courtier will whisper a privy-counsellor's lac- | cording to the equity of good breeding, he that quey with the utmost goodness and condescen- is impertinently kind or wise, to do you service, sion, to know when they next sit; and is tho. ought in return to have a proportionable place roughly taken up, and thinks he has a part in a both in your affection and esteem; so that the secret, it he knows that there is a secret. What courteous Umbra deserves the favour of all his it is,' he will whisper you, that time will dis- acquaintance; for though he never served them, cover; then he shrugs, and calls you back he is ever willing to do it, and believes he does again Sir, I need not say to you, that | it. these things are not to be spoken of and harkye, no names, I would not be quoted. What adds to the jest is, that his emptiness has its moods and seasons, and he will not condescend to let you into these his discoveries, except he is in very good humour, or has seen some. body of fashion talk to you. He will keep his nothing to himself, and pass by and overlook as well as the best of them; not observing that he is insolent when he is gracious, and obliging when he is haughty. Show me a woman so inconsiderable as this frequent character. Oh! But she is not handsome.' Coxcomb! the gentleman was saying what I was, not what I was not.' St. James's Coffee-house, July 6. As impotent kindness is to be returned with all our abilities to oblige; so impotent malice is to be treated with all our force to depress it. For this reason Fly-blow (who is received in all the families in town, through the degeneracy and iniquity of their manners) is to be treated like a knave, though he is one of the weakest of fools: he has by rote, and at second-hand, all that can be said of any man of figure, wit, and virtue, in town. Name a man of worth, and this creature tells you the worst passage of his life. Speak of a beautiful woman, and this puppy will whisBut my mind, now I am in, turns to many no per the next man to him, though he has nothing less observable. Thou, dear Will Shoestring! I to say of her. He is a fly that feeds on the sore profess myself in love with thee! how shall I part, and would have nothing to live on if the speak thee? how shall I address thee? how shall whole body were in health. You may know I draw thee? thon dear outside! Will you be him by the frequency of pronouncing the parti combing your wig, playing with your box, or cle but; for which reason I never heard him picking your teeth? or choosest thou rather to spoke of with common charity, without using be speaking; to be speaking for thy only pur. my but against him: for a friend of mine saying pose in speaking, to show your teeth? Rub the other day, Mrs. Distaff has wit, good-huthem no longer, dear Shoestring:* do not pre-mour, virtue, and friendship; this oaf added, meditate murder: do not for ever whiten. that for my quiet and his own they were rotten! But I will forget him, and give my hand to the courteous Umbra. He is a fine man indeed, but the soft creature bows below my apronstring, before he takes it; yet, after the first ceremonies, he is as familiar as my physician, and his insignificancy makes me half ready to complain to him of all I would to my doctor. He is so courteous, that he carries half the messages of ladies' ails in town to their midwives and nurses. He understands too the art of medicine, as far as to the cure of a pimple, or a rash. On occasions of the like importance, he is the most assiduous of all men living, in consulting and searching precedents from family to family; then he speaks of his obsequiousness and diligence in the style of real services. If you sneer at him, and thank him for his great friendship, he bows, and says, Madam, all the good offices in my power, while I have any knowledge or credit, shall be at your service.' The consideration of so shallow a being, and the intent application with which he pursues trifles, has made me carefully reflect upon that sort of men we usually call an impertinent: and I am, upon mature deliberation, so far from be. ing offended with him, that I am really obliged to him; for though he will take you aside, and talk half an hour to you upon matters wholly insignificant, with the most solemn air, yet I consider, that these things are of weight in his imagination, and thinks he is communicating what is for my service. If, therefore, it be a just rule, to judge of a man by his intention, ac • Sir William Whitlocke, knight, member for Oxon, bencher of the Middle Temple: he is the learned knight mentioned, Tat. No. 43. The approaches before Tournay have been carried on with great success; and our advices from the camp before that place of the eleventh instant say, that they had already made a lodg ment on the glacis. Two hundred boats were come up the Scheld with the heavy artillery and ammunition, which would be employed in dis. mounting the enemy's defences, and raised on the batteries the fifteenth. A great body of miners are summoned to the camp, to countermine the works of the enemy. We are con. vinced of the weakness of the garrison by a certain account, that they called a council of war to consult whether it was not advisable to march into the citadel, and leave the town de fenceless. We are assured, that when the confederate army was advancing towards the camp of marshal Villars, that general despatched a courier to his master with a letter, giving an account of their approach, which concluded with the following words: The day begins to break, and, your majesty's army is already in order of battle. Before noon I hope to have the honour of congratulating your majesty on the success of a great action; and you shall be very well satisfied with the marshal Villars.' Mrs. Distaff hath received the dialogue, dated Monday evening, which she has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead: and in the mean time gives her service to the parties. It is to be noted, that when any part of this paper appears dull, there is a design in it. Saturday, July 9, 1709. No. 39.] Quicquid agunt homines nostri est farrago libelli. Juv. Sat. i. 85, 86. Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, BY ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ. Grecian Coffee-house, July 7. P. great astonishment, that this ignorant town be. gan the term on the twenty-fourth of the last month, in opposition to all the learning and astronomy of the famous University of which I have been speaking; according to which, the term certainly was to commence on the first instant. You may be sure a man, who has turned his studies as I have, could not be mistaken in point of time; for knowing I was to come to town in term, I examined the passing moments As I am called forth by the immense love I very narrowly, and called an eminent astronobear to my fellow-creatures, and the warm in-vation we found, that the cold has been so severe mer to my assistance. Upon very strict obser clination I feel within me, to stem, as far as I this last winter (which is allowed to have a be can, the prevailing torrent of vice and ignorance; numbing quality) that it retarded the earth in so I cannot more properly pursue that noble im- moving round, from Christmas to this season, pulse, than by setting forth the excellence of full seven days and two seconds. My learned virtue and knowledge in their native and beau-friend assured me further, that the earth had tiful colours. For this reason, I made my late lately received a shogg from a comet that crossexcursion to Oxford, where those qualities ap-ed its vortex, which, if it had come ten degrees pear in their highest lustre, and are the only nearer to us had made us lose this whole term. pretences to honour and distinction. Superiority I was indeed once of opinion that the Gregorian is there given in proportion to men's advance-computation was the most regular, as being ment in wisdom and learning; and that just rule of life is so universally received among those happy people, that you shall see an earl walk bare-headed to the son of the meanest artificer, in respect to seven years' more worth and knowledge than the nobleman is possessed of. In other places they bow to men's fortunes, but here to their understandings. It is not to be expressed, how pleasing the order, the discipline, the regularity of their lives, is to a phi losopher, who has, by many years experience in the world, learned to contemn every thing but what is revered in this mansion of select and well-taught spirits. The magnificence of their palaces, the greatness of their revenues, the sweetness of their groves and retirements, seem equally adapted for the residence of princes and philosophers; and a familiarity with objects of splendour, as well as places of recess, prepares the inhabitants with an equanimity for their future fortunes, whether humble or illustrious. How was I pleased when I looked round at St. Mary's and could, in the faces of the ingenious youth, see ministers of state, chancellors, bishops, and judges. Here only is human life! Here only the life of man is that of a rational being! Here men understand and are employed in works worthy their noble nature. This transitory being passes away in an employment not unworthy a future state, the contemplation of the great decrees of Providence. Each man lives as if he were to answer the questions made to Job, Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Who shut up the sea with doors, and said, 'Hitherto thou shalt come, and no farther? Such speculations make life agreeable, and death welcome. Bat, alas! I was torn from this noble society by the business of this dirty mean world, and the cares of fortune: for I was obliged to be in London against the seventh day of the term, and accordingly governed myself by my Oxford almanack, and came last night; but find, to my eleven days before the Julian; but am now fully from philosophy and nature; to which I can It is notorious to philosophers, that joy and grief can hasten and delay time. Mr. Locke so far lose his measure, as to think a minute an is of opinion, that a man in great misery may hour; or in joy make an hour a minute. Let us examine the present case by this rule, and we shall find, that the cause of this general mistake in the British nation, has been the great success of the last campaign, and the following hopes of peace. Stocks ran so high at the Exchange, that the citizens had gained three days of the courtiers; and we have indeed been so happy all this reign, that if the University did not rectify our mistakes, we should think ourselves but in the second year of her present majesty. It would be endless to enumerate the many dam aces that have happened by this ignorance of the vulgar. All the recognisances within the diocess of Oxford have been forfeited, for not appearing on the first day of this fictitious term. The University has been nonsuited in their ac tion against the booksellers for printing Claren. don in quarto. Indeed, what gives me the most quick concern, is the case of a poor gentleman, my friend, who was the other day taken in exe cution by a set of ignorant bailiffs. He should, term; but being a master of Arts at Oxford, he it seems, have pleaded in the first week of would not recede from the Oxonian computation. He showed Mr. Broad the almanack, and the very day when the term began; but the merci. less, ignorant fellow, against all sense and learning, would hurry him away. He went, indeed, quietly enough; but he has taken exact notes of • The humour of this paper is not peculiarly re stricted to the Oxford almanack for the year 1709; it is tween the University terms and the Law terms, just as equally applicable to all the Oxford almanacks before obvious now as it was then, as may be seen, by com. or since that period, being founded on the difference beparing the Oxford with the London almanack the time of arrest, and sufficient witnesses of his being carried into goal; and has, by advice of the recorder of Oxford, brought his action; and we doubt not but we shall pay them off with damages, and blemish the reputation of Mr. Broad. We have one convincing proof, which all that frequent the courts of justice are witnesses of: the dog that comes constantly to Westminster on the first day of the term, did not appear until the first day according to the Oxford almanack; whose instinct I take to be a better guide than men's erroneous opinions, which are usually biassed by interest. I judge in this case, as king Charles the Second victualled his navy with the bread which one of his dogs chose of several pieces thrown before him, rather than trust to the asseverations of the victuallers. Mr. Cowper,* and other learned counsel, have already urged the authority of this almanack, in behalf of their clients. We shall, therefore, go on with all speed in our cause; and doubt not but chancery will give at the end what we lost in the beginning, by protracting the term for us until Wednesday come seven-night. And the University Orator shall for ever pray, &c. From my own Apartment, July 7. The subject of duels has, I find, been started with so good success, that it has been the frequent subject of conversation among polite men; and a dialogue of that kind has been transmitted to me verbatim as follows. The persons concerned in it are men of honour and experience in the manners of men, and have fallen upon the truest foundation, as well as searched the bottom of this evil. Mr. Sage. If it were in my power, every man that drew his sword, unless in the service, or purely to defend his life, person, or goods, from violence (I mean abstracted from all punctoes or whims of honour) should ride the wooden horse in the Tilt-yard for such first offence; for the second, stand in the pillory; and for the third, be prisoner in Bedlam for life. Col. Plume. I remember that a rencounter or duel was so far from being in fashion among the officers that served in the parliament-army, that on the contrary it was as disreputable, and as great an impediment to advancement in the service, as being bashful in time of action. Sir Mark. Yet I have been informed by some old cavaliers, of famous reputation for brave and gallant men, that they were much more in mode among their party than they have been during this last war. Col. Plume. That is true too, sir. Mr. Sage. By what you say, gentlemen, one should think that our present military oflicers are compounded of an equal proportion of both those tempers; since duels are neither quite discountenanced, nor much in vogue. Sir Mark. That difference of temper in regard to duels, which appears to have prevailed between the court and the parliament-men of the sword, was not (I conceive) for want of courage in the latter, nor of a liberal education; because there were some of the best families in England engaged in that party: but gallantry and mode, which glitter agreeably to the imagination, were encouraged by the court, as promoting its splendour; and it was as natural that the contrary party (who were to recommend themselves to the public for men of serious and solid parts) should deviate from every thing chimerical. Mr. Sage. I have never read of a duel among the Romans, and yet their nobility used more liberty with their tongues than one may do now without being challenged. Sir Mark. Perhaps the Romans were of opinion, that ill-language and brutal manners reflected only on those who were guilty of them; and that a man's reputation was not at all cleared by cutting the person's throat who had reflected upon it: but the custom of those times had fixed the scandal in the action; whereas now it lies in the reproach. Mr. Sage. And yet the only sort of duel that one can conceive to have been fought upon motives truly honourable and allowable, was that between the Horatii and Curiatii. Sir Mark. Colonel Plume, pray what was the method of single combat in your time among the cavaliers? I suppose, that as the use of clothes continues, though the fashion of them has been mutable; so ducls, though still in use, have had in all times their particular modes of performance. Col. Plume. We had no constant rule, but generally conducted our dispute and tilt according to the last that had happened between persons of reputation among the very top fellows for bravery and gallantry. Sir Mark. If the fashion of quarrelling and tilting was so often changed in your time, colonel Plume, a man might fight, yet lose his credit for want of understanding the fashion. Col. Plume. Why, sir Mark, in the beginning of July a man would have been censured for want of courage, or been thought indigent of the true notions of honour, if he had put up with words, which, in the end of September following, one could not resent without passing for a brutal and quarrelsome fellow. Sir Mark. But, colonel, were duels or rencounters most in fashion in those days? Col. Plame. Your men of nice honour, sir, were for avoiding all censure of advantage which they supposed might be taken in a rencounter; therefore they used seconds who were to see that all was upon the square, and make a faithful report of the whole combat; but in a little time it became a fashion for the seconds to fight; and I will tell you how it happened. Mr. Sage. Pray do, colonel Plume, and the method of a duel at that time; and give us some notion of the punctoes upon which your nice men quarrelled in those days. Col. Plume. I was going to tell you, Mr. Sage, that one cornet Modish had desired his friend captain Smart's opinion in some affair, but did not follow it; upon which captain Smart * Spencer Cowper, brother to the first earl of the wame, at that time a celebrated counsellor, and after-sent major Adroit (a very topping fellow of wards chief justice of the common pleas. those times) to the person that had slighted his advice. The major never inquired into the | adroit strong man had insulted an awkward or quarrel, because it was not the manner then a feeble, or an unpractised swordsman? among the very topping fellows; but got two Col. Plume. Then, sir, they fought with swords of an equal length, and then waited upon pistols. cornet Modish, desiring him to choose his sword, and meet his friend captain Smart. Cornet Modish came with his friend to the place of combat; there the principals put on their pumps, and stripped to their shirts, to show that they had nothing but what men of honour carry about them, and then engaged. Sir Mark. And did the seconds stand by, sir? Col. Plume. It was a received custom until that time; but the swords of those days being pretty long, and the principals acting on both sides upon the defensive, and the morning being frosty, major Adroit desired that the other second, who was also a very topping fellow, would try a thrust or two, only to keep them warm, until the principals had decided the matter, which was agreed to by Modish's second, who presently whipt Adroit through the body, disarmed him, and then parted the principals, who had received no harm at all. Mr. Sage. But was not Adroit laughed at? Col. Plume. On the contrary, the very topping fellows were ever after of opinion, that no man, who deserves that character, could serve as a second, without fighting; and the Smarts and Modishes finding their account in it, the humour took without opposition. Mr. Sage. Pray, colonel, how long did that fashion continue? Mr. Sage. But, sir, there might be a certain advantage that way; for a good marksman will be sure to hit his man at twenty yards distance; and a man whose hand shakes (which is common to men that debauch in pleasures, or have not used pistols out of their holsters) will not venture to fire, unless he touches the person he shoots at. Now, sir, I am of opinion, that one can get no honour in killing a man, if one has it all rug, as the gamesters say, when they have a trick to make the game secure, though they seem to play upon the square. Sir Mark. In truth, Mr. Sage, I think such a fact must be murder in a man's own private conscience, whatever it may appear to the world. Col. Plume. I have known some men so nice that they would not fight but upon a cloak with pistols. Mr. Sage. I believe a custom well established would outdo the grand monarch's edict. Sir Mark. And bullies would then leave off their long swords. But I do not find that a very pretty fellow can stay to change his sword when he is insulted by a bully with a long diego; though his own at the same time be no longer than a pen-knife; which will certainly be the case if such little swords are in mode. Pray, colonel, how was it between the hectors of your time, and the very topping fellows? Col. Plume. Sir, long swords happened to be generally worn in those times. Col. Plume. Not long neither, Mr. Sage; for as soon as it became a fashion, the very topping fellows thought their honour reflected upon, if they did not proffer themselves as seconds when any of their friends had a quarrel, so that some-ing, sir Mark, give me leave to inform you, times there were a dozen of a side. Sir Mark. Bless me! if that custom had continued, we should have been at a loss now for our very pretty fellows; for they seem to be the proper men to officer, animate, and keep up an army. But, pray, sir, how did that sociable manner of tilting grow out of mode? Col. Plume. Why, sir, I will tell you: it was a law among the combatants, that the party which happened to have the first man disarmed or killed, should yield as vanquished: which some people thought might encourage the Modishes and Smarts in quarrelling to the destruction of only the very topping fellows; and as soon as this reflection was started, the very topping fellows thought it an incumbrance upon their honour to fight at all themselves. Since that time the Modishes and the Smarts, throughout all Europe, have extolled the French king's edict. Sir Mark. Our very pretty fellows, whom I take to be the successors of the very topping fellows, think a quarrel so little fashionable, that they will not be exposed to it by any other man's vanity, or want of sense. Mr. Sage. But, colonel, I have observed in your accounts of duels, that there was a great exactness in avoiding all advantage that might possibly be between the combatants. Col. Plume. That is true, sir; for the weapons were always equal. Mr. Sage. Yes, sir; but suppose an active Mr. Sage. In answer to what you were say that your knights-errant (who were the very pretty fellows of those ancient times) thought they could not honourably yield, though they had fought their own trusty weapons to the stumps; but would venture as boldly with the page's leaden sword, as if it had been of enchanted metal. Whence I conceive, there must be a spice of romantic gallantry in the composition of that very pretty fellow. Sir Mark. I am of opinion, Mr. Sage, that fashion governs a very pretty fellow; nature or common sense, your ordinary persons, and sometimes men of fine parts. Mr. Sage. But what is the reason that mon of the most excellent sense and morals, in other points, associate their understandings with the very pretty fellows in that chimera of a duel? Sir Mark. There is no disputing against so great a majority. Mr. Sage. But there is one scruple, colonel Plume, and I have done. Do not you believe there may be some advantage even upon a cloak with pistols, which a man of nice honour would scruple to take? Col. Plume. Faith, I cannot tell, sir; but since one may reasonably suppose that, in such a case, there can be but one so far in the wrong as to occasion matters to come to that extremity, I think the chance of being killed should fall but on one; whereas, by their close and desperate manner of fighting, it may very probably happen to both. LETTERS from the city of London give an account of a very great consternation that place is in at present, by reason of a late inquiry made at Guildhall whether a noble person has parts enough to deserve the enjoyment of the great estate of which he is possessed ?* The city is apprehensive, that this precedent may go farther than was at first imagined. The person against whom this inquisition is set up by his relations, is a peer of a neighbouring kingdom, and has in his youth made some few bulls, by which it is insinuated, that he has forfeited his goods and chattels. This is the more astonishing, in that there are many persons in the said city who are still more guilty than his lordship, and who, though they are idiots, do not only possess, but have also them. selves acquired great estates, contrary to the known laws of this realm, which vests their possessions in the crown. my There is a gentleman in the coffee-house at this time exhibiting a bill in chancery against his father's younger brother, who, by some strange magic, has arrived at the value of half a plumb, as the citizens call a hundred thou. sand pounds; and in all the time of growing up to that wealth, was never known in any of his ordinary words or actions to discover any proof of reason. Upon this foundation friend has set forth, that he is illegally master of his coffers, and has writ two epigrams to signify his own pretensions and sufficiency for spending that estate. He has inserted in his plea some things which I fear will give offence; for he pretends to argue, that though a man has a little of the knave mixed with the fool, he is nevertheless liable to the loss of goods; and makes the abuse of reason as just an avoidance of an estate as the total absence of it. This is what can never pass; but witty men are so full of themselves, that there is no persuading them; and any friend will not be convinced, but that upon quoting Solomon, who always used the word fool as a term of the same signification with unjust, and makes all deviation from goodness and virtue to come under the notion of folly; I say, he doubts not, but by the force of this authority, let his idiot uncle appear never so great a knave, he shall prove him a fool at the same time. This affair led the company here into an examination of these points; and none coming * Richard, the fifth viscount Wenman. here but wits, what was asserted by a young lawyer, that a lunatic is in the care of the chancery, but a fool in that of the crown, was received with general indignation. 'Why that?' says old Renault. Why that? Why must a fool be a courtier more than a madman? This is the iniquity of this dull age. I remember the time when it went on the mad-side; all your top-wits were scourers, rakes, roarers, and demolishers of windows. I knew a mad lord, who was drunk five years together, and was the envy of that age, who is faintly imitated by the dull pretenders to vice and madness in this. Had he lived to this day, there had not been a fool in fashion in the whole kingdom.' When Renault had done speaking, a very worthy man assumed the discourse: This is,' said he, Mr. Bickerstaff, a proper argument for you to treat of in your article from this place; and if you would send your Pacolet into all our brains, you would find, that a little fibre or valve, scarce discernable, makes the distinction between a politician and an idiot. We should, therefore, throw a vail upon those unhappy instances of human nature, who seem to breathe without the direc tion of reason and understanding, as we should avert our eyes with abhorrence from such as live in perpetual abuse and contradiction to these noble faculties. Shall this unfortunate man be divested of his estate, because he is tractable and indolent, runs in no man's debt, invades no man's bed, nor spends the estate he owes his children and his character; when one who shows no sense above him, but in such practices, shall be esteemed in his senses, and possibly may pretend to the guardianship of him who is no ways his inferior, but in being less wicked? We see old age brings us indif ferently into the same impotence of soul, wherein nature has placed this lord.' There is something very fantastical in the distribution of civil power and capacity among men. The law certainly gives these persons into the ward and care of the crown, because that is best able to protect them from injuries, and the impositions of craft and knavery; that the life of an idiot may not ruin the entail of a noble house, and his weakness may not frus trate the industry or capacity of the founder of his family. But when one of bright parts, as we say, with his eyes open, and all men's eyes upon him destroys those purposes, there is no remedy. Folly and ignorance are punished! folly and guilt are tolerated! Mr. Locke has mewhere made a distinction between a madman and a fool: a fool is he that from right principles makes a wrong conclusion; but a madman is one who draws a just inference from false principles. Thus the fool who cut off the fellow's head that lay asleep, and hid it, and then waited to see what he would say when he awaked, and missed his head-piece, was in the right in the first thought, that a man would be surprised to find such an alteration in things since he fell asleep; but he was a little mistaken to imagine he could awake at all after his head was cut off. A madman fancies himself a prince; but, upon his mistake, he acts suitably to that character; and though he is out in sup |