The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/Tatlers from Vol. V
SATURDAY, JANUARY 13, 1710-11[1].
IT is impossible perhaps for the best and wisest among us, to keep so constant a guard upon our temper, but that we may at one time or other lie open to the strokes of fortune, and such incidents as we cannot foresee. With sentiments of this kind I came home to my lodgings last night, much fatigued with a long and sudden journey from the country, and full of the ungrateful occasion of it. It was natural for me to have immediate recourse to my pen and ink; but before I would offer to make use of them, I resolved deliberately to tell over a hundred, and when I came to the end of that sum, I found it more advisable to defer drawing up my intended remonstrance, till I had slept soundly on my resentments. Without any other preface than this, I shall give the world a fair account of the treatment I have lately met with, and leave them to judge whether the uneasiness I have suffered be inconsistent with the character I have generally pretended to. About three weeks since, I received an invitation from a kinsman in Staffordshire, to spend my Christmas in those parts. Upon taking leave of Mr. Morphew, I put as many papers into his hands as would serve till my return, and charged him at parting, to be very punctual with the town. In what manner he and Mr. Lillie have been tampered with since, I cannot say; they have given me my revenge, if I desired any, by allowing their names to an idle paper, that in all human probability, cannot live a fortnight to an end.
Myself, and the family I was with, were in the midst of gayety, and a plentiful entertainment, when I received a letter from my sister Jenny, who, after mentioning some little affairs I had entrusted to her, goes on thus: "The enclosed, I believe, will give you some surprise, as it has already astonished every body here: who Mr. Steele is, that subscribes it, I do not know, any more than I can comprehend what could induce him to it. Morphew and Lillie, I am told, are both in the secret. I shall not presume to instruct you, but hope you will use some means to disappoint the ill nature of those who are taking pains to deprive the world of one of its most reasonable entertainments. I am, &c."
I am to thank my sister for her compliment; but be that as it will, I shall not easily be discouraged from my former undertaking. In pursuance of it, I was obliged upon this notice to take places in the coach for myself and my maid with the utmost expedition, lest I should, in a short time, be rallied out of my existence, as some people will needs fancy Mr. Partridge has been, and the real Isaac Bickerstaff have passed for a creature of Mr. Steele's imagination. This illusion might have hoped for some tolerable success, if I had not more than once produced my person in a crowded theatre; and such a person as Mr. Steele, if I am not misinformed in the gentleman, would hardly think it an advantage to own, though I should throw him in all the little honour I have gained by my Lucubrations. I may be allowed, perhaps, to understand pleasantry as well as other men, and can (in the usual phrase) take a jest without being angry; but I appeal to the world, whether the gentleman has not carried it too far, and whether he ought not to make a publick recantation, if the credulity of some unthinking people should force me to insist upon it. The following letter is just come to hand, and I think it not improper to be inserted in this paper.
"TO ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ.
"Sir, I am extremely glad to hear you are come to town; for in your absence we were all mightily surprised with an unaccountable paper, signed Richard Steele, who is esteemed by those that know him, to be a man of wit and honour; and therefore we took it either to be a counterfeit, or perfect christmas frolick of that ingenious gentleman. But then, your paper ceasing immediately after, we were at a loss what to think: if you were weary of the work you had so long carried on, and had given this Mr. Steele orders to signify so to the publick, he should have said it in plain terms; but as that paper is worded, one would be apt to judge, that he had a mind to persuade the town that there was some analogy between Isaac Bickerstaff and him. Possibly there may be a secret in this which I cannot enter into: but I flatter myself that you never had any thoughts of giving over your labours for the benefit of mankind, when you cannot but know how many subjects are yet unexhausted, and how many others, as being less obvious, are wholly untouched. I dare promise, not only for myself, but many other abler friends, that we shall still continue to furnish you with hints on all proper occasions, which is all your genius requires. I think, by the way, you cannot in honour have any more to do with Morphew and Lillie, who have gone beyond the ordinary pitch of assurance, and transgressed the very letter of the proverb, by endeavouring to cheat you of your christian and surname too. Wishing you, sir, long to live, for our instruction and diversion, and to the defeating of all impostors[2], I remain,
"Your most obedient humble servant,
and affectionate kinsman,
"HUMPHRY WAGSTAFF."
THE TATLER. N° 2[3].
TUESDAY, JANUARY 16, 1710-11.
I REMEMBER Menage tells a story of monsieur Racan, who had appointed a day and hour to meet a certain lady of great wit whom he had never seen, in order to make an acquaintance between them. "Two of Racan's friends, who had heard of the appointment, resolved to play him a trick. The first went to the lady two hours before the time, said his name was Racan, and talked with her an hour; they were both mightily pleased, began a great friendship, and parted with much satisfaction. A few minutes after comes the second, and sends up the same name; the lady wonders at the meaning, and tells him, Mr. Racan had just left her. The gentleman says, it was some rascally impostor, and that he had been frequently used in that manner. The lady is convinced, and they laugh at the oddness of the adventure. She now calls to mind several passages which confirm her that the former was a cheat. He appoints a second meeting, and takes his leave. He was no sooner gone, but the true Racan comes to the door, and desires, under that name, to see the lady. She was out of all patience, sends for him up, rates him for an impostor, and, after a thousand injuries, flings a slipper at his head. It was impossible to pacify or disabuse her; he was forced to retire; and it was not without some time, and the intervention of friends, that they could come to an eclaircissement." This, as I take it, is exactly the case with Mr. Steele, the pretended Tatler from Morphew, and myself, only (I presume) the world will be sooner undeceived than the lady in Menage. The very day my last paper came out, my printer brought me another of the same date, called the Tatler, by Isaac Bickerstaff, esq., and, which was still more pleasant, with an advertisement at the end, calling me the Female Tatler: it is not enough to rob me of my name, but now they must impose a sex on me, when my years have long since determined me to be of none at all. There is only one thing wanting in the operation, that they would renew my age, and then I will heartily forgive them all the rest. In the mean time, whatever uneasiness I have suffered from the little malice of these men, and my retirement in the country, the pleasures I have received from the same occasion will fairly balance the account. On the one hand I have been highly delighted to see my name and character assumed by the scribblers of the age, in order to recommend themselves to it; and on the other, to observe the good taste of the town, in distinguishing and exploding them through every disguise, and sacrificing their trifles to the supposed manes of Isaac Bickerstaff, esquire. But the greatest merit of my journey into Staffordshire is, that it has opened to me a new fund of unreproved follies and errours, that have hitherto lain out of my view, and, by their situadon, escaped my censure: for, as I have lived generally in town, the images I had of the country were such only as my senses received very early, and my memory has since preserved with all the advantages they first appeared in.
Hence it was that I thought our parish church the noblest structure in England, and the esquire's place-house, as we called it, a most magnificent palace: I had the same opinion of the almshouse in the churchyard, and of a bridge over the brook that parts our parish from the next. It was the common vogue of our school, That the master was the best scholar in Europe, and the usher the second. Not happening to correct these notions by comparing them with what I saw when I came into the world; upon returning back, I began to resume my former imaginations, and expected all things should appear in the same view as I left them when I was a boy: but to my utter disappointment, I found them wonderfully shrunk, and lessened almost out of my knowledge. I looked with contempt on the tribes painted on the church walls, which I once so much admired, and on the carved chimneypiece in the esquire's hall. I found my old master to be a poor ignorant pedant; and, in short, the whole scene to be extremely changed for the worse. This I could not help mentioning, because though it be of no consequence in itself, yet it is certain, that most prejudices are contracted and retained by this narrow way of thinking, which in matters of the greatest moment are hardly shook off; and which we only think true, because we were made to believe so before we were capable to distinguish between truth and falsehood. But there was one prepossession, which I confess to have parted with, much to my regret: I mean the opinion of that native honesty and simplicity of manners, which I had always imagined to be inherent in country people. I soon observed it was with them and us, as they say of animals; That every species at land has one to resemble it at sea; for it was easy to discover the seeds and principles of every vice and folly that one meets with in the more known world, though shooting up in different forms. I took a fancy, out of the several inhabitants round to furnish the camp, the bar, and the Exchange, and some certain chocolate and coffeehouses, with exact parallels to what, in many instances, they already produce. There was a drunken quarrelsome smith[4], whom I have a hundred times fancied at the head of a troop of dragoons. A weaver, within two doors of my kinsman, was perpetually setting neighbours together by the ears. I lamented to see how his talents were misplaced, and imagined what a figure he might make in Westminster hall. Goodman Crop, of Compton farm, wants nothing but a plum and a gold chain, to qualify him for the government of the city. My kinsman's stableboy was a gibing companion, that would always have his jest. He would often put cowitch in the maid's bed, pull stools from under folks, and lay a coal upon their shoes when they were asleep. He was at last turned off for some notable piece of roguery; and, when I came away, was loitering among the alehouses. Bless me, thought I, what a prodigious wit would this have been with us! I could have matched all the sharpers between St. James's and Covent garden, with a notable fellow in the same neighbourhood (since hanged for picking pockets at fairs), could he have had the advantages of their education. So nearly are the corruptions of the country allied to those of the town, with no farther difference than what is made by another turn of thought and method of living!
THE TATLER. N° 28[5].
Morte carent animæ; semperque priore relicta
Sede, novis domibus vivunt habitantque receptæ.
Ipse ego (nam memini) Trojani tempore belli
Panthoïdes Euphorbus eram Ovid. Met.
SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1710.
MY Other correspondents will excuse me, if I give the precedency to a lady, whose letter, among many more, is just come to hand.
"Dear Isaac,
"I burn with impatience to know what and who you are. The curiosity of my whole sex is fallen upon me, and has kept me waking these three nights. I have dreamed often of you within this fortnight, and every time you appeared in a different form. As you value my repose, tell me in which of them I am to be
Your admirer,
SYLVIA"
It is natural for a man who receives a favour of this kind from an unknown fair, to frame immediately some idea of her person, which, being suited to the opinion we have of our own merit, is commonly as beautiful and perfect as the most lavish imagination can furnish out. Strongly possessed with these notions, I have read over Sylvia's billet; and notwithstanding the reserve I have had upon this matter, am resolved to go a much greater length than I yet ever did, in making myself known to the world, and in particular to my charming correspondent. In order
to it I must premise, That the person produced as mine in the playhouse last winter did in nowise appertain to me. It was such a one however as agreed well with the impression my writings had made, and served the purpose I intended it for; which was to continue the awe and reverence due to the character I was vested with, and at the same time to let my enemies see how much I was the delight and favourite of this town. This innocent imposture, which I have all along taken care to carry on, as it then was of some use, has since been of regular service to me, and, by being mentioned in one of my papers, effectually recovered my egoity out of the hands of some gentleman who endeavoured to wrest it from me. This is saying in short what I am not: what I am, and have been for many years, is next to be explained. Here it will not be improper to remind Sylvia, that there was formerly such a philosopher as Pythagoras, who among other doctrines, taught the transmigration of souls; which if she sincerely believes, she will not be much startled at the following relation.
I will not trouble her, nor my other readers, with the particulars of all the lives I have successively passed through since my first entrance into mortal being, which is now many centuries ago. It is enough that I have in every one of them opposed myself with the utmost resolution to the follies and vices of the several ages I have been acquainted with; that I have often rallied the world into good manners, and kept the greatest princes in awe of my satire. There is one circumstance which I shall not omit, though it may seem to reflect on my character; I mean, that infinite love of change which has ever appeared in the disposal of my existence. Since the days of the emperor Trajan, I have not been confined to the same person for twenty years together; but have passed from one abode to another much quicker than the Pythagorean system generally allows. By this means I have seldom had a body to myself, but have lodged up and down wherever I found a genius suitable to my own. In this manner I continued some time with the top wit of France; at another with that of Italy, who had a statue erected to his memory in Rome. Toward the end of the seventeenth century I set out for England; but the gentleman I came over in dying as soon as he got to shore, I was obliged to look out again for a new habitation. It was not long before I met with one to my mind; for, having mixed myself invisibly with the literati of this kingdom, I found it was unanimously agreed among them, That nobody was endowed with greater talents than Hiereus; or consequently, would be better pleased with my company. I slipped down his throat one night as he was fast asleep; and the next morning, as soon as he awaked, he fell to writing a treatise that was received with great applause, though he had the modesty not to set his name to that nor to any other of our productions. Some time after he published a paper of predictions, which were translated into several languages, and alarmed some of the greatest princes in Europe. To these he prefixed the name of Isaac Bickerstaff, esq., which I have been extremely fond of ever since, and have taken care that most of the writings I have been concerned in should be distinguished by it; though I must observe, that there have been many counterfeits imposed upon the publick by this means. This extraordinary man being called out of the kingdom by affairs of his own, I resolved however to continue somewhar longer in a country where my works had been so well received, and accordingly bestowed myself with Hilario[6]. His natural wit, his lively turn of humour, and great penetration into human nature, easily determined me to this choice, the effects of which were soon after produced in this paper, called the Tatler. I know not how it happened, but in less than two years time Hilario grew weary of my company, and gave me warning to be gone. In the height of my resentment, I cast my eyes on a young fellow, of no extraordinary qualifications[7], whom for that very reason I had the more pride in taking under my direction, and enabling him by some means or other to carry on the work I was before engaged in. Lest he should grow too vain upon this encouragement, I to this day keep him under due mortification. I seldom reside with him when any of his friends are at leisure to receive me, by whose hands however he is duly supplied. As I have passed through many scenes of life, and a long series of years, I choose to be considered in the character of an old fellow, and take care that those under my influence should speak consonantly to it. This account, I presume, will give no small consolation to Sylvia, who may rest assured. That Isaac Bickerstaff is to be seen in more forms than she dreamt of; out of which variety she may choose what is most agreeable to her fancy. On Tuesdays, he is sometimes a black proper young gentleman, with a mole on his left cheek[8]. On Thursdays, a decent well looking man, of a middle stature, long flaxen hair, and a florid complexion[9]. On Saturdays, he is somewhat of the shortest, and may be known from others of that size by talking in a low voice, and passing through the streets without much precipitation.
*** Having copied those Tatlers which could properly be ascribed to the dean: it is but justice to mention four, which (having been said to be his) he has thus disclaimed. "The Tatler [237] upon Milton's Spear is not mine." Journal to Stella, Nov. 1, 1710. "The Tatler of the shilling [249] was not mine, more than the hints and two or three general heads for it. I have much more important business on my hands." Nov. 8. "You are mistaken in your guesses about Tatlers: I did neither write that on Noses [260] nor Religion [257]; nor do I send him of late any hints at all." Jan. 1, 1710-11.
- ↑ Jan. 2, 1710-11, Dr. Swift tells Stella, "Steele's last Tatler came out to day. You will see it before this comes to you, and how he takes leave of the world. He never told so much as Mr. Addison of it, who was surprised as much as I; but, to say truth, it was time; for he grew cruel dull, and dry. To my knowledge, he had several good hints to go upon; but he was so lazy, and weary of the work, that he would not improve them." Jan. 11, he adds, "I am setting up a new Tatler: little Harrison whom I have mentioned to you. Others have put him on it, and I encourage him; and he was with me this morning and evening, showing me his first, which comes out on Saturday. I doubt he will not succeed, for I do not much approve his manner; but the scheme is Mr. secretary St. John's and mine, and would have done well enough in good hands. I recommended him to a printer, whom I sent for, and settled the matter between them this evening. Harrison has just left me: and I am tired with correcting his trash." In this number the judicious reader will readily recognise the letter of Humphry Wagstaff; and though the whole paper is not the production of our author, he at least adopted it by his corrections.
- ↑ "Jan. 13. To day little Harrison's new Tatler came out; there is not much in it, but I hope he will mend. You must understand that, upon Steele's leaving off, there were two or three scrub Tatlers came out, and one of them holds on still, and to day it advertised against Harrison's; and so there must be disputes which are genuine, like the straps for razors."
- ↑ "I have given Harrison hints for another Tatler, to morrow." Journal, Jan, 15, 1710.
- ↑ "Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood " as it is happily expressed in Mr. Gray's fine elegy; to whom this Tatler might possibly have suggested a hint.
- ↑ The merit of this Tatler is our only authority for ascribing it to Dr. Swift; though it must be owned, that reason is of the less weight, as Mr. Harrison was certainly assisted in this undertaking by the accomplished St. John and the witty Henley. The other numbers which we have selected, with those already inserted in vol. V, are the acknowledged productions of our author, and are all that can with certainty be ascribed to him; though there is no doubt but he furnished hints for many others, both to Steele and Harrison. Two very elegant poems, which first made their appearance in that paper, are printed in vol. VII. "The Description, of a City Shower," p. 58, and "A Description of the Morning," p. 57. And in the same volume p. 66, will be found a jeu d' esprit from Mr. Harrison's Tatlers, which seems to have been the united product of a knot of wits. Feb. 11, he says, "When I came home this evening, I expected that little jackanapes Harrison would have come to get help about his Tatler for Tuesday; I have fixed two evenings in the week, which I allow him to come." The publication was continued till May 19, 1711; when fifty-two papers were collected into a fifth volume, not unworthy a place in any library which contains the former volumes. Mr. Harrison, the apparent publisher, was a young gentleman high in esteem; and (as Swift expresses it) "a little pretty fellow, with a great deal of wit, good sense, and good nature;" but had at that time no other income than fortypounds a year, as governor to one of the duke of Queensberry's sons. He fortunately attracted the favour of Dr. Swift; whose generous solicitations with Mr. St. John obtained for him the very reputable employment of secretary to lord Raby, then ambassador at the Hague. A letter from him while at Utrecht is printed in vol. XI, p. 238, to which Dr. Birch has annexed some curious particulars of Mr. Harrison; who did not long enjoy his rising fortune; dying Feb. 14, 1712-13. See the Journal to Stella, of that and the following day; where Dr. Swift laments his loss with the most unaffected sincerity of heart.
- ↑ Mr. Steele.
- ↑ Mr. Harrison.
- ↑ Probably Dr. Swift, the Hiereus of the preceding page; and the Obadiah Greenhat of the Tatler, N° 59.
- ↑ Perhaps Mr. Henley.