comniisHion,  to  keep  up 
his  splendour  a  little  longer. 
However  thoughtlesH  he  might  be,  he  had  the  happi- 

neHH  of  gaining  the  affections  of  Miss  L ,   whoso 

father  designed  her  a  very  large  fortune.  This  lady  was 
courted  by  a  nobleman  of  distinction,  but  she  refused 
his  addresses,  resolve  I  xxpo.,  gratifying  rather  her  inclina- 
tions  than  her  avarice.  The  intrigue  went  on  successfully 
between  her  and  the  Colonel,  and  they  both  would 
certainly  have  been  married,  and  been  undone,  had 
not  Mr.  Nash  apprised  her  father  of  their  intentions. 
The  old  gentleman  recalled  his  daughter  from  Bath,  and 
offered  Mr.  Nash  a  very  considerable  present,  for  the 
care  he  had  taken,  which  he  refused. 

In  the  meantime  Colonel  M had  an  intimation 

how  his  mtrigue  came  to  be  discovered  ;  and  by  ta.\ing 
Mr.  Nash,  found  that  his  suspicions  were  not  without 
foundation.  A  challenge  was  the  immediate  conse- 
quence, which  the  King  of  Bath,  conscious  of  having 
only  done  his  duty,  thought  proper  to  decline.  As  none 
are  permitted  to  wear  swords  at  Bath,  the  Colonel  found 
no  opportunity  of  gratifying  his  resentment,  and  waited 
with  impatience  to  fin  '  Mr.  Nash  in  town,  to  require 
proper  satisfaction. 

During  this  interval,  however,  he  found  his  creditors 
became  too  importunate  for  him  to  remain  longer  at 
Bath  ;  and  his  finances  and  credit  being  quite  ex- 
hausted, he  took  the  desperate  resolution  of  going  over 
to  the  Dutch  army  in  Manders,  where  he  enlisted  himself 
a  volunteer.  Here  he  underwent  all  the  fatigues  of  a 
private  sentinel,  with  the  additional  misery  of  receiving 
no  pay,  and  his  friends  in  England  gave  out,  that  he  was 

shot  at  tha  battle  of . 

In  the  meantime  the  nobleman  pressed  his  passion 
with  ardour,  but  during  the  progress  of  his  amour,  the 

OOLDBini'H.    ni  *f 


322 


THE  LIFE  OF 


young  lady'H  father  dictl,  and  It-ft  her  heiress  to  a  fortune 
of  fifteen  hundred  a  year.  She  thought  herself  now 
disengaged  from  her  former  passion.  An  absence  of  two 
years  had  in  some  measure  abated  her  love  for  the 
Colonel ;  and  the  assiduity,  the  merit,  and  real  regard  of 
the  gentleman  who  still  continued  to  solicit  her,  were 
almost  too  powerful  for  her  constancy.  Mr.  Nash,  in 
the  meantime,  took  every  opportunity  of  inquiring  after 

Colonel  M ,  and  found,  thot  he  had  for  some  time 

been  returned  to  England,  but  changed  his  name,  in 
order  to  avoid  the  fury  of  his  creditors  ;  and  that  he 
was  entered  into  a  company  of  strolling  players,  who 
wore  at  that  time  exhibiting  at  Peterborough. 

Ho  now  therefore  thought  he  owed  the  Colonel,  in 
justice,  an  opportunity  of  promoting  his  fortune,  as  he 
had  once  deprived  him  of  an  occasion  of  satisfying  his 
love.  Ou  iteau  therefore  invited  the  lady  to  be  of  a 
party  to  ictcrborough,  and  offered  his  own  equipage, 
which  was  then  one  of  the  most  elegant  in  England,  to 
conduct  her  there.  The  proposal  being  accepted,  the 
lady,  the  nobleman,  and  Mr.  Nash,  arrived  in  town  just 
as  the  players  were  going  to  begin. 

Colonel  M ,  who  used  every  means  of  remaining 

incognito,  and  who  was  too  proud  to  make  his  distresses 
known  to  any  of  his  former  acquaintonce,  was  now 
degraded  into  the  character  of  Tom  in  the  Conscious 

Lovers.    Miss  L was  placed  in  the  foremost  row  of 

the  spectators,  her  lord  on  one  side,  and  the  impatient 
Nash  on  the  other  ;  when  the  unhappy  youth  appeared 
in  that  despicable  situation  upon  the  stage.  The 
moment  he  came  on,  his  former  mistress  struck  his  view, 
but  his  amazement  was  increased  when  he  saw  her 
fainting  away  in  the  arms  of  those  who  sat  behind  her. 
He  was  incapable  of  proceeding,  and  scarce  knowing 
what  he  did,  he  flew  and  caught  her  in  his  arms. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  333 

'Colonel,'    orie,l    NaHh.    «hcn   they   were    i,.    «„„o 
mcaHurc  recovered,  'you  oneo  thought  mo  v..„r  enemy 

•r^h?r       r  ;r"""^'   '"   P"*"'"'   J"»   '^"h   '«>" 
rummg  ench  other ;    you  were  then  «TOng,  nnd  you 

hnve  long  had  my  forgiveneRH.  If  you  love  'ell  enough 
now  for  m„trm,o„y,  you  fairly  have  my  consent,  and 
<l— -n  hmi,  Hay  I,  that  attempts  to  part  you.'  Their 
I'Tr  "  '';;'^/".'^">"'«'''  "°«n  ofter,  and  affluence  adde,l 
a  zcHt  to  all  thcr  future  enjoymentH.  Mr.  Nanh  had  the 
thankH  of  each,  and  ho  afterwards  spent  several  agreeable 
days  .n  that  society,  which  he  had  contributed  tfTnder 

I  shall  bog  the  rentiers  patience,  while  I  give  another 
mstanco,  m  which  ho  ineffectually  offen-d  hi  assistance 
and  advice.  This  story  is  not  from  himself ;  but  told 
us  partly  by  Mr  Wood,  the  architect  of  Bath,  as  it  fell 
particularly  within  his  own  knowledge  ;  and  partly  from 
another  memoir,  to  which  ho  rofers. 

Miss  Sylvia  S— -  was  descended  from  one  of  the  best 

ZnZ^  ^"  ^'"f"'"'  """  ""«  ^'''  »  '"^g^  fortune 
upon  her  sisters  decease.  She  had  early  in  life  been 
intm^uced  into  the  best  company,  and  contracted  a 
,K  ;.  ■  '"'  !**"**  *"'•  expense.  It  is  usual  to  make 
the  heroine  of  a  story  very  witty,  and  very  beautifuj, 
and  such  circumstances  are  so  surely  expected,  that 
they  are  scarce  attended  to.  But  whatever  the  finest 
poet  could  conceive  of  wit,  or  the  most  celebrated  painter 
.magme  of  beauty,  were  excelled  in  the  perfections  of 
this  young  lady.  Her  superiority  in  both  was  allowed 
by  all  who  either  heard,  or  had  seen  her.  She  was 
naturally  gay,  generous  to  a  fault,  good-natured  to  the 
highest  degree,  affable  in  conversation,  and  some  of  her 
lette™  and  other  writings,  as  well  in  verse  as  prose, 
would  have  shone  amongst  those  of  the  most  celebrated 
wits  of  this,  or  any  other  age,  had  they  been  published. 


S24 


THE  LIFE  OF 


J 


But  thrao  great  qualiflcatioitH  were  marked  by  another, 
H'hirli  leMienecl  the  value  of  them  all.  She  wan  inipnident  I 
But  let  it  not  l)e  imagined,  that  her  reputation  or  honour 
Huffered  by  her  imprudence  ;  I  only  mean,  Bhe  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  UHe  of  money ;  nhe  relieve<l  diHtreHH,  by 
putting  hemclf  into  the  circumKtance»  of  the  object 
whoHC  unntH  hHo  nupplied. 

She  waH  arrived  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  when  the 
crowd  of  her  lovers,  and  the  continual  rejKtition  of  new 
flattery,  had  taught  her  to  think  she  could  never  be 
forsaken,  and  never  poor.  Young  ladieH  are  opt  to  expect 
n  certainty  of  bucccss,  from  a  number  of  lovcm ;  and  yet 
I  have  Heldom  seen  a  girl  courted  by  a  hundred  lovers 
that  found  a  husband  in  any.  Before  the  choice  is 
fixed,  she  has  either  lost  her  reputation,  or  her  good 
sense  ;  and  the  loss  of  either  is  sutTicient  to  consign  her 
to  perpetual  virginity. 

Among  the  number  of  this  young  lady's  lovers  was 

the  celebrated  S ,  who,  at  that  time,  went  by  the 

name  of  the  good-natured  man.  This  gentleman,  with 
talents  that  might  have  done  honour  to  humanity, 
suffered  himself  to  fall  at  length  into  the  lowest  state  of 
debasement.  He  followed  the  dictates  of  every  newest 
passion,  his  love,  his  pity,  his  generosity,  and  even  his 
friendships  were  all  in  excess  ;  he  was  imable  to  make 
head  against  any  of  his  sensations  or  dcsircc,  but  they 
were  in  general  worthy  wishes  and  desires  ;  for  he  was 
constitutionally  virtuous.  This  gentleman,  who  at  last 
died  in  a  jail,  was  ot  that  time  this  lady's  envied 
favourite. 

It  is  probable  that  he,  thoughtless  creature,  had  no 
other  prospect  from  this  amour  but  that  of  passing  the 
present  moments  agreeably.  He  only  courted  dissipa- 
tion, but  the  lady's  thoughi  were  fixed  on  happiness.  At 
length,  however,  his  debts  amounting  to  a  considerable 


RICHARD  NASH.  KSQ.  325 

Hum,  ho  was  iirrt«twl,  aixl  thrown  into  prison  Ho 
eridcavouroil  nt  tln-t  to  ..oi.ooul  his  »it,mti„„  fr,„„  hi» 
bcnutifiil  iniHtriH,) ;  but  Hha  noon  oaiiio  t»  a  k.ioHlo.lKo 
of  hiN  diHtroHH,  urul  tcMjIt  ,1  fatal  roHolutioii  ..f  fm.i„g  him 
from  confinement  by  ili»charging  all  tho  (lemamlN  of  hiM 
cretlitont. 

Mr.  Na«h  was  at  that  tinio  in  London,  and  rcpn wntod 
to  tho  thoiightloHH  young  lady,  that  with  a  nica»uw 
would  cffc-jtually  ruin  both  ;   that  ho  warm  a  concern 

for  tho  intercHtH  of  Mr.  S ,  would  in  tho  Hrnt  plaoo 

quite  iniimir  her  fortune,  in  the  eyen  of  our  Hex  ;  and 
what  was  worHe,  IcHHon  her  reputation  in  tho»o  of  her 

own.     He  added,  that  thus  bringing  Mr.  S .  from 

priHon,  would  bo  only  a  temporary  relief ;  that  a  mind 
Hc  generous  as  his  would  become  bankrupt,  under  the 
load  of  gratitude  ;  and  instead  of  improving  in  friend- 
ship or  affection,  hc  would  only  study  to  avoid  a  creditor 
he  could  never  repay ;  that  though  small  favours  i)roduce 
g(K)dwill,  groat  ones  destroy  friendship.  These  admoni- 
tions, however,  were  disregarded,  and  she  too  late  found 
the  prudence  and  truth  of  her  adviser.  In  short,  her 
fortune  was  by  this  means  exhausted ;  and,  with  all 
her  attractions,  she  foimd  her  acquaintance'  began  to 
diHORteen)  her,  in  proportion  as  she  became  jraor. 

1m  <ln,  situation  she  accepted  Mr.  Nash's  invitation 
of  returning  to  Bath  ;  he  promised  to  introduce  her  to 
the  best  company  there,  and  he  was  assured  that  her 
merit  would  do  the  rest :  upon  her  very  first  appearance, 
ladies  of  the  highest  distinction  courted  her  friendship 
and  esteem;  but  a  settled  melancholy  had  taken 
poEsession  of  her  mind,  and  no  amusements  that  they 
could  propose  were  sufficient  to  divert  it.  Yet  still 
us  if  froni  habit,  she  followed  the  crowd  in  its  levities' 
and  frequented  those  places  where  all  persons  endeavour 
to  forget  themselves  in  the  bustle  of  ceremony  and  show. 


326 


THE  UFE  OF 


■i 


Her  beauty,  her  simpUcity,  and  her  unguarded  situa- 
tion, soon  drew  the  attention  of  a  designing  wretch,  who 
at  that  time  kept  one  of  the  roomB  at  Bath,  and  who 
thought  that  this  lady's  merit,  properly  managed, 
might  turn  to  good  account.  This  woman's  name  was 
Dame  Lindsey,  a  creature,  who,  though  vicious,  was  m 
appearance  sanctified  ;  and,  though  designing,  had  some 
wit  and  humour.    She  began  by  the  humblest  assiduity 

to  ingratiate  herself  with  Miss  S ;  showed  that  she 

could  be  amusing  as  a  companion,  and  by  frequent 
offers  of  money,  proved,  that  she  could  be  useful  as 
a  friend.  Thus,  by  degrees,  she  gained  an  entire  ascen- 
dant over  this  pooi,  thoughtless,  deserted  girl ;  and,  in 
less  than  one  year,  namely  about  1727,  Miss  S— -, 
without  ever  transgressing  the  laws  of  virtue,  had 
entirely  lost  her  reputation.  Whenever  a  person  was 
wanting  to  make  up  a  party  for  play  at  Dame  Lindsey's, 
Sylvia  as  she  was  then  famiUarly  called,  was  sent  for, 
and  was  obliged  to  suffer  all  those  slights  which  the 
rich  but  too  often  let  faU  upon  their  inferiors  in  pomt 

of  fortune.  ,.  i    <. 

In  most,  even  the  greatest,  minds,  the  heart  at  last 
becomes  level  with  the  meanness  of  its  condition  ;  but, 
in  this  charming  girl,  it  struggled  hard  with  adversity 
and  yielded  to  every  encroachment  of  contempt  with 
sullen  reluctance. 

But  though  in  the  course  of  three  years  she  was  m 
the  very  eye  of  public  inspection,  yet  Mr.  Wood,  the 
architect,  avers,  that  he  could  never,  by  the  strictest 
observations,  perceive  her  to  be  tainted  with  any  other 
vice,  than  that  of  suffering  herself  to  be  decoyed  to  the 
gaming-table,  and,  at  her  own  hazard,  playing  for  the 
amusement  and  advantage  of  others.  Her  friend,  Mr. 
Nash,  therefore,  thought  proper  to  induce  her  to  break 
off  aU  connexions  with  Dame  Lindsey,  and  to  rent  part 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  327 

of  Mr.  Wood's  house,  in  Queen  Square,  where  ehe 
behaved  with  the  utmost  complaisance,  regularity,  and 
virtue. 

In  this  situation  her  detestation  of  life  still  continued  ; 
she  found  that  time  would  infallibly  deprive  her  of  part 
of  her  attractions,  and  that  continual  solicitude  would 
impair  the  rest.  With  these  reflections  she  would 
frequently  entertain  herself  and  an  old  faithful  maid  in 
the  vales  of  Bath,  whenever  the  weather  would  permit 
them  to  walk  out.  She  would  even  sometimes  start 
questions  in  company,  with  seeming  unconcern,  in  order 
to  know  what  act  of  suicide  was  easiest,  and  which  was 
attended  with  the  smallest  pain.  When  tired  with  exer- 
cise, she  generally  retired  to  meditation,  and  she  became 
habituated  to  early  hours  of  sleep  and  rest.  But  when 
the  weather  prevented  her  usual  exercise,  and  her  sleep 
was  thus  more  difficult,  she  made  it  a  rule  to  rise  from 
her  bed,  and  walk  about  her  chamber,  till  she  began  to 
find  an  inclination  for  repose. 

This  custom  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  order 
a  burning  candle  to  be  kept  all  night  in  her  room.  And 
the  maid  usuaUy,  when  she  withdrew,  locked  the  chamber 
door,  and  pushing  thj  key  under  it  beyond  reach,  her 
mistress  by  that  constant  method  lay  undisturbed  till 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  then  she  arose,  unlocked 
the  door,  and  rang  the  bell,  as  a  signal  for  the  maid  to 
return. 

This  stat«  of  seeming  piety,  regularity,  and  prudence, 
continued  for  some  time,  till  the  gay,  celebrated,  toasted 
Miss  Sylvia  was  sunk  into  a  housekeeper  to  the  gentleman 
at  whose  house  she  lived.  She  was  unable  to  keep 
company  for  want  of  the  elegances  of  dress,  that  are  the 
usual  passport  among  the  poUte,  and  she  was  too  haughty 
to  seem  to  want  them.  The  fashionable,  the  amusing, 
and  the  polite  in  society  now  seldom  visited  her,  and 


\>  a 


328  THE  LIFE  OP 

from  being  once  the  object  of  every  eye,  she  was  now 
deserted  by  aU,  and  preyed  upon  by  the  bitter  reflections 
of  her  own  imprudence. 

Mr.  Wood,  and  part  of  his  family,  were  gone  to 
London.  Miss  Sylvia  was  left  with  the  rest  as  a  governess 
at  Bath.  She  sometimes  saw  Mr.  Nash,  and  acknow- 
ledged the  friendship  of  his  admonitions,  though  she 
refused  to  accept  any  other  marks  of  his  generosity,  than 
that  of  advice.  Upon  the  close  of  the  day,  in  which 
Mr.  Wood  was  expected  to  return  from  London,  she 
expressed  some  uneasiness  at  the  disappointment  of  not 
seeing  him ;  took  particular  care  to  settle  the  affairs 
of  his  family,  and  then  as  usual  sat  down  to  meditation. 
She  now  cast  a  retr9spect  over  her  past  misconduct,  and 
her  approaching  misery ;  she  saw,  that  even  affl-ence 
gave  her  no  real  happiness,  and  from  indigence  she 
thought  nothing  could  be  hoped  but  lingering  calamity. 
She  at  length  conceived  the  fatal  resolution  of  leaving 
a  life  in  which  she  could  see  no  comer  for  comfort,  and 
terminating  a  scene  of  imprudence  in  suicide. 

Thus  resolved,  she  sat  down  at  her  dining-room 
window,  and  with  cool  intrepidity,  wrote  the  following 
elegant  lines  on  one  of  the  panes  of  the  window. 

0  death  ;  thou  pleasing  end  of  human  woe  : 
Thou  cure  for  life  !    Thou  greatest  good  below  i 
Still  may'st  thou  fly  the  coward,  and  the  slave, 
And  thy  soft  slumbers  only  bless  the  brave. 

She  then  went  into  company  with  the  most  cheerful 
serenity ;  talked  of  indifferent  subjects  till  supper,  which 
she  ordered  to  be  got  ready  in  a  little  library  belonging 
to  the  family.  There  she  spent  the  remaining  hours, 
preceding  bed-time,  in  dandling  two  of  Mr.  Wood's 
children  on  her  knees.  In  retiring  from  thence  to  her 
chamber,  she  went  into  the  nursery,  to  take  her  leave 
of  another  child,  as  it  lay  sleeping  in  the  cradle.    Struck 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  329 

with  the  innocence  of  the  little  babe's  looks,  and  the 
consciousness  of  her  meditated  guilt,  she  could  not  avoid 

then  bid  her  qld  servant  a  good  night,  for  the  first  time 
she  had  ever  done  so,  and  went  to  bed  as  usual 

it  18  probable  she  soon  quitted  her  bed,  and  was 
seized  with  an  alternation  of  passions,  befoi.  she  yielded 
to  the  impulse  of  despair.  She  dressed  herself  in  clean 
linen,  and  white  garments  of  every  kind,  like  a  bride- 
maid.  Her  gown  was  pinned  over  her  breast,  just  as 
a  nurse  pms  the  swaddling  clothes  of  an  infant.  A  pink 
silk  girdle  was  the  instrument  with  which  she  ..solved 
to  termmate  her  misery,  and  this  was  lengthened  by 
another  made  of  gold  thread.  The  end  of  the  former 
was  tied  with  a  noose,  and  the  latter  with  three  knots 
at  a  small  distance  from  one  another 

.JYl  ^^^^^;  ^^^  ^*'  "^"^  ^8''^'  ^°d  read;    for 
she  left  the  book  open  at  that  place,  in  the  story  of 
Olympia   m  the  Orlando  Furioso  of  Ariosto,  where   by 
the  perfidy  and  ingratitude  of  her  bosom  friend,  she  was 
ruined,  and  left  to  the  mercy  of  an  unpitying  world. 
This  tragical  event  gave  her  fr«sh  spirits  to  go  through 
her  fatal   purpose;    so,  standing   upon   a   stool,  and 
flingmg  the  girdle,  which  was  tied  round  her  neck  over 
a  closet-door  that  opened  into  her  chamber,  she  remained 
suspended.    Her  weight,  however,  broke  the  girdle,  and 
the  poor  despan^r  feU  upon  the  floor  with  such  violence 
that  her  faU  awakened  a  workman  that  lay  in  the  house 
atwut  half  an  hour  after  two  o'clock 

Recovering  herself,  she  began  to  walk  about  the  room 
as  her  usual  custom  was  when  she  wanted  sleep ;  and 
the  workman  imagining  it  to  be  only  some  ordinary 
accident,  agam  went  to  sleep.  She  once  mor«,  therefore 
had  recourse  to  a  stronger  girdle  made  of  silver  thread  ; 
and  this  kept  her  suspended  tiU  she  died. 

M3 


330 


THE  UTE  OF 


Her  old  maid  continued  in  the  morning  to  wait  aa 
usual  for  the  ringing  of  the  bell,  and  protracted  her 
patience,  hour  after  hour,  till  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon ;  when  the  workmen  at  length  entering  the  room 
through  the  window,  found  their  unfortunate  mistress 
still  hanging,  and  quite  cold.  The  coroner's  jury  being 
empanelled,  brought  in  their  verdict  lunacy ;  and  her 
corpse  was  next  night  decently  buried  in  her  father's 
grave,  at  the  charge  of  a  female  companion,  with  whom 
she  had  for  many  years  an  inseparable  intimacy. 

Thus  ended  a  female  wit,  a  toast,  and  a  gamester ; 
loved,  admired,  and  forsaken.  Formed  for  the  delight  of 
society,  fallen  by  imprudence  into  an  object  of  pity. 
Hundreds  in  high  life  lamented  her  fate,  and  wished, 
when  too  late,  to  redress  her  injuries.  They  who  once 
had  helped  to  impair  her  fortune,  now  regretted  that 
they  had  assisted  in  so  mean  a  pursuit.  The  little 
effects  she  had  left  behind  were  bought  up  with  the 
greatest  avidity,  by  those  who  desired  to  preserve  some 
token  of  a  companion,  that  once  had  given  them  such 
delight.  The  remembrance  of  every  virtue  she  was 
possessed  of  was  now  improved  by  pity.  Her  former 
follies  were  few,  but  the  last  swelled  them  to  a  large 
amount.  As  she  remains  the  strongest  instance  to 
posterity,  that  want  of  prudence,  alone,  almost  cancels 
every  other  virtue. 

In  all  this  unfortunate  lady's  affairs  Mr.  Nash  took 
a  peculiar  concern  ;  he  directed  her  when  they  played, 
advised  her  when  she  deviated  from  the  rules  of  caution, 
and  performed  the  last  offices  of  friendship  after  her 
decease,  by  raising  the  auction  of  her  little  effects. 

But  he  was  not  only  the  assistant  and  the  friend  of 
the  fair  sex,  but  also  their  defender.  He  secured  their 
persons  from  insult,  and  their  reputations  from  scandal. 
Nothing  offended  him  more,  than  a  young  fellow's 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  331 

pretending  to  receive  favours  from  ladieH  he  probably 
never  saw ;  nothing  pleased  him  so  much,  as  seeing  such 
a  piece  of  deliberate  mischief  punished.    Mr.  Nash  and 
one  of  his  friends,  being  newly  arrived  at  Tunbridge  from 
Bath,  were  one  day  on  the  Walks,  and  seeing  a  young 
fellow  of  fortune,  with  whom  they  had  some  slight 
acquaintance,  joined  him.     Alter  the  usual  chat  and 
news  of  the  day  was  over,  Mr.  Nash  asked  him,  how  long 
he  had  been  at  the  Wells,  and  what  company  was  there  ? 
The  other  replied,  he  had  been  at  Tunbridge  a  month  ; 
but  as  for  company,  he  could  find  as  good  at  a  Tyburn 
baU.     .Not  a  soul  was  to  bo  seen,  except  a  parcel  of 
gamesters  and  whores,  who  would  grant  the  last  favour 
for  a  single  stake  at  the  Pharaoh  bank.     '  Look  you 
there,'  continued  he,  '  that  Goddess  of  midnight    so 
fine,  at  t'other  end  of  the  Walks,  by  Jove,  she  was 
mine  this  morning  for  half  a  guinea.    And  she  there 
who  brings  up  the  rear  with  powdered  hair  and  dirty 
ruffles,  she  's  pretty  enough,  but  cheap,  perfectly  cheap  ■ 
why,  my  boys,  to  my  own  knowledge,  you  may  have 
her  for  a  crown,  and  a  dish  of  chocolate  into  the 
bargam.      Last   Wednesday   night   wo   were    happy. 
Hold  there,  sir,'  cried  the  gentleman  ;    '  as  for  your 
ha,vmg  the  first  lady,  it  is  possible  it  may  be  true,  and 
I  mtend  to  ask  her  about  it,  for  she  is  my  sister  ;   but 
as  to  your  lying  with  the  other  last  Wednesday,  I  am 
sure  you  are  a  lying  rascal— she  is  my  wife,  and  wo 
came  here  but  last  night.*     The  buck  vainly  asked 
pardon ;   the  gentleman  was  going  to  give  him  projjcr 
chastisement ;   when  Mr.  Nash  interposed  in  his  behalf, 
and  obtained  his  pardon,  upon  condition  that  he  quitted 
Tunbridge  immediately. 

But  Mr.  Nash  not  only  took  care,  during  his  administra- 
tion, to  protect  the  ladies  from  the  insults  of  our  sex, 
but  to  guard  them  from  the  slanders  of  each  other.    He 


THE  LIFE  OF 

in  the  first  place,  prevented  a'  .y  animonities  that  might 
arise  from  place  and  precedence,  by  being  previously 
acquainted  with  the  rank  and  quality  of  almost  every 
family  in  the  British  dominions.  He  endeavoured  to 
render  scandal  odious,  by  marking  it  as  the  result  of 
envy  and  folly  united.  Not  oven  Solon  could  have 
enacted  a  wissr  law  in  such  a  society  as  Bath.  The 
gay,  the  heedless,  and  the  idle,  which  mostly  compose 
the  group  of  water-drinkers,  seldom  are  at  the  pains 
of  talking  upon  universal  topics,  which  require  com- 
prehensive thought,  or  abstract  reasoning.  The  adven- 
tures of  the  little  circle  of  their  own  acquaintance,  or  of 
some  names  of  quality  and  fashion,  make  up  their  whole 
conversation.  But  it  is  too  likely,  that  when  we  mention 
those,  we  wish  to  depress  them,  in  order  to  render 
ourselves  more  conspicuous ;  scandal  must  therefore 
have  fixed  her  throne  at  Bath,  preferable  to  any  other 
part  of  the  kingdom.  However,  though  these  endeavours 
oould  not  totally  suppress  this  custom  among  the  fair, 
yet  they  gained  him  the  friendship  of  several  ladies  of 
distinction,  who  had  smarted  pretty  severely  under 
the  lash  of  censure.  Among  this  number  was  the  old 
Duchess  of  Marlborough,  who  conceived  a  particular 
friendship  for  him,  and  which  continued  during  her  life. 
She  frequently  consulted  him  in  several  concerns  of 
a  private  nature.  Her  letting  leases,  building  bridges,  or 
forming  canals,  were  often  carried  on  under  his  guidance  ; 
but  she  advised  with  him  particularly  in  purchasing 
liveries  for  the  footmen ;  a  business  to  which  she  thought 
his  genius  best  adapted.  As  anything  relative  to  her 
may  please  the  curiosity  of  such  as  delight  in  the 
anecdotes  and  letters  of  the  great,  however  dull  and 
insipid,  I  shall  beg  leave  to  present  them  with  one  or 
two  of  her  letters,  collected  at  a  venture  from  several 
others  to  the  same  purpose. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 
To  Mr.  Nash,  at  the  Bath. 


333 


B'cniteim,  Stpl.   18,   172t 

Mr.  .Ibnnens  will  give  you  an  account  how  little  time 

I  have  in  my  power,  and  that  will  make  my  excuse  for 

not  thanking  you  sooner  for  the  favour  of  your  Uter 

and  for  the  trouble  you  have  given  yourself  in  bespeak- 

mg  the  cloth,  which  I  am  sure  will  be  good,  since  you 

have  undertaken  to  order  it.    Pray  ask  Mrs.  Jennens 

concerning  the   cascade,   which   will   satisfy  all   your 

doubts  in  that  matter ;   she  saw  it  play,  which  it  will 

do  in  great  beauty,  for  at  least  six  hours  together,  and  it 

runs  enough  to  cover  all  the  stones  constantly,  and  is 

a  hundred  feet  broad,  which  I  am  told  is  a  much  greater 

breadth  than  any  cascade  is  in  England ;  and  this  will  be 

yet  better  than  it  is,  when  it  is  quite  finished  ;  this  water 

is  a  great  addition  to  this  place,  and  the  lake  being 

thirty  acres,  out  of  which  the  cascade  comes  and  falls 

mto  the  canal  that  goes  through  the  bridge,  it  makes 

that  look  as  if  it  was  necessary,  which  before  seemed  so 

otherwise, 

I  am 
Your  most  humble  Servant, 

S.  Marlborouoh. 


Sib, 


To  Mr.  Noah,  at  the  Bath. 

Marlborough  House,  May  17,  1735. 


I  have  received  the  favour  of  yours  of  the  tenth 
of  May,  with  that  from  Mr.  Harvey.  And  by  last  post 
I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Overton,  a  sort  of  a  bailiff 
and  a  surveyor,  whom  I  have  employed  a  great  while  upon 
my  estates  in  Wiltshire.  He  is  a  very  active  and  very 
useful  man  of  his  sort.  He  writes  to  me,  that  Mr. 
Harvey  has  been  with  him,  and  brought  him  a  paper. 


334 


THE  LIFE  OF 


which  I  Hcnt  you.  He  myn,  that  finding  he  wm  a  man 
that  was  desiroiii  to  serve  me,  he  had  assisted  him  all 
he  could,  by  informations  which  he  has  given  ;  and 
that  he  should  continue  to  assist  him.  I  have  writ  to 
him  that  ho  did  mighty  well.  There  is  likewise  a  con- 
siderable tenant  of  my  Lord  Bruce 's,  his  name  is  Cannons, 
who  has  promised  me  his  assistance  towards  rL'-ommcnd- 
ing  tenants  fo  t  hese  farms.  And  if  Mr.  Harvey  happens 
to  know  such  a  man,  he  may  put  him  in  mind  of  it. 
I  am  sure  you  do  me  all  the  good  you  can.  And  I  hope 
you  are  sure  that  I  shall  always  be  sensible  of  the 
obligations  I  have  to  you,  and  ever  be 

Your  most  thankful  and  obliged 

I  humble  Servant, 

S.  Marlboeough. 
Mr.  Harvey  may  conclude  to  take  any  prices  that  were 
given  you  in  the  paper.  But  as  I  know  that  wo  have 
been  scandalously  cheated,  if  he  finds  that  anything 
can  be  let  better  than  it  has  been  let,  I  do  not  doubt 
but  he  will  do  it. 


The  Duchess  of  Marlborough  seems  not  to  be  a  much 
better  writer  than  Mr.  Nash,  but  she  was  worth  many 
hundred  thousand  pounds,  and  that  might  console  her. 
It  may  give  splenetic  philosophy,  however,  some  scope 
for  meditation,  when  it  considers,  what  a  parcel  of 
stupid  trifles  the  world  is  ready  to  admire. 

Whatever  might  have  been  Mr.  Nash's  other  excel- 
lences, there  was  one  in  which  few  exceeded  him  ;  I 
mean  his  extensive  humanity.  None  felt  pity  more 
strongly,  and  none  made  greater  efforts  to  relieve 
distress.  If  I  were  to  name  any  reigning  and  fashionable 
virtue  in  the  present  age,  I  think  it  should  be  charity. 
The  numberless  benefactions  privately  given,  the  various 
public  solicitations  for  charity,  and  the  success  they 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  33B 

meet  with,  nerre  to  prove,  that  though  we  may  fall 
short  of  our  ancestors  in  other  respects,  yet  in  this 
instance  we  greatly  excel  them.  I  know  not  whether 
it  may  not  be  spreading  the  influence  of  Mr.  Nash  too 
widely  to  say,  that  he  was  one  of  the  principal  causes  of 
introducing  this  noble  emulation  among  the  rich ;  but 
certain  it  is,  no  private  man  ever  relieved  the  distresses 
of  so  many  as  he  did. 

Before  gaming  was  suppressed,  and  in  the  meridian 
of  his  life  and  fortune,  his  benefactions  were  generally 
found  to  equal  his  other  expenses.  The  money  he  got 
without  pain,  he  gave  away  without  reluctance  ;  and 
whenever  unable  to  relieve  a  wretch  who  sued  for  assist- 
ance, he  has  been  often  seen  to  shed  tears.  A  gentleman 
of  broken  fortune,  one  day  standing  behind  his  chair,  as 
he  was  playing  a  game  of  picquet  for  two  hundred  pounds, 
and  obf  erving  with  what  indifference  he  won  the  money, 
could  not  avoid  whispering  these  words  to  another 
who  stood  by,  *  Heavens  !  how  happy  would  all  that 
money  make  me  ! '  Nash,  overhearing  him,  clapped  the 
money  into  his  hand  ;  and  cried,  '  Go  and  be  happy.' 

About  six  and  thirty  years  ago,  a  clergyman  brought 
his  family  to  Bath  for  the  benefit  of  the  waters.  His 
wife  laboured  under  a  lingering  disorder,  which  it  was 
thought  nothing  but  the  Hot  Wells  could  remove.  The 
expenses  of  living  there  soon  lessened  the  poor  man's 
finances  ;  his  clothes  were  sold,  piece  by  piece,  to 
provide  a  temporary  relief  for  his  little  family ;  and  his 
appearance  was  at  last  so  shabby,  that,  from  the  number 
of  holes  in  his  coat  and  stockings,  Nash  gave  him  the 
name  of  Doctor  Cullender.  Our  beau,  it  seems,  was  rude 
enough  to  make  a  jest  of  poverty,  though  he  had  sensi- 
bility enough  to  relieve  it.  The  poor  clergyman  combated 
his  distresses  with  fortitude  ;  and,  instead  of  attempting 
to  solicit  relief,  endeavoured  to  conceal  them.     Upon 


!  J! 


i  I. 

n 


836  THE  UPE  OF 

a  living  of  thirty  pounds  a  year  ho  endeavoured  to 
maintain  hia  wife  and  six  ohildron  ;  but  all  his  remuioeH 
at  last  failed  him,  and  nothing  but  famine  was  seen  in 
f-  wretched  family.  The  poor  man's  oiroumstanoes  wer» 
»i  last  communicated  to  Nash ;  who,  with  his  usual 
cheerfulness,  undertook  to  relieve  him.    On  a  Sunday 
evening,  at  a  public  tea-drinking  at  Harrison's,  he  went 
about  to  collect  a  subscription,  and  began  it  himself,  by 
giving  Hve  guineas.   By  this  means,  two  hundred  guineas 
were  collected  in  less  than  two  ^  ours,  and  the  poor  family 
raised  from  the  lowest  despondence  into  affluence  and 
felicity.    A  bounty  so  unexpected  had  a  better  influence 
even   upon   the  woman's   constitution  than  all  that 
either  the  physicians  or  the  waters  of   Bath  could 
produce,  and  she  recovered.    But  his  good  offices  did  not 
rest  here.    He  prevailed  upon  a  nobleman  of  his  acquaint- 
ance to  present  the  Doctor  with  a  living  of  a  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds  a  year,  which  made  that  happiness,  he 
had  before  produced,  in  some  measure  permanent. 

In  the  severe  winter,  which  happened  in  the  'ear 
1730,  his  charity  was  great,  useful,  and  extensiv  He 
frequently,  at  that  season  of  calamity,  ente-  ..  the 
houses  of  the  poor,  whom  he  thought  too  proud  w>  beg 
and  generously  relieved  them.  The  colliers  were  at  this 
time  peculiarly  distressed;  and,  in  onJer  to  excite 
compassion,  a  number  of  them  yoked  themselves  to 
a  wagon  loaded  with  coals,  and  drew  it  into  Bath  and 
presented  it  to  Mr.  Nash.  Their  scheme  had  the  proper 
effect.  Mr.  Na-.h  procured  them  a  subscription,  and  gave 
ten  guineas  to  rds  it  himself.  The  weavers  also  shared 
his  bounty  at  that  season.  They  came  begging  in  a  body 
mto  Bath,  and  he  provided  a  plentiful  dinner  for  their 
entertainment,  and  gave  each  a  week's  subsistence  at 
going  away. 
There  are  few  pubUc  charities  to  which  he  was  not 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  337 

l^"^I'  ""'^  ""l"^  '"'  P""'''P»"y  contributed  to 
"upport.  Among  others,  Mr.  Anne«lcy,  that  .trsngo 
example  of  the  mutability  of  fortune,  and  the  ineffioacy 
of  our  l8w«,  shared  hu  interest  and  bounty.  I  have  now 
before  me  a  well-written  letter,  addressed  to  Mr.  Nash 
m  order  to  obtain  his  interest  for  that  unhappy  gentle^ 

tZT^     1  r^"^  adventurer's  interest,  and,  I  am 
told,  fell  with  him. 

My  Good  Fribnd,  ^'^'^  °^'  ^'^  ""^ 

♦  T    Y^r  ^.^"^  ""^  '"'"'""'  °'  conversing  with  thee 

stllar"?:-'"  '''"*'"'"'  """•  -"-™'n«  that  mS 
wngular  stnkmg  case  of  Mr.  Annasley,  whom  I  have 

e^T.rr  ^u  T  "•""*  "''  y"""  "'-l.  I  being  then 
emp'.y^  by  thelate  I.,rd  Baron  of  Altham,  his  father 
as  h  s  agent.    Fro„  what  I  know  of  the  affairs  of  tha 
amily.  I  am  well  assured,  that  Mr.  Annesley  is  tno 
legitimate  son  of  the  late  Ix,rd  Baron  of  Altham,  and  in 

of  Anglesey.  Were  I  not  well  assured  of  his  right  to 
thc»e  honours  and  estates,  I  would  not  give  countenance 
to  h,s  ela.m.-I  well  remember,  that  then  then  madest 
tTat  w^r*',!'  ""'^r}^  ^  """'"^^K  "  "Ubscription, 
nof^thil  tK^?""/*  JT''"''«'=  ''"*'  o'thatplaiewas 
not  wthm  the  l.m.ts  of  thy  province,  thou  couldest  not 
promise  to  do  much  there.  But  thou  saidst,  that  in  case 
he  would  go  to  Bath  in  the  season,  thou  wouldest  then 
and  there  show  how  much  thou  wouldest  be  his  friend 
«n7M  T'  "y  ^"^  ^™"'''  "'  *■»«  ««»°n  is  come  on,' 

thl^fh'^^^  ""^  "*  ^"''  '  ^«  '""^^  t°  ™™ind 
thee  of  that  promise ;  and  that  thou  wilt  keep  in  full  view 

redound  to  thee  from  thy  benevolence,  and  crown  all  the 


338 


THE  LIFE  OF 


good  actionn  of  thy  life. — I  nay,  now  in  the  vaki  of  life, 
to  relieve  a  dixtreiaed  young  nobleman,  to  extricate  so 
immenne  an  eatate,  from  the  hnndii  of  oppremion ;  to 
do  thin,  will  fix  «nch  a  ray  of  glory  on  thy  memory,  aH 
will  speak  forth  thy  praiw  to  future  aged. — Thii  with 
great  reitpcct  is  the  needful, 

from  thy  assur   i  Friend, 

WiLUAM  Henderson. 
Be  pleased  to  give  mi  roipccts  to  Mr.  Annesley  and 
his  spouse. 

Mr.  Nash  punctually  kept  his  word  with  this  gentle- 
man :  ho  began  the  subscription  himself  with  the  utmost 
librr..iity,  and  procured  such  a  list  of  encouragers,  as  at 
o]'oe  did  honour  to  Mr.  Annesley 's  cause,  and  their  own 
generosity.  What  a  pity  it  was,  that  this  money,  which 
was  given  for  the  relief  of  indigence  only,  went  to  feed 
a  set  of  reptiles,  who  batten  upon  our  weakness,  miseries, 
and  vice. 

It  may  not  be  known  to  the  generality'  of  my  readers, 
that  the  last  act  of  the  comedy,  callc<l  Esop,  which  was 
added  to  the  French  plot  of  Boursault,  by  Mr.  Van'-rugh, 
was  taken  from  n  story  told  of  Mr.  Nash,  upon  a  similar 
occasion.    He  had  in  the  early  part  of  life  made  proposals 

of  marriage  to  Miss  V ,  of  D ;   his  affluence  at 

that  time,  and  the  favour  which  he  was  in  with  the 
nobility,  readily  induced  the  young  lady's  father  to 
favour  his  addresses.  However,  upon  opening  the  afiair 
to  herself,  she  candidly  told  him,  her  affections  were 
placed  upon  another,  and  that  she  could  not  possibly 
comply.  Though  this  answer  satisfied  Mr.  Nash,  it  was 
by  no  means  sufficient  to  appease  the  father ;  and  he 
peremptorily  insisted  upon  her  obedience.  Things  were 
carried  to  the  last  extremity  ;  when  Mr.  Nash  under- 
took to  settle  the  affair  :  and  desiring  his  favoured  rival 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  339 

to  »jp  «.nt  for,  with  hU  ..«-n  hnn.l  prr»ontr<l  hJH  mi«tifHH 
to  him,   together  with  n   fortune  rc|.ml   to   whnt   her 
father    intended    to    give    her.     .S.,,!,    ,.„    uncommon 
inHtnnco  of  generoHity  hnd  nn  inntiint  effect  upon  the 
Hcvere  parent  ;   he  conHidered  nuch  diHinterentedneHH  m 
a  JUHt  reproneh  to  bin  ,:^^n  mercenary  di»,x>»ition,  and 
took  hm  dnughter  once  more  into  favour.   1  wish,  for  the 
dignity  of  history,  that  the  sequel  could  bo  conceale<l  • 
but  the  young  hi.ly  rnn  nwny  with  her  foofmnn,  before 
half  a  year  wan  expired  ;  nnd  her  huHbnnd  died  of  grief 
In  general,  the  benefaction»  of  a  generuuH  man  are 
but  III  bestowed.    His  heart  seldom  given  him  leave  to 
examine  the  real  diHtrens  of  the  object  whirli  micm  for 
pity  ;   hiH  goo<l  nature  taken  the  alarm  too  Hoon,  and  he 
bcHtows  hi«  fortune  on  only  apparent  WTctchednenH.  The 
man  naturally  frugal,  on  the  other  hand,  seldom  n-Iievc«  • 
but  when  he  .Iocs,  hin  reason,  and  not  his  sensntionH,' 
generally  find  out  the  object.     Ever>-  instance  of  hin 
bounty  iH  therefore  permanent,  and  Ix-ars  witness  fo  his 
benevolence. 

Of  all  the  immense  sums  which  XnKh  lavished  upon 
real  or  apparent  wretchedness,  the  effects   nfte-      f  « 
.years,  seemed  to  disappear.    His  money  wa»     v„orallv 
given  to   support   immediate  want,  or  to  ,    '.^ve   li.i'- 
provident  indolence,  and   therefore  it   vanisi . 
hour.    Perhaps  towards  the  close  of  life,  were  he  to  loc'- 
round  on  the  thousands  he  had  relieved,  he  would  fii. 
but  few  made  happy,  or  fixed  by  his  bounty  in  a  st.  • 
of  thriving  industry  ;    it  was  enough  for  him.  that  he 
gave  to  those  that  wantefl  ;    he  never  considered,  that 
chanty   to   some    might    impoverish    himself    without 
relieving  them  ;  he  seldom  considered  the  mi  the 

industry  of  the  petitioner ;  or  he  rather  fancied,  that 
misery  was  an  excuse  for  indolence  and  guilt.  It  was 
a  usual  s«ying  of  his,  when  ho  went  to   beg  for  anv 


340 


THE  LIFE  OF 


person  in  distresfl,  that  they  who  could  stoop  to  the 
meanness  of  solicitation,  must  certainly  want  the  favour 
for  which  they  petitioned. 

In  this  manner,  therefore,  he  gave  away  immense  sums 
of  his  own,  and  still  greater,  which  he  procured  from 
others.  His  way  was,  when  any  person  was  proposed 
to  him  as  an  object  of  charity,  to  go  round  with  his  hat, 
first  among  the  nobility,  according  to  their  rank,  and  so 
on,  till  he  left  scarce  a  single  person  unsolicited.  They 
who  go  thus  about  to  beg  for  others,  generally  find 
a  pleasure  in  the  task.  They  consider,  in  some  measure, 
every  benefaction  they  procure,  as  given  by  themselves, 
and  have  at  once  the  pleasure  of  being  liberal,  without 
the  self-reproach  of  being  profuse. 

But  of  all  the  inktances  of  Mr.  Nash's  bounty,  none 
docs  him  more  real  honour  than  the  pains  he  took  in 
establishing  a  hospital  at  Bath,  in  which  benefaction, 
however.  Doctor  Oliver  had  a  great  share.  This  was  one 
of  those  well-guided  charities,  dictated  by  reason,  and 
supported  by  prudence.  By  this  institution  the  diseased 
poor  might  recover  health,  when  incapable  of  receiving 
it  in  any  other  part  of  the  kingdom.  As  the  disorders  of 
the  poor,  who  could  expect  to  find  relief  at  Bath,  were 
mostly  chronical,  the  expense  of  maintaining  them  there 
was  found  more  than  their  parishes  thought  proper  to 
afford.  They  therefore  chose  to  support  them  in  a 
continual  state  of  infirmity,  by  a  small  allowance  at 
home,  rather  than  be  at  the  charge  of  an  expensive  cure. 
A  hospital  therefore  at  Bath,  it  was  thought,  would  be  an 
asylum,  and  a  place  of  relief  to  those  disabled  creatures, 
and  would,  at  the  same  time,  give  the  physician  more 
thorough  insight  into  the  efficacy  of  the  waters,  from  the 
regularity  with  which  such  patients  would  be  obliged  to 
take  them.  These  inducements  therefore  influenced 
Doctor  Oliver,  and  Mr.  Nash,  to  promote  a  subscription 


BICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


341 
towards  Buch  a  benefaction.    The  design  was  set  on  foot 

T.lf^Z'^^  f*'  ""■  *•"*  "°*  con^Pleted  till  the  year 
1742.    Thas  delay,  which  seems  surprising,  was  in  fact 
owing  to  the  want  of  a  proper  fund  for  carrying  the  work 
mto  execution.    What  1  said  above,  of  charity  being  the 
characteristic  virtue  of  the  present  age,  will  be  more 
fully  evmced,  by  comparing  the  old  and  new  .ubscrip- 
tions  for  this  hospital.    These  will  show  the  difference 
between  ancient  and  modem  benevolence.    When  I  run 
my  eye  over  the  list  of  those  who  subscribed  in  the 
year  1723,  I  find  the  subscription  in  general  seldom  rise 
above  a  guinea  each  person  ;  so  that,  at  that  time,  with 
all  their  efforts,  they  were  unable  to  raise  four  hundred 
pounds ;  but  in    bout  twenty  years  after,  each  particular 
subscription  was  greatly  increased-ten,  twenty,  thirty 
pounds,  being  themostord„.,ryGumssubscribed,  andthey 
soon  raised  above  two  thousand  pounds  for  the  purpose. 
Thus,  chiefly  by  the  means  of  Doctor  Oliver  and 
Mr.  Nash,  but  not  without  the  assistance  of  the  good 
Mr.  Allen,  who  gave  them  the  stone  for  building  and 
other  benefactions,  this  hospital  was  erected,  and  it  is 
at  present  fitted  up  for  the  reception  of  patients,  the 
cases  most  paralytic  or  leprous.   The  following  conditions 
are  observed  previous  to  admittance. 
^    '  I.     The  case  of  the  patient  must  be  described  by 
^  some  physician,  or  person  of  skill,  in  the  neighbour. 
^  hood  of  the  place  where  the  patient  has  resided  for  some 
^  time  ;  and  this  description,  together  with  a  certificate 
_  of  the  poverty  of  the  patient,  attested  by  some  persons 
_  of  credit,  must  be  sent  in  a  letter  post-paid,  directed 

to  the  register  of  the  General  Hospital  at  Bath. 
_    'II.   After  the  patient's  case  has  been  thus  described, 

.  fn  f  °v'  """*  ^""^^  '"  *''"  "«""'  P''"'^  «>•  residence 
tiU  he  has  notice  of  a  vacancy,  signified  by  a  letter 
trom  tno  register. 


342 


THE  UFE  OF 


'  III.  Upon  the  receipt  of  such  a  letter,  the  patient 
must  set  forward  for  Bath,  bringing  with  him  this 
letter,  the  parish  certificate  duly  executed,  and  allowed 
by  two  justices,  and  three  pounds  caution-money,  if 
from  any  part  of  England  or  Wales  ;  but  if  the  patient 
comes  from  Scotland  or  Ireland,  then  the  caution- 
money,  to  be  deposited  before  admission,  is  the  sum  of 
five  pounds. 

'  IV.  Soldiers  may,  instead  of  parish  certificates,  bring 
a  certificate  from  their  commanding  officers,  signifying 
to  what  corps  they  belong,  and  that  they  shall  be 
received  into  the  same  corps,  when  discharged  from 
the  Hospital,  in  whatever  condition  they  are.  But  it  is 
necessary  that  their  cases  bo  described,  and  sent 
previously,  and  that  they  bring  with  them  three 
pounds  caution-money. 

'Note.     The  intention  of  the  caution-money  is  to 
defray  the  expenses  of  returning  the  patients  after  they 
are  discharged  from  the  Hospital,  or  of  their  burial  in 
case  they  die  there.     The  remainder  of  the  caution- 
money,   after  these  expenses  are  defrayed,   will   be 
returned  to  the  person  who  made  the  deposit.' 
I  am  unwaiing  to  leave  this  subject  of  his  benevolence, 
because  it  is  a  virtue  in  his  character  which  must  stand 
almost  single  against  a  hundred  follies ;  and  it  deserves 
the  more  to  be  insisted  on,  because  it  was  large  enough  to 
outweigh  them  all.    A  man  may  be  a  hypocrite  safely 
in  every  other  instance,  but  in  charity  ;   there  are  few 
who  will  buy  the  character  of  benevolence  at  the  rate 
for  which  it  must  be  acquired.    In  short,  the  sums  he 
gave  away  were  immense  ;    and,  in  old  age,  when  at 
last  grown  too  poor  to  give  relief,  he  gave,  as  the  poet 
has  it,  all  he  had,  a  tear  ;  when  incapable  of  relieving  the 
agonies  of  the  wretched,  he  attempted  to  relieve  his  own 
by  a  flood  of  sorrow. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  343 

The  suras  he  gave  and  collected  for  the  hospital,  were 

great,  and  his  manner  of  doing  it  was  no  less  admirable 

1  am  told  that  he  was  once  collecting  money  in  Wiltshire's 

room  for  that  purpose,  when  a  lady  entered  who  is  more 

remarkable  for  her  wit  than  her  charity,  and  not  being 

able  to  pass  by  him  unobserved,  she  gave  him  a  pat 

with  her  fan,  and  said,  '  You  must  put  down  a  trifle  for 

me,  Nash,  for  I  have  no  money  in  my  pocket '    '  Yes 

_  madam,'  says  he,  '  that  I  will  with  pleasure,  if  your 

Grace  will  tell  me  when  to  stop  ' :  then  taking  a  handful 

of  guineas  out  of  his  pocket,  he  began  to  tell  them  into 

his  white  hat,  one,  two,  three,  four,  five.    '  Hold  hold  ' 

says   the   Duchess,    'consider   what   you   are   kbout!' 

Consider  your  rank  and  fortmie,  madam,'  says  Nash 

and  contmued  telling,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  ten.  Here' 

the  Duchess  called  again,  and  seemed  angry      •  Pray 

compose  yourself,  madam,'  cried   Nash,  'and  don't 

interrupt  the  work  of  charity  ;  eleven,  twelve,  thirteen. 

fourteen,  fifteen.'     Hero  the   Duchess   stormed,  and 

iaught  hold  of  his  hand.    '  Peace,  madam,'  says  Nash  ; 

you  shall  have  your  name  written  in  letters  of  gold 

madam,  and  upon  the  front  of  the  building,  madam! 

Sixteen,  seventeen,  eighteen,  nineteen,  twenty*       I 

won't  pay  a  farthinir  more,'  says  the  Duchess.  '  Charity 

hides  a  multitude  o'  sins,'  rephes  Nash.    '  Twenty-one, 

twenty-two,  twenty-three,  twenty-four,  twenty-five' 

Nash,  says  she,  '  I  protest  you  frighten  me  out  of  my 

wits.    L d,  I  shall  die!'    '  Madam,  vou  will  never 

die  with  doing  good  ;  and  if  you  do,  it  will  be  the 
better  for  you,'  answered  Nash,  and  was  about  to 
proceed ;  but  perceiving  her  Grace  had  lost  all  patienos 
a  parley  ensued,  when  he,  after  much  altercation  agreed 
to  stop  his  hand,  and  compound  with  her  Grace  for  thirty 
guineas.  The  Duchess,  however,  seemed  displeased  the 
whole  evening ;   and  when  he  came  to  the  table  whew 


341 


THE  LIFE  OF 


she  Hfis  playing,  bid  him,  'Stand  farther,  an  ugly  devil, 
for  «he  hated  the  eightof  him.'  But  LcrGrace  afterwards, 
having  a  run  of  good  luck,  called  Nash  to  her.  '  Come,' 
says  she,  '  I  will  be  friends  with  you,  though  you  ai« 
'  a  fool ;  and  to  let  you  see  I  am  not  angry,  there  is  ten 
*  guineas  more  for  your  charity.  But  this  1  insist  on, 
'  that  neither  my  name,  nor  the  sum,  shall  be  mentioned.' 
From  the  hospital  erected  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor, 
it  is  an  easy  transition  to  the  monuments  erected  by  him 
in  honour  of  the  great.  Upon  th-*  recovery  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  by  drinking  the  Bath  waters,  Mr.  Nash  caused 
a  small  obelisk,  thirty  feet  high,  to  be  erected  in  a  grove 
near  the  Abbey  church,  since  called  Orange  Grove.  This 
Prince's  arms  adori^  the  west  side  of  the  body  of  the 
pedestal.  The  inscription  is  on  the  opposite  side,  in  the 
following  words  : 

In  memoriam 

Sanitatia 

Principi  Auriaeo 

Aquarum  tliermalium  potu, 

Favente  Deo, 

Ovante  Britannia, 

Wdieiter  reatitiUce, 

M.  DCC.  XXXIV. 

In  English  thus  : 

In  memory 

Of  the  happy  restoration 

Of  the  health  of  the 

Prince  of  Orange, 

Through  the  favour  of  God, 

And  to  the  great  joy  of  Britain, 

By  drinking  the  Bath  waters. 

1734. 

I  find  it  a  general  custom,  at  all  baths  and  spas,  to 


RICHARD  NASH.  ESQ.  345 

erect  monuments  of  this  kind  to  the  memory  of  every 
pnnee  who  has  received  benefit  from  the  waters.  Aix, 
a™;rnH  r-  u""^  ""''  inscriptions  of  this  natui,, 
apparently  domg  honour  to  the  prince,  but  in  realitv 
celebratmg  the  efficacy  of  their  springs.     It  is  ™ 

thr/wH*"  "'"  '""'"  monuments  instances  of  gratitude.' 
though  they  may  wear  that  appearance 

In  the  year  1738,  the  ft-ince  of  Wales  came  to  Bath 
who  presented  Mr.  Nash  with  a  large  gold  enamelled' 

Ch  I  T  T"  ^^  ''«Pa««»^.  Nash,  as  King  of 
^th  erected  an  obelisk  in  honour  of  this  prince,  al  he 
had  before  done  for  the  Prince  of  Orange.  This  hand- 
TmTo"^  '"  «°"°"  °^  '^'''  good-natured  prince  is 
balustrade,  and  m  the  middle  of  every  side  there  are 

feet  high,  and  termmatmg  in  a  point.  The  expenses  of 
th.s  were  eighty  pounds  ;  and  Mr.  Nash  was  de^rmined 
the  ni t'  ^;TP*!°".«''0"ld  answer  the  magnificence  o 
the  pde.  With  this  view  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Pope,  at  London 
requestmg  an  inscription.  I  should  have%;en  glad  to 
have  g.ven  Mr.  Nash's  letter  upon  this  occasion;  the 
reader,  however,  must  be  satisfied  with  Pope's  reply 
which  IS  as  follows.  ^^ ' 

Sib, 

in  n.J!^^^  "^"^l^^  ^°""'  ^"^  *''«"''  your  partiality 
m  my  favour  You  say  words  cannot  express  the 
gratitude  you  feel  for  the  favour  of  his  R.  H.;  and  vet 
you  would  have  me  express  what  you  feel,  and  in  a  few 
words.  I  own  myself  unequal  to  the  task  ;  for  even 
granting  ,t  possible  to  express  an  inexpressible  idea 
1  am  the  worst  person  you  could  have  pitched  upon 
for  this  purpose,  who  have  received  so  few  favours 
irom  the  great  myself,  that  I  am  utterly  unacquaint^ 


346 


THE  LIFE  OP 


with  what  kind  of  thanks  they  like  best.    Whether  the 

P most  loves  poetry  or  prose,  I  protest  I  do  not 

know  ;  but  this  I  dare  venture  to  affirm,  that  you  can 
give  him  as  much  satisfaction  in  either  as  I  can, 
I  am. 
Sir, 
Your  affectionate  Servant, 
A.  Pope. 

What  Mr.  Nash's  answer  to  this  billet  was,  I  cannot 
take  upon  me  to  ascertain,  but  it  was  probably  a  per- 
severance in  his  former  request.  The  following  is  the 
copy  of  Mr.  Pope's  reply  to  his  second  letter. 

Sib, 

I  had  sooner  answered  yours,  but  in  the  hope 
of  procuring  a  properer  hand  than  mine ;  and  then  in 

consulting  with  some,  whose  office  about  the  P 

might  make  them  the  best  judges,  what  sort  of  inscription 
to  set  up.  Nothing  can  be  plainer  than  the  enclosed  ; 
it  is  nearly  the  common  sense  of  the  thing,  and  I  do  not 
know  how  to  flourish  upon  it.  But  this  you  would  do 
as  well,  or  better  yourself,  and  I  dare  say  may  mend  the 
expression.    I  am  truly, 

Dear  Sir, 

Your  affectionate  Servant, 

A.  Pope. 
I  think  I  need  not  tell  you  my  name  should  not  be 
mentioned. 


Such  a  letter  as  this  was  what  might  naturally  be 
expected  from  Mr.  Pope.  Notwithstanding  the  seeming 
modesty  towards  the  conclusion,  the  vanity  of  an 
applauded  writer  bursts  through  every  line  of  it.  The 
difficulty  of  concealing  his  hand  from  the  clerks  at  the 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  347 

tli8  letters  80  eagerly  opened  by  the  clerks  of  the  Office 
as  he  Beems  always  to  think.  But  in  all  his  letteras 
well  as  those  of  Swift,  there  runs  a  strain  of  pride  as  i^ 
the  world  talked  of  nothmg  but  themselver   '  ^Ua^ ' 

world  will  be  as  merry  as  usual ! '    Very  strange  that 

rc:fr;oe?r  "°^  '^^  ^■'^'^^"^''^  ^^^^^^  ^°"-  '^« 

wh?h  ^""f '°°  "^f^^-^  to  in  this  letter,  was  the  same 
which  was  afterwards  engraved  on  the  obelisk  ;  and  isl 

In  memory  of  honours  bestow'd 

And  m  gratitude  for  benefits  conferred  m'  this  city 

By  his  Royal  Highness 

Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales, 

And  his  Royal  Consort, 

In  the  Year  1738, 

This  obelisk  is  erected  by 

Richard  Nash,  Esq. 

Coun^r  '''".*'7,*°  «*y'  *''«'*  ^"»  soarce  a  Common 
CouncU-man  m  the  corporation  of  Bath,  but  could  have 
Jne  this  as  well.    Nothing  can  be  mor;  frigid ;  thoujh 

About  this  period  every  season  brought  some  new 
accession  of  honour  to  Mr.  Nash  ;  and  the  corporatiol 
now  unive^ally  found,  that  he  wa«  absolutely  ^ssary 
for  promotmg  the  welfare  of  the  city ;  so  that  this  year 
seems  to  have  been  the  meridian  of  his  glorv.  About 
this  time  he  arrived  at  such  a  piteh  of  authority,  that 


11 


348 


THE  LIFE  OF 


I  really  believe  Alexander  was  not  greater  at  PersepolU. 
The  countenance  ho  received  from  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
the  favour  he  was  in  with  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the 
caresses  of  the  nobility,  all  conspired  to  lift  him  to  the 
utmost  pitch  of  vanity.  The  exultation  of  a  little  mind, 
upon  being  admitted  to  the  familiarity  of  the  great,  is 
inexpressible.  The  Prince  of  Orange  had  made  him 
a  present  of  a  very  fine  snuff-box.  Upon  this  some  of 
the  nobility  thought  it  would  be  proper  to  give  snuff- 
boxes too  ;  they  were  quickly  imitated  by  the  middling 
gentry,  and  it  soon  became  the  fashion  to  give  Mr.  Nash 
snuff-boxes  ;  who  had  in  a  little  time  a  number  sufficient 
to  have  furnished  a  good  toy-shop. 

To  add  to  his  honours,  there  was  placed  a  full-length 
picture  of  him,  in  Wiltshire's  Ballroom,  between  the 
busts  of  Newton  anti  Pope.  It  was  upon  this  occasion 
that  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield  wrote  the  following  severe 
but  witty  epigram  : 

Immortal  Newton  never  spoke 
More  truth  than  here  you'll  find  ; 

Nor  Pope  himself  e'er  penn'd  o  joke 
Severer  on  mankind. 

This  picture  placed  these  busts  between. 

Gives  satire  its  full  strength  ; 
Wisdom  and  Wit  are  little  seen, 

But  Folly  ot  full  length. 

There  is  also  a  full-length  picture  of  Mr.  Nash  in 
Simpson's  Ballroom  ;  and  his  statue  at  full  length  in 
the  Pump-room,  with  a  plan  of  the  Bath  Hospital  in 
hand.  He  was  now  treated  in  every  respect  like  a  grei 
man ;  he  hai'  his  levee,  his  flatterers,  his  buffoons,  hiK 
good-natured  creatures,  and  even  his  dedicators.  A 
trifling  ill-supported  vanity  wa«  his  foible,  and  while  ht 
received  the  homage  of  the  vulgar,  and  enjoyed  the 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  349 

familiarity  of  the  great,  he  felt  no  pain  for  the  un- 
promismg  view  of  poverty  that  lay  before  him  ;  ho 
enjoyed  the  world  n»  it  went,  and  drew  upon  content  for 
the  deflcjenceH  of  fortune.  If  a  cringing  wn-teh  called 
him  hi«  Honour,  he  was  plenHcd  ;  internally  conscioun, 
tnat  He  had  the  justest  pretensiouH  to  the  title  If 
a  be^ar  called  him  my  Lord,  he  wa«  happv,  and  generally 
sent  the  flatterer  off  happy  too.  I  have  known  him  in 
London,  wait  a  whole  day  at  a  window  in  the  Smyrna 
Coffee-house,  in  order  to  receive  a  bow  from  the  Prince 
or  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  as  they  passed  bv  whcni 
he  was  standing ;  and  he  would  then  look  round  upon 
the  company  for  admiration  and  respect. 

But  perhaps  the  reader  desires  to  know,  who  could  be 
low  enough  to  flatter  a  man,  who  himself  lived  in  some 
measure  by  dependence.   Hundreds  are  read  v  upon  those 
occasions.    The  very  needy  are  almost  ev;r  flatterers. 
A  man  in  wretched  circumstances  forgets  his  own  value 
and  feels  no  pain  in  giving  up  superiority  to  every  claim! 
ant.    Ihe  very  vain  are  ever  flatterers  ;  as  they  find  it 
necessary  to  make  use  of  all  their  arts,  to  keep  company 
with  such  as  are  superior  to  themselves.    But  particularly 
the  prodigal  are  prone  to  adulation,  in  order  to  open 
new  supplies  for  their  extravagance.   The  poor,  the  vain 
and  extravagant,  are  chiefly  addicted  to  this  vice  •  and 
such  hung  upon  his  good  nature.     When  these  three 
characters  are  found  united  in  one  person,  the  com- 
position  generally  becomes  a  siv.t  man's  favourite     It 
was  not  difficult  to  collect  8uch  n  group  in  .1  citv  that  was 
the  centre  of  pleasure.    Nash  had  them  of  M\  Mzrs  tx-om 
the  half-pay  captain  in  laced  clothes,  (,»  t\w  humble 
boot-catcher  at  the  Bear. 

I  have  before  me  a  bundle  of  letters  all  addressed 
from  a  pack  of  flattering  reptile*,  (o  his  Honour  •  and 
even  some  printed  dedications,  in  the  same  sernlc  strain. 


im 


THE  UFE  OP 


In  these  his  Honour  is  complimented  m  the  gnat  en- 
courager  of  the  polite  arts,  aa  a  gentleman  of  the  mort 
aooompliahed  taste,  of  the  most  extensive  learning,  and, 
in  short,  of  everything  in  the  world.    But  perhaps  it  will 
be  thought  wrong  in  me,  to  unveil  the  blushing  muse,  to 
brand  learning  with  the  meanness  of  its  professors,  or  to 
expose  scholars  in  a  state  of  contempt.— For  the  honour 
of  letters,  the  dedications  to  Mr.  Nash  are  not  written 
by  scholars  or  poets,  but  by  people  of  a  different  stamp. 
Among  this  number  was  the  highwayman,  who  was 
taken  after  attempting  to  rob  and   muider  Doctor 
Hancock.     He  was  called  Poulter,  aliat  Baxter,  and 
published  a  book,  exposing  the  tricks  of  gamblers,  thieves 
and  pickpockets.    This  he  intended  to  have  dedicated  to 
Mr.  Nash ;    but  the  generous  patron,  though  no  man 
loved  praise  more,  was  too  modest  to  have  it  printed. 
However,  he  took  care  to  preserve  the  manuscript, 
among  the  rest  of  his  papers.    The  book  was  entitled, 
The  diaamries  0}  John  Poulter,  alias  BaxUr,  who  was 
apprehended  for  roMnng  Doctor  Hancock,  of  Salisbury,  on 
Claverton  Doien  near  Bath;    and  who  has  since  Uen 
admitted  king's  evidence,  and  discovered  a  most  numerous 
gang  of  villains.    Being  a  fuU  account  of  aU  the  robberies 
he  committed,  and  the  surprising  tricks  and  frauds  he  has 
practised  for  the  space  of  five  years  last  past,  in  different 
parts  of  England,  paHicutarly  in  the   West.     Written 
wholly  by  himself.     The  dedication   intended  to   be 
prefixed  is  as  follows,  and  will  give  a  specimen  of  the 
style  of  a  highwayman  and  a  gambler. 

To  the  Honourable  Richard  Nash,  Esq. 
May  it  please  your  Honour, 

With  humblest  submission,  I  make  bold  to  present 
the  following  sheets  to  your  Honour's  consideration, 
and  well-known  humanity.  Aslam  industriously  careful, 


PICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


bnngrng  them  to  the  gallow,     T„  \!  ^'"''  ''^ 

gentry,  whether  the  life  of  one  ncr^n  W      .  f"""''  *"'' 
would  answer  the  enrf     °' ""^^I*"""  Iw'ng  taken  away. 

villain,,  wrohla  i't^e  1"    ' "**"'*  """''  "^  "•"»»»' ° 

inchnation,  wL  ^v  r  L         T''  ''°"^'"«'>-     «  -ny 

-g^atanuXTvilTwiSr'''  '^'?'''  '"  ''  ^ 
A«  your  Honour'.  J",*     \*®"  "'^y '""«"lt  together. 

the  friend  of  XV^^for'/Z'^i^ir'  ^**"^*  "- 
Honour's  feet  the  f^^^     '    ,     ^*  "^'^  *«  '»y.  «»  your 

honeat  man  upl„  h°  2'"*  ''"^''■."'•'^''  -'"  P"*  e^.y 

honoured  Sir,  "^  «™*'««'   gratitude. 

Your  Honour's 
Most  truly  devoted  and  obedient  Servant, 
T.«nton  G«i,  "^°®'  Povuim,  alia,  Baxmb. 

June  2nd. 

buf  Se'^iirVo""*"'  ""  *'^'  "-  -»M  think 
wasploaJtrft':  heT;^\T^l!!, '^'  *•""  ^^^^ 
and  Honourable  ;  and  t^rWghl^rait'"":^''""""'' 
e:cperienoed  his  generosity    ^''^"y"^''  """^  than  once 

cart:i;is^xrrt:^:trtf""".^ 

c-ntrymen;L'dZ;edTg::£rar^  ^"  '^^^"^ 
""  uy  gamblers,  at  a  game  called 


3ff2 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Pricking  in  tho  Belt,  or  tho  Old  Nob.  This  in  a  leathern 
•trop,  folded  up  double,  and  then  laid  upon  a  table ;  if  the 
penon  who  playg  with  a  bodkin  pricks  into  the  loop  of  the 
belt  he  wins;  if  otherwiHe,  heloncB.  However,  by  (dipping 
one  end  of  tho  strop,  the  sharper  can  win  with  pleasure. 

'  There  are  generally  four  persons  concerned  in  this 
'  fraud,  one  to  personate  a  tiaihr.  called  a  Legg  CuU, 
'  another  called  the  Capper,  who  always  keeps  with  the 
Sailor ;    and  two  pickers  up,  or  Money-Dropperg,  to 
'  bring  in  Flats  or  Bubbles.    The  first  thing  they  do  at 
I  a  fair,  is  to  look  for  a  room  clear  of  company,  which  the 
I  Sailor  and  Capper  immediately  take,  while  the  Money. 
'  Droppers  go  out  to  look  for  a  Fht.  If  they  see  a  country- 
I  man,  whose  looks  they  like,  one  drops  j  shUling,  or 
'  half  a  crown,  juBt^  before  him,  and  picking  it  up  again, 
I  looks  the  man  in  the  face,  and  says,  I  have  found 
'  a  piece  of  money,  friend,  did  you  sen  me  pick  it  up  ? 
'  The  man  says,  yes  :  Then  says  the  sharper,  if  you  had 
'  found  it,  I  would  have  had  half,  so  I  will  do  as  I  would 
'  be  done  unto  ;  come,  honest  friend,  we  will  not  part 
I  with  dry  iips.    Then  taking  him  into  the  room  where 
'the  other  two  are,  he  cries.  By  your  leave,  gentlemen, 
^  1  hope  we  don't  disturb  the  company.    No,  cries  the 
I  -Sot/or  ;     no,    brothers  ;    Will   you   drink  a  glass  of 
'brandy,  I  don't  like  your  weak  liquors;    and  then 
I  begins  a  discourse,  by  asking  the  Capper  how  far  it  is 
'to  London  ;  who  replies,  I  don't  know  ;   perhaps  the 
'  gentleman  there  can  Ml  you,  directing  his  discourse  to 
'the  Flat;    perhaps  the  Flat  wiU  answer,  a  hundred 
'  miles  ;   the  Sailor  cries,  I  can  ride  that  in  a  day,  ay, 
'  in  four  or  five  hours ;   for,  says  he,  my  horse  will  run 
twenty  knots  an  hour  for  twenty-four  hours  together  : 
'Capper,  or  tho  Sailor's  supposed  companion,  says,  I 
'  believe.  Farmer,  you  have  not  got  such  a  horse  as  the 
Sailor  has ;    the  Farmer  cries  No,  and  laughs  ;  and 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


3fi3 


'  then  the  Saihr  mvm   r  m.,  .  ' 

' -".ndy.  ,„,  I  r;;/p^"l«;  "■<?  ««  h-'f  a  pint  , 
''"PP^r,  affecting  a  l!^'T  -^  ''"'^'«  'h-"  Th 
; observe,  that  itlJl'^',-'"^-  'n   h.     ,,  ^„^ 

.»«":.-  for  that  thor.lw.C  CT'  ^ "^  ''  '•*« 

.  buying  a  hone  of  „,y  „,.„    '  ,  ""  ,    "*  him  till  now. 

«t  ■?«.  and  hae  got  about  fo....      ^  T  '""'  *■""  «*«'' 
money,  but  I  believe  rwiVr      ."""'''  P"""''"  ?"»- 
>v.,  gating  j„,t  now  ;S  a  '         " '?."  ''*"^-  '»^  he 
forty  Hhilling«,  at  a  hT  an«..  :     '""^'''""*'  ""^  '"«* 
«™>g.     Did  either  of  yo"      J  :'' '    '"  '"'"''''"  '"  " 
.continued  the  ra;,p,r.7L;'   "'"   "    ^''"""'■•n'"-.  / 
|»k  him  to  .howTfor  III'"  "'  """•^'<.  I  will 
h«  money  aa  any  b,;iyeir-  ^'„  7,  "'"  ^"""'  "' 

«T.  Do.  Then  in  cornel  the  ,11  '""  ""' ^>''i'7''' 
d™nk.  and  crie«,  WhaTchlr  S''  '"•«'^''™«  -"^  « 
"een  a  p,«tty  girf  i„  the  fal  L  ''^  '  ^  ^"^'^  J'"" 
her,  we  made  a  bargain  Idr' '".''^  ^"""^  ^ 

tWrty»hillingpie«,.bra'„3i-h":  '"  "  "'^  ^^ 
and  called  her  away  but  I  h         ''/'""  ""ther,  can.., 

'to  me  presently;  ^hen  th«  r^  "'"'  *'"  =°'»''  back 
Have  you  got  your  mlj  of "'^'^  '""^h^,  and  «y«, 
»y».No;  but/hewilTooZtoirr'"^  '^"""'^^ 
all  laugh.  This  is  done  to  1  '  ."*  """*  •  ^hen  they 
the  Ca;^,,  What  ha^e  youar  f"'  '  '''^"  ""^^ 
the  string,  Sailor  v  he  anl  T""  ""«  ««<=k  and 
I  bought  of  the  boys  viT""'  ^'""'  ^hat  which 
"0tseUit,andthenheDuM«     !  f  ''  ''"^-  but   will 

WhatdoyouthinrigZfor"  ''r'\^°''^'-y«8. 
_  and  as  much  brandy  as  th!.       J «*  « but six-pence. 

-  n^ade  out  of  a  mLZyt^Tl"  '\'^"'^  "^^^  ;  it' 
>nd  they  told  me,  ther^"^^'     >  ""  ''"'  ^^^^  toW  me, 

which  no  body  can  H^?  ^"""^  *°  be  played  -    it 

•aboa^shira'dSa;Srm?r''"=  '^^'^   '  - 
OOUV.W..  m         P'*^  ""'h  my  Captain^  and  I  do  not 


354  THE  LIFE  OF 

.  fear  but  I  shall  win  his  ship  and  ""rgo  :  then  they  all 

.  lauKh  and  the  Sailor  makes  up  the  Old  Nobb,  and  the 

•  Capp^  lays  a  shilling,  and  pricks  himself  and  w.ns ; 
.  the  Lior  cries.  You  are  a  dab,  I  will  not  lay  with  you. 
.  but  if  you  will  call  a  stranger.  I  will  lay  agam ;  why 
.  if  youVhink  me  a  dab.  as  you  call  it.  I  -»  8«*  ^» 
'  strange  gentleman,  or  this  (pointmg  to  the  Fhi). 
'  Done  cries  the  SaiU^,  but  you  shall  not  tell  h.m  ;    hen 

•  he  makes  up  the  Nob.  and  Capper  lays   a   shilhng 

'  FUil  pricks,  being  permitted  to  go  sixpence  ;  to  which 

•  he  agreeing,  wins ;   and  Capper  says  to  the  fW   Can 

•  you  Lnge  me  half  a  crown  1  This  is  done  to  find  the 
'  depth  of  his  pocket ;   if  they  see  a  good  deal  of  gold 

•  f  to  must  win  three  or  four  times  ;  if  no  gold,  but 
'twice.  Sometimes,  if  the  FUU  has  no  money,  the 
'  Saihr  cries.  I  have  more  money  than  ""y /""fj  ">  *°« 
•fair  and  pulls  out  his  purse  ot  gold,  and  saith,  Not 
.  one'of  you  can  beg.  borrow, or  -t.al  half  this  sum  in  an 

•  hour  for  a  guinea.    Capper  c:  -,  I  have  laid  out  aU 

•  mine  ;  Farm^,  Can  you  ?  Til  go  your  halves,  rf  you 
■  think  you  can  do  it.  The  Saihr  saith,  you  must  not 
'  bring  any  body  with  you  ;  then  the  Z»roM«r  goes  w.th 
'  theFlai,  and  saith.  You  must  not  tell  your  friend  it  « 
'  for  a  wa«er  -,   if  you  do,  he  will  not  lend  it  you.    FM 

•  goes  and  borrows  it,  and  brings  it  to  the  SavU>r,  shows 

•  it  him.  and  wins  the  wager  ;  then  the  SavU^  pmehes 
'  the  Nob  again,  and  the  Capper  whispers  to  the  Flat, 
'  to  prick  out  purposely  this  time,  saying,  it  will  make 

■  the  Sailor  more  eager  to  lay  on  ;  we  may  as  well  wm 
•his  money  as  not,  for  he  will  spend  it  upon  whores. 

•  FUU  with  all  the  wisdom  in  the  world,  loses  on  purpose  ; 
'  upon  which  the  Sailor  sweare,  puUs  out  all  his  money, 

■  throws  it  about  the  room,  and  cries,  I  know  no  man 
•can  win  for  ever,  and  then  lays  a  guinea,  but  wiU 
'  not  lot  him  prick,  but  throws  down  five  guineas  ;  and 


RICHARD  NASH.  ESQ, 


'  I'll  lay  no  ies«  tha„  tt^n^^  ""  '"^  "*  '""=''  ««  that ; 

winning,  he  instnntl,,  ..'     ""'''''*■"«  certain  of 

'whole.  Vent  S„::?'"n''''  ^  '"^^  »"« 
'  Copper  takes  him  bl  thl'  "  *"  '"■^''^  ''''".  the 

'doorBfand  tre  Zo^*'''"'"  ■.'''"  ''»"'''  Wm  out  of 
'  within,  the  i^'Td^W  ^  '."n'"  """"'  """^  P"'" 
'another  way.    Whe„thcv2      .     °"  '''"''  ''"''  n'" 

'Sailor  for  a  bWImL  "m^  i  "'''  ""^  ^'^^  '^hThe 
'  but  when  the  is  gts  to  the  h  '"  "".'  «'°'™*  ""^^  ' 
'  and  then  ho  knowMhIt  t  k'!'  u'  '^"''''  '^'"^ «""«. 
*  dearly  paid  for  iC  ''  ^'*'  *•"'  ""'  «"  ^e  has 

By  this  fellow's  discoveries  Mr  K„.h 
serve  many  of  the  nobilifv      .T         ^  "'**'  ^""^led  to 
ance  ;  he  Leived  a  S  ^,   "^f  .f '""^  °'  '"^  ''-luaint. 

Which  harho„.ro;;ri«'^*;;.-  ;:rr  "'-^''™ 

furnish  travellers  witl,  «w,  ""gues,  and  took  care  to 
It  was  odd  en?u;ht'^:™f"^'"''^°'■^»''-• 
l^detecti„gthefLd:orgambre^*^^  *""  ^'"^'°^^''' 

It  i«  prefixed  ^  a  ^^r'Tttt  7.  ""'"  ^''^  P--'^'"*- 
or  a  nco  method  oft^t^J  ^f^  T"^^  ^'^'^^^^ 

-uchdo;o7etee"ttV.f /^^r^  *"''  •'"»"»"^.  - 
charity,  a'nd  evl^'ottrw^lnh^"''''"  benevolence, 

-  refine,  the  hLa„  sp^^r   t  vf  ^ f^m^iS 


356 


THE  LIFE  OF 


I 


bold  to  prefix  your  name,  though  without  permisHion,  to 
the  following  work,  which  stands  in  need  of  such  a  patron, 
to  excuse  its  errors,  with  a  candour,  only  known  to  such 
a  heart  as  your  own  ;  the  obligations  I  have  received 
at  your  hands,  it  is  impossible  for  me  ever  to  repay, 
except  by  my  entleavourH,  as  in  the  present  case,  to 
make  known  the  many  excellent  virtues  which  you 
pofisess.  But  what  can  my  wit  do  t<)  recommend  such 
a  genius  as  yours :  a  single  word,  a  smile  from  yourself, 
outweighs  all  that  J,  or  perhaps  the  best  of  our  poets, 
could  express  in  writing  to  the  compass  of  a  year.  It 
would  ill  become  my  sex,  to  declare  what  power  you  have 
over  us,  but  your  generosity  is,  oven  in  this  instance, 
greater  than  your  desire  to  oblige.  The  following  sheets 
were  drawn  up  at  my  hours  of  leisure,  and  may  be 
serviceable  to  such  of  my  sex,  as  are  more  willing  to 
employ  their  time  in  laudable  occupations  and  domestic 
economy,  than  in  dress  and  dissipation.  What  reception 
they  may  receive  from  your  Honour,  I  am  incapable  of 
telling;  however, fromyourknowncandourandhumanity, 
I  expect  the  most  favourable. 

I  am.  Honoured  Sir, 
Your  most  obedient, 

and  obliged  bumble  Servant, 

H.  W. 

A  musician  in  his  dedication  still  exceeds  the  other 
two  in  adulation.  However,  though  the  matter  may 
be  some  impeachment  on  his  sincerity,  the  maimer  in 
which  it  is  written  reflects  no  disgrace  upon  his  under- 
standing. 

To  Richard  Nash,  Esq. 

Sir, 

The  kind  partiality  of  my  friends  prevailed  with 
me  to  present  to  the  world  these  my  first  attempts  in 
musical  composition ;  and  the  generous  protection  you 


inm.miai 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


1,        u  -  357 

of  all  polite  art«  •  fn,  ,  '  *'""  ^"'  oncourager 

nor  SyZ  i  /rLTfo/:;;?:'*"  '""*" "°  *»""^^: 

ennobles  and  Z«™!T  ''■'^"^*-^  °'  ™"«''  ^h'^h 

than  for  tha/hum:„Tv "rdT'T^"'^'™^^"""-*' 

you  the  f.e„d  anrCjel^f":  r:i,«J'^'V""^ 
the  poorami  therioh  ti,    j-  '"  "lanKind.    To  you, 

aged  and  ^yj^  '„t  eZ f  ""V"'  '^'''*''^' '"^ 
veniency,  and  evervtnl  T  ^  """'"'*•  "^"^  «»"" 
heart,   the   I'tTj",  '""""«"'«"»'  that  the  best 

aeco.pl.hedTste^ti  r.Zrt^jf''  ^^^ 
deeply  practised  in  all  the  "XiL^r/?  "«"■  "" 
gives  you  this  testimony  :  etn^-f^-^f"^'' P'---. 
engaged  in  all  thn  u„„     t.,.  ''^^'  *^  ardently 

gives^ou  th     pti^rp'  ''"  '""''  ""hounded  charit/ 

this  fi„,t  opSrtuni  vTf      "J  ^™"''  '"^''""«'  'f  I  »««> 
whieh,  •  *"""'' ""''  P™f"™tl  respect,  with 

I  am,  Sir, 
Your  most  obliged,  most  devoted 

and  most  obedient  Servant, 

a.iSiL'^Tn;LT:sr  r  -"-  -'^ '- 

panegyrists  ;  howe^  '  J  ^  *  fi  ^1  °'  "'"^  "'^^ant 
tion,  withou  giving  a  sLc^en?  '"  '""  "'  '1"°*'^- 
him  upon  a  eertX  „1?^  °^  P°"*'^'-  "'''h^'sed  to 

defenoTis,  thafthose   wTo"  ^  ""f  ""  '  "•■""  '"^^  '"  ''» 

dedication;,  Jll  „oTdTslil.:"th'  "'  ""'  *'>^  P""- 
poetry.  ''''"   'he  present  attempt  in 


Ml 


THE  LIFE  OF 


To  Richard  Nash,  Esq. 
On  hia  eickness  at  Tunbridge. 
Say,  mu8t  the  friend  of  human  kind, 
Of  most  reiin'd — of  most  diffusive  mind  ; 
Must  Nash  himself  beneath  these  ailments  grieve  ? 
He  felt  for  all — He  felt — but  to  relieve. 
To  heal  the  sick — the  wounded  to  restore. 
And  bid  desponding  nature  mourn  no  more. 
Thy  quick'ning  warmth,  O  let  thy  patron  feel, 
Improve  thy  springs  with  double  power  to  heal : 
Quick,  hither,  all-inspiring  health,  repair. 
And  save  the  gay — and  wretched  from  despair  ; 
Thou  only  Esra's  drooping  sons  can'st  cheer. 
And  stop  the  soft-ey'd  virgin's  trickling  tear  ; 
In  murmurs  who  their  monarch's  pains  deplore  ; 
While  sickness  faiiits — and  pleasure  is  no  more  ; 
O  let  not  death,  with  hasty  strides  advance, 
Thou,  mildest  charity,  avert  the  lance  ; 
His  threat 'ning  power,  celestial  maid  !  defeat ; 
Nor  take  him  with  thee,  to  thy  well  known  seat ; 
Leave  him  on  earth  some  longer  dale  behind. 
To  bless, — to  polish, — and  relieve  mankind  : 
Come  then,  kind  health,  O  quickly  come  away. 
Bid  Nash  revive — and  all  the  world  be  gay. 

Such  addresses  as  thene  were  daily  offered  to  our  titular 
King.  When  in  the  meridian  of  power,  scarce  a  morning 
passed,  that  did  not  increase  the  number  of  his  humble 
admirers,  and  enlarge  the  sphere  of  his  vanity. 

The  man,  who  is  constantly  served  up  with  adulation, 
must  be  a  first-rate  philosopher,  if  he  can  listen  without 
contracting  new  affectations.  The  opinion  we  form  of 
ourselves,  is  generally  measui'ed  by  what  we  hear  from 
others  ;  and  when  they  conspire  to  deceive,  we  too 
readily  concur  in  the  delusion.    Among  the  number  of 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  350 

much  applauded  men  in  the  cirele  of  our  own  friends  wo 
can  recollect  but  few  that  have  heads  quite  strong 
enough  to  bear  a  loud  acclamation  of  public  praise  in 
their  favour;  among  the  whole  \ut.  we  shall  scarce 
find  one,  that  has  not  thus  been  made,  on  some  side  of 
His  character,  a  coxcomb. 

When  the  best  head  turns  and  grows  giddy  with  praise 
IS  It  to  be  wondered  that  poor  Nash  should  be  driven 
by  It  almost  mto  a  phrenzy  of  affectation  ?  Towards 
the  close  of  life  ho  became  affected.  He  chiefly  laboured 
to  be  thought  a  sayer  of  good  things  ;  and  by  frequent 
attempts  was  now  and  then  successful,  for  he  ever  lav 
upon  the  lurch. 

There  never  perhaps  was  a  more  silly  passion,  than 
this  desire  of  having  a  man's  jests  recorded.  For  this 
purpose,  ,t  is  necessary  to  keep  ignorant  or  ill-bred 
company,  who  are  only  fond  of  repeating  such  stories  ; 
in  the  next  place,  a  person  must  tell  his  own  jokes  in 
order  to  make  them  more  universal  ;  but  what  is  worst 
of  all,  Bcaree  a  joke  of  this  kind  succeeds,  but  at  the 
expense  of  a  man's  good  nature  ;  and  he  who  exchange, 
the  character  of  being  thought  agreeable,  for  that  of 
bemg  thought  witty,  makes  but  a  very  bad  bargain. 

The  success  Nash  sometimes  met  with  led  him  on 
when  late  in  life,  to  mistake  his  true  character.  He  was 
really  agreeable,  but  he  chose  to  be  thought  a  wit. 
He  therefore  indulged  his  inclination,  and  never  mattered 
how  rude  he  was,  provided  he  was  thought  comical  He 
thus  got  the  applause  he  sought  for,  but  too  often  found 
enemies,  where  he  least  expected  to  find  them.  Of  all 
the  jests  recorded  of  him.  I  scaree  find  cne  that  is  not 
marked  with  petulance  ;  he  said  whatever  came  upper- 
most, and  in  the  number  of  his  remarks  it  might  naturally 
be  expected  that  some  were  worth  repeating  ;  he  threw 
often,  and  sometimes  had  a  lucky  casit. 


"r '-jP'r  w J ' « ,  li'iijimi. 


360 


THE  LIFE  OP 


In  a  life  of  almost  ninety  yean,  spent  in  the  very 
point  of  public  view,  it  in  not  strange,  that  five  or  six 
sprightly  things  of  his  have  been  collected,  particularly 
as  he  took  every  opportunity  of  repeating  them  hirasdf. 
His  usual   way,   when   he   thought  he   said  anything 
clever,  was  to  strengthen  it  with  an  oath,  and  to  make  up 
its  want  of  sentiment  by  asseveration  and  grimace.    For 
many  years  he  thus  entertained  the  company  at  the  coffee- 
house with  old  Etories,  in  which  he  always  made  himself 
the    principal    character.      Strangers    liked    this    well 
enough  ;    but  they  who  were  used  to  his  convereation 
found  it  insupportable.    One  story  brought  on  another, 
and  each  came  in  the  same  order  that  it  had  the  day 
preceding.    But  this  custom  may  bo  rather  ascribed  to 
the  peculiarity  of  age,  than  a  peculiarity  of  character  ; 
it  seldom  happens,  that  old  men  allure,  at  least  by 
novelty ;    age   that   shrivels   the   body   contractu   the 
understanding  ;   instead  of  exploring  new  regions,  they 
rest  satisfied  in  the  old,  and  walk  around  the  circle  of 
their  former  discoveries.    His  manner  of  telling  a  story, 
however,  was  not  displeasing,  but  few  of  those  he  told 
are  worth  transcribing.    Indeed  it  is  the  manner,  which 
places  the  whole  difference   between   the   wit   of  the 
vulgar,  and  of  those  who  assume  the  name  of  the  polite  ; 
one  has  in  general  as  much  good  sense  as  the  other ; 
a  story  transcribed  from  the  one,  will  bo  as  entertaining 
as  that  copied  from  the  other  ;   but  in  conversation,  the 
manner  will  give  charms  even  to  stupidity.    The  follow- 
ing is  the  story  which  he  most  frequently  toW,  and  pretty 
much  in  these  words.     Suppose  the  company  to  be 
talking  of  a  German  war,  or  Elizabeth  Canning,  he  would 
begin  thus  :    'I'll  tell  you  Bomething  to  that  purpose 
'  that  I  fancy  will  make  you  laugh.    A  covetous  old  par- 
'  son,  as  rich  as  the  Devil,  scraped  a  fresh  acquaintance 
'  with  me  several  years  ago  at  Bath.    I  knew  him  when 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


361 

'house  in  Joh„'rS.urt      ^i^'^^T"'  ^""  "»  "'7 

'  I  hannRn^i  *    ^^°'"n"*-    About  six  months  after 

;^^f rtrs:„-rar„ar.t^^^^^^  - ::: 

'  »■««  'f T  "•    ^  suspected,  h,.wever   that  h« 

'  was  vei^n  T"  '^  ''T''  "'"•'rtaming  me.     This 

'  very  cL      :*        '  ''""'    '"y*'  ^  t°  *»>«  ""id,  "  «  » 
very  cojd,   extreme   cold   indeed,   and   1   am   »f«i^ 

•  i^r-^^-ir  ^•:^  -^  -^  ^  "«^*  -  '^«  «^.  ■' - 

I^Mno'TClhermtrTClrsXr^^ 
'  unltennelled  the  old  fnv  •    ,1        .  '*  1""''''^ 


MS  THE  LIFE  OF 

'  jumps,  backward  or  foruard.  One,  two,  three,  dart 
'  like  an  arrow  out  of  a  bow.  But  I  am  old  now.  I 
'  remember  I  once  leaped  (or  three  hundred  guinean  with 
'  Count  Klopstock,  the  great  leapcr,  Icaping-mnBter  Ui  the 
'  Prince  of  Pa^Hau  ;  you  must  nil  have  heanl  vi  him. 
'  First  he  began  with  the  running  jumiK  am)  a  most 
'  damnable  bounce  it  was,  that '»  certain  :  everybody 
'  concluded  that  he  had  the  mat<>h  hollow  ;  when  only 
'  taking  off  i-.y  hat,  stripping  off  neither  coat,  shoes,  nor 
'  stockings  mind  me,  I  fetches  a  r»»,  ,\nd  went  beyond 
'  him  one  'it,  three  inche«  and  throe  quarters,  measured, 
'  upon  my  soul,  by  Captain  Pately's  own  standard.' 

&it  in  this  torrent  of  insi)>idity,  there  sometimes  were 
found  very  severe  satire,  stn>kes  of  true  wit,  and  lines  of 
humour,  cum  fiuerenl  lutvkntua,  <tc.  He  rallied  very 
successfully,  for  he  never  felt  another's  joke  ;  and  drove 
home  his  own  without  pity.  With  his  superiors  he  was 
familiar  and  blunt,  the  inferiority  of  his  station  secured 
him  from  their  resentment ;  but  the  same  bluntness 
which  they  laughed  at,  was  by  his  equals  regarded  as 
insolence.  Something  like  a  familiar  boot-catcher  at  an 
inn,  a  gentleman  would  bear  that  joke  from  him,  for 
which  a  brother  boot-catcher  would  knock  him  down. 

Among  other  stories  of  Nash's  telling,  I  remember  one, 
which  I  the  more  cheerfully  repeai,  as  it  tends  to  correct 
a  piece  of  impertinence  that  reigns  in  almost  every 
country  assembly.  The  principal  inhabitants  of  a  market- 
town,  at  a  great  distance  from  the  capital,  in  order  to 
encourage  that  harmony  which  ought  to  subsist  in 
society,  and  to  promote  a  mutual  intercourse  between 
the  sexes,  so  desirable  to  both,  and  so  necessarj'  for 
all,  had  established  a  monthly  assembly  in  the  Town 
Hall,  which  was  conducted  with  such  decency,  decorum, 
and  politeness,  that  it  drew  the  attention  of  the  gentle- 
men and  ladies  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  and  a  nobleman 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


I 


;^n:'"s:„r;r'^'  """-r  "•-  *'«•  ^^^^ 

-mp«„y.  „„d  the  a««e.„Vt^ltr  ti ;  '■"""'  T'* 
now-admitted  ladies  took  if  HT,^  '  ,  "  """"'  "'  *'«' 
trade«me..Hdau«hteJ^  J,  '"'"^  ''^■'"l"'  ^^at  the 

ther.f„^^,fJ|'^:™'7"«'>.vofth,.ir„otiee,and 

complaint  was\^^„  L  bv^u*''''  '"""  ■'"-"'«.  ""d  that 
mo«,  pert  than  ^Z^^uL^T"'}'^  gentlemen,  «ho, 

-  dan.,  With  Cit'  IXt-'iV'tT^""''' 
eminent  tradesmen  considered  a«-,r'  ^^  "'""* 

«elveB,  and  being  men  of  „Lh  T™  ',  °"  *''•'"'■ 
independently  thevri.  T  '  ""''  "'''"  »»  'ive 
give  no  eredit'^iuS  theTrr  '!?"'''  *^'"  *"">■ «°"''' 
discharge  the ir  a Loun  '     ^  '  '^  ""  ""'""  »" 

-me  wfitH  were  aet„X  ilTou  ""T'""-""'-"  = 
would  have  happened  ha.I  n  T  r '  ""'^  '""'''  '"''»«'«'' 
no  party,  kinX^nterfj^  ""' ""^  ^"''  *''°  "''^d  with 
The'l^'X'Xtt  ;::t-°^^^^^  the  differenee 

Iamtold,are„otfn7nrVeT,h  r^^','"'*  '^'  ^''""''•". 
thirty  years  ago  ^  *'  *''°"8''  ^^"^ »«"''  happened 

xa^w^rditrr-i^r-^-^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

backof  aninE  w'^r;  ""  'V"'^  '"-^  'he 
to  order,  and  desiredTh^n,  ?  f  **'  ''^  "'*"■>■«  """ed 
With  commonTenS^,""  ITll^'  """"l  T  "^'-^-^ 
gentlemen  drew  off  >i{L  fh  \  .  """  '"'''*''  ""<« 
Without  standing  :;  ^uVe  7  **  ^""^  ''"'"'  "  •''"'^<'. 
up  to  them  ani  afte  !  !  T"''^"''''^'''''''«»'»de 
dancing,  toirthlX^i^^^^  ^'^'^  had  done 
they  stood  up  for  the  Zf  ^  "*  "°  '"""'  ""''''«' 
always  was  0^^^  hTJo^  ""  '''"^  '^"*^"'"  »- 


lii^4e;V«niMie 


364 


THE  T.!FE  OF 


Na«h,  though  no  great  wit,  had  the  art  of  «oiiietimet 
saying  rude  things  with  decency,  and  rendering  them 
pleasing  by  an  uncommon  turn. — But  most  of  the  good 
things  attributed  to  him,  which  have  found  their  way 
into  the  jest-boolis,  are  no  better  than  puns ;  the 
smartest  things  I  have  seen  are  against  him.  One  day 
in  tlie  grove,  he  joined  some  ladies,  and  aslcing  one  of 
them,  who  was  croolced,  whence  she  came  1  she  replied, 
'  Straight  from  London.'  '  Confound  me,  madam,'  said 
he, '  then  you  must  hare  been  damnably  warped  by  the 
'  way.' 

She  soon,  however,  had  ample  revenge.  Sitting  the 
following  evening  in  one  of  the  rooms,  he  once  more 
joined  her  company,  and  with  a  sneer  and  a  bow,  asked 
her,  if  she  knew  her  Qatechism,  and  could  tell  the  name 
of  Tobit's  dog  ?  '  His  name,  sir,  was  Nash,'  replied  the 
lady, '  and  an  impudent  dog  he  was.'  This  story  is  told 
in  a  celebrated  romance  ;  I  only  repeat  it  here  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  observing,  that  it  actually  happened. 

Queen  Anne  once  asked  him,  why  he  would  not  accept 
of  knighthood  ?  To  which  he  replied,  lest  Sir  William 
Bead,  the  mountebank,  who  had  been  just  Imighted, 
should  call  him  brother. 

A  house  in  Bath  was  said  to  be  haunted  by  the 
Devil,  and  a  great  noise  was  made  about  it,  when  Nash, 
going  to  the  minister  of  St.  Michael's,  entreated  him  to 
drive  the  Devil  out  of  Bath  for  ever,  if  it  were  only  to 
oblige  the  ladies. 

Nash  used  sumntimes  to  visit  the  great  Doctor  Clarke. 
The  Doctor  wai  one  day  conversing  with  Locke,  and  two 
or  three  more  of  his  learned  and  intimate  companions, 
with  that  freedom,  gaiety  and  cheerfulness,  which  is 
ever  the  result  of  innocence.  In  the  midst  of  their 
mirth  and  laughter,  the  Doctor,  looking  from  the 
window,  saw  Nash's  chariot  stop  at  the  door.    '  Boys, 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


309 

Irt  U8  now 


'  hoy^'  cried  the  philowipher,  to  liis  Iricnds 
'  be  wi»o,  (or  here  jh  a  fool  coming.' 

Na.h  wa«  one  day  complaining  in  the  following  manner 

to  the  Earl  of  Che»ter«eld  of  hi«  bad  luck  at  play 

Would  you  think  it,   my  L.,rd.  that  da..,ne<l   bitch 

_  fortune,  no  later  than  la«t  night,  tricked  me  out  of 

.   L   ■  .J    '*  "°*  ™n'ri«'ng,'  continued  he,  '  that  my  luck 

should  never  turn,  that  I  should  (hu»  etemallv  bo 

mauled  T       '  I  dont  bonder  at  your  losing  money, 

Nash,  says  his  lord.hip,  '  but  all  the  world  i»  Hurpriscd 

where  you  get  it  to  lose.' 

Doctor  Cheney  oner  when  Nash  wbh  ,11,  drew  ui> 
a  prescription  for  him,  which  >vn,s  sent  in  n„„Rlinglv 
The  next  day  the  Doctor  coming  ,.,  see  his  patient 
found  hin.  up  and  weil;  upon  which  he  asked,  if  he  had 
followed  hiH  prescription  f  '  Followed  your  pres.  rintion  ' 
oned  Nash. '  No.-Egad,  if  I  had,  1  should  hn  vc  broke  ray 
neck,  for  1  Hung  it  out  of  the  two  pair  stairs  window  ■ 

Itwould  have  beenwell.  had  =,o  conHned  himself  to  such 
sall,e« ;  but  as  he  grew  old  he  grew  insolent,  and  seemed 
m  some  measure,  insensible  of  the  pain  his  attempts  to  b^ 
a  w,t  gave  others.  Upon  asking  a  lady  to  dance  a  minuet- 
If  she  refused,  he  would  often  .lemand,  if  she  had  got 
bandy  legs.  He  would  attempt  to  ridicule  natural  do- 
fects  ;  he  forgot  the  deference  due  to  birth  and  quality 
and  mistook  the  manner,  of  settling  rank  and  pifceden™ 
upon  many  occasions.  He  now  seemed  no  longer  fashion- 
able among  the  present  race  of  gentry ;  he  grow  peevish 
and  fretful,  and  they  who  only  saw  the  remnant  of 
a  man  severely  returned  that  laughter  upon  him,  which 
he  had  once  lavished  upon  others. 

Poor  Nash  was  no  longer  the  gay,  thoughtless,  idly 
mdustnous  creature  he  once  was  ;  he  now  forgot  how 
to  supply  new  modes  of  entertainment,  and  became  too 
ngid.  to  wind  with  ease  through  the  vicissitudes  of 


MKIOCOrv  ItSOtUTION   TIST  CHA>T 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^1^1^ 


/APPLIED  IIVHGE    Inc 

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366 


THE  LIFE  OF 


I^H 


fashion.  The  evening  of  his  life  began  to  grow  cloudy. 
His  fortune  was  gone,  and  nothing  but  poverty  lay  in 
prospect.  To  embitter  his  hopes,  he  found  himself 
abandoned  by  the  great,  whom  he  had  long  endeavoured 
to  serve  :  and  was  obliged  to  Hy  to  those  of  humbler 
stations  for  protection,  whom  he  once  affected  to  despise. 
He  now  began  to  want  that  charity,  which  he  had  never 
refused  to  any ;  and  to  find,  that  a  life  of  dissipation 
and  gaiety,  is  ever  terminated  by  misery  and  regret. 

Even  his  place  of  master  of  the  ceremonies  (if  I  can 
trust  the  papers  he  has  left  behind  him)  was  sought 
after.    I  would  willingly  be  tender  of  any  living  reputa- 
tion ;  but  these  papers  accuse  Mr.  Qum  of  endeavouring 
to  supplant  him.     He  has  even  left  us  a  letter,  which 
he  supposed  was  written  by  that  gentleman,  soliciting 
a  Lord  for  his  interest  upon  the  occasion.    As  I  choose 
to  give  Mr.  Quin  an  opportunity  of  disproving  this,  I  will 
insert  the  letter,  and,  to  show  the  improbability  of  its 
being  his,  with  all  its  faults,  both  of  style  and  spelling. 
I  am  the  less  apt  to  believe  it  written  by  Mr.  Quin,  as 
a  gentleman,  who  has  mended  Shakespeare's  plays  so 
often,  would  surely  be  capable  of  something  more  correct 
than  the  following.    It  was  sent,  as  it  should  seem,  from 
Mr.  Quin  to  a  nobleman,  but  left  open  for  the  perusal 
of  an  intermediate  friend.    It  was  this  friend  who  sent 
a  copy  of  it  to  Mr.  Nash,  who  caused  it  to  be  instantly 
printed,  and  left  among  his  other  papers. 

The  Idler  from  the.  intermediate  friend  to  Nash, 

is  as  foUows. 

■r>  nT  London,  October  8,  1760. 

Deab  Nash, 

Two  posts  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  Quin,  the 
old  player,  covering  one  to  my  Lord,  which  he  left  open 
for  my  perusal,  which  after  reading  he  desired  I  might 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


367 
seal  up  and  deliver.    The  reauest  h»  „,  i,     • 
ordinar,,  that  it  ha,  inducXl  to  ^d  Z  2  ''^™- 
of  h.s  letter  to  my  Lord,  which  i«  as  Ww',      *''  "^^ 

My  dee  Lord  '  ^""''  October  3,  1760. 

-.o^:^-i:^:^:^«e^^ 

cereymoineH.  should  h7  J^eo™.'^,.  71""'**' "^  '•"« 
of  thi.  city  will  be  n.eind  aXr^eomt  "'f  *,""' ' 
to  eome  to  Bath  on  his  acc^t  '^<'™P«ney  declineH 

beheZd"':t'r  i'tt:/LTd  ^''-''^  '>°-  -" 

which  was  Tus'daX't      A  V  ''r.  *'"'^'  ''«''»°" 

todanceaminueatsheL    */     ^'^'  ^^^  *"'  ""'''«• 

this/olJ  Nash'caM  :„tl  :  lot  l"  'hT  =  "P"" 
companey  in  the  room,  0,1  dam  vo  M  ^  ^l  ""  *''" 
ness  have  yo  here  if  vo  ^„      ?I  '  ^'^'""'  '^'"'*  '"'»- 

5^, ...  i  ^it^:£z  .trr  .tt^;: 

that  night.    In  comitrv  dL      •'  "''"  "  ""wueat 

except  'two  bo"/;  t^ ^1 ZTT  "'  r  ^''"'^ 

i'  would  give  any  nVXt  ^TtTuT  ''^,*'%«''»'  - '".t 
letter  was  really  found  amon^  Mr  V    Z  '  "^  '"""^  '-The 

at  any  time  prove,  and  TZ  Z,nZ\'  "^T'^  *'"'  ^*'"'  »° 
were  u»ed.  by  thos^  who  i  JlX^y 'hrn  1^"^^'  '""«"^' 
upon  a  poor  old  man,  and  to  embiMl  hi    I    .*        """"'■  '°  ™I«" 

Thi,  Note  has  be™  rondel  nsir^'lT"'''-   , 
without  candour,  and  an  epwram  witS'  ^      T"^  "'  "'"'"■™ 
thi,  occasion.  i„  the  public^^pT,^  '  ""'  '""*  'PP<""«1  ™ 


368 


THE  LIFE  OF 


all  the  habberdas'here'  machinukes  and  inkeepers  in  the 
three  kingdoms'  brushed  up  and  colexted  togither. 

I  have  known  upon  such  an  occaison  as'  thisg'  seven- 
teen Dutchess'  and  Contiss'  to  be  at  the  opening  of  the 
ball  at  Bath  now  not  one.  This  man  by  his'  pride  and 
extravagancis  has  out-lived  his'  teasein  it  would  be 
happy  for  thiss'  city  that  he  was  dcd  ;  and  is,  now  only 
fitt  to  reed  Shirlock  upon  death  by  which  he  may  seave 
his  soul  and  gaine  more  than  all  the  profSts  he  can 
make,  by  his  white  hatt,  suppose  it  was  to  bo  died  red  ; 

The  fav'  I  have  now  to  reques't  by  what  1  now  have 
wrote  yo  ;  is'  that  your  Lordship  will  speke  to  Mr.  Pitt, 
for  to  recommend  me  to  the  corporeatian  of  this  city 
to  succede  this  old  sinner  as  master  of  the  cerremonies 
and  yo  will  much  oblige. 

My  Lord  your 
Lords  and  Hu° 
Obt  Sert. 

N.B.  There  were  some  other  private  matters  and 
offers  in  Quin's  letter  to  my  Lord,  which  do  not  relate 
to  you. 


Here  Nash,  if  I  may  be  permitted  the  use  of  a  polite 
and  fashionable  phrase,  was  humm'd  ;  but  he  experi- 
enced such  rubs  as  these,  and  a  thousand  other  morti- 
fications every  day.  He  found  poverty  now  denied  him 
the  indulgence  not  only  of  his  favoiirite  follies,  but  of 
his  favourite  virtues.  The  poor  now  solicited  him  in 
vain ;  he  was  himself  a  more  pitiable  object  than  they. 
The  child  of  the  public  seldom  has  a  friend,  and  he  who 
once  exercised  his  wit  at  the  expense  of  others,  must 
naturally  have  enemies.  Exasperated  at  last  to  the 
highest  degree,  an  unaccountable  whim  struck  him  ; 
poor  Nash  was  resolved  to  become  an  author  ;  he  who, 
in  the  vigour  of  manhood,  was  incapable  of  the  task, 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  369 

now  at  the  impotent  age  of  eighty-six,  was  determined 
to  wnte  hj8  own  history  !  From  the  many  specimens 
already  given  of  his  style,  the  reader  will  not  much 
regret  that  the  historian  was  interrupted  in  his  design 
Yet  as  Montaigne  observes,  as  the  adventures  of  an 
infant,  if  an  infant  could  inform  us  of  them,  would  be 
pleasing ;  so  the  life  of  a  beau,  if  a  beau  could  write 
would  certainly  serve  to  regale  curiosity. 

Whether  he  really  intended  to  put  this  design  in 
execution,  or  did  it  only  to  alarm  the  nobility  1  will 
not  take  upon  me  to  determine  ;  but  certain  it  is,  that 
his  fnends  went  about  collecting  subscriptions  for  the 
work,  and  he  received  several  encouragements  from  such 
as  were  willing  to  be  politely  charitable.  It  was  thought 
by  many,  that  this  history  would  reveal  the  intrigues 
of  a  whole  age  ;  that  he  had  numberless  secrets  to  dis- 
close ;  but  they  never  considered,  that  persons  of  public 
character,  like  him,  were  the  most  unlikely  in  the  world 
to  be  made  partaker^  of  'hose  secrets  which  people 
desired  the  public  should  not  know.  In  fact,  he  had 
few  secrets  to  discover,  and  those  he  had,  are  now  buried 
with  him  in  the  grave. 

He  was  now  past  the  pow.x  of  giving  or  receiving 
pleasure,  for  he  was  poor,  old  1  peevish  ;  yet  still  he 
was  mcapable  of  turning  from  ...s  former  manner  of  life 
to  pursue  his  happiness.  The  old  man  endeavoured  to 
practise  the  follies  of  the  boy,  he  spurred  on  his  jaded 
passions  after  every  trifle  of  the  day  ;  tottering  with 
age  he  would  be  ever  an  unwelcome  guest  in  the  assem- 
blies of  the  youthful  and  gay  ;  and  he  seemed  wiUing 
to  find  lost  appetite  among  those  scenes  where  he  was 
once  young. 

An  old  man  thus  striving  after  pleasure  is  indeed  an 
object  of  pity ;  but  a  man  at  once  old  and  poor,  running 
on  m  this  pursuit,  might  eioit*  astonishment.    To  see 


370 


THK  LIFE  OF 


a  being  both  by  fortune  and  constitution  rendered  in- 
capable of  enjoyment,  still  haunting  those  pleasures  he 
was  no  longer  to  share  in  ;  to  see  one  of  almost  ninety 
settling  the  fashion  of  n  lady's  cap,  or  assignrng  her 
place  m  a  country  dance  ;  to  see  him  unmindful  of  his 
own  reverend  figure,  or  the  respect  he  should  have  for 
himself,  toasting  demireps,  or  attempting  *  wtertain 
the  lewd  and  idle  ;  a  sight  like  this  mighi;  .  ,11  serve 
as  a  satire  on  humanity ;  might  show  that  man  is  the 
only  preposterous  creature  alive,  who  pursues  the  shadow 
of  pleasure  without  temptation. 

But  he  was  not  permitted  to  run  on  thus  without 
severe  and  repeated  reproof.  The  clergy  sent  him  fre- 
quent calls  to  reformation  ;  but  the  asperity  of  their 
advice  in  general  abated  its  intended  effects;  they 
threatened  him  with  fire  and  brimstone,  for  what  he 
had  long  been  taught  to  consider  as  foibles,  and  not 
vices  ;  so,  like  a  desperate  debtor,  he  did  not  care  to 
settle  an  account,  that,  upon  the  first  inspection,  he 
found  himself  utterly  unable  to  pay.  Thus  begins  one 
of  his  monitors. 

'  This  admonition  comes  from  your  friend,  and  one 
'that  has  your  interest  deeply  at  heart  :  It  comes  on 
'a  design  altogether  important,  and  of  no  less  conse- 
'  quence  than  your  everiastin;.;  happiness  ;  so  that  it 
'  may  justly  challenge  your  careful  regard.  It  is  not  to 
^  upbraid  or  reproach,  much  less  to  triumph  and  insult 
'over  your  misconduct  or  misery ;  no,  'tis  pure  bene- 
'volence,  it  is  disinterested  goodwill  prompts  me  to 
'  writ*  ;  I  hope  therefore  I  shall  not  raise  your  resent- 
'  ment.  Yet  be  the  consequence  what  it  will,  I  cannot 
'  bear  to  see  you  walk  in  the  paths  that  lead  to  death, 
'without  warning  you  of  the  danger,  without  sounding 
'in  your  ear  the  lawful  admonition,  "  Return  and  live  ! 
Why  do  you  such  things  ?  I  hear  of  your  evil  dealings 


RIOHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  37, 

odious  to  God  as  a  pnrrM^.  vuTue.     You  are  as 

'in  the  chaXrrd';r„'l--:;;h«''- putrefying 
'duty,  or  endeavouring  afw  "  ,     ,.^"""  '^"'"8  3'°"^ 

weeping  and  wailing,  and  incessant  JT  t^'""*"*^  '"»" 
'  sure  you  would  '    R„t  C.  T".""*  fn«shing  of  teeth  ? 

'  be  doL  by  amusem  nts  w^r";  L'"*  *''"  *'"  "-" 
'  ^pertinent  =  aTd  for  Ihafjf  tr  !'  "':.*"''*"«  ""'' 
'  foolish  and  sinful     'Ti.  I  °  "^^^  "'««"'. 

'  ment  and  mTurlin/r  ""  '^"°"^"^«^  =  '*«  by  r«tire- 
•and  desiraWe  dXtanc:  XuZ^T'""  ''''  «-"' 
■the  head  of  every  X  dL  J  *  "°*  "P'*'*'  ** 

'your  closet,  and  nhut  th '  H  '  •''°"  """'*  ^"*"  '"*» 
•own  heart.'a„?s:;it  tdefeT""^^^^^^^^^^ 

'  n^ightilyt^C.:^.  Turlxl^f'^  ^  *^"*'  °'  ^'- 
:  have  been  extremely  ^^"^^TISTI 


372 


THE  UFE  OF 


■i 


o.  ft    !  ' 


'  no  amends  but  an  a'    ration  of  your  conduct,  as  signal 
'  and  remarkable  as  your  peraon  and  name. 

'  If  you  do  not  by  this  method  remedy  in  some  degree 
'  the  evils  that  you  have  sent  abroad,  and  prevent  the 
'  mischievous  consequonccH  that  may  ensue — wretched 
'  will  you  be,  wretched  above  all  men  to  eternity.    The 
'  blood  of  souls  will  be  laid  to  your  charge  ;    God's 
'jealousy,  like  a  consuming  flame,  will  smoke  against 
'  you  ;   as  you  yourself  will  see  in  that  day,  when  the 
'  mountains  shall  quake,  and  the  hills  melt,  ai      the 
earth  be  burnt  up  at  His  presence. 
■  Once  more  then  I  exhort  you  as  a  friend ;  I  beseech 
'  you  as  a  brother ;   I  charge  you  as  a  messenger  from 
'  God,  in  His  own  most  solemn  words  ;    "  Cast  away 
from  you  your  traiiHgressions ;  make  you  a  new  heart, 
'  "and  a  new  spirit ;  so  iniquity  shall  not  bo  your  ruin." 
'  Perhaps  you  may  be  disponed  to  contemn  this,  and 
'  its  serious  purport ;  or  to  recommend  it  to  your  com- 
'  panions  as  a  subject  for  raillery.    Yet  let  me  tell  you 
'  beforehand,  that  for  this,  as  well  as  for  other  things, 
'  God  will  bring  you  to  judgement.    He  sees  me  now 
'  I  write  :  He  will  observe  you  while  you  read.     He  notes 
'  down  my  words  ;   He  will  also  note  down  your  conse- 
'  quent  procedure.   Not  then  upon  me,  not  upon  me ;  but 
'  upon  your  own  soul,  will  the  neglecting  or  despising  my 
'  sayings  turn.    "  H  thou  be  wise,  thou  shalt  be  wise  for 
thyself  ;  if  thou  scomest,  thou  alone  shalt  bear  it."  ' 
Thus  we  see  a  variety  of  causes  concurred  to  embitte  • 
his  departing  life.     The  weakness  and  infirmities  of 
exhausted  nature,  the  admonitions  of  the  grave,  who 
aggravated  his  follies  into  vices  ;   the  ingratitude  of  his 
dependants,  who  formerly  flattered  his  fortunes  ;    but 
particularly  the  contempt  of  the  great,  many  of  whom 
quite  forgot  him  in  his  wants  ;  all  these  hung  upon  his 
spirits  and  soured  his  temper,  and  the  poor  man  of 


RICHARD  NASH.  ESQ.  373 

hlTnTfl!'*'!^*  '"*'"'  '"""""»«•  hiH  life  very  tragically, 
h^  not  tho  Corporation  of  Bath  charitably  renolved  to 
grant  hun  ten  gumeas  the  Hr«t  Monday  of  every  month. 
Thu,  bounty  served  to  keep  him  fn,m  actual  nece«,ity 
though  far  too  trifling  to  enable  him  to  «up^Tthe 
character  of  a  gentleman.    Habit,  and  not  natu^make 
almost  all  our  want,  ;  and  he  who  had  been  accustomed 
in  the  early  parts  of  life  to  affluence  and  prodigality 
when  reduced  to  a  hund,«d  and  twenty-L  i^ll 
»  year,  must  pme  in  actual  indigence 
In  this  variety  of  uneasiness  his  health  began  to  fail. 

nJZ7^»  r'"  ''?'*"'^"'^'  """"e  ^'  '™"ds,  that  he 
never  followed  a  smgle  prescription  in  his  life  ;  however, 
m  this  he  was  one  day  detected  on  the  Parade  ;  for 
boastmg  there  of  his  contempt  and  utter  disu^,  o[ 
med,cme.  unluckily  the  water  of  two  blisters,  which 
Dr.  Oliver  had  prescribed,  and  which  he  then  had  upon 
each  leg.  oo2ed  through  his  stockings,  and  betrayed  him. 

S  ™T""°!L!°  ^''T-  ^"^''^"■•'  *««  f«q"ently  a  topic 
of  raillery  between  him  and  Doctor  Cheney,  who  was 

"""^f^"^"  '''*  ""d  breeding.   When  Cheney  recom- 
mended his  vegetable  diet,  Nash  would  swear  that  his 
design  was  to  send  half  the  world  grazing  like  Nebuchad- 
nezzar.     Aj'e,'  Cheney  would  reply.  '  Nebuchadnezzar 
was  never  such  an  infidel  as  thou  art.    It  was  but  last 
week,  gentlemen,  that  I  attended  this  fellow  in  a  fit  of 
Hickness  ;    there  1  found  him  rolling  up  his  eyes  to 
Heaven,  and  crying  for  mercy ;  he  would  then  swallow 
my  drugs  like  bieasl-milk,  yet  you  now  hear  him, 
how  the  old  dog  blasphemes  the  faculty.'    What  Cheney 
said  in  , est  was  true,  he  feared  the  approaches  of  death 
more  than  the  generality  of  mankind,  and  was  generally 
very  devout  while  it  threatened  him.    Though  he  wag 


374 


THE  LIFK  O.. 


p;:' 


•  ' 


somewhat  the  libertine  in  action,  none  believed  or  trem- 
bled  more  than  he  ;  for  a  mind  neither  «chooIed  by  philo- 
ftophy,  nor  encouraged  by  cimscioUH  innocence,  h  ever 
timid  at  the  apiwaranco  of  danger. 

For  some  time  before  his  decease  nature  gave  warning 
of  his  appro.Khing  dissolution.  The  worn  machine  had 
run  Itself  down  to  an  utter  impossibility  of  repair  •  he 
saw  that  he  must  die,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought. 
His  virtues  were  not  of  the  great,  but  the  amiable  kind  • 
so  that  fortitude  was  not  among  the  number.  Anxious' 
timid,  his  thoughts  still  hanging  on  a  receding  world  he 
desired  to  enjoy  a  little  longer  that  life,  the  -niseries  of 
which  he  had  experienced  so  long.  T>-o  poor  unsuccess- 
ful gamester  husbanded  the  wasting  moments,  with  an 
increased  desire  to  coAtinue  the  game,  and  to  the  last 
eagerly  wished  for  one  yet  more  happy  throw.  K,  died 
at  his  house  •■•1  St.  John's  Court,  Bath,  on  the  12th  of 
Feb.-uary,  1761,  aged  eighty-seven  years,  three  months 
and  some  days. 

Hi8  death  was  sincerely  regretted  by  the  citv,  to 
which  he  had  been  so  long  and  so  great  a  benefactor. 
The  day  after  he  died,  the  Mayor  of  Bath  called  the 
Corporation  together,  where  they  granted  fifty  pounds 
towards  burying  their  soVereign  with  proper  respect. 
After  the  corpse  had  lain  four  days,  it  was  conveyed  to 
the  Abbey  ohuroh  in  that  city,  with  a  solemnay  some- 
what peculiar  to  his  character.  About  five  the  pro- 
cession  moved  from  his  house  ;  the  charity  girls  two 
and  two  preceded,  next  the  boys  of  tne  charity  school 
singing  a  solemn  occasional  hymn.i    Next  marched  the 

'  The  Hymn  mng  at  hw  Funeral. 

I 
Most  unhappy  are  we  here. 
Full  of  Bin  and  full  of  fear. 
Ever  weary,  ne'er  at  rest. 
When,  0  Lord,  shall  we  be  bleat  t 


RICHARD  NANH,  ESQ. 


378 

P»1I  supported  bythoHixL         T         P'"""  ''  '"«'  ""e 

bcadleH  of  that  h^rita  LT^  T  'u"'  "'""""""'  ^  "■» 
'anjely  to  endow  X"'jf "'',,'';', ''"•J  -"tributed  «„ 
patients  them»elvt.«  tL  !  '  u  ^""'  °'  ""■  "'«  P««r 
Jeebie.  UW^ t/.  ! S  ^^017.0;^^'  ""r*' 
ding  unfeigned  lean,  an,l  l„  J    ?        ?  ^'"  8™'''-  "'"d- 

filled,  but,  as  one  otZ  T"'  ""'^  **">  "»"«'*''  *ero 

>ventheCo?thehltj°"'^'''"  '"  "  '""'  "-P""-"  it. 
'  each  thought    iei"r      Z  "°'''""'  ^''^  -P«^'«t°" 
'as  when  a  real  kLrdtl'K  "'"'*'''  then^^Wen  most 

^rth -da  clog,  a  pageant  liie, 
RUdwh  folly,  g„u.,„^.„i, 
J-U  we  all  unite  in  Thee, 
With  oureelves  wo  disagree. 

Ill 

What '»  our  con,  Tort  here  below  1 

Empty  bubble,  lran.ient  show 

Wrapt  1,   the  body,  vife  disguiU. 
None  truly  i,  untU  he  dies. 

Here  we  dwell,  but  not  at  home. 
To  other  world,  „,dain'd  to  roam; 
^et  still  we  seek  for  joys  that  waste 

Fleeting  as  the  vernal  bl,,!' 

Lord  remove  th.      shadows  hence 

ieach  us  here  in  life  to  die 
That  w  may  live  eternally. 


376 


THE  UFE  OF 


m 


'  ijore.  The  awfulneaii  u(  ttto  Milcninity  maclo  the  deepent 
'  imprewion  on  the  minitM  uf  tko  dutrvHiicd  inbabitantH. 
'  The  peawnt  diiicoiitiiiuecl  hi><  toil,  tho  ox  rcHtcd  from 
'  the  plough,  all  nature  wemcd  to  iiym|>athizo  with  their 
'  lou,  and  tho  mufRed  bollH  rung  a  peal  of  Bob  Major.' 

Our  decpeat  aoIeninitieR  have  Bom^thing  truly 
ridiculoua  in  them :  there  in  Homcwhat  ludicrouH  in  the 
folly  of  historians,  who  thus  dcclnim  upon  the  death  of 
kings  and  princes,  an  if  there  was  anything  dismal,  or 
ai'ything  unusual  in  it.  '  For  my  part,'  says  Poggi,  the 
Florentine,  '  I  can  no  more  grieve  for  another's  death, 
'  than  I  could  for  my  own.  I  have  over  regarxled  death 
'  as  a  very  trifling  affair ;  nor  can  black  staves,  long 
'  cloaks,  or  mourning  coaches,  in  the  leait  influence  my 
'  spirits.  Let  us  live  here  as  long,  and  as  merrily  as  we 
'  can  ;  and  when  we  must  die,  why,  let  us  die  merrily  too, 
'  but  die  so  as  to  be  happy.' 

Tho  few  things  he  was  possessed  of  were  left  to  his 
relations.  A  small  library  of  well-chosen  books,  some 
trinkets  and  pictures,  were  his  only  inheritance.  Among 
the  latter  (besides  the  box  given  him  by  the  Prince  of 
Wales),  were  a  gold  box,  which  was  presented  to  him 
by  the  Countess  of  Burlington,  with  Lady  Euston's 
picture  in  the  lid ;  an  itui,  mounted  in  gold,  with  a 
diamond  to  open  it,  and  ornamented  with  another 
diamond  at  the  top,  given  him  by  the  Princess-Jowager 
of  Wales.  He  had  also  a  silver  t«rene,  which  was  given 
him  by  the  Princess  Amelia  ;  and  some  other  things  ol 
no  gieat  value.  The  rings,  watcheti,  and  pictures,  which 
he  formerly  received  from  others,  would  have  come 
to  a  considerable  amount ;  but  these  his  necessities  had 
obliged  him  to  dispose  of :  Eomc  family  pictures,  how- 
ever, remained,  which  were  told  by  advertisement,  for 
five  guineas  each,  after  Mr.  Nash's  decease. 

It.  was  natural  to  expect,  that  the  death  of  a  person 
so  long  in  the  eye  of  the  public,  must  have  produced 


RICHARD  NASH    ESQ. 


377 

were  flIM  with  olcgicn,  «„,„„«  „„,|  ..hnrn.terH  •    „nd 
writor.   ?r I  wnicmbor  ono  of  lho«.  <h«r«ctor 

l.m,ni.u™,  „w.  i  ,;"         """""  "'  •"  '►" 

'>^^^vzz:^i::::^':z^':^ - 

Huch  another.  '*''  "''""  ""«''•  finJ 

But  though  he  was  Hatiriad  with  the  pm.HeH  of  those 

and  (.erhap,  many  will  find  in  cither  enoutrh    „nnn 
unimportant  a  subject  as  Mr    V„Hh--  Tf     .'  ^    "" 
curiosity      The   fijf   ^.  ki-  f  J  ''''"'  *"  """t'^fv 

Oliver   written  u^^h    '^    ^  '''■   ""^   *''"*   ••>•  ""•'t"' 

Lume^rhis  motto  th?'"  ""  """'"'■"  »''"'  "^  »•- 
spa..a  his  fSnT"  j, t  tZuT  h  "  '"'"''''''''''  '""" 
entixel^topaosthemT^ri  'Z?^   """  *"°  '""'"'• 


378 


THJE  UFE  OF 


A  iTAiNT  Sketch  of  the  Life,  Chabactgb,  and  Mannebs, 
OF  THE  late  Mr.  Nash. 

Imperium  in  Imperio. 

De  mortuU  nil  nisi  bonum. 

Bath,  February  13,  1761. 

This  morning  died 

RICHARD  NASH,    Esq. 

Aged  eighty-eight. 

He  was  by  birth  a,  gentleman,  an  ttncient  Briton  ; 

By  education,  a  student  of  Jesus  College,  in  Oxford  ; 

By  profession      

His  natural  gei^us  was  too  volatile  for  any. 

He  tried  the  army  and  the  law  ; 
But  soon  found  his  mind  superior  to  both — 
He  was  bom  to  govern. 
Nor  was  his  dominion,  like  that  of  other  legislators. 
Over  the  servility  of  the  vulgar. 
But  over  the  ptide  of  the  noble,  and  the  opulent. 
His  public  character  was  great, 
As  it  was  self-built,  and  self-maintained  : 
His  private  amiable. 
As  it  was  grateful,  beneficent,  and  generous. 
By  the  force  of  genius 
He  erected  the  city  of  Bath  into  a  province  of  pleasure, 
And  became,  by  universal  consent. 
Its  legislator,  and  ruler. 
He  planned,  improved,  and  regulated  all  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  place  ; 
His  fundamental  law  was,  that  of  good  breeding  ; 
Hold  sacred  decency,  and  decorum. 
His  constant  maxim  : 
Nobody,  howsoever  exalted 
By  beauty,  blood,  titles,  or  riches. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


379 


Could  be  guilty  of  a  breach  of  it,  unpunished 

To  maantam  the  sovereignty  he  had  established, 

Whi.h  f      ^t^."     '''^'^""^""''^'"'Viour, 

A^H     V  T  *^":  P"'P"«ty.  acquired  the  fox^e  of  laws  • 

And  wh.ch  the  highest  never  infringed,  withouir  • 
mediately  undergoing  the  public  censure. 

He  kept  the  mm  in  order;  most  wisely 

By  prohibiting  the  wearing  swo'rds  in  hirLinions  • 

Hy  which  means 

He  prevented  sudden  passion  from  causing 

The  bitterness  of  unavailing  repentance.— 

In  all  quarrels  he  was  chosen  the  Umpire^ 

And  so  just  were  his  decisions. 

That  peace  generally  triumphed. 

Crowned  with  the  mutual  thanks  of  both  parties 

By"'S"w''*'"'"'"^*'"»'"'^=  mostei^  tuaTly 
By  a  nice  observance  of  the  rules  of  place  and  pr^e- 

d6nc6  * 

By  ordaining  scandal  to  b;  the  infallible  mark 

Of  a  foolish  head,  and  a  malicious  heart 

Always  rendering  more  suspicious      ' 

The  reputation  of  her  who  propagated  it, 

Than  that  of  the  person  abused. 

Of  the  young,  the  gay,  the  heedless  fair 

Just  launching  into  the  dangereus  sea  of  ple^^ure 

He  was  ever,  unsolicited  (sometimes  ur^r^arM)' 

The  kind  protector : 

Humanely  comcting  even  their  mistakes  in  dress 

As  well  as  improprieties  in  conduct  : 

Nay,  often  warning  them, 

Though  at  the  hazard  of  his  life 

Or  an  improper  acquaintance  with  women  of  doubtful 
characters. 


380 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Thus  did  he  establidh  his  government  on  pillars 

Of  honour  and  politeness, 

Which  could  never  be  shaken  : 

And  maintained  it,  for  full  half  a  century. 

With  reputation,  honour,  and  undisputed  authority, 

Beloved,  respected,  and  revered. 

Of  his  private  character,  be  it  the  first  praise, 

That,  while  by  his  conduct,  the  highest  ranks  became 

his  subjects. 

He  himself  became 

The  servant  of  the  poor  and  the  distressed  : 

Whose  cause  he  ever  pleaded  amongst  the  rich. 

And  enforced  with  all  the  eloquence  of  a  good  example  : 

They  were  ashamed  not  to  relieve  those  wants, 

To  which  they  saw  him  administer  with 

So  noble  an  heart,  and  so  liberal  an  hand. 

Nor  was  his  munificence  confined  to  particulars. 

He  being,  to  all  the  public  charities  of  this  city, 

A  liberal  benefactor ; 

Not  only  by  his  own  most  generous  subscriptions. 

But,  by  always  assuming,  in  their  behalf,  the  character  of 

A  sturdy  beggar ; 

Which  he  performed  with  such  an  authoritative  address 

To  all  ranks,  without  distinction. 

That  few  of  the  worst  hearts  had  courage  to  refuse. 

What  their  own  inclinations  would  not  have  prompted 

them  to  bestow. 

Of  a  noble  public  spirit, 

And 

A  warm  grateful  heart. 

The  obelisk  in  the  grove. 

And 

The  beautiful  needle  in  the  square, 

Are  magnificent  testimonies 

The  One 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


381 


Erected  to  preserve  the  memory  of  a 

Most  interesting  event  to  his  countrv- 

The  rest.tut.on  of  health,  by  the  healing  wate™  of  this 

place. 

To  the  illustrious  Prince  of  Orange, 

Who  came  hither  in  a  most  languishing  condition  : 

The  Other, 

T   .u   ,       ^  ""We  offering  of  thanks 

To  the  late  Prince  of  Wales,  and  his  royal  Consort, 

tor  favours  hestmved, 

And  honours  by  them  conferred,  on  this  city. 

His  long  and  peaceful  reign  of 

Absolute  power 

Was  so  tempered  by  his 

Excesdve  good-nature, 

That  no  mstance  can  be  given  either  of  his  own  cruelty, 

')r  of  his  suffenng  that  of  othera,  to  escape 

Its  proper  reward. 

Example  miprecedented  amongst  absolute  monarchs. 

READER. 

This  monarch  was  a  man 

Whi  .,        ^"''  .^*'^ ''''  '""'''''''  ^"^  ''is  faults  : 

Which  we  would  wish  covered  with  the  veil  of  good 

nature. 

Made  of  the  same  piece  with  his  own  • 

iJut,  truth  foreeth  us  unwillingly  to  confess. 

Hia  passions  were  strong  • 

Which  as  they  fired  him  to  act  strenuously  in  good 

Hi,  fi«       .       .     "  *°  '°'"''  ^""^^^  °f  evil. 

H.S  fire,  not  used  to  be  kept  wider  by  an  early  restraint. 

^"nt°ut  too  often  into  flaming  acts 

Without  waiting  for  the  cool  approbation  of  his  judge. 

ment. 


Sg2  THE  LIFE  OF 

His  generosity  was  so  great, 

That  Prudence  often  whispered  him,  in  vain, 

That  she  feai'ed  it  would  enter  the  neighbouring  confines 

of  profusion  ■ 

His  charity  so  unbounded, 

That  the  severe  might  suspect  it  sometimes  to  be 

The  offspring  of  folly,  or  ostentation. 


I 


With  all  these, 
Be  they  foibles,  follies,  faults,  or  frailties. 
It  will  bo  difficult  to  point  out. 
Amongst  his  cotemporary  Kings  of  the  whole  earth, 
kore  than  ONE 
Who  hath  fewer,  or  less  pernicious  to  mankind. 
His  existence 
(For  life  it  scarcely  might  be  called) 
Was  spun  out  to  so  great  an  age,  that 
Themon 
Was  sunk,  like  many  former  heroes,  in 
The  weakness  and  infirmities  of  exhausted  nature  ; 
The  unwilling  tax  all  animals  must  pay 
For  multiplicity  of  days. 
Over  his  closing  scene. 
Charity  long  spread  her  all-covering  mantle, 
And  dropped  the  curtain. 
Before  the  poor  actor,  though  he  played  his  part. 
Was  permitted  to  quit  the  stage. 
Now  may  she  protect  his  memory  ! 
Every  friend  of  Bath, 
Every  lover  of  decency,  decorum,  and  r  jd  breeding, 
Must  sincerely  deplore 
The  loss  of  so  excellent  a  governor  ; 
And  join  in  tue  most  fervent  wishes  (would  I  could  say 
hopes!) 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 
That  there  may  soon  be  found  a  man 
Able  and  worthy, 
To  succeed  him. 


383 


intimate  friend  held  he  Idl  the  C'"''"'  '^'  "" 
Bay  nothing  of  the  dead  Ctt ha W^^  '^r  V° 
a  maxim,  though  if  ..•„       u-     ,  ^        '  *""  ^^"^ 

had^  ca,;:S\:V™ 'IX^  ''^  ''^^ 
to  those  of  ^^oTt  Lyc:Ss^"''  ^"'^"  '^^  '"-  "- 

Epitaphium  Richabdi  Nash,  Ar,<meiu. 

H.  8.  E. 

RICHARDUS   NASH 

Obscuro  loco  natus, 
Et  nullis  ortus  majoribus  : 
Cui  tamen 
(O  rem  miram,  et  incredibilem  t ) 
Regnum  opulentissimum  florentissimumque 
«ebs,  proceres,  principes, 
Liberia  suis  suffragiis 
Ultro  detulenint. 
Quod  et  ipse  summa  cum  dignitate  tenuif 
-Annos  plus  quinquaginta 
Universo  populo  consentiente,  approbe^nte  plaudent« 
Una  voce  pr^^...  „„„,„,  „„„ f/^  o^ilL' tttu 
Ad  impenum  suum  adjuncta  est 
Magni  nominis  >  Provincia 
Quam  admirabili  consilio  et  ratione 
fer  se,  non  nnquam  per  legates,  ad.mmstravit ; 
'  Tunbridge. 


S84  THE  LIFE  OF 

Earn  quotannig  invisere  dignatua, 

Et  apud  provinciales,  quoad  necesse  iuit, 

Solitus  manere. 

In  tanta  fortuna 

Neque  fastu  turgiduB  Rex  incessu  patuit, 

Weque,  tyrannonim  more,  ee  jussit  coli, 

Aut  amplos  honores,  titulosque  sibi  airogavit ; 

Sed  cuncta  insignia,  etiam  regium  diadema  rejicieng, 

Caput  contentus  fuit  ornare 

Galero  also, 

Manifssto  aiiimi  sui  candoris  signo. 

LkqisiiATOR  prudcntissimus, 

Vel  Solone  et  Lycurgo  illustrior 

Leges,  quasctuique  voluit, 

E^atuit,  fixit,  promulgavit : 

Omnes  quidem  cum  civibus  suis, 

Turn  vero  hospitibus,  advenis,  peregrinis, 

Gratas,  jucundas,  utiles. 

VoLUPTATUM  arbiter  et  minister, 

Sed  gravis,  sed  elcgans,  sed  nrbanus, 

Et  in  summa  comitate  satis  adhibens  severitatis, 

Imprimis  ciuavit, 

Ut  iu  virorum  et  foeminarum  coetibus 

Nequis  impudenter  faceret, 

Neque  in  iis  quid  inesset 

Impuritatis,  clamoris,  tumulti. 

CiviTATBM  banc  celeberrimam, 

Delicias  suas, 

Non  modo  pulcberrimis  aediflciis  auxit, 

Sod  praeclara  disciplina  et  moribus  omavit : 

Quippe  nemo  quisquam 
To  PRF.FOS  melius  intellesit,  excoluit,  docuit. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


Atque  am.ouH  omnibus  praeoipue  mi^ris  et  cge„i«. 

Nullos  habuit  inimicos 

Pmeter  mngnos  quosdam  ardeliones, 

Et  d«Iamatore8  eos  .ristcB  et  fanaticos 

Qui  fcenen  humane  sunt  inimicteimi. 

Pacts  et  patriae  amang, 

Conoordiam.  felicem  et  perpetnam. 

In  regno  suo  constituit, 

Usque  adeo, 

Ut  nullua  alteri  petnlanter  maledicere, 

Aut  facto  nooera  auderet ; 

Neque,  tanquam  sibi  metuens. 

In  publicum  armatus  prodi  ^. 

Frrr  quanqnam  potentissimne 

Omnia  arbitrio  bug  gubernans  : 

Haud  tamen  ipsa  libertas 

Magis  usquam  floruit 

Gratia,  gloria,  anctoritate. 

Singulare  enim  temperamentum  invenit 

(Rem  magnae  cogitationis, 

*■*""""  o°>°ium  fortasse  dilBcillimaml 

Quo  ignob,  es  cum  nobilibus,  paupex^s  cum  dTiibus 

Indocti  cum  doctissimis,  ignavi  cum  fortissTmis 

Aequari  sc  putarent, 

Rbx  Omnibus  Idem. 

QuioQuiD  Peccaveeit, 
(Nam  peccamus  omnes) 
Wf     ■„       ^"  *^'P»"°i  magis,  quam  in  alios, 
Et  errore,  aut  imprudentia  magis  quam  scele«,  ant 
improbitate, 
Peccavit ; 

QOLDSIUTH.    m  ^ 


385 


SSa  THE  UFE  OF 

Nmqaani  vero  ignnratione  decori,  aut  honesti, 

Neque  ita  quidem  usquam, 

Ut  non  veniam  ab  humaniH  onmibiu 

Facile  impetrarit. 

Hcjcs  vitae  morumque  exemplar 

8i  coeteri  reges,  regulique, 

Et  quotquot  8unt  regnorara  pracfecti, 

Imitaientur  ; 

(Utinam !   iterumque  utinam  !) 

Et  ipsi  essent  beati, 

Et  cunctae  Oxbia  regiones  beatiasimae. 

Talem  vipm,  tantumque  ademptum 

Lugeant  mueae,  charitesque  ! 

Lugeant  Veneres,  Cupidinesque  ! 

Lugeant  on.  les  juvenum  et  nympharum  chori ! 

Tu  vero,  O  Bathonia, 

Ne  cesses  tuum  lugere 

I^ncipem,  praeoeptorem,  amicum,  }>atronum  ; 

Heu,  heu,  numquam  posthac 

Habitura  paiem  1 

The  following  translation  of  this  Epitaph  will  give 
the  English  reader  an  idea  of  its  contents,  thi  ugh  not 
of  its  elegance. 


The  Epitaph  or  Richabd  Nash,  Esq. 

Here  lies 

RICHARD    NASH, 

Bom  in  an  obscure  village, 

And  from  mean  ancestors. 

To  whom,  however, 

Strange  to  relate. 

Both  the  vulgar,  and  the  mighty, 


xlICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


51  ve 
not 


Without  bribe  or  compuWon. 

Unanimously  gave 

A  fangdora  equally  rich  and  flourishing. 

A  langdom  which  ho  governed      * 
More  than  fifty  yearn, 
W,th  universal  approbation  and  applaud. 
To  h«  empire  also  was  added, 
By  the  consent  of  all  orders 

vn    uu    -* '*'«''"^*ed  province  • 
""1  oh  he  ever  s waved  with  <»~„i.        . 
Not  hv  H»i      .  I  *""*  prudence, 

Not  by  delegated  power,  but  in  pereon. 

AnH»K-i   .?° ''^'«^  *°  ^Wt  it  every  year 
A^d  while  the  necessities  of  state  demaX  his  presence 
He  usually  continued  there  P"**"*"' 

His  nnVl«  A-      *""''  greatness  of  fortune 
«18  pnde  discovered  i«splf  K„  „ 

Audlaymgas,de  all  royal  splendour 
H„  ».  Wearmg  not  even  the  diadem 

He  was  content  with  being  distinguistd 'only  by  the 
ornamental  ensign 
Of  a  white  hat , 
A  symbol  of  the  candour  of  his  mind 
He  was  a  most  prudent  legislator    ' 
And  more  remarkable  even  than  Solon     "iycurgu. 
He  at  once  established  and  authorized    '^• 
Whatever  laws  wer^  thought  convent 
Whrch  wero  equally  serviceable  to  the  cL 
And  grateful  to  strangers.  ^' 

HewasatoncTaZ'd^ratr'"'^-    , 
But  still  conducteirm  ;?;aS:nd2"""^' 
And  ..pressed  licentionsnefS  ^ve^S""' 
'  Xunbridge, 


387 


888 


THE  UFE  OF 


HIh  chief  care  waa  employed 

In  preventing  obiicenity  or  impudence 

From  offending  the  modesty  or  the  morals 

Of  the  Fair  Sex, 

And  in  banishing  from  their  aaiieinblies 

Tumult,  clamour,  and  abuse. 

He  not  only  adorned  this  city,       * 

Which  he  loved, 

With  beautiful  structures, 

But  improved  it  by  hio  example  ; 

As  no  man  know,  no  man  taught,  what  was  becoming 

Better  than  he. 

He  was  just,  liberal,  kind,  and  facetious, 

A  friend  to  a)l,  but  particularly  to  the  poor. 

He  had  no  enemies, 

Except  xome  of  the  trifling  great. 

Or  dull  declaimers,  foes  to  all  mankind. 

Equally  a  lover  of  peace  and  of  his  country, 

He  fixed  a  happy  auU  lasting  concord 

In  his  kingdom. 

So  that  none  dare  convey  scandal,  or  injure  by  open 

violence  the  universal  peace, 

Or  even  by  carrying  arms  appear  prepared  for  war, 

With  impunity. 


But  though  his  power  was  boundless. 

Yet  never  did  liberty  flourish  more,  which  he  promoted. 

Both  by  his  authority,  and  cultivated  for  his  fame. 

He  found  out  the  happy  secret 

(A  thing  not  to  be  considered  without  surprise) 

Of  uniting  the  vulgar  and  the  great. 

The  poor  and  the  rich. 

The  learned  and  ignorant. 

The  cowardly  and  the  brave. 

In  the  bonds  of  society,  an  equal  king  to  all. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


ng 


pen 


«d, 


Whatovor  hiH  fimlts  wore, 

For  wo  have  nil  faultH, 

T^y  wero  rather  obnoxious  t„  hin,«,lf  than  othe «  • 

Aevcr  from  dishoneHty  or  corrupt  principle. 

But  so  h  i  ulesH  were  they. 

That  though  they  failed  to  create  our  cntcem. 

3fct  can  they  not  want  our  pardon. 

Could  other  king*  and  governor 

But  learn  to  imitate  his  example. 

(Would  to  heaven  they  could  I) 

Then  might  they  see  themselvcB  happy 

And  their  people  still  enjoying 

more  'rue  felicity. 

Ye  Muses  and  Graces  mourn 

His  death  ; 

Ye  powers  of  love,  ye  chuirs 

of  youth  and  virgins. 

But  thou,  O  Bathonia,  more  than  the  rest, 

Cease  not  to  weep 

Your  king,  your  teacher,  patron,  friend, 

Never,  ah,  never,  to  behold 

His  equal. 

Whatever  might  have  been  justly  observed  of  Mr 

S  h:t"rc"imp:rarr\" ''-"  '*  -"^  ^' 

ablepanegyr^s^rfrer^r^^^^^^^^^ 

with  impetuosity.    They  both  seem  to  have  loved  hi^ 

Ship.    But  a  cool  biographer,  unbiased  by  reBentmenfc 
or  regard,  will  probably  find  nothing  in  tl^  ™uh» 


SM 


THE  LIFE  OF 


truly  greot,  or  itrongly  vicloun.  Hi*  virtuen  were  all 
nmiablo,  and  nuire  adapted  to  procure  friondn  than 
admiren,  they  were  more  capable  of  rowing  lo\e  than 
eateem.  He  was  naturally  endued  with  good  sennc  ;  but 
by  having  been  long  accuatomed  tx>  pumuo  trifles,  hi» 
mind  shrunk  to  the  aize  of  the  little  objerta  on  which 
it  wai  employed.  Ilia  generoaity  was  boundlexa,  because 
hia  tcndemeas  nnd  hia  vanity  were  in  equal  proportion ; 
the  one  impel'  'i  him  to  relievo  misery ,  and  the  other 
to  make  hia  U,,ufactiona  known.  In  all  hia  actions, 
however  virtuous,  ue  was  guided  by  sensation  and  not 
by  reason  ;  so  that  the  uppermost  passion  wo»  ever  sure 
to  prevail.  Hia  being  conatantly  in  company  had  made 
him  an  easy  though  not  a  polite  companion.  He  chose 
to  be  thought  rather  an  odd  fellow,  than  a  well-bred 
man  ;  perhaps  that  mixture  of  respect  and  ridicule,  with 
which  luH  mock  royalty  was  treated,  first  inspired  him 
with  this  resolution .  The  foundations  of  his  empire  were 
laid  in  vicious  compliance,  the  continuance  of  his  reign 
waa  supported  by  ,■  virtuous  impartiality.  In  the 
beginning  of  his  auth  Tity,  he  in  reality  obeyed  those 
whom  he  pretended  to  govern  ;  tr. wards  the  end,  he 
attempted  to  extort  a  real  obedience  from  hia  xubjects, 
and  supported  his  right  by  preccription.  Like  a  monarch 
Tacitus  talks  of,  hey  complied  with  him  at  i^rst  because 
they  loved,  they  obeyed  at  last  because  they  feared  him. 
He  often  led  the  rich  into  new  follies,  in  order  to  promote 
the  happiness  of  the  poor,  and  aerved  the  one  at  the 
expense  of  the  other.  Whatever  his  vices  were,  they 
were  of  use  to  society  ;  and  this  neither  Petronius,  nor 
Apicius,  nor  Tigellius,  nor  any  other  professed  volup- 
tuary, could  say.  To  set  him  up,  as  some  do,  for  a 
pattern  of  imitation,  is  wrong,  since  all  his  virtues 
received  a  tincture  from  the  neighbouring  folly  ;  to 
denounce  peculiar  judgements  against  him,  is  equally 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


unjuiit.  BN  hi*  fBuIti  raim  rather  our  mirth 
dete^tntion.  He  w««  fltte.1  for  the  ntntion 
fortune  placed  him.  It  require.1  no  poU  n 
fill  It,  and  few  of  great  abilities  but  woul.l  hnvc 
the  employment.  He  led  a  life  of  vnnitv 
miitook  it  for  happincM.  Unfortunntciv  he  » 
«f  iMt  to  know,  that  u  man  of  plonHure  jendn 
unpleasant  life  in  the  world. 


3C1 

than  our 
in  which 

ibiliticH  to 
diMlaincd 
and  long 

n»  taught 
the  moit 


392 


THE  UFE  OF 


A  Letter  from  Mr.****  in  Tunbridge,  to  Lord in 

London;  found  among  the  Papers  of  Mr.  Nash,  and 
prepared  by  him  for  the  press. 

My  Lord, 

What  I  foresaw  has  arrived  ;  poor  Jenners,  after 
losing  all  his  fortune,  has  shot  himself  through  the  head. 
His  losses  to  Bland  were  considerable,  and  his  playing 
soon  after  with  Spedding  contributed  to  hasten  his  ruin. 
No  man  was  ever  more  enamoured  of  play,  or  under- 
stood it  less.  At  whatever  game  he  ventured  his  money, 
he  was  most  usually  the  dupe,  and  still  foolishly  attri- 
buted to  his  bad  luck,  those  misfortunes  that  entirely 
proceeded  from  his  want  of  judgement. 

After  finding  that  he  had  brought  on  himself  irrepar- 
able indigence  and  contempt,  his  temper,  formerly  so 
sprightly,  began  to  ^ow  gloomy  and  unequal ;  he  grew 
more  fond  of  solitude,  and  more  liable  to  take  offence 
at  supposed  injuries  ;  in  short,  for  a  week  before  he 
shot  himself,  his  friends  were  of  opinion  that  he  medi- 
tated some  such  horrid  design.  He  was  found  in  his 
chamber  fallen  on  the  floor,  the  bullet  having  glanced 
on  the  bo:  ?,  and  lodged  behind  his  right  eye. 

You  remember,  my  Lord,  what  a  charming  fellow 
this  deluded  man  was  once.  How  benevolent,  just, 
temperate,  and  every  way  virtuous  ;  the  only  faults  of 
his  mind  arose  from  motives  of  humanity ;  he  was  too 
easy,  credulous  and  good-natured,  and  unable  to  resist 
temptation,  when  recommended  by  the  voice  of  friend- 
ship. These  foibles  the  vicious  and  the  needy  soon 
perceived,  and  what  was  at  first  a  weakness  they  soon 
perverted  into  guilt  ;  he  became  a  gamester,  and  con- 
tinued the  infamous  profession,  till  he  could  support  the 
miseries  it  brought  with  it  no  longer. 
1  have  often  been  not  a  little  concerned  to  see  the 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


&8t  introduction  of  a  young  man  of  fortune  to  tho 
gammg-table  With  what  eagerness  his  company  is 
courted  by  the  whole  fraternity  of  sharpers  ;  how  they 
find  out  his  most  latent  wishes,  in  order  to  make  way 
to  his  affections  by  gratifying  them  ;  and  continue  to 
hang  upon  him  with  the  meanest  degree  of  condescen- 
Hion.  The  youth.ul  dupe,  no  way  suspecting,  imagines 
himse  f  surrounded  by  friends  and  gentlemen,  anf  i^ 
capable  of  even  suspecting  that  men  of  such  seeming 
good  sense,  and  so  genteel  an  appearance,  should  deviat^ 
from  the  laws  of  honour,  walks  into  the  snare,  nor  is  he 
undeceived  till  schooled  by  the  severity  of  experience 

As  I  suppose  no  man  would  be  a  gamester  unless  he 
hoped  to  win,  so  I  fancy  it  would  be  easy  to  reclaim 
tim.  ,f  he  was  once  effectually  convinced,  that  by  con- 
tmumg  to  play  he  must  certainly  lose.  Permit  me,  my 
i^rd,  to  attempt  this  task,  and  to  show,  that  no  yomig 
gentleman  by  a  year's  run  of  play,  and  in  a  mixed 
company,  can  possibly  be  a  gainer 

on  both  sides  are  equal,  that  there  are  no  marked  cards 
no  pmching,  shufHing,  nor  hiding  ;  let  me  suppose  that 
the  players  also  have  no  advantage  of  each  other  in 
pomt  of  judgement,  and  still  further  let  me  grant,  that 
the  party  is  only  formed  at  home,  without  going  to  the 
usual  expensive  places  of  resort  fi^quented  by  gamesters. 
Even  with  all  these  circumstances  in  the  young  game- 
ster s  favour,  it  is  evident  he  cannot  be  a  gainer     With 
equal  players  after  a  year's  continuance  of  anv  particular 
game  It  will  be  found,  that,  whatever  has  been  played 
tov  the  winnings  on  either  side  are  very  inconsiderable 
and  most  commonly  nothing  at  all.   Here  then  is  a  year's 
anxiety,  pain,  jarring,  and  suspense,  and  nothing  gained  ■ 
were  the  parties  to  sit  down  and  professedly  play  for 
nothing,  they  would  contemn  the  proposal ;  they  would 
03 


304 


THE  LIFE  OP 


call  it  trifling  away  time,  and  one  of  the  most  insipid 
amusements  in  nature  ;  yet  in  fact,  how  do  equal 
players  differ  V  It  is  allowed  that  little  or  nothing  can 
be  gained ;  but  much  is  lost ;  our  youth,  our  time, 
those  moments  that  may  be  laid  out  in  pleasure  or 
improvement,  are  foolishly  squandered  away,  in  Umhig 
cards,  fretting  at  ill-luck,  or,  even  with  a  run  of  luck 
in  our  favour,  fretting  that  our  winnings  are  so  small. 

I  have  now  stated  gaming  in  that  point  of  view  in 
which  it  is  alone  defensible,  as  a  commerce  carried  on 
with  equal  advantage  and  loss  to  either  party,  and  it 
appears,  that  the  loss  is  great,  and  the  advantage  but 
small.  But  let  me  suppose  the  players  not  to  be  equal, 
but  the  superiority  of  judgement  in  our  own  favour. 
A  person  who  plays  under  this  conviction,  however, 
must  give  up  all  pretensions  to  the  approbation  of  his 
own  mind,  and  is  guilty  of  as  much  injustice  as  the  thief 
who  robbeu  a  blind  man  because  he  knew  he  could  not 
swear  to  his  person. 

But  in  fact,  when  I  allowed  the  superiority  of  skill 
on  the  young  beginner's  side,  I  only  granted  an  impos- 
sibility. Skill  in  gaming,  like  skill  in  making  a  watch, 
can  only  be  acquired  by  long  and  painful  industry.  The 
most  sagacious  youth  alive  was  never  taught  at  once 
all  the  arts  and  all  the  niceties  of  gaiiing.  Every 
passion  must  be  schooled  by  long  habit  into  caution, 
and  phlegm  ;  the  very  countenance  must  be  taught 
proper  discipline  ;  and  he  who  would  practise  this  art 
with  success,  must  practise  on  his  own  constitution  all 
the  severities  of  a  martyr,  without  any  expectation  of 
the  reward.  It  is  evident  therefore  every  beginner  must 
be  a  dupe,  and  can  only  be  expected  to  learn  his  trade 
by  losses,  disappointments,  and  dishonour. 

If  a  young  gentleman  therefore  begins  to  game,  the 
commencements  are  sure  to  be  to  his  disadvantage  ;  and 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  393 

all  thit  he  can  promise  himself  is,  that  the  company 
he  keeps,  though  superior  in  skill,  are  above  taking 
advantage  of  his  ignorance,  and  unacquainted  with  any 
smister  arts  to  correct  fortune.    But  this,  however  is 
but  a  poor  hope  at  best,  and  what  is  worse,  most  fre- 
quently  a  false  one     In  general,  I  might  almost  have 
said  always  those  who  live  by  gaming,  are  not  beholding 
to  chance  alone  for  their  support,  but  take  every  advan 
tage  which  they  can  practise  without  danger  of  detection 
I  know  many  are  apt  to  say,  and  I  have  once  said  so 
myself,  that  after  I  have  shuffled  the  cards,  it  is  not  In 
the  power  of  a  sharper  to  pack  them  ;  but  at  present  I 
can  cx,nfldently  assure  ;    ur  todship,  that  such  reasoners 
are  deceived      I  have  seen  men,  both  in  Paris,  the 
Hague,  and  Ix,ndon,  who,  after  three  deals,  could  give 
whatever       :ds  they  pleased  to  all  the  company.    How- 
ever  the  usual  way  with  sharpers  is  to  correct  fortune 
thus  but  once  in  a  night,  and  to  play  in  other  respects 
without  b  under  or  mistake,  and  a  perseverance  in^his 
practice  always  balances  the  year  in  their  favour 

It  IS  impossible  to  enumerate  all  the  tricks  and  arts 
practised  upon  cards  ;  few  but  have  seen  those  bungling 
poor  fellows  who  go  about  at  coffee-houses,  perform  their 

tZ'/TT"  T'  -^'««'*"%  ««  they  are  vei^d 
m  the  trade  they  often  deceive  us  ;  when  Lh  as  these 
are  possessed  of  so  much  art,  what  must  not  those  be 
who  have  been  bred  up  to  gaming  from  their  infancy.' 
whose  hands  are  not  like  those  mentioned  above 
rendered  callous  by  labour,  who  have  continual  practice' 
in  the  trade  of  deceiving,  and  where  the  eye  of  the 
spectator  is  I.ss  upon  its  guard. 

oI^ITa'T^  ^^^^'  °"'y  '^''^•"  ^y  ^ha'  "^  variety 

w  lentil  "  '^f '•"'  *°  '=^^**  ^"''  *"d  I^'haps  it 
will  check  his  confidence.  His  antagonists  may  act  by 
Signs  and  confederacy,  and  this  he  can  never' detect  • 


396 


THE  LIFE  OF 


they  may  cut  to  a  particular  card  after  three  or  four 
hands  have  gone  about,  either  by  having  that  card 
pinched,  or  broader  than  the  rc8t,  or  by  having  an 
exceeding  iine  wire  thrust  between  the  folds  of  the  paper, 
and  just  peeping  out  at  the  edge.  Or  the  cards  may 
be  chalked  with  particular  marks,  which  none  but  the 
sharper  can  understand,  or  a  new  pack  may  be  slipped 
in  at  a  proper  opportunity.  I  have  known  myself  in 
Paris,  a  fellow  thus  detected  with  a  tin  case,  containing 
two  packs  of  cards  concealed  within  his  shirt  sleeve, 
and  which,  by  means  of  a  spring,  threw  the  cards  ready 
packed  into  his  hands.  These  and  a  hundred  other  arts 
may  be  practised  with  impunity,  and  escape  detection. 
The  great  error  lies  in  imagining  every  fellow  with 
a  laced  coat  to  be  a  gentleman.  The  address  and 
transient  behaviour  of  a  man  of  breeding  are  easily 
acquired,  and  none  are  better  qualified  than  gamesters 
in  this  respect.  At  ftat,  their  complaisance,  civility,  and 
apparent  honour  is  pleasing,  but  upon  examination,  few 
of  them  will  be  found  to  have  their  minds  sufficiently 
stored  with  any  of  the  more  refined  accomplishments, 
which  truly  characterize  the  man  of  breeding.  This 
will  commonly  serve  as  a  criterion  to  distinguish  them, 
though  there  are  other  marks  which  every  ;  oung  gentle- 
man of  fortune  should  be  apprised  of.  A  sharper,  when 
he  plaj"-  generally  handles  and  deals  the  cards  awk- 
wardly like  a  bungler  ;  he  advances  his  bets  by  degrees, 
and  keeps  his  antagonist  in  spirits  by  small  advantages 
and  alternate  succcjs  at  the  beginning  ;  to  show  all  his 
force  at  once,  would  but  fright  the  bird  he  intends  to 
decoy ;  he  talks  of  honour  and  virtue,  and  his  being 
a  gentleman,  and  that  he  knows  great  men,  and  mentions 
his  coal-mines,  and  his  estate  in  the  country ;  he  is 
totally  divested  of  that  masculine  confidence  vhich  is 
the  attendant  of  real  fortune  ;  he  turns,  yields,  assents. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ. 


397 
P^lT'"  he  i!  Jr^  1"  •*  '"°'''  ^'^"""8  t°  •>"«  destined 
particularly  if  ,„  better  company  ;   as  ho  grows  richer 

so  that  seeing  a  gamester  growing  finer  each  day  i 
a  certain  symptom  of  his  success  ^' 

.  J*?*;  ^T^  g«nt'e>nan  «bo  plays  with  such  men  for 
considerable  sums,  is  sure  to  be  undone,  and  ylt  we 
seldom  see  even  the  rook  himself  make  a  fortune  A  hfe 
of  gaming  must  necessarily  be  a  life  of  extravagance 
parties  of  this  kind  are  formed  in  houses  w^  he 
whole  profits  are  consumed  ;  and  while  those  wh^p  ay 
mutua  ,y  ^,„  each  other,  they  only  who  keep  the  house 
or  the  ta  ..  acquire  fortunes.  Thus  gaming  may  rendilv 
ruin  a  fortune,  but  has  seldom  been  Lndfo  ^"o  t 

haZ       h""'^'  '"'^  "^^^  ^'='1"'"^''  -*••  indTs^r;  and 
strtsw    f""^'"'^  '"'  "8es  by  prudence  and'^foi. 
Bight,  IS  swept  away  on  a  .udden  ;  and  when  a  besieging 
harper  sits  down  before  ar.  estate,  the  property  iXif 

r:;'rth^^^^  '"^'  ''V'"'  ^'"'"8^  -"  ^  '•™- 
the  r^r  P°^^T'°"-    The  neglect  of  business,  and 

the  extravagance  of  a  mind  which  has  been  taught  to 
cove  precarious  possession,  brings  on  pi^matui.  Zru  ? 

and  though  his  rum  be  slow,  yet  it  is  certain. 

A  thousand  instances  could  be  given  of  the  f»tal 
tendency  of  this  passion,  which  first  impover  shes  the 
mmd,  and  then  perverts  the  understanding  ftrm  t  mo 
to  mention  one,  not  caught  from  report,  or  d^d  up 
by  fancy  but  such  as  has  actually  failen  under  ,„;  ow^ 
observation,  and  of  the  truth  of  which.  I  beg  ""r 
Lordship  may  rest  satisfied.  ^  ^ 

At  Tunbridge,  in  the  year  1715,  Mr.  J.  Hedges  made 


398 


THE  LIFE  OP 


''iWif  '■ 


a  very  brilliant  appearance  ;  he  had  been  married  rbout 
two  years  to  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  and  ,dige 
fortune  ;  they  had  one  child,  a  boy,  on  whom  they 
bestowed  all  that  affection  which  they  could  spare  from 
each  other.  He  knew  nothing  of  gaming,  nor  seemed 
to  have  the  least  passion  for  play  ;  but  he  was  un- 
acquainted with  his  own  heart ;  he  began  by  degrees 
to  bet  at  the  tables  for  trifling  sums,  and  his  soul  took 
fire  at  the  prospect  of  immediate  gain  ;  he  was  soon 
surrounded  with  sharpers,  who  with  calmness  lay  in 
ambush  for  his  fortune,  and  coolly  took  advantage  of 
the  precipitancy  of  his  passions. 

His  lady  perceived  the  ruin  of  her  family  approaching, 
but,  at  first,  without  being  able  to  form  any  scheme  to 
prevent  it.  She  advised  with  his  brother,  who,  at  that 
time,  was  possessed  of  a  small  fellowship  in  Cambridge. 
It  was  easily  seen,  that  whatever  passion  took  the  lead 
in  her  husband's  mind,  seemed  to  be  there  fixed  unalter- 
ably ;  it  was  determined,  therefore,  to  let  him  pursue 
fortune,  but  previously  tak.  measures  to  prevent  the 
pursuits  being  fatal. 

Accordingly  every  night  this  gentleman  w  as  a  constant 
attcnder  at  the  hazard  table  ;  he  understood  neither  the 
arts  of  sharpers,  nor  even  the  allowed  strokes  of  a  con- 
noisseur, yet  still  he  played.  The  consequence  is  obvious ; 
he  lost  his  estate,  his  equipage,  his  wife's  jewels,  and 
every  other  movable  that  could  be  parted  with,  except 
a  repeating  watch.  His  agony  upon  this  occasion  was 
inexpressible  ;  he  was  even  mean  enough  to  ask  a  gentle- 
man, who  sat  near,  to  lend  him  a  few  pieces,  in  order 
to  turn  his  fortune  ;  but  this  prudent  gamester,  who 
plainly  saw  there  were  no  expectations  of  being  repaid, 
refused  to  lend  a  farthing,  alleging  a  former  resolution 
against  lending.  Hedges  was  at  last  furious  with  the 
continuance  of  ill-success,  and  pulling  out  his  watch. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  399 

aaked  if  any  person  in  company  would  set  him  sixty 
guineas  upon  ,t :  the  con.pany  ,vere  silent  ;  he  then 
demanded  fifty;  still  no  answer;  he  sunk  to  forty 
L.  ^'  Jl'^'  "1!"«  ">e  company  still  without  answer- 
.n«  hecned  out,  'By  G_d.it  shall  never  go  for  less,' ar  a 
dashed  .t  against  the  Hoor,  at  the  same  time  attempting  to 
dash  out  his  brains  against  the  marble  chimney  piece. 

This  last  act  of  desperation  immediately  excited  the 
attention  of  the  whole  company  ;  they  instantly  gathered 
™und   and  prevented  the  effects  of  his  pass'i'n  ;    and 
after  he  again  became  cool,  he  was  permitted  to  return 
home,  with  sullen  discontent,  to  his  wife.     Upon  his 
entering  her  apartment,  she  received  him  with  her  usual 
tenderness  and  satisfaction  ;    while  ho  answered  her 
caresses  with  contempt  and  severity  ;    his  disposition 
being  qmte  altered  with  his  misfortunes.    '  But  my  dear 
_  Jemmy,'  says  his  -vife,  '  perhaps  you  don't  know  the 
_  news  I  have  to  tell :   My  Mammal  oU  uncle  is  dead. 
^  the  messenger  ts  now  in  the  house,  and  ycm  How  his 
estate  u  settled  upon  you.'    This  account  seemed  only 
to  increase  his  agony,  and  looking  angrily  at  her,  he 
cned,    There  you  lie,  my  dear,  his  estate  is  not  settled 
_  upon  me.      '  I  beg  your  pardon,'  says  she,  '  I  really 
_  thought  It  wa.,  at  least  you  have  always  told  me  so  ' 
No,    returned  he.  'as  sure  as  you  and  I  are  to  be 
_  miserable  here,  and  our  children  beggars  hereafter. 
_  I  have  sold  the  reversion  of  it  this  day,  and  have  lost 
^  every  farthmg  I  got  for  it  at  the  hazard  table.'    '  What 
all!  '  replied  the  lady.    '  Yes,  every  farthing,'  returned 
lie,    and  I  owe  a  thousand  pounds  more  than  I  have 
to  pay  '    Thus  speaking,  he  took  a  few  frantic  steps 
across  the  room.     When  the  lady  had  a  little  enjoyed 
his  perplexity,    'No,  ray  dear,'  cried  she,   '  vou  have 
_  lost  but  a  trifle,  and  you  owe  nothing.    Our  brother 
and  I  have  taken  care  to  prevent  the  efEects  of  your 


400 


THE  LIFE  OF 


^  rashnem,  and  are  actually  the  persons  who  have  won 
'  your  fortune  ;  we  employed  proper  persons  for  this 
^  purpose,  who  brought  their  winnings  to  me  ;  your 
'  money,  your  equipage,  are  in  my  possession,  and  here 
^  I  return  them  to  you,  from  whom  they  were  unjustly 
I  taken.  I  only  ask  permission  to  keep  my  jewels,  and 
^  to  keep  you,  my  greatest  jewel,  from  such  dangers  for 
'  the  future.'  Her  prudence  had  the  proper  effect :  be 
ever  after  retained  a  sense  of  his  former  foIUes,  and 
uever  played  for  the  smallest  sums,  even  for  amusement. 

Not  less  than  three  persons  in  one  day,  fell  a  sacrifice 
at  Bath,  to  this  destructive  passion.  Two  gentlemen 
fought  a  duel,  in  which  one  was  killed,  and  the  other 
desperately  wounded  ;  and  a  youth  of  great  expectation, 
and  excellent  disposition,  at  the  same  time  ended  his 
own  life  by  a  pistol.  If  there  be  any  state  that  deserves 
pity.  It  must  be  th^it  of  a  gamester ;  U:  the  state  of 
a  dymg  gamester  is  of  all  situations  the  most  deplorable. 

There  is  another  argument  which  your  Lordship  I 
fancy,  will  not  entirely  despise ;  beauty,  my  Lord,  I  own 
IS  at  best  but  a  trifle,  but  such  as  it  is,  I  fancy  few 
wouJd  willingly  part  with  what  little  they  have.  A  man 
with  a  healthful  complexion,  how  great  a  philosopher 
soever  he  be,  would  not  willingly  exchange  it  for  a  sallow 
hectic  phiz,  pale  eyes,  and  a  sharp  wrinkled  visage 
I  entreat  you  only  to  examine  the  faces  of  all  the  noted 
gamblers  round  one  of  our  public  tables  ;  hava  you  ever 
seen  anything  more  haggard,  pinched,  and  miserable  » 
and  It  18  but  natural  that  it  should  be  so.  The  succession 
of  passions  flush  the  cheek  with  red,  and  all  such  flushings 
are  ever  succeeded  by  consequent  paleness;  so  that 
a  gamester  contracts  the  sickly  hue  of  a  student,  while 
he  IS  only  acquiring  the  stupidity  of  a  fool. 

Your  good  sense,  my  Lord,  I  have  often  had  an 
occasion  of  knowing,  yet  how  miserable  is  it  to  be  in 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  40! 

a  net  of  company  where  the  most  wnsiblo  In  cv.r  the 
lenrt  skilful :   your  footman,  with  a  little  instruction 
would,  I  dare  venture  to  affirm,  make  a  better  and  more' 
KUccesHful  gamester  than  you  ;  want  of  passions,  and  low 
cunnmg,  are  the  two  great  arts  ;   and  it  is  ,)eculiar  to 
this  Hcicnco  aloiie,  that  they  who  have  the  grealeht  pas- 
Hion  for  It,  are  <,f  all  others  the  moHt  unfit  to  practise  it 
Of  all  the  men  I  ever  knew,  .S,x!dding  was  the  greatest 
blockhea.l,  and  yet  the  best  gamester  :   he  h«w  almost 
intuitively  the  advantage  on  either  side,  and  ever  took 
It  ;  ho  could  calculate  the  odds  in  a  moment,  and  decide 
upon  the  merits  of  a  cock  or  a  horse,  tetter  than  any 
man  in  England  ;   in  short,  he  was  such  an  adept  in 
gaming,  that  he  brought  it  up  to  a  pitch  of  sublimity 
It  had  never  attained  before  :  yet,  with  all  this,  Spedding 
could  not  write  his  own  name.     What  he  died  worth 
I  cannot  tell  ;   but  of  this  I  am  certain,  he  might  have 
possessed  a  ministerial  estate,  and  that  won  from  men 
famed  for  their  sense,  literature,  and  patriotism. 

If,  after  this  description,  your  Lordship  is  yet  resolved 
to  hazard  your  fortune  at  gaming,  I  beg  you  would 
advert  to  the  situation  of  an  old  and  luckless  gamester. 
Perhaps  there  is  not  in  nature  a  more  deplorable  being- 
his  character  is  too  well  marked,  he  is  too  well  known 
to  be  trusted.  A  man  that  has  been  often  a  bankrupt 
and  renewed  trade  upon  low  compositions,  may  as  well 
expect  extensive  credit  as  such  a  man.  His  reputation 
IS  blasted,  his  constitution  worn,  by  the  extravagance  and 
111  hours  of  his  profession  ;  he  is  now  inccpable  of  alluring 
his  dupes,  and  like  a  superannuated  savage  of  the  forest, 
he  is  starved  for  want  of  vigour  to  hunt  after  prey. 

Thus  gaming  is  the  source  of  poverty,  and  still  worse 

the  parent  of  infamy  and  vice.     It  is  an  inlet  to  de- 

.tichery  :    for  the  money  thus  acquired  is  but  little 

valued.    Every  gamester  is  a  rake,  and  his  morals  worse 


402 


THE  LIFE  OP 


th«n  hiH  myHtopy,  It  i.  hiN  intomtt  to  be  exemplary 
in  every  Hccnc  of  debauchery,  bin  prey  in  to  be  courted 
with  every  guilty  plcaBur.-  ;  but  thcne  are  to  be  changed 
repeated,  ami  eml»lli»hed,  in  order  to  employ  hiii 
imagination,  while  hiH  reason  !»  kept  asleep  ;  a  young 
mmd  i»  apt  to  Rhrink  at  the  prospect  of  ruin  ;  care  must 
bo  taken  to  harden  bin  courage,  and  make  him  keep 
hw  rank  ;  ho  must  be  either  found  a  libertine,  or  he 
muHt  be  made  one.  And  when  a  man  has  parted  with 
hiH  money  like  a  fool,  he  generally  sends  his  conscience 
after  it  like  a  villain,  and  the  nearer  he  is  to  the  brink 
of  destruction,  the  fonder  does  he  grow  of  ruin. 

Your  friend  and  mine,  my  Lord,  had  been  thus  driven 
to  the  last  reserve  :  he  found  it  impossible  to  disentangle 
his  affairs,  and  look  the  world  in  the  face ;  impatience 
at  length  throw  him  into  the  abyss  he  fearwl,  and  life 
became  a  burthen,  because  he  feared  to  die.  But  I  own 
that  play  is  not  ahVays  attended  with  such  tragical 
ciroumstances  :  some  have  had  courage  to  survive  their 
losses,  and  go  on  content  with  beggary ;  and  sure  those 
misfortunes,  which  are  of  our  own  production  are  of 
all  others  most  pungent.  To  see  such  a  poor  disbanded 
being  an  unwelcome  guest  at  every  table,  and  often 
flapped  off  like  a  fly,  is  affecting  ;  in  this  case  the  closest 
alliance  is  forgotten,  and  contempt  is  too  strong  for  the 
ties  of  blood  to  unbind. 

But  however  fi-tal  this  passion  may  be  in  its  con- 
sequence, none  allures  so  much  in  the  beginning ;  the 
person  once  listed  as  a  gamester,  if  not  soon  reclaimed 
pursues  it  through  his  whole  life ;  no  loss  can  retard,' 
no  danger  awaken  him  to  common  sense  ;  nothing  can 
termmate  his  career  but  want  of  money  to  play,  or  of 
honour  to  be  trusted. 

J^mong  the  number  of  my  acquaintance,  I  knew  but 
of  two  who  succeeded  by  gaming  ;  the  or-  ,  phlegmatic 


i 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  403 

heavy  man,  who  would  have  made  a  fortune  in  whatovor 
way  of  life  he  happened  to  be  placed  ;  the  other  who 
had  lout  a  fine  estate  in  hin  youth  by  piny,  anil  n-trievod 
a  greater  at  the  ago  of  Hixty  five,  when  he  might  be 
justly  said,  to  be  pant  the  jwwer  of  enjoying  it.  One 
or  two  Buccefwful  gamesterH  arc  thuH  w^t  up  in  an  age  to 
allure  the  young  beginner  ;  »e  all  regard  Huch,  nn  the 
highest  prize  ina  lottery,  unmindful  of  the  numero«»loRBC)i 
that  go  to  the  accumulation  of  such  infrequent  hUccoKH. 
Yet  I  would  not  be  no  morose,  as  to  refuse  your  youth 
all  kinds  of  play  :  the  innocent  aniuHcmcnts  of  a  family 
must  often  bo  indulged,  and  cards  allowed  to  HUiiply 
the  intervals  of  more  real  pleasure  ;  but  the  sum  played 
for  in  such  cases  should  always  be  a  triHe  ;  something 
to  call  up  attention,  but  not  engage  the  jmssions.  The 
usual  excuse  for  laying  large  sums  is,  to  make  the  players 
attend  to  their  game  ;  but  in  fact,  he  that  plays  only  for 
shillings,  will  mind  his  cartls  equally  well,  with  him  that 
bets  guineas ;  for  the  mind,  habituated  to  stake  largo 
sums,  will  consider  them  as  trifles  at  last ;  and  if  one 
shilling  could  not  exclude  indifference  at  first,  neither 
will  a  hundred  in  the  end. 

I  have  often  asked  myself,  how  it  is  possible  that  ho 
who  is  possessefl  of  competence,  can  ever  be  induced  to 
make  it  precarious  by  beginning  play  with  the  o<lds 
against  him  ;  for  wherever  he  goes  to  sport  his  money, 
he  will  find  himself  overmatched  and  cheated.  Either 
at  White's,  Newmarket,  the  Tcnnis-Court,  the  Cock- 
Pit,  or  the  Billiard-Table,  he  will  find  numbers  who  have 
no  other  resource,  but  their  acquisitions  there  ;  and  if 
such  men  live  like  gentlemen,  he  may  readilj  conclude 
it  must  be  on  the  spoils  of  his  foitune,  or  the  fortunes  of 
ill-judging  men  like  himself.  Was  he  to  attend  but  a 
moment  to  their  manner  of  betting  at  those  places,  he 
would  readily  find  the  gamester  seldom  proposing  bets 


404 


THE  LIFE  OF 


but  with  the  advantage  in  bin  own  favour.  A  man  of 
honour  oontinuea  to  lay  on  the  niile  on  which  ho  first 
won ;  but  gamcntem  shift,  change,  lie  upon  the  lurch,  and 
take  every  advantage,  either  of  our  ignorance  or  neglect. 
In  Hhort,  my  Lord,  if  a  man  denignn  to  lay  out  hia 
fortune  in  quest  of  pleasure,  the  gaming  table  i»,  of  all 
other  plaooH,  that  where  he  can  have  least  for  his  money. 
The  company  are  superficial,  extravagant,  and  un- 
entertaining;  the  conversation  flat,  debauche<l,  and 
absurd ;  the  hours  unnatural,  and  fatiguing ;  the 
anxiety  of  losing  is  greater  than  the  pleasure  of  winning  ; 
friendship  must  bo  banished  from  that  society,  the 
members  of  which  are  intent  only  on  ruining  each  other  ; 
every  other  improvement,  cither  in  knowledge  or  virtue, 
can  scarce  find  room  in  that  breast  which  is  possessed  oy 
the  spirit  of  play  ;  the  spirits  become  vapid,  the  con- 
stitution is  enfeebled,  the  complexion  grows  pale  ;  till, 
in  the  end,  the  mind,  body,  friends,  fortune,  and  even 
the  hopes  of  futurity  sink  together  !  Happy,  if  nature 
terminates  the  scene,  and  neither  justice  nor  suicide  are 
called  in  to  accelerate  her  tardy  approach. 

I  am 

my  Lord,  &c. 

Among  other  Papers  in  the  custody  of  Mr.  Nash,  was  the 
JoUowing  angry  Letter,  addressed  to  him  in  this  manner. 
To  Richard  Nash,  Esq. 
Sire,  ^'^  "f  ^'b. 

I  must  desire  your  Majesty  to  order  the  enclosed 
to  be  read  to  the  great  Mr.  Hoyle,  if  he  be  found  in  any 
part  of  your  dominions.  Yon  will  perceive  that  it  is 
a  panegyric  on  his  manifold  virtues,  and  that  he  is 
thanked  more  particularly  for  spending  his  time  so  much 
to  the  emolument  of  the  public,  and  for  obliging  the 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  405 

world  with  a  book  more  road  than  the  Bible,  and  which 
no  eminently  tendH  to  promote  Chrintion  knowlrdgr, 
Hound  morality,  and  the  haiipinciw  of  mankind. 

{The  ftulotcd  we  have  omilleii,  as  it  rotilainn  a  nalue  on 
gaming,  and  may  probably  give  ojfenee  to  our  hrllert.) 

This  author,  however  (continue*  the  letter-writer),  has 
not  net  forth  half  the  nieritH  of  the  piece  under  con- 
Hideration,  nor  in  the  great  care  «hich  ho  haH  taken 
to  prevent  our  reading  any  other  book,  instead  of  this, 
been  aufficiontly  taken  notice  of  :  beware  of  counterfeits ; 
these  books  are  not  to  be  depended  on  unless  signed  by 
E.  Hoyle,  in  a  charitable  admonition.  As  you  have  ho 
much  power  at  Bath,  and  are  absolute,  I  think  you 
should  imitate  other  great  monarchs,  by  rewarding  those 

^  with  honours  who  have  been  serviceable  in  your  state ; 

J  and  I  beg  that  a  new  order  may  be  established  for  that 

purpose.  I«t  him  who  has  done  nothing  but  game  all  his 
life.and  has  reduced  the  most  families  to  ruinand  beggary, 
be  made  a  Marshal  of  the  Black  Ace;  and  those  who  are 
everyday  making  proselytes  to  the  tables,  have  the  honour 
of  knighthood  conferred  on  them,  and  be  distinguished 
by  the  style  and  title  of  Knights  of  the  four  Knaves 

The  moment  I  came  into  Bath,  my  ears  were  saluted 
with  the  news  of  a  gentleman's  being  plundered  at  the 
gaming  table,  and  having  lost  his  senses  on  the  occasion. 
The  same  day  a  duel  was  fought  between  two  gentlemen 
gamesters  on  the  Downs,  and  in  the  evening  another 
hanged  himself  at  the  Bear  ;  but  first  wrote  a  note, 
which  was  found  near  nim,  importing  that  ho  had 
injured  the  best  of  friends.  These  are  the  achievements 
of  your  Knights  of  the  four  Knaves.  The  Devil  will  pick 
the  bones  of  all  gamesters,  that 's  eertam  ! — Ay !  and 
of  duellers  too  !  but  in  the  meantime  let  none  think 
that  duelling  is  a  mark  of  courage  ;  for  I  know  it  is  not. 


406 


THE  LIFE  OP 


A  person  served  under  me  in  Flanders  who  had  fought 

four  duels,  and  depended  so  much  on  his  skill,  the 

strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  length  of  his  sword,  that 

he  would  take  up  a  quarrel  for  anybody ;  yet,  in  the 

field,  I  never  saw  one  behave  so  like  a  poltroon.    If 

a  few  of  these  gamesters  and  duellers  were  gibbeted,  it 

might  perhaps  help  to  amend  the  rest.     I  have  often 

thought,  that  the  only  way,  or  at  least,  the  most  effectual 

way,  to  prevent  duelling,  would  be  to  hang  both  parties, 

the  living  and  the  dead,  on  the  same  tree  ;  >  and  if  the 

'  A  scheme  to  prevent  duelling,  similar  to  this,  was  attempted 

by  GustiTus  Adolphus  ;  and  m  thus  recorded  by  the  writer  of  his  life. 

'  In  one  of  the  Prusjian  Campaigns,  when  the  irrational  practice 

I  of  duelling  arose  to  a  considerable  height  in  the  Swedish  army, 

'  not  only  amongst  peraons  of  rank  and  fashion,  but  even  amongst 

I  common  soldiers,  this  prince  published  a  severe  edict,  and  de- 

'  nounocd  death  against  cveiy  delinquent.     Soon  after  a  quarrel 

I  arose  between  two  offioijrs  of  very  high  command,  and  as  they  knew 

'  the  kmg's  firmness  in  preserving  his  word  inviolable,  they  agreed  to 

'  request  an  audience,  and  besought  his  permission  to  decide  the 

I  afiair  like  men  of  honour.    His  Majesty  took  fire  in  a  moment,  but 

'  repressed  his  passion  with  such  art,  that  they  easily  mistook  him  ; 

'  of  course  with  some  reluctance,  but  under  the  app^  ..ranee  of  pitying 

I  brave  men,  who  thought  their  reputation  mjuied,  ho  told  them, 

I  that  he  blamed  them  much  for  their  mistaken  notions,  concerning 

'  Fame  and  Glory  ;  yet  as  this  unreasonable  determmation  appeared 

'  to  be  the  result  of  deliberate  reflection,  to  the  best  of  their  deluded 

I  capacity,  he  would  allow  them  to  decide  the  affair  at  the  time  and 

'  place  specified  :  "  and,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  will  bo  an  eye- 

'  witness  myself  of  your  extraordinary  valour  and  prowess." 

'At  the  hour  appointed  Gustavus  arrived,  accompanied  by 
I  a  small  body  of  infantry,  whom  he  formed  into  a  circle  round  the 
I  combatants.  "  Now,"  says  he,  "  fight  till  one  man  dies  ;  "  and 
'  calling  the  executioner  of  the  army  to  hun  (or  the  provost-marehal, 
'  as  the  language  then  ran),  "  Friend,"  added  he,  "  the  instant  one  U 
'  killed,  behead  the  other  before  my  eyes." 

'  Astonished  with  such  mflexible  firmness,  the  two  generals,  after 
'  pausing  a  moment,  fell  down  on  their  knees,  and  asked  the  king's 
'  forgiveness,  who  made  them  embrace  each  other,  and  give  their 
'promise  to  continue  faithful  friends  to  their  hist  moments;  as 
■  they  did  with  sincerity  and  thankfuhiess.' 


lii 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  iff; 

winner  and  the  loser  were  treated  in  the  same  manner, 
It  would  be  better  for  the  public  ;  since  the  tucking  up 

of  a  few  R Is  might  be  a  warning  to  others,  and  save 

many  a  worthy  family  from  destruction 

I      a  youi'!i,  &  . 

Theauthorof  thisletter  appears  to  havS'onvcryar^y 
and  not  without  reason  ;  for,  if  I  am  rightly  imoimed] 
his  only  son  was  ruined  at  Bath,  and  by  sharpers.  But  why 
18  Nash  to  be  blamed  for  this  ?     It  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, that  he  always  took  pains  to  preventthe  ruin  of  the 
youth  of  both  sexes,  and  had  so  guarded  against  duelling, 
that  he  would  not  permit  a  sword  to  be  worn  in  Bath.  ' 
As  the  heart  of  a  man  is  better  known  by  his  private 
than  public  actions,  let  us  take  a  view  of  Nash  in  domestic 
life ;  among  his  servants  and  dependants,  where  no  gloss 
was  required  to  colour  his  sentiments  and  disposition, 
nor  any  mask  necessary  to  conceal  his  foibles.   Here  we 
shall  find  him  the  same  open-hearted,  generous,  good- 
natured  man  we  have  already  described  ;  one  who  was 
ever  fond  of  promoting  the  interests  of  his  friends,  his 
servants,  and  dependants,  and  making  them  happy.    In 
his  own  house  no  man  perhaps  was  more  regular,  cheer- 
ful, and  beneficent  than  Mr.  Nash.     His  table  was 
always  free  to  those  who  sought  his  friendship,  or  wanted 
a  dinner  ;  and  after  grace  was  said,  he  usually  accosted 
the  company  in  the  following  extraordinary  manner,  to 
take  ofiF  all  restraint  and  ceremony  :    '  Come,  gentlemen 
eat  and  welcome ;   spare,  and  the  Devil  choke  you.' 
I  mention  this  circumstance  for  no  other  reason  but 
because  it  is  well  known,  and  is  consistent  with  the 
singularity  of  his  character  and  behaviour. 

As  Mr.  Nash's  thoughts  were  entirely  employed  in  the 
affairs  of  his  government,  he  was  seldom  at  home  but  at 
the  time  of  eating  or  of  rest.  His  table  was  well  served 


408 


THE  LIFE  OF 


but  bis  entertainment  consisted  principally  of  plain 
dishes.  Boiled  chicken  and  roast  mutton  were  his 
favourite  meats,  and  he  was  so  fond  of  tho  small  sort  of 
potatoes,  that  he  called  them  English  pine-apples,  and 
generally  oat  them  as  others  do  fruit,  after  dinner.  In 
drinking  he  was  altogether  as  regular  and  abstemious. 
Both  in  this,  and  in  eating,  he  seemed  to  consult  Nature, 
and  obey  only  her  dictates.  Good  small  beer,  with  or 
without  a  glass  of  wine  in  it,  and  sometimes  wine  and 
water,  was  hisdrink  at  meals,  andafterdinner  he  generally 
drank  one  glass  of  wine.  He  seemed  fond  of  hot  suppers, 
usually  supped  about  nine  or  ten  o'clock,  upon  roast 
breast  of  mutton  and  his  potatoes,  and  soon  after  supper 
went  to  bed  ;  which  induced  Dr.  Cheney  to  tell  him 
jestingly,  that  he.  behaved  like  other  brutes,  and  lay  dotvn 
as  soon  as  he  had  filled  his  belly.  '  Very  true,'  replied 
Nash,  '  and  this  prescription  I  had  from  my  neighbour's 
'  cow,  who  is  a  better  physician  than  you,  and  a  superior 
'  judge  of  plants,  notwithstanding  you  have  writt/Cn  so 
'  learnedly  on  the  vegetable  diet.' 

Nash  generally  arose  early  in  the  morning,  being 
seldom  in  bed  after  five  ;  and  to  avoid  disturbing  the 
family  and  depriving  his  servants  of  then-  rest,  he  had 
the  fire  laid  after  he  was  in  bed,  and  in  the  morning 
lighted  it  himself,  and  sat  down  to  read  some  of  his 
few  but  well-chosen  books.  After  reading  some  time, 
he  usually  went  to  the  Pump-room  and  drank  the  waters  ; 
then  took  a  walk  on  the  parade,  and  went  to  the  coffee- 
house to  breakfast ;  after  which,  till  two  o'clock  (his 
usual  time  of  dinner),  his  hours  were  spent  in  arbitrating 
differences  amongst  his  neighbours,  or  the  company 
resorting  to  the  wells  ;  directing  the  diversions  of  the 
day,  in  visiting  the  new-comers,  or  receiving  friends  at 
his  own  house,  of  which  there  were  a  great  concourse 
till  within  six  or  eight  years  before  his  death. 


RICHARD  NASH,  ESQ.  40O 

Hi»  generosity  and  charity  in  piivato  life,  though  not 
80  conspiououH,  was  a«  great  an  that  in  public,  and 
indeed  far  more  considerable  than  his  little  income 
would  admit  of.  He  couM  not  stifle  the  natural  impulse 
which  he  had  to  do  good,  but  frequently  borrowed 
money  to  relieve  the  distressed  ;  and  when  he  knew  not 
conveniently  where  to  borrow,  he  has  been  often  observed 
to  shed  tears,  as  he  passed  through  the  wretched 
supplicants  who  attended  his  gate. 

This  sensibility,  this  power  of  feeling  the  misfortunes 
of  the  miserable,  and  his  address  and  earnestness  in 
rehevmg  their  wants,  exalts  the  character  of  Mr.  Nash 
and  draws  an  impenetrable  veil  over  his  foibles.  His 
singularities  are  forgotten  when  we  behold  his  virtues 
and  he  who  laughed  at  the  whimsical  character  and 
behaviour  of  this  Monarch  of  Bath,  now  laments  that 
he  is  no  more. 


APPENDIX 

BEAU  TIBBS  :  A  THIRD  ESSAY 
(See  pp.  147,  151) 
[From  The  Citizen  0/  the  World,  Letter  LXXI] 
The  people  of  London  are  as  fond  of  walking  as  our 
fnends  at  Pekin  of  riding  ;  one  of  the  principal  entertain- 
ments of  the  citizens  here  in  summer  is  to  repair  about 
nightfall  to  a  garden  not  far  from  town,  where  they 
walk  about,  show  their  best  clothes  and  best  faces  and 
listen  to  a  concert  provided  for  the  occasion 

I  accepted  an  invilatio.i  a  few  eve:::ngs  ago  from  my 
old  fnend,  the  man  in  black,  to  be  one  of  a  party  that 
was  to  sup  there  ;   and  at  the  appointed  hour  waited 
upon  him  at  his  lodgings.    There  I  found  the  company 
assembled  and  expectinc  my  arrival.     Our  party  Von- 
sisted  of  my  friend  in  superlative  finery,  his  stockings 
rolled,  a  black  velvet  waistcoat  which  was  formerly  new 
and  his  grey  wig  combed  down  in  imitation  of  hair' 
A  pawn-broker's  widow,  of  whom,  by  the  by,  my  friend 
was  a  professed  admirer,  dressed  out  in  green  damask 
with  three  gold  rin^s  on  every  finger.    Mr.  Tibbs,  the 
second-rate  beau.  I  have  formerly  described  ;   together 
with  his  lady,  in  flimsy  silk,  dirty  gauze  instead  of  linen, 
and  an  hat  as  big  as  an  umbrella. 

?"^^*,?*^''"'*y  ^^^  ■"  ^"'«g  ^°^  ^^  should  set 
out.  Mrs.  Tibbs  had  a  natural  aversion  to  the  water 
and  the  widow  being  a  little  in  flesh,  as  warmly  protested 
against  walking  ;  a  coach  was  therefore  agreed  upon  ■ 
which  being  too  small  to  carry  five,  Mr.  Tibbs  consented 
to  sit  m  his  wile's  lap. 

In  this  manner  therefore  we  set  forward,  being 
entertamed  by  the  way  with  the  bodings  of  Mr.  Tibbs, 


412 


APPENDIX 


who  assured  us,  he  did  not  expect  to  see  a  single  creature 
for  the  evening  above  the  degree  of  a  cheesemonger ; 
that  this  was  the  last  night  of  the  gardens,  and  that 
consequently  we  should  be  pestered  with  the  nobility 
and  gentry  from  Thames  Street  and  Crooked  Lane  ; 
with  several  other  prophetic  ejaculations  probably 
inspired  by  the  uneasiness  of  his  situation. 

The  illuminations  began  before  we  arrived,  and  I  must 
confess,  that  upon  entering  the  gardens  I  found  every 
sense  overpaid  with  more  than  expected  pleasure ;   the 
lights  every  where  glimmering  through  the   scarcely 
moving  trees ;   the  full-bodied  concert  bursting  on  the 
stillness  of  the  night,  the  natural  concert  of  the  birds, 
in  the  more  retired  part  of  the  grove,  vying  with  that 
which  was  formed  by  art ;   the  company  gaily  dressed, 
looking  satisfaction  ;  and  the  tables  spread  with  various 
delicacies, — all  conspired  to  fill  my  imafr.iation  with  the 
visionary, happiness  of  the  Arabian  lawgiver,  and  lifted 
me  into  an  ecstasy  of  admiration.    '  Head  of  Confucius,' 
cried  I  to  ray  friend,  '  this  is  fine  I    this  unites  rural 
beauty  with  courtly  magnificence  !   if  we  except  the 
virgins  of  immortality  that  hang  on  every  tree,  and 
may  be  plucked  at  every  desire,  I  don't  see  how  this 
falls  short  of  Mahomet's  Paradise ! '    'As  for  virgins,' 
cries  my  friend, '  it  is  true,  they  are  a  fruit  that  don't 
much  abound  in  our  gardens  here ;  but  if  ladies  as  plenty 
as  apples  in  autumn,  and  as  complying  as  any  Houri  of 
them  all  can  content  you,  I  fancy  we  have  no  need  to 
go  to  heaven  for  Paradise.' 
I  was  going  to  second  his  remarks,  when  we  were  called 
to  a  consultation  by  Mr.  Tibba  and  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany, to  know  in  what  manner  we  were  to  lay  out  the 
evening  to  the  greatest  advantage.    Mrs.  Tibbs  was  for 
keeping  the  genteel  walk  of  the  garden,  where  she 
observed  there  was  always  the  very  best  company ; 


BEAU  TIBBS 


413 


the  widow,  on  the  contrary,  who  came  but  once  a  season, 
was  for  securing  a  good  standing  place  to  sec  the  water- 
works, which  she  assured  us  would  begin  in  less  than 
an  hour  at  farthest ;  a  dispute  therefore  began,  and  as 
it  was  managed  between  two  of  very  opposite  characters, 
It  threatened  t»  grow  more  bitter  at  every  reply.  Mrs. 
Tibbs  wondered  how  people  could  pretend  to  know  the 
pohte  world  who  had  received  all  their  rudiments  of 
breedmg  behind  a  counter  ;  to  which  the  other  replied, 
that  though  some  people  sat  behind  counters,  yet  they 
could  sit  at  the  head  of  their  own  tables  too,  and  carve 
three  good  dishes  of  hot  meat  whenever  they  thought 
proper,  which  was  more  than  some  people  could  say  for 
themselves,  that  hardly  knew  a  rabbit  and  onions  from 
a  green  goose  and  gooseberries. 

It  is  hard  to  say  where  this  might  have  ended,  had  not 
the  husband,  who  probably  knew  the  impetuosity  of 
his  wife's  disposition,  proposed  to  end  the  dispute  by 
adjourning  to  a  box,  and  try  if  there  was  anything  to 
be  had  for  supper  that  was  supportable.  To  this  we 
all  consented,  but  here  a  new  distress  arose :  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Tibbs  would  sit  in  none  but  a  genteel  box,  a  box 
where  they  might  see  and  be  seen— one,  as  they  expressed 
it,  in  the  very  focus  of  public  view  ;  but  such  a  box 
was  not  easy  to  be  obtained,  fcr  though  we  were  perfectly 
convinced  of  our  own  gentility,  and  the  gentility  of  our 
appearance,  yet  we  found  it  a  difficult  matter  to  persuade 
the  keepers  of  the  boxes  to  be  of  our  opinion  ;  they 
chose  to  reserve  genteel  boxes  for  what  they  judged  more 
genteel  company. 

At  last  however  we  were  fixed,  though  somewhat 
obscurely,  and  supplied  with  the  usual  entertainment  of 
the  place.  The  widow  found  the  supper  excellent,  but 
Mrs.  Tibbs  thought  every  thing  detestable.  '  Come, 
'  come.my  dear,'cries  the  husband,  by  way  of  consolation, 


414 


APPENDIX 


'  to  be  sure  we  can't  find  such  dressing  here  as  we  have 
'  at  Lord  Crump's  or  Lady  Crimp's  ;  but  for  Vauxhall 
^  dressing  it  is  pretty  good ;  it  is  not  their  victuals  indeed 
'  I  find  fault  with,  but  their  wine ;  their  wine,"  cries  he, 
drinking  off  a  glass,  '  indeed,  is  most  abominable." 

By  this  last  contradiction  the  widow  was  fairly 
conquered  in  point  of  politeness.  She  perceived  now 
that  she  had  no  pretensions  in  the  world  to  taste  ;  her 
very  senses  were  vulgar,  since  she  had  praisec!  detestable 
custard,  and  smacked  at  wretched  wine;  she  was 
therefore  content  to  yield  the  victory,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  night  to  listen  and  improve.  It  is  true,  she  would 
now  and  then  forget  herself,  and  confess  she  was  pleased, 
but  they  soon  brought  her  back  again  to  miserable 
refinement.  She  once  praised  the  painting  of  the  box 
in  which  we  were  sitting,  but  was  soon  convinced  that 
such  paltry  pieces  ought  rather  to  excite  horror  than 
satisfaction  ;  she  ventured  again  to  commend  one  of 
the  singers,  but  Mrs.  Tibbs  soon  let  her  know,  in  the 
style  of  a  connoisseur,  that  the  singer  in  question  had 
neither  ear,  voice,  nor  judgement. 

Mr.  Tibbs,  now  willing  to  prove  that  his  wife's  pre- 
tensions to  music  were  just,  entreated  her  to  favour  the 
company  with  a  song ;  but  to  this  she  gave  a  positive 
denial,  'for  you  know  very  well,  my  dear,'  says  she, 
'  that  I  am  not  in  voice  to-day,  and  when  one's  voice  is 
'  not  equal  to  one's  judgement,  what  signifies  singing  ? 
'  besides,  as  there  is  no  accompaniment,  it  would  be  but 
'  spoiling  music'  All  these  excuses  however  were  over- 
ruled by  the  rest  of  the  company,  who,  though  one 
would  think  they  ahready  had  music  enough,  joined  in 
the  entreaty.  But  particularly  the  widow,  now  willing 
to  convince  the  company  of  her  breeding,  pressed  so 
warmly  that  she  seemed  determined  to  take  no  refusal. 
At  last  then  the  lady  complied,  and  after  humming  for 


BEAU  TIBBS 


418 


some  minut;s,  began  with  such  a  voice,  and  inch 
affectation,  a  I  could  perceive  gave  but  little  Batisfaction 
to  any  exi;ept  her  husband.  Ho  sat  with  rapture  in  his 
eye,  and  beat  time  with  his  hand  on  the  table. 

You  must  observe,  my  friend,  that  it  is  the  custom 
of  this  country,  when  a  lady  or  gentleman  happens  to 
sing,  for  the  company  to  sit  as  mute  und  motionless  as 
statues.     Every  feature,   every   limb,   must   seem   to 
correspond  in  fixed  attention,  and  while  the  song  con- 
tinues, they  are  to  remain  in  a  state  of  universal  petrifac- 
tion.    In  this  mortifying  situation  we  had  continued 
for  some  time,  listening  to  the  song,  and  looking  with 
tranquillity,  when  the  master  of  the  box  came  to  inform 
us,  that  the  water-works  were  going  to  begin.    At  this  in- 
formation I  could  instantly  perceive  the  widow  bounce 
from  her  seat ;    but  correcting  herself,  she  sat  down 
again,  repressed  by  motives  of  good  breeding.  Mrs.  Tibbs, 
who  had    seen   the  water-works   an   hundred    times] 
resolving  not  to  be  interrupted,  continued  her  song 
without  any  share  of  mercy,  nor  had  the  smallest  pity 
on  our  impatience.    The  widow's  face,  I  own,  gave  me 
high  entertainment;    in  it  I  could  plainly  read  the 
struggle  she  felt  between  good  breeding  ,aid  curiosity ; 
she  talked  of  the  water-works  the  whole  evening  before! 
and  seemed  to  have  come  merely  in  order  to  see  them  ; 
but  then  she  could  not  bounce  out  in  the  very  middle  of 
a  song,  for  that  would  be  forfeiting  all  pretensions  to 
high  life,  or  high-lived  company  ever  after  :  Mrs.  Tibbs, 
therefore,  kept  on  singing,  and  we  continued  to  listen,  till 
at  last,  when  the  song  was  just  concluded,  the  waiter 
came  to  inform  us  that  the  water-works  were  over. 

'  The  water-works  over  ! '  cried  the  widow  ;  '  the 
'  water-works  over  already,  that 's  impossible,  they  can't 
be  over  so  soon  !  '— '  It  is  rot  my  business,'  replied  the 
fellow,  '  t»  contradict  your  ladyship ;  I'll  run  again  and 


416 


APPENDIX 


■68.  He  went,  and  aoon  returned  with  a  confirmation 
of  the  .diRDul  tiding..  No  ceremony  could  now  bind 
my  friend's  diaappointed  mistreH.  She  testified  her 
displeasure  in  the  openest  manner;  in  short,  she  now 
began  to  find  fault  in  turn,  and  at  last  insisted  upon  gdns 
home,  just  at  the  Ume  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tibbe  assured 
the  company  that  the  polite  hours  were  going  to  begin, 
and  that  the  ladies  would  instantaneously  be  entertained 
With  the  hums. — Adieu. 


ktion 
bind 

now 
tAng 
and 
!gin, 
ined