Kitabı oku: «The Tatler, Volume 1», sayfa 8
No. 11.
[STEELE.
By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.
From Tuesday May 3, to Thursday, May 5, 1709
Will's Coffee-house, May 3
A kinsman172 has sent me a letter, wherein he informs me, he had lately resolved to write an heroic poem, but by business had been interrupted, and has only made one similitude, which he should be afflicted to have wholly lost, and begs of me to apply it to something, being very desirous to see it well placed in the world. I am so willing to help the distressed, that I have taken it in; but though his greater genius might very well distinguish his verses from mine, I have marked where his begin. His lines are a description of the sun in eclipse, which I know nothing more like than a brave man in sorrow, who bears it as he should, without imploring the pity of his friends, or being dejected with the contempt of his enemies. As in the case of Cato:
When all the globe to Cæsar's fortune bowed,
Cato alone his empire disallowed;
With inborn strength alone opposed mankind,
With heaven in view, to all below it blind:
Regardless of his friend's applause, or moan,
Alone triumphant, since he falls alone.
"Thus when the Ruler of the genial day,
Behind some darkening planet forms his way,
Desponding mortals, with officious care,
The concave drum, and magic brass prepare;
Implore him to sustain the important fight,
And save depending worlds from endless night.
Fondly they hope their labour may avail,
To ease his conflict, and assist his toil.
Whilst he in beams of native splendour bright, }
(Though dark his orb appear to human sight) }
Shines to the gods with more diffusive light. }
To distant stars with equal glory burns,
Inflames their lamps, and feeds their golden urns.
Sure to retain his known superior tract,
And proves the more illustrious by defect."
This is a very lively image; but I must take the liberty to say, my kinsman drives the sun a little like Phaëton: he has all the warmth of Phœbus, but won't stay for his direction of it. Avail and toil, defect and tract, will never do for rhymes. But, however, he has the true spirit in him; for which reason I was willing to entertain anything he pleased to send me. The subject which he writes upon, naturally raises great reflections in the soul, and puts us in mind of the mixed condition which we mortals are to support; which, as it varies to good or bad, adorns or defaces our actions to the beholders: All which glory and shame must end in what we so much repine at, death. But doctrines on this occasion, any other than that of living well, are the most insignificant and most empty of all the labours of men. None but a tragedian can die by rule, and wait till he discovers a plot, or says a fine thing upon his exit. In real life, this is a chimera; and by noble spirits, it will be done decently, without the ostentation of it. We see men of all conditions and characters go through it with equal resolution: and if we consider the speeches of the mighty philosophers, heroes, law-givers, and great captains, they can produce no more in a discerning spirit, than rules to make a man a fop on his death-bed. Commend me to that natural greatness of soul, expressed by an innocent, and consequently resolute, country fellow, who said in the pains of the colic, "If I once get this breath out of my body, you shall hang me before you put it in again." Honest Ned! and so he died.173
But it is to be supposed, from this place you may expect an account of such a thing as a new play is not to be omitted. That acted this night is the newest that ever was writ. The author is my ingenious friend Mr. Thomas D–y. The drama is called, "The Modern Prophets,"174 and is a most unanswerable satire against the late spirit of enthusiasm. The writer had by long experience observed, that in company, very grave discourses have been followed by bawdry; and therefore has turned the humour that way with great success, and taken from his audience all manner of superstition, by the agitations of pretty Mrs. Bignell,175 whom he has, with great subtlety, made a lay-sister, as well as a prophetess; by which means, she carries on the affairs of both worlds with great success. My friend designs to go on with another work against winter, which he intends to call, "The Modern Poets"; a people no less mistaken in their opinions of being inspired than the other. In order to this, he has by him seven songs, besides many ambiguities, which cannot be mistaken for anything but what he means them. Mr. D–y generally writes state-plays, and is wonderfully useful to the world in such representations. This method is the same that was used by old Athenians, to laugh out of countenance, or promote opinions among the people. My friend has therefore, against this play is acted for his own benefit, made two dances, which may be also of an universal benefit. In the first he has represenced absolute power, in the person of a tall man with a hat and feather, who gives his first minister, that stands just before him, a huge kick: the minister gives the kick to the next before; and so to the end of the stage. In this moral and practical jest, you are made to understand, that there is, in an absolute government, no gratification, but giving the kick you receive from one above you to one below you. This is performed to a grave and melancholy air; but on a sudden the tune moves quicker, and the whole company fall into a circle and take hands; then, at a certain sharp note, they move round, and kick as kick can. This latter performance he makes to be the representation of a free state; where, if you all mind your steps, you may go round and round very jollily, with a motion pleasant to yourselves and those you dance with: nay, if you put yourselves out, at the worst you only kick, and are kicked, like friends and equals.
From my own Apartment, May 4
Of all the vanities under the sun, I confess, that of being proud of one's birth is the greatest. At the same time, since in this unreasonable age, by the force of prevailing custom, things in which men have no hand are imputed to them; and that I am used by some people, as if Isaac Bickerstaff, though I write myself "Esquire," was nobody: to set the world right in that particular, I shall give you my genealogy, as a kinsman of ours has sent it me from the Heralds' Office. It is certain, and observed by the wisest writers, that there are women who are not nicely chaste, and men not severely honest in all families; therefore let those who may be apt to raise aspersions upon ours, please to give us as impartial an account of their own, and we shall be satisfied. The business of heralds is a matter of so great nicety, that to avoid mistakes, I shall give you my cousin's letter verbatim, without altering a syllable.176
"DEAR COUSIN,
"Since you have been pleased to make yourself so famous of late, by your ingenious writings, and some time ago by your learned Predictions: since Partridge, of immortal memory, is dead and gone, who, poetical as he was, could not understand his own poetry; and philomathical as he was, could not read his own destiny: since the Pope, the King of France, and great part of his Court, are either literally or metaphorically defunct: since, I say, these things (not foretold by any one but yourself) have come to pass after so surprising a manner; it is with no small concern I see the original of the Staffian race so little known in the world as it is at this time; for which reason, as you have employed your studies in astronomy and the occult sciences, so I, my mother being a Welsh woman, dedicated mine to genealogy, particularly that of our own family, which, for its antiquity and number, may challenge any in Great Britain. The Staffs are originally of Staffordshire, which took its name from them: the first that I find of the Staffs was one Jacobstaff, a famous and renowned astronomer, who by Dorothy his wife, had issue seven sons; viz., Bickerstaff, Longstaff, Wagstaff, Quarterstaff, Whitestaff, Falstaff, and Tipstaff. He also had a younger brother who was twice married, and had five sons; viz., Distaff, Pikestaff, Mopstaff, Broomstaff, and Raggedstaff. As for the branch from whence you spring, I shall say very little of it, only that it is the chief of the Staffs, and called Bickerstaff, quasi Biggerstaff; as much as to say, the great staff, or staff of staffs; and that it has applied itself to astronomy with great success, after the example of our aforesaid forefather. The descendants from Longstaff, the second son, were a rakish disorderly sort of people, and rambled from one place to another, till in Harry II.'s time they settled in Kent, and were called Long-tails, from the long tails which were sent them as a punishment for the murder of Thomas-à-Becket, as the legends say; they have been always sought after by the ladies; but whether it be to show their aversion to popery, or their love to miracles, I can't say. The Wagstaffs are a merry thoughtless sort of people, who have always been opinionated of their own wit; they have turned themselves mostly to poetry. This is the most numerous branch of our family, and the poorest. The Quarterstaffs are most of them prize-fighters or deer-stealers. There have been so many of them hanged lately, that there are very few of that branch of our family left. The Whitestaffs177 are all courtiers, and have had very considerable places: there have been some of them of that strength and dexterity, that five hundred of the ablest men in the kingdom178 have often tugged in vain to pull a staff out of their hands. The Falstaffs are strangely given to whoring and drinking: there are abundance of them in and about London. And one thing is very remarkable of this branch, and that is, there are just as many women as men in it. There was a wicked stick of wood of this name in Harry IV.'s time, one Sir John Falstaff. As for Tipstaff, the youngest son, he was an honest fellow; but his sons, and his sons' sons, have all of them been the veriest rogues living: it is this unlucky branch has stocked the nation with that swarm of lawyers, attorneys, serjeants, and bailiffs, with which the nation is overrun. Tipstaff, being a seventh son, used to cure the king's evil; but his rascally descendants are so far from having that healing quality, that by a touch upon the shoulder, they give a man such an ill habit of body, that he can never come abroad afterwards. This is all I know of the line of Jacobstaff: his younger brother Isaacstaff, as I told you before, had five sons, and was married twice; his first wife was a Staff (for they did not stand upon false heraldry in those days), by whom he had one son, who in process of time, being a schoolmaster, and well read in the Greek, called himself Distaff or Twicestaff: he was not very rich, so he put his children out to trades; and the Distaffs have ever since been employed in the woollen and linen manufactures, except myself, who am a genealogist. Pikestaff, the eldest son by the second venter, was a man of business, a downright plodding fellow, and withal so plain, that he became a proverb. Most of this family are at present in the army. Raggedstaff was an unlucky boy, and used to tear his clothes getting birds' nests, and was always playing with a tame bear his father kept. Mopstaff fell in love with one of his father's maids, and used to help her to clean the house. Broomstaff was a chimney-sweeper. The Mopstaffs and Broomstaffs are naturally as civil people as ever went out of doors; but alas! if they once get into ill hands, they knock down all before them. Pilgrimstaff run away from his friends, and went strolling about the country: and Pipestaff was a wine-cooper. These two were the unlawful issue of Longstaff.
"N.B. The Canes, the Clubs, the Cudgels, the Wands, the Devil upon two Sticks, and one Bread, that goes by the name of Staff of Life, are none of our relations.
"I am, dear Cousin,
"Your humble Servant,
"D. DISTAFF.
"From the Heralds' Office, May 1."
St. James's Coffee-house, May 4
As politic news is not the principal subject on which we treat, we are so happy as to have no occasion for that art of cookery, which our brother-newsmongers so much excel in; as appears by their excellent and inimitable manner of dressing up a second time for your taste the same dish which they gave you the day before, in case there come over no new pickles from Holland. Therefore, when we have nothing to say to you from courts and camps, we hope still to give you somewhat new and curious from ourselves: the women of our house, upon occasion, being capable of carrying on the business, according to the laudable custom of the wives in Holland; but, without further preface, take what we have not mentioned in our former relations.
Letters from Hanover of the 30th of the last month say, that the Prince Royal of Prussia arrived there on the 15th, and left that Court on the 2nd of this month, in pursuit of his journey to Flanders, where he makes the ensuing campaign. Those advices add, that the young Prince Nassau, hereditary governor of Friesland, consummated on the 26th of the last month his marriage with the beauteous princess of Hesse-Cassel, with a pomp and magnificence suitable to their age and quality.
Letters from Paris say, his most Christian Majesty retired to Marli on the 1st instant, N.S., and our last advices from Spain inform us, that the Prince of Asturias had made his public entry into Madrid in great splendour. The Duke of Anjou has given Don Joseph Hartado de Amaraga the government of Terra-Firma de Veragua, and the presidency of Panama in America. They add, That the forces commanded by the Marquis de Bay had been reinforced by six battalions of Spanish and Walloon guards. Letters from Lisbon advise, That the army of the King of Portugal was at Elvas on the 22nd of the last month, and would decamp on the 24th, in order to march upon the enemy, who lay at Badajos.
Yesterday, at four in the morning, his Grace the Duke of Marlborough set out for Margate, and embarked for Holland at eight this morning.
Yesterday also, Sir George Thorold was declared Alderman of Cordwainers' Ward, in the room of his brother Sir Charles Thorold, deceased.179
No. 12.
[STEELE.
From Thursday, May 5, to Saturday, May 7, 1709
May 5
When a man has engaged to keep a stage-coach, he is obliged, whether he has passengers or not, to set out: thus it fares with us weekly historians; but indeed, for my particular, I hope I shall soon have little more to do in this work, than to publish what is sent me from such as have leisure and capacity for giving delight, and being pleased in an elegant manner. The present grandeur of the British nation might make us expect, that we should rise in our public diversions, and manner of enjoying life, in proportion to our advancement in glory and power. Instead of that, take and survey this town, and you'll find, rakes and debauchees are your men of pleasure; thoughtless atheists, and illiterate drunkards, call themselves free thinkers; and gamesters, banterers, biters,180 swearers, and twenty new-born insects more, are, in their several species, the modern men of wit. Hence it is, that a man who has been out of town but one half-year, has lost the language, and must have some friend to stand by him, and keep him in countenance for talking common sense. To-day I saw a short interlude at White's of this nature, which I took notes of, and put together as well as I could in a public place. The persons of the drama are, Pip, the last gentleman that has been made so at cards; Trimmer, a person half undone at them, and is now between a cheat and a gentleman; Acorn, an honest Englishman, of good plain sense and meaning; and Mr. Friendly, a reasonable man of the town.
White's Chocolate-house, May 5
[Enter PIP, TRIM, and ACORN.
AC. What's the matter, gentlemen? What! Take no notice of an old friend?
PIP. Pox on it! don't talk to me, I am voweled by the Count, and cursedly out of humour.
AC. Voweled! Prithee, Trimmer, what does he mean by that?
TRIM. Have a care, Harry, speak softly; don't show your ignorance:—If you do, they'll bite you where-e'er they meet you; they are such cursed curs,—the present wits.
AC. Bite me! What do you mean?
PIP. Why! Don't you know what biting is? Nay, you are in the right on it. However, one would learn it only to defend oneself against men of wit, as one would know the tricks of play, to be secure against the cheats. But don't you hear, Acorn, that report, that some potentates of the Alliance have taken care of themselves, exclusive of us?
AC. How! Heaven forbid! After all our glorious victories; all this expense of blood and treasure!
PIP. Bite—
AC. Bite! How?
TRIM. Nay, he has bit you fairly enough; that's certain.
AC. Pox! I don't feel it—how? Where?
[Exit PIP and TRIMMER, laughing.
AC. Ho! Mr. Friendly, your most humble servant; you heard what passed between those fine gentlemen and me. Pip complained to me, that he has been voweled; and they tell me, I am bit.
FRIEND. You are to understand, sir, that simplicity of behaviour, which is the perfection of good breeding and good sense, is utterly lost in the world; and in the room of it, there are started a thousand little inventions, which men, barren of better things, take up in the place of it. Thus, for every character in conversation that used to please, there is an impostor put upon you. Him whom we allowed formerly for a certain pleasant subtilty, and natural way of giving you an unexpected hit, called a droll, is now mimicked by a biter, who is a dull fellow, that tells you a lie with a grave face, and laughs at you for knowing him no better than to believe him. Instead of that sort of companion, who could rally you, and keep his countenance, till he made you fall into some little inconsistency of behaviour, at which you yourself could laugh with him, you have the sneerer, who will keep you company from morning to night, to gather your follies of the day (which perhaps you commit out of confidence in him), and expose you in the evening to all the scorners in town. For your man of sense and free spirit, whose set of thoughts were built upon learning, reason, and experience, you have now an impudent creature made up of vice only, who supports his ignorance by his courage, and want of learning by contempt of it.
AC. Dear sir, hold: what you have told me already of this change in conversation, is too miserable to be heard with any delight; but, methinks, as these new creatures appear in the world, it might give an excellent field to writers for the stage, to divert us with the representation of them there.
FRIEND. No, no: as you say, there might be some hopes of redress of these grievances, if there were proper care taken of the theatre; but the history of that is yet more lamentable than that of the decay of conversation I gave you.
AC. Pray, sir, a little: I haven't been in town these six years, till within this fortnight.
FRIEND. It is now some years since several revolutions in the gay world had made the empire of the stage subject to very fatal convulsions, which were too dangerous to be cured by the skill of little King Oberon,181 who then sat in the throne of it. The laziness of this prince threw him upon the choice of a person who was fit to spend his life in contentions, an able and profound attorney, to whom he mortgaged his whole empire. This Divito182 is the most skilful of all politicians: he has a perfect art in being unintelligible in discourse, and uncomeatable in business. But he having no understanding in this polite way, brought in upon us, to get in his money, ladder-dancers,183 rope-dancers, jugglers, and mountebanks, to strut in the place of Shakespeare's heroes, and Jonson's humorists. When the seat of wit was thus mortgaged, without equity of redemption, an architect184 arose, who has built the muse a new palace, but secured her no retinue; so that instead of action there, we have been put off by song and dance. This latter help of sound has also begun to fail for want of voices; therefore the palace has since been put into the hands of a surgeon,185 who cuts any foreign fellow into an eunuch, and passes him upon us for a singer of Italy.
AC. I'll go out of town to-morrow.
FRIEND.186 Things are come to this pass; and yet the world will not understand, that the theatre has much the same effect on the manners of the age, as the bank on the credit of the nation. Wit and spirit, humour and good sense, can never be revived, but under the government of those who are judges of such talents, who know, that whatever is put up in their stead, is but a short and trifling expedient, to support the appearance of them for a season. It is possible, a peace will give leisure to put these matters under new regulations; but at present, all the assistance we can see towards our recovery, is as far from giving us help, as a poultice is from performing what can be done only by the Grand Elixir.
