No. 68.] Thursday, September 15, 1709. Quicquid agunt homines nostri est farrago libelli. Juv. Sat. i. 85, 86. Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, Our motley paper seizes for its theine. P. mitted to the states-general, that the number of the killed and wounded in their service amounts to above eight thousand. It is computed, that the English have lost fifteen hundred men, and the rest of the allies above five thousand, including the wounded. The states-general have taken the most speedy and effectual measures for reinforcing their troops; and it is expected, that in eight or ten days the army will be as numerous as before the battle. The affairs in Italy afford us nothing remarkable; only that it is hoped, the difference between the courts of Vienna and Turin will be speedily accommodated. Letters from Poland present us with a near prospect of seeing king Augustus re-established on the throne, all parties being very industrious to re-juries of time, and recommended themselves so concile themselves to his interests. Will's Coffee-house, September 12. Of all the pretty arts in which our modern writers excel, there is not any which is more to be recommended to the imitation of beginners, than the skill of transition from one subject to another. I know not whether I make myself well understood; but it is certain, that the way of stringing a discourse, used in the Mercure Gallant, the Gentleman's Journal, and other barned writings; not to mention how naturally, things present themselves to such as harangue in pulpits, and other occasions which occur to the learned, are methods worthy commendation. I shall attempt this style myself in a few lines. Suppose I was discoursing upon the king of Sweden's passing the Boristhenes. The Boristhenes is a great river, and puts me in mind of the Danube and the Rhine. The Danube I cannot think of, without reflecting on that unhappy prince who had such fair territories on the banks of it; I mean the duke of Bavaria, who, by our last letters, is retired from Mons. Mons is as strong a fortification as any which has no citadel: and places which are not completely fortified are, methinks, lessons to princes that they are not omnipotent, but liable to the strokes of fortune. But as all princes are subject to such calamities, it is the part of men of letters to guard them from the observations of all small writers; for which reason, I shall conclude my present remarks, by publishing the following advertisement, to be taken notice of by all who dwell in the suburbs of learning. Whereas the king of Sweden has been so unfortunate as to receive a wound in his heel; we do hereby prohibit all epigrammatists in either language and both universities, as well as all other poets, of what denomination soever, to make any mention of Achilles having received his death's wound in the same part. We do likewise forbid all comparisons in coffee-houses between Alexander the Great and the said king of Sweden, and from making any parallels between the death of Patkul and Philotas; we being very apprehensive of the reflections that several politicians have ready by them to produce on this occasion, and being willing, as much as in us lies, to free the town from all impertinences of this nature.' From my own Apartment, September 14. THE progress of our endeavours will of necessity be very much interrupted, except the learned world will please to send their lists to the chamber of Fame with all expedition. There is nothing can so much contribute to create a noble emulation in our youth, as the honourable mention of such whose actions have outlived the in far to the world, that it is become learning to know the least circumstance of their affairs. It is a great incentive to see, that some men have raised themselves so highly above their fellowcreatures, that the lives of ordinary men are spent in inquiries after the particular actions of the most illustrious. True it is, that without this impulse to fame and reputation, our industry would stagnate, and that lively desire of pleasing each other, die away. This opinion was so established in the heathen world, that their sense of living appeared insipid, except their being was enlivened with a consciousness that they were esteemed by the rest of the world. Upon examining the proportion of men's fame for my table of twelve, I thought it no ill way (since I had laid it down for a rule, that they were to be ranked simply as they were famous, without regard to their virtue,) to ask my sister Jenny's advice; and particularly mentioned to her the name of Aristotle. She immediately told me, he was a very great scholar, and that she had read him at the boarding-school. She certainly means a trifle, sold by the hawkers called Aristotle's Problems.' But this raised a great scruple in me, whether a fame increased by imposition of others is to be added to his account, or that these excrescences, which grow out of his real reputation, and give encouragement to others to pass things under the covert of his name, should be considered in giving him his seat in the chamber? This punctilio is referred to the learned. In the meantime, so illnatured are mankind, that I believe I have names already sent me sufficient to fill up my lists for the dark room, and every one is apt enough to send in their accounts of ill-deservers. This malevolence does not proceed from a real dislike of virtue, but a diabolical prejudice against it, which makes men willing to destroy what they care not to imitate. Thus you sce the greatest characters among your acquaintance, and those you live with, are traduced by all below them in virtue, who never mention them but with an exception. However, I believe I shall not give the world much trouble about filling my tables for those of evil fame; for I have some thoughts of clapping up the sharpers there, as fast as I can lay hold of them. At present, I am employed in looking over the several notices which I have received of their manner of dexterity, and the. way at dice of Published about the beginning of the last century, of securing a die has lately been sent me, by a making all rugg, as the cant is. The whole art in 4to. person who was of the fraternity, but is disabled by the loss of a finger; by which means he cannot practise that trick as he used to do. But I am very much at a loss how to call some of the fair sex, who are accomplices with the Knights of Industry; for my metaphorical dogs are easily enough understood; but the feminine gender of dogs has so harsh a sound, that we know not how to name it. But I am credibly informed, that there are female dogs as voracious as the males, and make advances to young fellows, without any other design but coming to a familiarity with their purses. I have also long lists of persons of condition, who are certainly of the same regimen with these banditti, and instrumental to their cheats upon undiscerning men of their own rank. These add their good reputation to carry on the impostures of others, whose very names would else be defence enough against falling into their hands. But, for the honour of our nation, these shall be unmentioned; provided we hear no more of such practices, and that they shall not from henceforward suffer the society of such as they know to be the common enemies of order, discipline and virtue. If it appear that they go on in encouraging them, they must be proceeded against according to the severest rules of history, where all is to be laid before the world with impartiality, and without respect to persons, So let the stricken deer go weep.' Will's Coffee-house, September 14. I find left here for me the following epistle: SIR,-Having lately read your discourse about the family of Trubies, wherein you ob. served, that there are some who fall into laugh ter out of a certain benevolence in their temper, and not out of the ordinary motive, viz. contempt, and triumph over the imperfections of others; I have conceived a good idea of your knowledge of mankind. And, as you have a tragi-comic genius, I beg the favour of you to give us your thoughts of a quite different effect, which also is caused by other motives than what are commonly taken notice of. What I would have you treat of, is the cause of shedding tears. I desire you would discuss it a little, with observations upon the various occasions which provoke us to that expression of our concern, &c. To obey this complaisant gentleman, I know no way so short as examining the various touches of my own bosom, on several occurrences in a long life, to the evening of which I am arrived, after as many various incidents as any body has met with. I have often reflected, that there is a great similitude in the motions of the heart in mirth and in sorrow; and I think the usual oc casion of the latter, as well as the former, is something which is sudden and unexpected. The mind has not a sufficient time to recollect its force, and immediately gushes into tears before we can utter ourselves by speech or complaint. The most notorious causes of these drops from our eyes are pity, sorrow, joy, and reconciliation. * Tatler, No. 63. The fair sex, who are made of man and not of earth, have a more delicate humanity than we have; and pity is the most common cause of their tears: for as we are inwardly composed of an aptitude to every circumstance of life, and every thing that befalls any one person might have happened to any other of the human race; self-love, and a sense of the pain we ourselves should suffer in the circumstances of any whom we pity, is the cause of that compassion. Such a reflection in the breast of a woman, immediately inclines her to tears; but in a man, it makes him think how such a one ought to act on that occasion suitably to the dignity of his nature. Thus a woman is ever moved for those whom she hears lament, and a man for those whom he observes to suffer in silence. It is a man's own behaviour in the circumstances he is under, which procures him the esteem of others, and not merely the affliction itself which demands our pity; for we never give a man that passion which he falls into for himself. He that commends himself never purchases our applause; nor he who bewails himself, our pity. Going through an alley the other day, I observed a noisy impudent beggar bawl out, 'that he was wounded in a merchant-man; that he had lost his poor limbs; and showed a leg clouted up. All that passed by made what haste they could out of his sight and hearing; but a poor fellow at the end of the passage, with a rusty coat, a melancholy air, and soft voice, desired them to look upon a man not used to beg.' The latter received the charity of almost every one that went by. The strings of the heart, which are to be touched to give us compassion, are not so played on but by the finest hand. We see in tragical representations, it is not the pomp of language, nor the magnificence of dress, in which the passion is wrought, that touches sensible spirits; but something of a plain and simple nature, which breaks in upon our souls by that sympathy which is given us for our mutual good-will and service. · In the tragedy of Macbeth,' where Wilks acts the part of a man whose family has been murdered in his absence, the wildness of his passion, which is run over in a torrent of calamitous circumstances, does but raise my spirits, and give me the alarm: but when he skilfully seems to be out of breath, and is brought too low to say more; and upon a second reflection cries only, wiping his eyes, What, both children! Both, both my children gone!' there is no resisting a sorrow which seems to have cast about for all the reasons possible for its consolaThere is not one tion, but has no resource. left; but both, both are murdered!' such sudden starts from the thread of the discourse, and a plain sentiment expressed in an artless way, are the irresistible strokes of cloquence and poetry. The same great master, Shakspeare, can afford us instances of all the places where our souls are accessible; and ever commands our tears. But it is to be observed, that he draws them from some unexpected source, which seems not wholly of a piece with the discourse. Thus, when Brutus and Cassius had a debate in the tragedy of 'Cæsar,' and rose to warm language against each other, insomuch that it had almost come to something that might be fatal, until they recol- | invented by an apothecary, since a gamester: lected themselves; Brutus does more than make a little of which he puts upon his fore-finger, an apology for the heat he had been in, by say- and that holds the die in the box at his devoing, Portia is dead." Here Cassius is all ten- tion. Great sums have been lately won by derness, and ready to dissolve, when he consi- these ways; but it is hoped, that this hint of ders that the mind of his friend had been em- his manner of cheating will open the eyes of ployed on the greatest affliction imaginable, many who are every day imposed upon. when he had been adding to it by a debate on trifles; which makes him, in the anguish of his heart, cry out, How scaped I killing, when I thus provoked you?' This is an incident which moves the soul in all its sentiments; and Cassius's heart was at once touched with all the soft pangs of pity, remorse, and reconciliation. It is said, indeed, by Horace, 'If you would have me weep, you must first weep yourself.' This is not literally true; for it would have been as rightly said, if we observe nature, That I shall certainly weep, if you do not: but what is intended by that expression is, that it is not possible to give passion, except you show that you suffer yourself. Therefore, the true art seems to be, that when you would have the person you represent pitied, you must show him at once in the highest grief, and struggling to bear it with decency and patience. In this case, we sigh for him, and give him every groan he suppresses. I remember, when I was young enough to follow the sports of the field, I have more than once rode off at the death of a deer, when I have seen the animal, in an affliction which appeared human, without the least noise, let fall tears when he was reduced to extremity; and I have thought of the sorrow I saw him in, when his haunch came to the table. But our tears are not given only to objects of pity, but the mind has recourse to that relief in all occasions which give us great emotion. Thus, to be apt to shed tears is a sign of a great as well as little spirit. I have heard say, the present pope never passes through the people, who always kneel in crowds, and ask his benediction, but the tears are seen to flow from his eyes. This must proceed from an imagination that he is the father of all those people; and that he is touched with so extensive a benevolence, that it breaks out into a passion of tears. You see friends, who have been long absent, transported in the same manner: a thousand little images crowd upon them at their meeting, as all the joys and griefs they have known during their separation; and, in one hurry of thought, they conceive how they should have participated in those occasions; and weep, because their minds are too full to wait the slow expression of words. His lacrymis vitam damus, et miserescimus ultro. Virg. Æn. ii. 145. With tears the wretch confirmed his tale of woe; And soft-ey'd pity pleaded for the foe. R. Wynne. There is lately broke loose from the London pack, a very tall dangerous biter. He is now at the Bath, and it is feared will make a damnable havoc amongst the game. His manner of biting is new, and he is called the Top. He secures one die betwixt his two fingers: the other is fixed, by the help of a famous wax, *Pope Clement XI. There is now in the press, and will be suddenly published, a book entitled, 'An Appendix to the Contempt of the Clergy;'* wherein will be set forth at large, that all our dissensions are owing to the laziness of persons in the sacred ministry, and that none of the present schisms could have crept into the flock, but by the negligence of the pastors. There is a digression in this treatise, proving, that the pretences made by the priesthood, from time to time, that the church was in danger, is only a trick to make the laity passionate for that of which they themselves have been negligent. The whole concludes with an exhortation to the clergy, to the study of eloquence, and practice of piety, as the only method to support the highest of all honours, that of a priest who lives and acts according to his character. From my own Apartment, September 16. Ir is, as far as it relates to our present being, the great end of education to raise ourselves above the vulgar; but what is intended by the vulgar, is not, methinks, enough understood. In me, indeed, that word raises a quite different idea from what it usually does in others; but perhaps that proceeds from my being old, and beginning to want the relish of such satisfactions as are the ordinary entertainment of men. However, such as my opinion is in this case, I will speak it; bucause it is possible that turn of thought may be received by others, who may It is to me a very great meanness, and somereap as much satisfaction from it as I do myself. thing much below a philosopher, which is what I mean by a gentleman, to rank a man among the vulgar for the condition of life he is in, and not according to his behaviour, his thoughts, and sentiments, in that condition. For if a man be loaded with riches and honours, and in that state of life has thoughts and inclinations below the meanest artificer; is not such an artificer, who, within his power, is good to his friends, moderate in his demands for his labour, and cheerful in his occupation, very much superior to him who lives for no other end but to serve himself, and assumes a preference in all his words and actions to those who act their part with much more grace than himself? A celebrated book, written by Dr. John Eachard, and published in 1615. THE TATLER. Epictetus has made use of the similitude of a stage-play to human life with much spirit. It is not,' says he, 'to be considered among the actors, who is prince, or who is beggar, but who acts prince or beggar best.' The circumstance of life should not be that which gives us place, but our behaviour in that circumstance is what should be our solid distinction. Thus a wise man should think no man above him or below him, any further than it regards the outward order or discipline of the world: for, if we conceive too great an idea of the eminence of our superiors, or subordination of our inferiors, it will have an ill effect upon our behaviour to both. He who thinks no man above him but for his virtue, none below him but for his vice, can never be obsequious or assuming in a wrong place; but will frequently emulate men in rank below him, and pity those above him. This sense of mankind is so far from a levelling principle, that it only sets us upon a true basis of distinction, and doubles the merit of such as become their condition. A man in power, who can, without the ordinary prepossessions which stop the way to the true knowledge and service of mankind, overlook the little distinctions of fortune, raise obscure merit, and discountenance successful indesert, has, in the minds of knowing men, the figure of an angel rather than a man; and is above the rest of men in the highest character he can be, even that of their benefactor. Turning my thoughts, as I was taking my pipe this evening, after this manner, it was no small delight to me to receive advice from Felicia, that Eboracensis* was appointed a governor of one of their plantations. As I am a great lover of mankind, I took part in the hap. piness of that people who were to be governed by one of so great humanity, justice, and honour. Eboracensis has read all the schemes which writers have formed of government and order, and has been long conversant with men who have the reins in their hands; so that he can very well distinguish between chimerical and practical politics. It is a great blessing, when men have to deal with such different characters in the same species as those of freemen and slaves, that they who command have a just sense of human nature itself, by which they can temper the haughtiness of the master, and soften the servitude of the slave-'Hæ tibi erunt artes.' This is the notion with which those of the plantation receive Eboracensis: and as I have cast his nativity, I find there will be a record made of this person's adminis. tration; and on that part of the shore from whence he embarks to return from his government, there will be a monument, with these words: Here the people wept, and took leave of Eboracensis, the first governor our mother Felicia sent, who, during his command here, believed himself her subject.' Will's Chocolate-house, September 16. The following latter wants such sudden de. spatch, that all things else must wait for this time: * Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York. [No. 69. Sept. 13, equal day and night. 'SIR,-There are two ladies, who, having a good opinion of your taste and judgment, desire you to make use of them in the following particular, which perhaps you may allow very extraordinary. The two ladies before-mentioned have, a considerable time since, contracted a more sincere and constant friendship than their adversaries, the men, will allow consistent with the frailty of female nature; and being, from a long acquaintance, convinced of the perfect agreement of their tempers, have thought upon an expedient to prevent their separation, and cannot think any so effectual (since it is common for love to destroy friendship) as to give up both their liberties to the same person in marriage. The gentleman they have pitched upon is neither well bred nor agreeable, his understanding moderate, and his person never designed to charm women; but having so much self-interest in his nature, as to be satisfied with making double contracts, upon condition of rereceiving double fortunes; and most men being so far sensible of the uneasiness that one woman occasions; they think him, for these reasons, the most likely person of their acquaintance to receive these proposals. Upon all other accounts, he is the last man either of them would choose, yet for this, preferable to all the rest. They desire to know your opinion the next post, resolving to defer farther proceeding, until they have received it.-I am, Sir, your unknown, unthought of, humble servant, 'BRIDGET EITHERSIDE.' This is very extraordinary; and much might be objeeted by me, who am something of a civilian, to the case of two marrying the same man: but these ladies are, I perceive, freethinkers; and therefore I shall speak only to the prudential part of this design, merely as a philosopher, without entering into the merit of it in the ecclesiastical or civil law. These constant friends, Piladea and Orestea, are at a loss to preserve their friendship from the encroachments of love: for which end they have resolved upon a fellow who cannot be the object of affection or esteem to either, and consequently cannot rob one of the place each has in her friend's heart. But in all my reading (and I have read all that the sages of love have writ) I have found the greatest danger in jealousy. The ladies, indeed, to avoid this passion, choose a sad fellow; but if they would be advised by me, they had better have each her worthless man; otherwise, he that was despicable, while he was indifferent to them, will become valuable when he seems to prefer one to the other. I remember in the history of Don Quixote of la Mancha, there is a memorable passage, which opens to us the weakness of our nature in such particulars. The Don falls into discourse with a gentleman, whom he calls the Knight of the Green Cassock,' and is invited to his house. When he comes there, he runs into discourse and panegyric upon the economy, the government, and order of his family, the education of his children, and, lastly, on the singular wisdəm of him who disposed things with that exactness. The gentleman makes a soliloquy to himself: 'O irresistible power of flattery! Though I know this is a madman, I cannot help being taken with his applause.' The ladies will find this much more true in the case of their lover; and the woman he most likes will certainly be more pleased, she whom he slights more offended, than she can imagine before she was tried. Now, I humbly propose, that they both marry coxcombs whom they are sure they cannot like, and then they may be pretty secure against the change of affection, which they fear; and, by that means, preserving the temperature under which they now write, enjoy, during life, Equal day and night.' St. James's Coffee-house, September 16. There is no manner of news; but people now spend their time in coffee-houses in reflections upon the particulars of the late glorious day, and collecting the several parts of the action, as they are produced in letters from private hands, or notices given to us by accounts in public papers. A pleasant gentleman, alluding to the great fences through which we pierced, said this evening, the French thought themselves on the right side of the hedge, but it proved otherwise.' Mr. Kidney, who has long conversed with, and filled tea for, the most consummate politicians, was pleased to give me an account of this piece of ribaldry; and desired me, on that occasion, to write a whole paper on the subject of valour, and explain how that quality, which must be possessed by whole armies, is so highly preferable in one man rather than another; and how the same actions are but mere acts of duty in some, and instances of the most heroic virtue in others. He advises me not to fail, in this discourse, to mention the gallantry of the prince of Nassau in this last engagement; who, when a battalion made a halt in the face of the enemy, snatched the colours out of the hands of the ensign, and planted them just before the line of the enemy, calling to that battalion to take care of their colours if they had no regard to him. Mr. Kidney has my promise to obey him in this particular, on the first occasion that offers. Mr. Bickerstaff is now compiling exact accounts of the pay of the militia, and the commission-officers under the respective lieutenancies of Great Britain; in the first place, of those of London and Westminster; and in regard that there are no common soldiers, but all housekeepers, or representatives of house-keepers, in these bodies, the sums raised by the officers shall be looked into; and their fellow-soldiers, or rather fellow travellers from one part of the town to the other, not defrauded of the ten pounds allowed for the subsistence of the troops. Whereas, not very long since, at a tavern between Fleet-bridge and Charing-cross, some certain polite gentlemen thought fit to perform the bacchanalian exercises of devotion, by dancing without clothes on, after the manner of the PræAdamites; this is to certify those persons, that *A waiter at the St. James's Coffee-house. there is no manner of wit or humour in the said practice; and that the beadles of the parish are to be at their next meeting, where it is to be examined, whether they are arrived at want of feeling, as well as want of shame? Whereas a chapel clerk was lately taken in a garret on a flock-bed, with two of the fair sex, this is to let him know, that if he persists in bewho are usually employed in sifting cinders: ing a scandal both to laity and clergy, as being, nymphs who were with him shall be printed; as it were, both and neither, the names of the therefore, he is desired, as he tenders the reputation of his ladies, to repent. Mr. Bickerstaff has received information, that an eminent and noble preacher in the chief conthought guilty of presbyterian fervency and exgregation of Great Britain, for fear of being temporary prayer, lately read his, before sermon; but the same advices acknowledging that he made the congregation large amends by the shortness of his discourse, it is thought fit to make no further observation upon it. 'SIR,-Having read your lucubrations of the tenth instant, I cannot but entirely agree with you in your notion of the scarcity of men who can either read or speak. For my part, I have lived these thirty years in the world, and yet have observed but very few who could do either in any tolerable manner; among which few, you must understand that I reckon myself. How far eloquence, set off with the proper ornaments of voice and gesture, will prevail over the passions, and how cold and unaffecting the best oration in the world would be without them, there are two remarkable instances in the case of Ligarius, and that of Milo. Cæsar had condemned Ligarius. He came indeed to hear what might be said; but, thinking himself his own master, resolved not to be biassed by any thing Cicero could say in his behalf: but in this he was mistaken; for when the orator began to speak, the hero is moved, he is vanquished, and at length the criminal absolved. It must be observed, that this famous orator was less renowned for his courage than his eloquence; for though he came, at another time, prepared to defend Milo with one of the best orations that antiquity has produced; yet, being seized with a sudden fear, by |