{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3252", "width": "1992", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0s.\\nr\\n.0^\\n.0^k\\ns,\\nV ^V Z-^", "height": "3126", "width": "1877", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "c^^\\n^o.\\n^4^\\n0^ c^^*^-?", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nOF THE\\nEIGHTEENTH CENTURY\\nBY\\nW. M. THACKERAY\\nEDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND EXPLANATORY\\nAND CRITICAL NOTES\\nWILLIAM LYON PHELPS\\nA.M. {Harvard) Ph.D. {Yale)\\nAssistant Professor of English Literature at Yale College\\nNEW YORK\\nHENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\\nIQOO", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "44999\\nL-ibrMry of Congress\\nIWU COHtS RtCElVEO\\nSEP 8 1900\\nCo(pyWght entry\\nStCCNO COPY\\nOfc iver(td to\\nOROEt? DIVISION,\\nSEP 18 1900\\n.Tf,\u00e2\u0080\u009e\\nCopyright, 1900,\\nBY\\nHENRY HOLT CO.\\n70001\\nROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "PREFACE\\nIn a number of the London Spectator, dated exactly\\nforty-seven years ago to-day, the reviewer of Thack-\\neray s new book on the English Humourists remarked,\\nAll will be interested in looking over the accompany-\\ning notes, (which might have been and may yet be made\\nmore complete). To the best of my knowledge, this\\nsuggestion in the Spectator with the exception of a\\nfew bracketed foot-notes added to the Biographical\\nEdition has never been heeded, and since the editio\\nprinceps of 1853 there has never appeared an annotated\\nedition of these famous lectures. As they are particu-\\nlarly allusive, the need for explanatory notes is a real\\none, and in this instance I have therefore chosen to err\\non the side of fullness rather than be incomplete.\\nMany readers and students may feel some irritation at\\nfinding things elucidated that in their judgment require\\nno comment but on the other hand it is hoped that\\nfew will look to the Notes for necessary explanations,\\nand look in vain.\\nThe text of this edition, with the regular foot-notes,\\nis taken, by the kind permission of Messrs. Harper and\\nBrothers, from the Biographical Edition of Thack-\\neray s Works. Except in a few obvious typographical\\nerrors, I have followed this standard text verbatim et", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "IV PREFACE\\nHleraiim, correcting in my own Notes at the rear of\\nthe book errors that occur in the text and foot-notes\\nof the Biographical Edition, and pointing out impor-\\ntant variations from the text of the first edition. And\\nthe receipt of corrections of my own errors will be\\ngratefully and promptly acknowledged.\\nFor furnishing some references in the Notes, I wish\\nto express my thanks to Professor H. P. Wright, Pro-\\nfessor T. D. Goodell, Professor W. L. Cross, and Mr.\\nRichard Holbrook, all of Yale, and to Professor G. L.\\nKittredge, of Harvard.\\nW. L. P.\\nYale College, ii June i^oo.\\nAfter this book was entirely cast and ready for publi-\\ncation, I came across, in the library of the British\\nMuseum, the following work: Thackeray s Lectures\\non the English Humourists of the Eighteenth Century.\\nMit bibliographischen Material, litterarischer Einlei-\\ntung und sachlichen Anmerkungen fur Studierende.\\nHerausgegeben von Ernst Regel. Halle Max Nie-\\nmeyer. 1885-1891. [In six parts, 8\u00c2\u00b0, paper.] I\\ngreatly regret that this valuable work did not come to\\nmy notice in time to be of assistance.\\nW. L. P.\\nLondon, 19 July, 1900.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nINTRODUCTION vii\\nLife of Thackeray vii\\nThe English Humourists xv\\nDavid Hannay xxi\\nContemporary Reviews xxiv\\n1. The Tribune xxiv\\n2. Eraser s Magazine xxvi\\n3. Putnam s Magazine xxviii\\n4. Colburn s New Monthly xxxii\\n5. The Spectator xxxiv\\n6. The Examiner xxxvi\\n7. The Athenaeum xxxix\\nTHE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS i\\nNOTES 2Q7\\nV", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION\\nTHE LIFE OF THACKERAY*\\nWilliam Makepeace Thackeray was born at Cal-\\ncutta, on the eighteenth of July, 1811. His father,\\nRichmond Thackeray, went to India in the service of\\nthe East India Company, in 1798. He was married\\nat Calcutta to Anne Becher, in 18 10; and the great\\nnovelist was their only child. In 1816 Mr. Thackeray\\ndied, and the following year the boy was sent to\\nEngland, the ship stopping at St. Helena on the way,\\nwhere a glimpse of Napoleon was obtained. Thackeray\\nfirst went to school in Hampshire, then at Chiswick,\\nThe facts given in this sketch are chiefly taken from the Dic-\\ntionary of Natio7ial Biography, though the Life by Merivale\\nMarzials, in the Great Writers Series, and the biography in\\ntwo volumes by Lewis Melville (1899), have of course been con-\\nsulted. Mrs. Ritchie s Introductions to the Biographical Edition\\nof Thackeray s Works are invaluable for their biographical data\\nand bits of personal information. In her Introduction to the\\nEsmond volume will be found some information about the lectures\\non the Humourists; and at the close of the last volume, Ballads\\nand Miscellanies, there is a Bibliography of Thackeray s Works.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "Vlll INTROD UCTION\\nand from 1822 to 1828 he was at the Charterhouse.\\nHere his schoolmate Venables broke his nose in a fight,\\nand left an equally indelible impression on his mind,\\nfor the two became friends for life. Thackeray showed\\nno particular ability in scholarship while at school, but\\neven then exercised his talents at playful composition\\nin verse.\\nAfter leaving the Charterhouse in 1828, he lived with\\nhis mother and stepfather near Ottery-St. -Mary, in\\nDevonshire, the birthplace of Coleridge. The memories\\nof these days appear in Pendenms. In February, 1829,\\nhe went to Cambridge, entering Trinity College. The\\nsocial life of the place was what chiefly appealed to\\nhim. Mathematics he did not like, and he was but\\nilly prepared in the classics. He did some desultory\\nwriting for the college paper, the most notable attempt\\nbeing his parody of Tennyson s prize poem, Timbuctoo.\\nIn 1830 he left Cambridge, feeling that the training he\\nreceived there was not of much practical value. From\\nhis father he inherited about twenty thousand pounds,\\nand not wishing to become a lawyer, which profession\\nhis relatives advised him to enter, and probably in a\\nrather undecided frame of mind as to his future, he set\\nforth on his travels.\\nIn this year he went to Weimar, the home of Goethe,\\nwhere he stayed for some time. These must have been\\nsome of the most pleasant months of his life. He met\\nthe great poet, studied German, tried his hand at\\ntranslations, and drew caricatures for amusement.\\nFinally making up his mind after all to study law, he\\nreturned to England in 1831, and entered the Middle", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "IN TROD UCriON IX\\nTemple. This proved to be his last attempt to force\\nhis genius away from its natural inclinations; for\\nalthough he now really gave the study of law a fair\\ntrial, the result was that it became more and more irk-\\nsome to him. He ran over to Paris several times\\nduring this residence in the Temple.\\nIn 1833 we find Thackeray mingling more and\\nmore in literary circles, and living the life of a literary\\nBohemian. He put some of his capital into a paper,\\nand became editor as well as proprietor. The venture\\nwas not a happy one from the financial point of view,\\nand early in 1834 the paper ceased to exist. Certain\\nfailures in investments, combined with occasional losses\\nat gambling, produced a serious effect on Thackeray s\\nfortune at about this time, and he found himself no\\nlonger able to live without working for the privilege.\\nAccordingly, he made up his mind to become an artist^\\nand to prepare for this career by studying in Paris.\\nHe worked faithfully, and enjoyed it.\\nIn 1836 Thackeray became the Paris correspondent\\nof a radical paper called the Constitutional.- Thinking\\nthat he had at last obtained regular employment,\\nalthough his salary was not large, he was married on\\nthe twentieth of August, in Paris, to Miss Isabella\\nGethin Creagh Shawe, to M(hom he had been engaged\\nfor some months. The Constitutional failed and the\\nnext year (1837) Thackeray returned to London, to\\nearn a living by his pen. He did all kinds of work,\\nreviewing Carlyle s French Revolution among other\\nbooks. For Eraser s Magazine he wrote articles that\\nattracted considerable attention, and are now well", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "X IN TROD UCTION\\nknown, the Yellow-Plush Correspondence, for example.\\nHe also freely indulged his genius for satire in a way\\nthat he afterwards regretted.\\nIn 1840 came the great tragedy of his life. After\\nthe birth of her third daughter, his wife became ill, and\\nsteadily grew worse, suffering from a singular disease\\nof the mind, that baffled all the great assays of art.\\nBy 1842 she was in a hopeless condition, and had at\\nlast to be placed in charge, her mental powers having\\nentirely vanished. This unspeakable calamity Thackeray\\nendured with the greatest courage and nobility, though\\nof course it forever destroyed the possibility of home-\\nlife and domestic happiness. The children went to\\nlive with the grandparents in Paris and with the un-\\nfortunate vitality of those whose lives are worse than\\nworthless, his wife survived for fifty years. Her death\\nin 1892 was a real shock to the world, as it brought\\nup so vividly memories of her great husband.\\nIn 1842 Thackeray began his contributions to\\nPunch, which had been started the year before. In\\nprocess of time he became one of its most important\\nand valuable contributors, and a volume in itself might\\nbe written on his connection with this famous paper.\\nHere he had a chance to employ both pen and pencil,\\nand, better than either, his genius for pure fun. He\\nIn Melville s Z?y I, 113, note, we read: The Correspondence\\nwas published in book form late in 1838 by Messrs. Carey Hart,\\nof Philadelphia. This is the first volume ever issued of any of\\nThackeray s writings. Yet, curiously enough, in the Bibliog-\\nraphy at the end of Melville s Life, this volume is nowhere men-\\ntioned. It is however, given in the Biog. Ed. Bibliography.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "IN TROD UCTION XI\\ncontributed nearly four hundred sketches. The Snob\\nPapers in Punch were perhaps the first things that really\\ngave him a wide circle of readers, and made his name\\ngenerally known. His success with these and other\\nliterary ventures began to show itself in a financial way;\\nhis circumstances improved materially, so that in 1846\\nhe took a house, and brought his daughters to live\\nwith him. He could now afford to write real litera-\\nture, the thing which had become more and more the\\nambition of his life. In January, 1847, the first\\ninstallment of Vanity Fair appeared; and before the\\npublication of the last number in July, 1848. Thack-\\neray s place as a great English novelist was secure.\\nThen followed the other books, which all the world\\nknows, Pendennis in 1848-9, Henry Esmond (1852),\\nand the Newcomes (1853-55). 1851 he gave his\\nlectures on the English Humourists, and on October\\n^o, 1852, he sailed for Boston, where he repeated the\\ncourse in a number of cities in the United States. In\\n1855 he visited America again, this time lecturing on\\nthe Four Georges. Thackeray s object in lecturing\\nwas simply to earn and lay up money for his children,\\nand it is pleasant to note the financial success of his\\ntours on both sides of the water. As a lecturer,\\nalthough his audiences went to see the author of\\nVanity Fair rather than to hear his views on literary\\nthemes, he usually charmed them. His manner was\\nentirely unpretentious and refined in a word, he was\\nwholly agreeable and put his hearers immediately at\\ntheir ease.\\nIn 1857 Thackeray stood for Parliament as a", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "Xll INTROD UCTION\\nLiberal, representing the city of Oxford. He was for-\\ntunately beaten by his opponent, and he complimented\\nhis successful antagonist in the most gracious manner.\\nIt is more than probable that he would not have\\nespecially distinguished himself in the House, and it is\\ncertain that he employed his time and talents more\\nprofitably in writing novels.\\nIn January, i860, the Cornhill Magazine ^2iS st2iT\\\\. 6.y\\nand Thackeray accepted the post of editor. This gave\\nthe periodical great vogue, and made it possible to\\nhave the most distinguished list of contributors, Tenny-\\nson among others. Perhaps the most extraordinary\\nthing that Thackeray did in his capacity as editor was\\nto refuse a poem contributed by Mrs. Browning, on the\\nground of its immorality. This, as Mr. Birrell says of\\nSwinburne s taking Carlyle to task for indelicacy, has\\nan oddity all its own. Thackeray felt that his sub-\\nscribers would object, and perhaps he was right in\\nrejecting the poem, though, under the circumstances,\\nwe have to choose between two alternatives either the\\nBritish constituency of the Cornhtli was pathologically\\nprudish, or the Editor was very timid. The corre-\\nspondence that passed between Thackeray and Mrs.\\nBrowning over this incident is deeply interesting,* and\\nalthough Mrs. Browning must have first wept and then\\nlaughed, she accepted the Editor s judgment in the\\nbeautiful spirit so characteristic of her wholfe life, and\\nactually sent him another contribution Surely she\\nwas not far from the kingdom of God.\\nSee the Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Brownings edited by\\nKenyon, Volume II, page 444 et seq.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "INTROD UCTION Xlll\\nOn the night of December 23, 1863, Thackeray felt\\nill, and the next morning was found dead in his bed.\\nHe was buried at Kensal Green, and a bust was placed\\nin Westminster Abbey.\\nHis personal appearance was striking. He was\\nconsiderably over six feet in height, and his head was\\nvery large. His hair was perfectly white in his last\\nyears, and his clear-cut features gave him a distin-\\nguished look. His enemies said he was snobbish, but\\nthose who really knew the man have given the most\\nconvincing testimony to the contrary. The truth about\\nThackeray seems to be that he was not simply one of\\nthe greatest men of his age, but one of the best. The\\nold charge of cynicism is now seldom heard, and to\\nintelligent readers of his books it has no foundation.\\nIn his lectures on the Humourists, we see the real man,\\nand so far from his being a cynic, his heart was so\\ntender, and so susceptible to the personal characteris-\\ntics of others, that his judgment of the genius of\\nliterary men was biased by his feelings. A cynic, to\\nbe a cynic at all, must certainly lack two things:\\nSympathy and Enthusiasm. These two qualities form\\nperhaps the largest element in Thackeray s character,\\nand, with his unlimited generosity, make him one of the\\nmost lovable men in the history of English literature.\\nHe had faults, but they were not the faults that show\\nthe cynic or the snob. He has been charged with a\\nlack of moral earnestness: but in reality he looked at\\neverything from the moral point of view: indeed too\\nmuch so, for his art as a novelist is seriously marred\\nby his constant sermonising. All his novels and lee-", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "XIV INTRODUCTION\\ntures suffer noticeably from this tendency; in the\\nNewcomes it is at times almost offensive. Fortunately\\nin his greatest single production, Esmond, the artist\\ntriumphs, and the voice of the preacher is not so loud.\\nPerhaps this is one reason why we rate Esmond above\\nhis other books. Thackeray s religious belief* cannot\\nbe stated in terms of exact dogma, for he could not\\nstate it that way himself; but taking his life as a whole,\\nwe see that he believed in God, and tried to keep His\\ncommandments.\\nFor a striking letter he wrote about this, see Introduction to\\nWorks, Biog. Edition, VII, xxxiv and xxxv.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS.\\nThackeray sailed for America on October ^o, 1852.\\nHe landed at Boston, after a very long and rough\\npassage, and left shortly for New York. In the New\\nFork Tribune for November 1 7, we find the following\\neditorial comment Mr. Thackeray arrived from\\nBoston by the express day train yesterday. His first\\nlecture will be given on Eriday evening; and we advise\\nthose who mean to hear it to secure seats to-day. We\\nthink there will be few unsold to-morrow. The\\nTribune for November 19 contained the following\\nadvertisement, which gave for the first time the full\\nprogram with the separate dates\\n7^^ Mercantile Library Association. The Board of\\nDirection have the pleasure to announce that Mr. THACKERAY\\nwill deliver his course of Six Lectures, at Rev. Mr. Chapin s,\\n(late Rev. Mr. Bellows s) Church, No. 543 Broadvi^ay, near Prince\\n-St., on MONDAY and FRIDAY EVENINGS of each week,\\ncommencing at 8 o clock.\\nFriday, Nov. 19\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Swift. c.\\nMonday, Nov. 22 Congreve and Addison.s\\nFriday, Nov. 26 Steele and the Times of Queen Anne.\\nMonday, Nov. 29 Prior, Gay and Pope.-\\nFriday, Dec. 3 Hogarth, Smollett and Fielding*\\nMonday, Dec. 6 Sterne and Goldsmith.\\nCourse Tickets to members, $2; to non-members, $3.\\nSingle Admission to members, 50c. to non-members, 75c.\\nXV", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "XVI INTRODUCTION\\nA limited number of single Admission Tickets can be had at\\nthe Library Rooms, or (unless previously disposed of) at the Door.\\nWILLARD L. FELT, Ch n.\\nJAMES D. SMITH, Lecture Com.\\nJOHN F. HALSTED,\\nThe course had to be repeated in New York, because\\nof the impossibility of accommodating all who wished\\nto hear the lecturer. The lectures accordingly began\\ntheir second round before the first was completed.\\nThey were given again in the same church on the\\nevenings of Dec. i, 7, 10, 13, 15, and 17. Then\\nThackeray went to Boston, giving the opening lecture\\non Tuesday evening, Dec. 21, and continuing on\\nFridays and Tuesdays. There seems to have been\\nsome jealousy between New York and Boston as to\\nwhich city he would visit first. This difficulty was\\npartly solved by his landing at Boston and opening his\\ncourse of lectures at New York, returning to Boston\\nafter his metropolitan success.* Whether Boston felt\\nat all chagrined by the lectures beginning at the other\\ncity or not is difficult to ascertain. The New York\\nTribune gave full and glowing accounts, extracts from\\nwhich are printed below; while the Boston Advertiser s\\nreports were confined to three or four sentences.\\nIn Melville s Life^ I, 291, 292, it is stated that the lectures\\nwere first given in Boston, and the exact dates of his New York\\nlectures are erroneously given for the Boston series. Mr. Melville\\nhas the facts completely twisted. He says Thackeray remained\\nin New York for a week, then went to Boston, gave his course\\ntwice, and then returned to New York to lecture. If we simply\\nsubstitute Boston for New York, and wV(? T/ffr^a-, we have\\nthe real facts.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS XVU\\nThese were, however, favourable in every respect; and\\nwe know that the lectures were entirely successful in\\nBoston. Thackeray lectured also in Philadelphia,\\nBaltimore, Richmond, Charleston, and Savannah,\\ncovering the Atlantic seaboard fairly well, and getting\\nto know intimately persons of the most bitter opposi-\\ntion in political beliefs. The Civil War was therefore\\ninteresting to Thackeray in a way that few Englishmen\\nfound it.\\nIt is possible that Thackeray did not at first intend\\nthe Lectures to be published at all and he certainly\\ndetermined not to print them until they had first\\nachieved their principal object, namely, to enable him\\nto save up sufficient money to provide for his children.\\nBefore he left Washington for the South, his Lectures\\non the English Humourists were announced by Messrs.\\nHarper in the list of their forthcoming publications.\\nA gentleman, who was conversing with him, asked if\\nthe volume would be published before he had finished\\nhis tour. Bless you, no, the great man replied.\\nDo you think I d rip open my goose But when\\nthat reason no longer existed [1853] they were pub-\\nlished with notes by James Hannay, simultaneously in\\nEngland and America, but without illustrations, though\\nThackeray had actually sketched Steele and Dr. Johnson\\nand Boswell before the idea was abandoned. i^\u00e2\u0082\u00aci-\\nVA\\\\\u00e2\u0082\u00ac^ Life of Thackeray, II, 4.)\\nThe lectures were published in London on the fourth\\nof June, 1853, price ten shillings and sixpence. As\\nthis original edition seems to be hard to find, a photo-\\ngraphic reproduction of the title page slightly reduced,\\nfollows.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "XVI 11 IN TROD UCriON\\nTHE\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nEIGHTEENTH CENTURY.\\n2[ Serfeg zi ILecturejj,\\nDBUVERED IN ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND THE UNITED STATES OP\\nAMERICA.\\nW. M. THACKEKAY.\\nAuthor of Esmond, Pendenais, Vanity Fair, 4a\\nLONDON:\\nSMITH, ELDER, CO. 65, CORNHILL.\\nBOMBAY SMITH, TATLOB, CO.\\n1853.\\n\u00c2\u00a3rAe oMlUvr ofthii work reserves to Mrmdf the right of avihOridng\\na translation of it.}", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS XIX\\nTHE\\nENGLISH HTJMOUEISTS\\nEIGHTEENTH CENTURY.\\na Imn nf %ii\\\\mi.\\nW. M. THACKERAY,\\nAuthor of EsmoncI, Pendennis, Vanity Fair,** Ac.\\nNEW YORKj\\nHARPER BROTHERS. PUBLISHERS^\\n399 ft 331 PEARL S T K C T,\\nVRANKLIIt SQUABS.\\n1853.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "XX INTROD UCTION\\nThis English edition is a volume of 322 pages, size\\n7i by 4i inches.\\nThe first American edition, the title-page of which is\\nreproduced on page xix, is a volume of 297 pages, and\\ncontains in addition to the regular six lectures, a\\nseventh called Charity and Humour, first delivered in\\nNew York City.*\\nThe first English edition of the Humourists seems to be sur-\\nprisingly scarce, though it does not fetch a great price at auction\\nsales. It is not in the libraries of Harvard, or Yale, or the\\nBoston Public, or, curiously enough, in the printed catalogue of\\nthe British Museum, which has only the second edition. I finally\\nfound a copy in the library of the Boston Athenaeum, and I here\\nmake acknowledgment for the kindly loan of it, and to the Boston\\nPublic Library for loaning a copy of the first American edition.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "JAMES HANNAY.\\nWhen the first edition of Thackeray s English\\nUtimouris/s sippQSLved in 1853, the foot-notes appended\\nto the text were a source of various comment from\\nreaders and reviewers. There was nothing to show\\nwhose hand had supplied them, for it was easy to see\\nthat they were not written by the master himself. In\\nthe essay on Thackeray, in the volume called Characters\\nand Criticisms^ Edinburgh, 1865, by James Hannay,\\nwe find the following statement on page 55 Toward\\nthe close of 1852, Esmond appeared, and Thackeray\\nsailed for America. To which Hannay appended\\nthe following foot-note: He recalled the present\\nwriter from a tour of Scotland in October, and placed\\nthe MS. of the Humourists in his hands to edit and\\nannotate during his absence. Thus, as Hannay s\\nwork is now inseparably associated with Thackeray s\\nLectures, and as the annotations were at the lecturer s\\nown particular request, it may be well to give some\\nbrief account of the editor s life.\\nJames Hannay was born at Dumfries, on the seven-\\nteenth of February, 1827. His father was a business\\nman who wrote a now forgotten novel. Young Hannay\\nentered the navy in 1840, and served in the blockade\\nxxi", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "XXU IN TROD UCTION\\nof Alexandria. With his love of reading and a literary\\nlife, the career of an officer in the navy began to grow\\nmore and more distasteful, and in 1845 he was tried\\nbefore a court-martial and expelled from the service.\\nNo disgrace attaches to Hannay for this misfortune, for\\nthe affair at the time was generally believed to be the\\nresult of some personal hatred, and the court s decision\\nwas finally set aside. But Hannay had had enough of\\nthe navy, and from 1846 he worked for the press, doing\\nwhat chance literary work he could. In reporting for\\nthe papers, his excellent memory served him well, and\\nhe employed leisure hours at the library of the British\\nMuseum. He became acquainted with Thackeray in\\n1848, and began to make headway rapidly in literary\\ncircles. Besides publishing novels of naval life, which\\nat the time had some vogue, he delivered lectures on\\nliterary themes. Satires and Satirists, published 1854.\\nHe learned Greek by himself, and had an unquench-\\nable intellectual curiosity. He stood for Parliament\\nas a Tory in 1857, and was defeated. As a newspaper\\neditor, novelist, lecturer, and general author, he\\nbecame a well-known literary figure about i860. In\\n1868 he was made consul at Brest, which post he\\nexchanged for that of Barcelona. He was married\\ntwice, in 1853, the year when his notes* to the\\nHumourists appeared in print: his wi-fe died in 1865.\\nThen in 1868 he was married again, his second wife\\ndying two years later. He himself expired very sud-\\nIn Melville s Bibliography {Life, II, 301) he says, The\\nNotes were written by Mr. George Hodder. This is, of course,\\na mistake.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "JAMES HANNAY XXI 11\\ndenly on the ninth of January, 1873, suburb of\\nBarcelona,\\n[The article on Hannay in the Dic/miary of National\\nBiography, from which all the facts in the above brief\\nsketch are taken, was written by his son David Hannay,\\na journalist, who has published a number of books.]", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS\\nOF THACKERAY S TRIP TO AMERICA AND OF THE\\nPUBLISHED LECTURES.\\nFrom the Nezv York Tribune,^ Nov. 20, 1852.\\nThe opening lecture of Mr. Thackeray s course\\nbefore the Mercantile Library Association was delivered\\nlast evening. The spacious church (Rev. Mr. Chapin s)\\nwas filled to the extent of its capacity at an early hour,\\nby an audience comprising a large proportion of young\\nmen, and an unusual number of the distinguished\\nliterary and professional celebrities of New York. The\\nfashionable circles were fully represented by an impos-\\ning array of ladies. Mr. Thackeray stood on an\\nelevated platform in front of the pulpit. i^ In\\npersonal appearance, which in respect to the curiosity\\nof the public we may be permitted to allude to, Mr.\\nAn editorial in the N ew York Times for the same day speaks\\nof the matter of this first lecture in the most glowing terms his\\nmanner, however, did not greatly impress the Times. His voice,\\nwhich one paper called a superb tenor, the Times thought\\nrather light and the relations between his hands and his pockets\\ntook up nearly a paragraph in the editorial. The Boston corre-\\nspondent pf the Time^ differed totally from Thackeray s estimate\\npf Swift,\\njtxiv", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXV\\nThackeray is a fine, well-proportioned specimen of a\\nstalwart Englishman over six feet in stature with an\\nexpression of quiet intelligence and the self-possessed\\nbearing of a man of the world, rather than the scholastic\\nappearance of the occupant of the library. His intel-\\nlectual head, which bears many silvery traces of the\\ntouch of time, is carried erectly, not without an air of\\nreserve, some would say of defiance. In his elocution\\nwe were happily disappointed. The English journals\\nhave not done Mr. Thackeray justice in that respect.\\nHis manner, without any oratorical pretensions, is\\nadmirably adapted to the lecture-room. As a medium\\nof instruction, it is far more grateful to the hearer than\\nthe more impassioned style, which is often adopted by\\nour popular lecturers. The calm flow of his speech is\\nso transparent, that the sense shines through it without\\nsubjecting the mind s eye to a too severe trial. His\\nvoice is rich, deep, flexible, and equally expressive of\\nemotion and thought in its intonations the words are\\ndelivered with that clean finish which so often distin-\\nguishes the cultivated Englishman his emphasis is\\npregnant with meaning and, without any apparent\\neffort, his ringing tones fill the ear of the most remote\\nlistener. Mr. Thackeray uses no gesture, except\\noccasionally a convulsive clinching of the fist, or an\\nemphatic thrusting of the hand into his pocket or\\nunder his coat. In short, his delivery was that of a\\nwell-bred gentleman, reading with marked force and\\npropriety to a large circle in the drawing-room.\\nThe composition of his lecture was masterly.\\nGraphic, terse, pointed, epigrammatic, abounding in", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "XXVI IN TROD UCTION\\nkeen flashes of wit, alternately gay and pathetic, it\\ndisplayed the same subtle perception of character,\\nand condensed vigor of expression, which distinguish\\nThackeray among most, shall we not say all, modern\\nwriters of fiction. No report can do anything like\\njustice to the numerous felicities of the lecture.\\n[The subsequent notices were generally laudatory,\\nalthough in the report of the last lecture in the Tribune\\nfor Dec. 7, we find the following:\\nThe hour for commencing being 8 o clock,\\nMr. Thackeray appeared punctually at eighteen minutes\\npast the time, and proceeded with his lecture.\\nAt the close of this last lecture, resolutions of appre-\\nciation were voted by the audience.]\\nFrom Eraser s Magazine^ January, 1853.*\\nMR. THACKERAY IN THE UNITED STATES.\\nTo the Editor 0/ Eraser s Magazitie\\nYou may remember, my dear sir, how I prognosti-\\ncated a warm reception for your Mr. Michael Angelo\\nTitmarsh in New York how I advised that he should\\ncome by a Collins rather than a Cunard liner how\\nthat he must land at New York rather than at Boston\\nor at any rate, that he mustn t dare to begin lectur-\\ning at the latter city, and bring cold joints to the\\nformer one. In the last particular he has happily fol-\\nlowed my suggestion, and has opened with a warm\\nThis burlesque article was signed John Small, but it was\\nimmediately recognised as Thackeray s own work.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXVll\\nsuccess in the chief city. The journals have been full\\nof him. On the 19th of November, he commenced his\\nlectures before the Mercantile Library Association\\n(young ardent commercialists), in the spacious New\\nYork Church belonging to the fiock presided over by\\nthe Rev. Mr. Chapine; a strong row of ladies the\\ncream of the capital and an unusual number of the\\ndistinguished literary and professional celebrities.\\nThe critic of the New York Tribime is forward to com-\\nmend his style of delivery as that of a well-bred gentle-\\nman, reading with marked force and propriety to a\\nlarge circle in the drawing-room. So far, excellent.\\nThis witness is a genilevian of the press, and is a credit\\nto his order. But there are some others who have\\nwhetted the ordinary American appetite of inquisitive-\\nness with astounding intelligence.\\nYou cannot help perceiving that the lion in America\\nis public property and confiscate to the public weal.\\nThey trim the creature s nails, they cut the hair off his\\nmane and tail (which is distributed or sold to his\\nadmirers), and they draw his teeth, which are frequently\\npreserved with much the same care as you keep any\\nmemorable grinder whose presence has been agony, and\\ndeparture delight.\\nBear leading is not so in vogue across the Atlantic\\nas at your home in England; but lion leading is in-\\nfinitely more in fashion.\\nSome learned man is appointed Androcles to the\\nnew arrival. One of the familiars of the press is\\ndespatched to attend to the latest attraction, and by", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "XXVIU INTROD UCTION\\nthis reflecting medium the lion is perpetually presented\\nto the popular gaze. The guest s most secret self is\\nexposed by his host. Every action every word every\\ngesture is preserved and proclaimed a sigh a nod\\na groan a sneeze a cough or a wink is each\\nwritten down by this recording minister, who blots out\\nnothing. No tabula rasa with him. The portrait is\\nlimned with the fidelity of Parrhasius, and filled up\\nwith the minuteness of the Daguerre process itself.\\nNo blood-hound or Bow-street officer can be keener,\\nor more exact on the trail than this irresistible and\\nunavoidable spy. Tis in Austria they calotype crimi-\\nnals: in the far West the public press prints the identity\\nof each notorious visitor to its shores.\\nIn turn Mr. Dickens, Lord Carlisle, Jenny Lind, and\\nnow Mr. Thackeray, have been lionized in America.\\nThey go to see, themselves a greater sight than all.\\n[Thackeray may have felt that this article would\\ncause some irritation; he therefore closed it with a\\ngraceful tribute to American hospitality, reprinted from\\nthe concluding remarks of his last lecture in New York,\\nDec. 6, 1852. Curiously enough, in alluding to this\\nlecture, he gave the date as Dec. 7, a mistake in which\\nhe is followed by Mr. Melville, Life, I. 297.]\\nFrom Putnam s Magazine, June, 1853.\\nTHACKERAY IN AMERICA.\\nMr. Thackeray s visit at least demonstrated, that if\\nwe are unwilling to pay English authors for their books,\\nwe are ready to reward them handsomely for the oppor-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "CONTEMFORARV REVIEWS XXIX\\ntunity of seeing and hearing them. If Mr. Dickens,\\ninstead of dining at other people s expense, and making\\nspeeches at his own, when he came to see us, had\\ndevoted an evening or two in the week to lecturing,\\nhis purse would have been fuller, his feelings sweeter,\\nand his fame fairer. It was a Quixotic crusade, that\\nof the Copyright, and the excellent Don has never for-\\ngiven the windmill that broke his spear.\\nUndoubtedly, when it was ascertained that ]\\\\Ir.\\nThackeray was coming, the public feeling on our side\\nof the sea was very much divided as to his probable\\nreception. He ll come and humbug us, eat our\\ndinners, pocket our money, and go home and abuse\\nus, like that unmitigated snob Dickens, said Jona-\\nthan, chafing with the remembrance of that grand ball\\nat the Park Theatre, and the Boz tableaux, and the\\nuniversal wining and dining, to which the distinguished\\nDickens was subject while he was our guest.\\nLet him have his say, said others, and we will\\nhave our look. We will pay a dollar to hear him, it\\nwe can see him at the same time and as for the abuse,\\nwhy it takes even more than two such cubs of the\\nroaring British lion to frighten the American eagle.\\nLet him come, and give him fair play.\\nHe did come, and has had his fair play, and has\\nreturned to England with a comfortable pot of gold\\nholding $12,000, and with the hope and promise of\\nseeing us again in September, to discourse of something\\nnot less entertaining than the witty men and sparkling\\ntimes of Anne. We think there was no disappointment\\nwith his lectures. Those who knew his books found", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "XXX INTROD UCTION\\nI\\nthe author in the lecturer. Those who did not know\\nthe books were charmed in the lecturer by what is\\ncharming in the author, the unaffected humanity, the\\ntenderness, the sweetness, the genial play of fancy, and\\nthe sad touch of truth, with that glancing stroke of\\nsatire, which, lightning-like, illumines while it withers.\\nThe lectures were even more delightful than the books,\\nbecause the tones of the voice, and the appearance of\\nthe man, the general personal magnetism, explained\\nand alleviated so much that would otherwise have\\nseemed doubtful or unfair. For those who had long\\nfelt in the writings of Thackeray a reality, quite inex-\\npressible, there was a secret delight in finding it justified\\nby his speaking. For he speaks as he ^yrites, simply,\\ndirectly, without flourish, without any cant of oratory,\\ncommending what he says by its intrinsic sense, and\\nthe sympathetic, and humane way in which it was\\nspoken. Thackeray is the kind of stump-orator\\nthat would have pleased Carlyle. He never thrusts\\nhimself between you and his thought. If his concep-\\ntion of the time and his estimate of the men differ from\\nyour own, you have at least no doubt what his view is,\\nnor how sincere and necessary it is to him. Mr.\\nThackeray considers Swift a misanthrope. He loves\\nGoldsmith, and Steele, and Harry Fielding. He has\\nno love for Sterne, great admiration for Pope, and\\nalleviated admiration for Addison. How could it be\\notherwise How could Thackeray not think Swift a\\nmisanthrope, and Sterne a factitious sentimentalist\\nHe is a man of instincts, not of thoughts. He sees\\nand feels. He would be Shakspeare s call-boy", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXXI\\nrather than dine with the Dean of St. Patrick s. He\\nwould take a pot of ale with Goldsmith rather than a\\nglass of Burgundy with the Reverend Mr. Sterne,\\nand that, simply, because he is Thackeray. He would\\nhave done it as Fielding would have done it, because\\nhe values one genuine emotion above the most dazzling\\nthought, because he is, in fine, a Bohemian, a minion\\nof the moon, a great, sweet, generous human heart.\\nWe say this with the more unction now, that we\\nhave the personal proof of it in his public and private\\nintercourse while he was here.\\nThe popular Thackeray-theory, before his arrival,\\nwas of a severe satirist, who concealed scalpels in his\\nsleeves and carried probes in his waistcoat pockets; a\\nscoffer and sneerer, and general infidel of all high aim\\nand noble character. Certainly we are justified in\\nsaying that his presence among us quite corrected this\\nidea.\\nWe conceive this to be the chief result of Thackeray s\\nvisit, that he convinced us of his intellectual integrity;\\nhe showed us how impossible it is for him to see the\\nworld, and describe it other than he does. He does\\nnot profess cynicism, nor satirize society with malice.\\nThere is no man more humble, none more simple.\\nyf. yf. y^ yf y^ yf.\\nThere is no man who masks so little as he, in\\nassuming the author. His books are his observations\\nreduced to writing. It seems to us as singular to\\ndemand that Dante should be like Shakspeare, as to\\nquarrel with Thackeray s want of what is called ideal", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "XXXll INTROD UCTION\\nportraiture. Even if you thought, from reading his\\nVanity Fair, that he had no conception of noble\\nwomen, certainly after the lecture upon Swift, after all\\nthe lectures, in which every allusion to women was so\\nmanly, and delicate, and sympathetic, you thought so\\nno longer.\\nHe sf:\\nMr. Thackeray s success was very great. He did\\nnot visit the West, nor Canada. He went home with-\\nout seeing Niagara Falls. But wherever he did go, he\\nfound a generous social welcome, and a respectful and\\nsympathetic hearing. He came to fulfil no mission\\nbut he certainly knit more closely our sympathy with\\nEnglishmen.\\nFrom Colburn s New Monthly. Reprinted in The Eclectic\\nMagazine, December, 1853.\\nTHACKERAY S LECTURES ON THE ENGLISH\\nHUMORISTS.\\nHeroes and Hero-worship a subject chosen by\\nMr. Carlyle, when he arose to discourse before the\\nsweet shady-sidesmen of Pall Mall and the fair of\\nMayfair is not all the res vexanda one would predicate\\nfor a course of lectures by Mr. Titmarsh. If the\\nmagnificence of the hero grows small by degrees and\\nbeautifully less before the microscopic scrutiny of his\\nvalet, so might it be expected to end in a minus sign,\\nafter subjection to the eliminating process of the\\nBook of Snobs. Yet one passage, at least, there\\nis in the attractive volume before us, instinct with hero-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXXlll\\nworship, and, some will think, (as coming from such a\\nquarter,) surcharged with enthusiasm, where the lec-\\nturer affirms, I should like to have been Shakspeare s\\nshoeblack-^ just to have lived in his house, just to have\\nworshipped him to have run on his errands, and seen\\nthat sweet serene face. At which sally, we can im-\\nagine nil admira7-i folks exclaiming, (if they be capable\\nof an exclamation,) Oh, you little snob! Never-\\ntheless, that sally will go far to propitiate many a\\nreader hitherto steeled against the showman of Vanity\\nFair, as an inveterate cynic however little of real\\nground he may have given for such a prejudice.\\nAs with clerical sermons, so with laic lectures, there\\nare few one pines to see in print. In the present\\ninstance, those who were of Mr. Thackeray s audience\\nwill probably, in the majority of cases, own to a sense\\nof comparative tameness as the result of deliberate\\nperusal. Nevertheless, the book could be ill spared,\\nas books go. It is full of sound, healthy, manly,\\nvigorous writing sagacious in observation, independ-\\nent and thoughtful, earnest in sentiment, in style\\npointed, clear, and straightforward.\\nIf we cared to dwell upon them, we might, however,\\nmake exceptions decided if not plentiful against parts of\\nthis volume. That Mr. Thackeray can be pertinaciously\\none-sided was seen in his Esmond draught of the\\nDuke of Marlborough. A like restriction of vision seems\\nhere to distort his presentment of Sterne and of Hogarth.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "XXXIV IN TROD UCTION-\\nThe lecture on Congreve is Titmarsh all over.\\nAddison meets with warmer eulogy than might have\\nbeen expected. He is invariably mentioned with lov-\\ning deference. We have not the heart to inquire,\\nhere, whether the portrait, as a whole-length, is not\\ntoo flattering in its proportions, and too bright in\\ncoloring. But doubtless the lecturer might, and many,\\nwe surmise, expected that he would, take a strangely\\nopposite view of Pope s Atticus. Steele is one\\nof Mr. Thackeray s darlings.\\nThey [the readers] may stumble here and there\\none at the estimate of Pope s poetical status, another\\nat the panegyric on Addison, and some at the scanty\\nacknowledgments awarded to Hogarth and to Sterne.\\nBut none will put down the book without a sense of\\ngrowing respect for the head and the heart of its author,\\nand a glad pride in him as one of the Representative\\nMen of England s current literature.\\nFrom The Spectator (London), June ii, 1853.\\nMr. Thackeray is amongst us once again, and gives\\nwelcome notice of his reappearance by the publication\\nof the famous lectures we heard two years ago. Since\\nthat time they have drawn crowds of interested listeners\\nin many of our great towns. Those who came once\\nto see and hear the author of Vanity Fair, and to\\nwatch at a safe distance the terrible satirist, whose\\ndressing-gown, like that of the old Prankish King, was\\ntrimmed with the scalps of slaughtered snobs, were", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXXV\\nattracted to continue their attendance to the close of\\nthe course by the engaging manner of the lecturer, just\\nsufficiently elevated above the frank familiarity of the\\nbest society, by his expressive but always pleasant\\nvoice, by his unconcealed desire to make a favourable\\nimpression upon his audience, no less than by the\\nsense, the sound feeling, the delicate irony, the pro-\\nfound human experience, or the fascinating style of the\\nlectures. It has been a great triumph for Mr. Thack-\\neray to have established this personal relation between\\nhimself and the admirers of his books; so that hence-\\nforth he speaks to them through these books, not as an\\nabstraction, a voice issuing from a mask, but as a living\\nman, and a friendly, companionable, accomplished\\ngentleman.\\nMr. Thackeray s English success has been more than\\nrepeated in America; fulfilling the hope with which we\\nclosed our review of Esmond, that his genial presence\\nwould add another to the many links which bind\\nEngland to the United -States. The Americans have\\nbeen delighted with their guest and he is not the man\\nupon whom either the cordiality of their reception,\\nor the greatness of their future, or the expanding\\nenergies of their present, are likely to be lost nor will\\nhe regard every deviation from the Belgravian code of\\nmanners as necessarily an infringement upon those\\nprinciples of manliness, kindness, simplicity, and feel-\\ning for the beautiful, by which all codes of manners\\nwill one day come to be tested. In him, American\\nmen, women, and institutions have a critic at once", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "XXX VI IN TR OD UC TION\\nfrank, fearless, and friendly: already, as we hear,\\ncountesses and duchesses lift up astonished eyes at\\nbeing told by one who is a favourite in their sacred\\ncircle, that the women of Boston, Baltimore, and New\\nYork creatures belonging to merchants, lawyers,\\nand men of letters are as good as themselves.\\nIn turning over the pages of Mr. Thackeray s Lec-\\ntures, (which, by the way, abound in misprints, requir-\\ning the vigilance of the proof-corrector for the next\\nedition,) we find, as we expected, many points of\\nliterary criticism on which questions could and will be\\nraised. Persons whose tastes and studies have led them\\nto our older literature and history, no less than those\\nwhose training is emphatically modern, will consider\\nthat Mr. Thackeray has placed far too high the general\\nmoral and intellectual level of the eighteenth century.\\nTo those who attended the lectures the book will be\\na pleasant reminiscence, to others an exciting novelty;\\nand all will be interested in looking over the accom-\\npanying notes, (which might have been and may yet be\\nmade more complete,) as an agreeable selection of the\\nfacts and passages from writings on which the lecturer s\\njudgment was founded.\\nFrom The Exmniner (London), June II, 1853.\\nFollowed by admiring audiences in England,\\nScotland, and the United States of America, these\\nlectures have obtained their purpose, have achieved all", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXXVU\\nreasonable fame as well as other substantial results for\\nthe lecturer, and present very little to us now to\\nchallenge attention from a reviewer. The chase is\\nover, the sport run down, there was no place in the\\nhunt for the critic, and where at last should he come\\nin but with the laggers who fill up the cry. What\\nmatters his good or ill word The book is sure to\\nsell.\\nOf criticism in the strict sense of the word, indeed,\\nhowever masterly their descriptive passages, the lectures\\nmay be said to have contained little, to have pretended\\nto little.\\nthe lecturer must excuse us for saying that he is too\\nfond of looking up to great imaginary heights, or of\\nlooking down from the same; and that hence, too\\noften, he places his heroes in the not enviable predica-\\nment on the one hand of being too much coaxed,\\npatronised, or (which is much the same thing) abused\\nand on the other of being put upon a top shelf so very\\nhigh and out of the way, that if we do not take\\nMr. Thackeray s word that they really are there, we\\nshould not, in those inaccessible places, be in the least\\nlikely ourselves to discover them. We could not for\\nthe life of us have recognised oui old friend Addison\\nin the grand, calm, pale, isolated attitude which he is\\nhere shown off in, as one of the lonely ones of the\\nworld; any more than we should have looked for the\\nwise and profound creator of Mr. Shandy and my\\nUncle Toby in the ruff and motley clothes of a travel-", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "XXXVlll INTROD UCTION\\nling jester, laying down his carpet and tumbling in the\\nstreet.\\nBut what fine things the lectures contain! what\\neloquent and subtle sayings, what wise and earnest\\nwriting! how delightful are their turns of humour; with\\nwhat a touching effect, in the graver passages, the\\ngenuine feeling of the man comes out and how vividly\\nthe thoughts are painted, as it were, in graphic and\\ncharacteristic words. For those who would learn the\\nart of lecturing, the volume is a study. The telling\\npoints are so happily seized, and the attention always\\nso vividly kept up, yet never with a pressure or strain.\\nThe lecture-room is again before us as we read the\\nready responses of the audience flashing back those\\ninstant appeals of the speaker and a great, intelligent,\\nadmiring crowd, stirred and agitated in every part with\\ngenial emotions and sympathy.\\nMr. Thackeray s lectures, we may observe in con-\\nclusion, are printed pretty much as they were spoken,\\nexcept that additions have been made (we notice this\\nparticularly in Swift) in connection with particular\\nwritings of the humourists not at first introduced, and\\nthat a great many notes are appended illustrative of\\nstatements or opinions irx each lecture. We are not\\nquite sure that these notes will be thought an improve-\\nment. They are not generally very apt, they have no\\nmerit of rare or out-of-the-way reading, and here and\\nthere they have tant soit peu of a book-making aspect.\\nThe lectures had better have been left to run alone,\\nwhich they could well afford to do.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS XXXIX\\n[This comment on the notes affords an interesting\\ncontrast to the opinion expressed by the Spectator.\\nSee above.]\\nFrom The Athenau7n (London), June 1 8, 1853 and a second notice\\nin issue for the June 25, 1853.\\nHow far the lives and works of such personages as\\nSwift, Steele, Prior, Fielding, and Smollett five figures\\nin Mr. Thackeray s gallery of Humourists could be\\nat once plainly and humorously treated by the most\\ndevoted Humour- worshipper, for the edification of. an\\naudience of the two sexes, admits of debate.\\n;f;\\nFrom a portion of his audience with such themes as\\nhis many things had to be either hidden, or indicated\\nso darkly and distantly as to be unmeaningly harmless.\\nThus, a certain tone of trifling must inevitably have\\nbeen assumed as the leading tone of such lectures by\\nany one desirous of suiting means to ends. Now, all\\nthe world knows this to be INIr. Thackeray s habitual\\nmood. Real earnestness never spoke with so little\\napparent earnestness as in his mouth. When his\\naudiences sat down to listen to him, he warned them\\nin the outset that he could not hope to entertain them\\nwith a merely humorous or facetious story. Yet,\\nafter this, he could treat them to a drolling digression,\\nto a dangling of good and evil in day-light, star-light,\\nand lamp-light, so that the one should seem the other,\\nand both, neither to a conclusive inconclusive-\\nness to a pleasant song, in brief, rather than a literary", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "xl JNTROD UCTION\\nessay of any deep authority or value. Slight, however,\\nas is the work, it is not without valuable treasures,\\ndeep imbedded here and there among its shallows.\\nHs\\nProceeding with these desultory notes, it may be\\nobserved, that while some readers of these Lectures\\nwill deem our author s estimate of Addison over-elab-\\norate in its praise, others (and ourselves among the\\nnumber) will fancy that he has been hard on Congreve.\\n1j K\\nWhen The Spectator was placed on a pedestal at\\nthe expense of The Way of the World, our shrewd\\nstudent of the Augustan life and literature of England\\nforgot what were the several destinations of the two\\nworks, and laid too unfairly on the author s indi-\\nviduality the blame belonging to the miry place down\\nto which Comedy lured the pretty fellows and toasts of\\nthe town to find their diversion.\\n5ji 5jl 5fl 5fC JyC\\nWe return to this welcome book at the name of\\nPrior, of whom, we think, the lecturer might have\\nmade more had it pleased him to exercise his poignant\\nskill in painting a conversation picture showing the\\nEnglish diplomatist at the Hague.\\nHi\\nOur lecturer thinks that Moore has read Prior closely.\\nIt may be so, but the signs of such study escape us.\\nK\\nPerhaps the figure in this gallery on which our Lec-\\nturer has bestowed his utmost pains is Pope. Here", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "CONTEMPORARY REVIEWS xH\\nMr. Thackeray rises into a greater refinement of dis-\\ntinction, into a graver sympathy with his subject, than\\nis his wont. He dwells like a true lover of letters\\n(somewhat different this from a lover of literature) on\\nthe fascinations of Pope s correspondence; and after a\\nflourish of praise in its behalf something pompous, but,\\nwe doubt not, sincere falls into a homelier tune which\\nis holy and charming.\\nHe :Jc 5fi 4^\\nWe can point to Mr. Thackeray s appreciation of\\nSterne with entire approval. Yorick was, indeed,\\na fair subject for a denunciatory sermon, addressed to\\nthe sentimentalists of Vanity Fair, and its morals, and\\nhis want of morals, are not spared by our preacher.\\nWith Goldsmith Mr. Thackeray s series closes. The\\nauthor of the Vicar is genially and tenderly handled.\\nBut it has been his fate, after death, to be loved by all\\nwho have commemorated him with uncommon ardour,\\nindulgence and unanimity. \u00e2\u0080\u0094To conclude: none will\\nread these Lectures, whether in agreement or in differ-\\nence, without looking forward to the announcement of\\nsome future series from their shrewd and suggestive\\ndiscourser.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "THE ENGLISH HUMOURISTS OF THE\\nEIGHTEENTH CENTURY*\\nSwift\\nIn treatiHg of the English Humourists of the past\\nage, it is of the men and of their Hves, rather\\nthan of their books, that I ask permission to\\nspeak to you; and in doing so, you are aware that\\n5 I cannot hope to entertain you with a merely hu-\\nmourous or facetious story. Harlequin without\\nhis mask is known to present a very sober counte-\\nnance, and was himself, the story goes, the melan-\\ncholy patient whom the doctor advised to go and\\nlo see Harlequin f a man full of cares and per-\\nplexities like the rest of us, whose Self must always\\nbe serious to him, under whatever mask or disguise\\nor uniform he presents it to the public. And as all\\nof you here must needs be grave when you think\\n15 of your own past and present, you will not look to\\nThe notes to these lectures were chiefly written by James\\nHannay. A few corrections and additions, chiefly due to later\\ninvestigations, are now inserted; for which the publishers have to\\nthank Mr. Austin Dobson, Mr. Sidney Lee, and Mr. L. Stephen.\\n20 t The anecdote is frequently told of our performer John Rich\\n(1682 ?-i76i), who first introduced pantomimes, and himself acted\\nHarlequin.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "2 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfind, in the histories of those whose lives and feel-\\nings I am going to try and describe to you, a story\\nthat is otherwise than serious, and often very sad.\\nIf Humour only meant laughter, you would j\\nscarcely feel more interest about humourous writers 5\\nthan about the private life of poor Harlequin just\\nmentioned, who possesses in common with these\\nthe power of making you laugh. But the men re-\\ngarding whose lives and stories your kind presence\\nhere shows that you have curiosity and sympathy, 10\\nappeal to a great number of our other faculties, be-\\nsides our mere sense of ridicule. The humourous\\nwriter professes to awaken and direct your love,\\nyour pity, your kindness your scorn for untruth,\\npretension, imposture your tenderness for the 15\\nweak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy. To\\nthe best of his means and ability he comments on\\nall the ordinary actions and passions of life almost.\\nHe takes upon himself to be the week-day preacher,\\nso to speak. Accordingly, as he finds, and speaks, 20\\nand feels the truth best, we regard him, esteem him\\nsometimes love him. And, as his business is to\\nmark other people s lives and peculiarities, we mor-\\nalise upon his life when he has gone and yester-\\nday s preacher becomes the text for to-day s ser-25\\nmon.\\nOf English parents, and of a good English family\\nof clergymen,* Swift was born in Dublin in 1667,\\nHe was from a younger branch of the Swifts of Yorkshire. His\\ngrandfather, the Reverend Thomas Swift, vicar of Goodrich, in 3C\\nHerefordshire, suffered for his loyalty in Charles I. s time. That\\ngentleman married Elizabeth Dryden, a member of the family of the\\npoet. Sir Walter Scott gives, with his characteristic minuteness", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 3\\nseven months after the death of his father, who had\\ncome to practise there as a lawyer. The boy went\\nto school at Kilkenny, and afterwards to Trinity\\nCollege, Dublin, where he got a degree with difh-\\n5 culty, and was wild, and witty, and poor. In 1688,\\nby the recommendation of his mother, Swift was re-\\nceived into the family of Sir William Temple, who\\nhad known Mrs. Swift in Ireland. He left his pa-\\ntron in 1694, and the next year took orders in Dub-\\nlolin. But he threw up the small Irish preferment\\nwhich he got and returned to Temple, in whose\\nfamily he remained until Sir William s death in\\n1699. His hopes of advancement in England failing,\\nSwift returned to Ireland, and took the living of\\n15 Laracor. Hither he invited Esther Johnson,* Tem-\\nin such points, the exact relationship between these famous men.\\nSwift was the son of Dryden s second cousin. Swift, too, was\\nthe enemy of Dryden s reputation. Witness the Battle of the\\nBooks The difference was greatest among the horse, says\\n20 he of the moderns, where every private trooper pretended to the\\ncommand, from Tasso and Milton to Dryden and Withers. And\\nin Poetry, a Rhapsody, he advises the poetaster to\\nRead all the Prefaces of Dryden,\\nFor these our critics much confide in,\\n5 Though merely writ, at first for filling.\\nTo raise the volume s price a shilling.\\nCousin Swift, you will never be a poet, was the phrase of Dryden\\nto his kinsman, which remained alive in a memory tenacious of\\nsuch matters.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u009eQ Miss Hetty she was called in the family where her face,\\nand her dress, and Sir William s treatment of her, all made the real\\nfact about her birth plain enough. Sir William left her a thousand\\npounds. [The statement that Esther Johnson was Temple s natural\\ndaughter, was first made by a writer in the Gentleman s Magazine for\\n35 i757 who also asserted that Swift was Temple s natural son; and\\nthat a discovery of their relationship was the secret of Swift s mel-\\nancholy. The statement about Swift is inconsistent with known\\ndates. The story about Esther may be true, but it depends mainly\\nupon late and anonymous evidence.]", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npie s natural daughter, with whom he had con-\\ntracted a tender friendship while they were both\\ndependants of Temple s. And with an occasional i\\nvisit to England, Swift now passed nine years at j\\nhome. 5\\nIn 1 710 he came to England, and, with a brief\\nvisit to Ireland, during which he took possession I\\nof his deanery of Saint Patrick, he now passed four\\nyears in England, taking the most distinguished\\npart in the political transactions which terminated 10\\nwith the death of Queen Anne. After her death,\\nhis party disgraced, and his hopes of ambition over,\\nSwift returned to Dublin, where he remained twelve\\nyears. In this time he wrote the famous Dra-\\npier s Letters and Gulliver s Travels. He mar- ^5\\nried Esther Johnson (Stella), and buried Esther\\nVanhomrigh (Vanessa), who had followed him to\\nIreland from London, where she had contracted a\\nviolent passion for him. In 1726 and 1727 Swift\\nwas in England, which he quitted for the last time 20\\non hearing of his wife s illness. Stella died in Jan-\\nuary 1728, and Swift not until 1745, having passed\\nthe last five of the seventy-eight years of his\\nlife with an impaired intellect, and keepers to watch\\nhim.f 25\\nThe marriage is accepted by Swift s last biographer, Sir H. Craik.\\nIt was disbelieved by Forster, and cannot be regarded as certain.\\nt Sometimes, during his mental affliction, he continued walking\\nabout the house for many consecutive hours; sometimes he re-\\nmained in a kind of torpor. At times he would seem to struggle to 30\\nbring into distinct consciousness, and shape into expression the in-\\ntellect that lay smothering under gloomy obstruction in him. A\\npier-glass falling by accident, nearly fell on him. He said he wished\\nit had He once repeated slowly several times, I am what I am.\\nThe last thing he wrote was an epigram on the building of a maga-35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 5\\nYou know, of course, that Swift has had many\\nbiographers; his Hfe has been told by the kindest\\nand most good-natured of men, Scott, who admires\\nbut can t bring himself to love him; and by stout\\n5 old Johnson,* who, forced to admit him into the\\ncompany- of poets, receives the famous Irishman,\\nand takes ofif his hat to him with a bow of surly\\nrecognition, scans him from head to foot, and\\npasses over to the other side of the street. Doctor\\nlo (afterwards Sir W. R.) Wilde of Dublin,! who has\\nzine for arms and stores, which was pointed out to him as he went\\nabroad during his mental disease:\\nBehold a proof of Irish sense:\\nHere Irish wit is seen:\\n15 When nothing s left that s worth defence,\\nThey build a magazine\\nBesides these famous books of Scott s and Johnson s, there is a\\ncopious Life by Thomas Sheridan (Doctor Johnson s Sherry\\nfather of Richard Brinsley, and son of that good-natured, clever\\n20 Irish Doctor Thomas Sheridan, Swift s intimate, who lost his chap-\\nlaincy by so unluckily choosing for a text on the King s birthday,\\nSufficient for the day is the evil thereof Not to mention less\\nimportant works, there is also the Remarks on the Life and Writings\\nof Doctor Jonathan Swift, by that polite and dignified writer, the\\n25 Earl of Orrery. His Lordship is said to have striven for literary\\nrenown, chiefly that he might make up for the slight passed on him\\nby his father, who left his library away from him. It is to be feared\\nthat the ink he used to wash out that stain only made it look big-\\nger. He had, however, known Swift, and corresponded with people\\n3(jwho knew him. His work (which appeared in 1751) provoked a good\\ndeal of controversy, calling out, among other brochures, the interest-\\ning Observations on Lord Orrery s Remarks, c., of Doctor Delany.\\nt Wilde s book was written on the occasion of the remains of Swift\\nand Stella being brought to the light of day\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a thing which hap-\\n35 pened in 1835, when certain works going on in Saint Patrick s\\nCathedral, Dublin, afforded an opportunity of their being examined.\\nOne hears with surprise of these skulls going the rounds of\\nhouses, and being made the objects of dilettante curiosity. The\\nlarynx of Swift was actually carried off Phrenologists had a low\\n^o opinion of his intellect from the observations they took.\\nWilde traces the symptoms of ill-health in Swift, as detailed in his\\nwritings from time to time. He observes, likewise, that the skull", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "O ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwritten a most interesting volume on the closing\\nyears of Swift s life, calls Johnson the most,\\nmalignant of his biographers it is not easy for an\\nEnglish critic to please Irishmen perhaps to try\\nand please them. And yet Johnson truly admires\\nSwift: Johnson does not quarrel with Swift s\\nchange of politics, or doubt his sincerity of religion:\\nabout the famous Stella and Vanessa controversy\\nthe Doctor does not bear very hardly on Swift. But\\nhe could not give the Dean that honest hand of his;io\\nthe stout old man puts it into his breast, and moves\\nofif from him.*\\nWould we have liked to live with him? That is\\na question which, in dealing with these people s\\nworks, and thinking of their lives and peculiarities,\\nevery reader of biographies must put to himself.\\nWould you have liked to be a friend of the great\\nDean? I should like to have been Shakspeare s\\nshoeblack just to have lived in his house, just to\\nhave worshipped him to have run on his errands, 20\\nand seen that sweet serene face. I should like, as a\\nyoung man, to have lived on Fielding s staircase in\\nthe Temple, and after helping him up to bed per-\\nhaps, and opening his door with his latchkey, to\\nhave shaken hands with him in the morning, and 25\\ngave evidence of diseased action of the brain during life\u00e2\u0080\u0094 such as\\nwould be produced by an increasing tendency to cerebral conges-\\ntion. [In 1882 Dr. Bucknell wrote an interesting article to show\\nthat Swift s disease was labyrinthine vertigo, an affection of the\\near, which would account for some of the symptoms.] ag\\nI He [Doctor Johnson] seemed to me to have an unaccountable\\nprejudice against Swift; for I once took the liberty to ask him if\\nSwift had personally offended him, and he told me he had not.\\nBoswell s Tour to the Hebrides.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 7\\nheard him talk and crack jokes over his breakfast\\nand his mug of small beer. Who would not give\\nsomething to pass a night at the club with Johnson,\\nand Goldsmith, and James Boswell, Esquire, of\\n5 Auchinleck? The charm of Addison s companion-\\nship and conversation has passed to us by fond tra-\\ndition but Swift? If you had been his inferior\\nin parts (and that, with a great respect for all per-\\nsons present, I fear is only very likely), his equal\\nloin mere social station, he would have bullied,\\nscorned, and insulted you; if, undeterred by his\\ngreat reputation, you had met him like a man, he\\nwould have quailed before you,* and not had the\\npluck to reply, and gone home, and years after writ-\\n15 ten a foul epigram about you watched for you in\\na sewer, and come out to assail you with a coward s\\nFew men, to be sure, dared this experiment, but yet their\\nsuccess was encouraging. One gentleman made a point of asking\\nthe Dean whether his uncle Godwin had not given him his educa-\\n20tion. Swift, who hated that subject cordially, and, indeed, cared\\nlittle for his kindred, said sternly, Yes; he gave me the education\\nof a dog. Then, sir, cried the other, striking his fist on the\\ntable, you have not the gratitude of a dog\\nOther occasions there were when a bold face gave the Dean pause,\\n25 even after his Irish almost-royal position was established. But he\\nbrought himself into greater danger on a certain occasion, and the\\namusing circumstances may be once more repeated here. He had\\nunsparingly lashed the notable Dublin lawyer, Mr. Serjeant Bettes-\\nworth\\n30 Thus at the bar, the booby Bettesworth,\\nThough half-a-crown o erpays his sweat s worth.\\nWho knows in law nor text nor margent,\\nCalls Singleton his brother-serjeant\\nThe Serjeant, it is said, swore to have his life. He presented him-\\n35 self at the deanery. The Dean asked his name. Sir, I am Ser-\\njeant Bett-es-worth.\\nIn what regiment, pray asked Swift.\\nA guard of volunteers formed themselves to defend the Dean at\\nthis time.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nblow and a dirty bludgeon. If you had been a lord\\nwith a blue riband, who flattered his vanity, or\\ncould help his ambition, he would have been the\\nmost delightful company in the world. He would\\nhave been so manly, so sarcastic, so bright, odd, 5\\nand original, that you might think he had no object\\nin view but the indulgence of his humour, and that\\nhe was the most reckless simple creature in the j\\nworld. How he would have torn your enemies to I\\npieces for you! and made fun of the Opposition 10\\nHis servility was so boisterous that it looked like\\nindependence he would have done your errands,\\nbut with the air of patronising you and after fight-\\ning your battles, masked, in the street or the press,\\nwould have kept on his hat before your wife and 15 I\\ndaughters in the drawing-room, content to take that\\nsort of pay for his tremendous services as a bravo.f\\nBut, my Hamilton, I will never hide the freedom of my senti-\\nments from you. I am much inclined to believe that the temper of\\nmy friend Swift might occasion his English friends to wish him 20\\nhappily and properly promoted at a distance. His spirit, for I would\\ngive it the softest name, was ever untractable. The motions of his\\ngenius were often irregular. He assumed more the air of a patron\\nthan of a friend. He affected rather to dictate than advise.\\nOrrery. 25\\nt An anecdote, which, though only told by Mrs. Pilking-\\nton, is well attested, bears, that the last time he was in London he\\nwent to dine with the Earl of Burlington, who was newly married.\\nThe Earl, it is supposed, being willing to have a little diversion,\\ndid not introduce him to his lady, nor mention his name. After 30\\ndinner said the Dean, Lady Burlington, I hear you can sing; sing\\nme a song. The lady looked on this unceremonious manner of\\nasking a favour with distaste, and positively refused. He said, She\\nshould sing, or he would make her. Why, madam, I suppose you\\ntake me for one of your poor English hedge-parsons; sing when 35\\nI bid you. As the Earl did nothing but laugh at this freedom, the\\nlady was so vexed that she burst into tears and retired. His first\\ncompliment to her when he saw her again was, Pray, madam, are\\nyou as proud and ill-natured now as when I saw you last To\\nwhich she answered with great good-huttiour, No, Mr. Dean} I ll 40", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 9\\nHe says as much himself in one of his letters to\\nBolingbroke: All my endeavours to distinguish\\nmyself were only for want of a great title and for-\\ntune, that I might be used like a lord by those who\\nshave an opinion of my parts; whether right or\\nwrong is no great matter. And so the reputation\\nof wit and great learning does the office of a blue\\nriband or a coach-and-six.\\nCould there be a greater candour? It is an out-\\nlolaw, who says, These are my brains; with these\\nI ll win titles and compete with fortune. These are\\nmy bullets; these I ll turn into gold; and he hears\\nthe sound of coaches and six, takes the road like\\nMacheath, and makes society stand and deliver.\\n15 They are all on their knees before him. Down go\\nmy Lord Bishop s apron, and his Grace s blue ri-\\nband, and my Lady s brocade petticoat in the mud.\\nHe eases the one of a living, the other of a patent\\nplace, the third of a little snug post about the Court,\\n20 and gives them over to followers of his own. The\\ngreat prize has not come yet. The coach with the\\nsing for you if you please. From which time he conceived a great\\nesteem for her. Scott s Life. He had not the least tincture\\nof vanity in his conversation. He was, perhaps, as he said himself,\\n25 too proud to be vain. When he was polite, it was in a manner\\nentirely his own. In his friendships he was constant and undis-\\nguised. He was the same in his enmities. Orrro\\nI make no figure but at Court, where I affect to turn from a\\nlord to the meanest of my acquaintances, /ojtnia/ to Stella.\\n30 I am plagued with bad authors, verse and prose, who send me\\ntheir books and poems, the vilest I ever saw; but I have given\\ntheir names to my man, never to let them see rsxc. Journal to\\nStella.\\nThe following curious paragraph illustrates the life of a courtier:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\n35 Did I ever tell you that the Lord Treasurer hears ill with the\\nleft ear, just as I do I dare not tell him that I am so, for fear\\nhe should think thai I counterfeited to make my court \u00e2\u0080\u0094Journal to\\nStella.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "lO ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmitre and crozier in it, which he intends to have for\\nhis share, has been delayed on the way from Saint\\nJames s; and he waits and waits until nightfall,\\nwhen his runners come and tell him that the coach\\nhas taken a different road, and escaped him. So he 5\\nfires his pistols into the air with a curse, and rides\\naway into his own country.*\\nThe war of pamphlets was carried on fiercely on one side and\\nthe other: and the Whig attacks made the Ministry Swift served\\nvery sore. Bolingbroke laid hold of several of the Opposition 10\\npamphleteers, and bewails their factitiousness -in the following\\nletter:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nBolingbroke to the Earl of Strafford.\\nWhitehall: July z^rd, 1712.\\nIt is a melancholy consideration that the laws of our country 15\\nare too weak to punish effectually those factitious scribblers, who\\npresume to blacken the brightest characters, and to give even\\nscurrilous language to those who are in the first degrees of honour.\\nThis, my Lord, among others, is a symptom of the decayed condi-\\ntion of our Government, and serves to show how fatally we mistake 20\\nlicentiousness for libertjr. All I could do was to take up Hart, the\\nprinter, to send him to Newgate, and to bind him over upon bail\\nto be prosecuted; this I have done; and if I can arrive at legal\\nproof against the author, Ridpath, he shall have the same treat-\\nment. 25\\nSwift was not behind his illustrious friend in this virtuous in-\\ndignation. In the history of the last four years of the Queen, the\\nDean speaks in the most edifying manner of the licentiousness of\\nthe press and the abusive language of the other party:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nIt must be acknowledged that the bad practices of printers have 30\\nbeen such as to deserve the severest animadversion from the pub-\\nlic. The adverse party, full of rage and leisure since their fall,\\nand unanimous in their cause, employ a set of writers by subscrip-\\ntion, who are well versed in all the topics of defamation, and have\\na style and genius levelled to the generality of their readers. 35\\nHowever, the mischiefs of the press were too exorbitant to be cured\\nby such a remedy as a tax upon small papers, and a Bill for a much\\nmore effectual regulation of it was brought into the House of Com-\\nmons, but so late in the session that there was no time to pass it,\\nfor there always appeared an unwillingness to cramp overmuch the 4^\\nliberty of the press.\\nBut to a clause in the proposed Bill, that the names of authors\\nshould be set to every printed book, pamphlet, or paper, his Rever-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "SWIFT II\\nSwift s seems to me to be as good a name to point\\na moral or adorn a tale of ambition as any hero s\\nthat ever lived and failed. But we must remember\\nthat the morality was lax that other gentlemen\\n5 besides himself took the road in his day\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that pub-\\nlic society was in a strange disordered condition,\\nand the State was ravaged by other condottieri.\\nThe Boyne was being fought and won, and lost\\nence objects altogether; for, says he, besides the objection to\\nlOthis clause from the practice of pious men, who, in publishing ex-\\ncellent writings for the service of religion, have chosen, out of\\nan humble Christian spirit, to conceal their names, it is certain that all\\npersons of true genius or knowledge have an invincible modesty\\nand suspicion of themselves upon first sending their thoughts into\\nI5the world.\\nThis invincible modesty was no doubt the sole reason which\\ninduced the Dean to keep the secret of the Drapier s Letters\\nand a hundred humble Christian works of which he was the author.\\nAs for the Opposition, the Doctor was for dealing severely with\\n20them. He writes to Stella:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nJournal. Letter XIX.\\nLondon: March 25th, 1710-11.\\nWe have let Guiscard be buried at last, after showing him\\npickled ~i a trough this fortnight for twopence a piece; and the\\n25 fellow that showed would point to his body and say, See, gentle-\\nmen, this is the wound that was given him by his Grace the Duke\\nof Ormond; and This is the wound, c.; and then the show\\nwas over, and another set of rabble came in. Tis hard that our\\nlaws would not suffer us to hang his body in chains, because he\\n30 was not tried; and in the eye of the law every man is innocent\\ntill then.\\nJournal. Letter XXV IL\\nLondon: July 25th, 1711.\\nI was this afternoon with Mr. Secretary at his office, and helped\\n35 to hinder a man of his pardon, who was condemned for a rape.\\nThe Under-Secretary was willing to save him; but I told the Secre-\\ntary he could not pardon him without a favourable report from the\\nJudge; besides, he was a fiddler, and consequently a rogue, and\\ndeserved hanging for something else, and so he shall swing.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "12 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthe bells rung in William s victory, in the very same\\ntone with which they would have pealed for James s.\\nMen were loose upon politics, and had to shift for\\nthemselves. They, as well as old beliefs and insti-\\ntutions, had lost their moorings and gone adrift in 5\\nthe storm. As in the South Sea Bubble, almost\\neverybody gambled; as in the Railway mania\\nnot many centuries ago almost every one took his\\nunlucky share: a man of that time, of the vast tal-\\nents and ambition of Swift, could scarce do other- lo\\nwise than grasp at his prize, and make his spring at\\nhis opportunity. His bitterness, his scorn, his rage,\\nhis subsequent misanthropy are ascribed by some\\npanegyrists to a deliberate conviction of mankind s\\nunworthiness, and a desire to amend them by casti-i5\\ngation. His youth was bitter, as that of a great ge-\\nnius bound down by ignoble ties, and powerless in a\\nmean dependence; his age was bitter,* like that of\\na great genius, that had fought the battle and nearly\\nwon it, and lost it, and thought of it afterwards, 20\\nwrithing in a lonely exile. A man may attribute to\\nthe gods, if he likes, what is caused by his own fury,\\nor disappointment, or self-will. What public man\\nwhat statesman projecting a coup what king de-\\ntermined on an invasion of his neighbour what 25\\nsatirist meditating an onslaught on society or an\\nindividual, can t give a pretext for his move? There\\nwas a French General the other day who proposed\\nto march into this country and put it to sack and\\npillage, in revenge for humanity outraged by our3o\\nIt was his constant practice to keep his birthday as a day of\\nmourning.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 13\\nconduct at Copenhagen: there is always some ex-\\ncuse for men of the aggressive turn. They are of\\ntheir nature warhke, predatory, eager for fight,\\npkmder, dominion.*\\n5 As fierce a beak and talon as ever struck as\\nstrong a wing as ever beat, belonged to Swift. I\\nam glad, for one, that fate wrested the prey out of\\nhis claws, and cut his wings and chained him. One\\ncan gaze, and not without awe and pity, at the\\n10 lonely eagle chained behind the bars.\\nThat Swift was born at No. 7 Hoey s Court, Dub-\\nlin, on the 30th November 1667, is a certain fact,\\nof which nobody will deny the sister island the\\nhonour and glory; but, it seems to me, he was no\\n15 more an Irishman than a man born of English par-\\nents at Calcutta is a Hindoo. f Goldsmith was an\\nThese devils of Grub Street rogues, that write the Flying Post\\nand Medley in one paper, will not be quiet. They are always maul-\\ning Lord Treasurer, Lord Bolingbroke, and me. We have the dog\\n20 under prosecution, bvit Bolingbroke is not active enough; but I\\nhope to swinge him. He is a Scotch rogue, one Ridpath. They\\nget out upon bail, and write on. We take them again, and get fresh\\nbail; so it goes round. Journal to Stella.\\nt Swift was by no means inclined to forget such considerations;\\n25 and his English birth makes its mark, strikingly enough, every\\nnow and then in his writings. Thus in a letter to Pope (Scott s\\nSivift, vol. xix. p. 97), he says:\\nWe have had your volumes of letters. Some of those who\\nhighly value you, and a few who knew you personally, are grieved\\n30 to find you make no distinction between the English gentry of this\\nkingdom, and the savage old Irish (who are only the vulgar, and\\nsome gentlemen who live in the Irish parts of the kingdom) but\\nthe English colonies, who are three parts in four, are much more\\ncivilised than many counties in England, and speak better English,\\n35 and are much better bred.\\nAnd again, in the fourth Drapier s Letter, we have the follow-\\ning:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nA short paper, printed at Bristol, and reprinted here, reports\\nMr. Wood to say that he wonders at the impudence and insolence\\n40 of the Irish in refusing his coin. When, by the way, it is the true", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "14 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nIrishman, and always an Irishman: Steele was\\nan Irishman, and always an Irishman: Swift s heart\\nwas English and in England, his habits English,\\nhis logic eminently English; his statement is\\nelaborately simple; he shuns tropes and metaphors, 5\\nand uses his ideas and words with a wise thrift and\\neconomy, as he used his money: with which he\\ncould be generous and splendid upon great occa-\\nsions, but which he husbanded when there was no\\nneed to spend it. He never indulges in needless 10\\nextravagance of rhetoric, lavish epithets, profuse\\nimagery. He lays his opinion before you with a\\ngrave simplicity and a perfect neatness.* Dreading\\nridicule too, as a man of his humour above all, an\\nEnglishman of his humour certainly would, he is 15\\nEnglish people of Ireland who refuse it, although we take it for\\ngranted that the Irish will do so too whenever they are asked.\\nScott s Sivift, vol. vi. p. 453.\\nHe goes further, in a good-humoured satirical paper. On Barbarous\\nDenominations in Ireland, where (after abusing, as he was wont, the 20\\nScotch cadence, as well as expression) he advances to the Irish\\nBrogue, and speaking of the censure which it brings down,\\nsays:\\nAnd what is yet worse, it is too well known that the bad conse-\\nquence of this opinion affects those among us who are not the least 25\\nliable to- such reproaches farther than the misfortune of being born\\nin Ireland, although of English parents, and whose education has\\nbeen chiefly in that kingdom. Ibid. vol. vii. p. 149.\\nBut, indeed, if we are to make anything of Race at all, we must\\ncall that man an Englishman whose father comes from an old 30\\nYorkshire family, and his mother from an old Leicestershire one 1\\nThe style of his conversation was very much of a piece with\\nthat of his writings, concise and clear and strong. Being one day\\nat a Sheriff s feast, who amongst other toasts called out to him, Mr.\\nDean, The Trade of Ireland he answered quick: Sir, I drink 35\\nno memories\\nHappening to be in company with a petulant young man who\\nprided himself on saying pert things and who cried out You\\nmust know, Mr. Dean, that I set up for a wit Do you so\\nsays the Dean. Take my advice, and sit down again 40\\nAt another time, being in company, where a lady whisking her", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 15\\nafraid to use the poetical power which he really pos-\\nsessed; one often fancies in reading him that he\\ndares not be eloquent when he might; that he does\\nnot speak above his voice, as it were, and the tone\\n5 of society.\\nHis initiation into politics, his knowledge of busi-\\nness, his knowledge of polite life, his acquaintance\\nwith literature even, which he could not have pur-\\nsued very sedulously during that reckless career at\\n10 Dublin, Swift got under the roof of Sir William\\nTemple. He was fond of telling in after life what\\nquantities of books he devoured there, and how\\nKing William taught him to cut asparagus in the\\nDutch fashion. It was at Shene and at Moor Park,\\n15 with a salary of twenty pounds and a dinner at the\\nupper servants table, that this great and lonely\\nSwift passed a ten years apprenticeship wore a\\ncassock that was only not a livery bent down a\\nknee as proud as Lucifer s to supplicate my Lady s\\n20 good graces, or run on his honour s errands.* It\\nlong train [long trains were then in fashion] swept down a fine\\nfiddle and broke it; Swift cried out\\nMantua vse miserae nimium vicina Cremonse\\nDr. Delany: Observations upon Lord Orrery s Remarks, c. on\\n2sSzvift. London, 1754.\\nDon t yovt remember how I used to be in pain when Sir Wil-\\nliam Temple would look cold and out of humour for three or\\nfour days, and I used to suspect a hundred reasons I have\\nplucked up my spirits since then, faith; he spoiled a fine gentle-\\n30man. Journal to Stella.\\n[It should be added that this statement about the twenty pounds\\na year, and the upper servants table, came from a hostile story told\\nlong afterwards by a nephew of Temple to Richardson the novelist.\\nIt is probably true enough of Swift s first stay as a raw lad in the\\n35 family; but Temple came t) value Swift s services much more highly,", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "1 6 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwas here, as he was writing at Temple s table, or\\nfollowing his patron s walk, that he saw and heard\\nthe men who had governed the great world meas-\\nured himself with them, looking up from his silent\\ncorner, gauged their brains, weighed their wits, 5\\nturned them, and tried them, and marked them.\\nAh! what platitudes he must have heard! what\\nfeeble jokes! what pompous commonplaces! what\\nsmall men they must have seemed under those\\nenormous periwigs, to the swarthy, uncouth, silent lo\\nIrish secretary. I wonder whether it ever struck\\nTemple, that that Irishman was his master? I sup-\\npose that dismal conviction did not present itself\\nunder the ambrosial wig, or Temple could never\\nhave lived with Swnft. Swift sickened, rebelled, left 1 5\\nthe service ate humble pie and came back again;\\nand so for ten years went on, gathering learning,\\nswallowing scorn, and submitting with a stealthy\\nrage to his fortune.\\nTemple s style is the perfection of practised and 20\\neasy good breeding. If he does not penetrate very\\ndeeply into a subject, he professes a very gentle-\\nmanly acquaintance with it; if he makes rather a\\nparade of Latin, it was the custom of his day, as it\\nwas the custom for a gentleman to envelop his head 25\\nin a periwig and his hands in lace ruffles. If he\\nwears buckles and square-toed shoes, he steps in\\nthem with a consummate grace, and you never\\nhear their creak, or find them treading upon any\\nand induced him to return from Ireland by promises of preferment. 3*-*\\nTemple s death prevented their fulfilment, but it is clear that he\\nhad come to treat Swift with great respect.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "SWIFT ly\\nlady s train or any rival s heels in the Court crowd.\\nWhen that grows too hot or too agitated for him,\\nhe politely leaves it. He retires to his retreat ^of\\nShene or Moor Park; and lets the King s party\\n5 and the Prince of Orange s party battle it out\\namong themselves. He reveres the Sovereign (and\\nno man perhaps ever testified to his loyalty by so\\nelegant a bow); he admires the Prince of Orange;\\nbut there is one person whose ease and comfort he\\n10 loves more than all the princes in Christendom,\\nand that valuable member of society is himself,\\nGulielmus Temple, Baronettus. One sees him in\\nhis retreat between his study-chair and his tulip-\\nbeds, clipping his apricots and pruning his es-\\njr The Epicureans were more intelligible in their notion,\\nand fortunate in their expression, when they placed a man s hap-\\npiness in the tranquillity of his mind and indolence of body; for\\nwhile we are composed of both, I doubt both must have a share in\\nthe good or ill we feel. As men of several languages say the same\\n20 things in very different words, so in several ages, countries, consti-\\ntutions of laws and religion, the same thing seems to be meant by\\nvery different expressions: what is called by the Stoics apathy, or\\ndispassion; by the sceptics, indisturbance; by the Molinists,\\nquietism; by common men, peace of conscience\u00e2\u0080\u0094 seems all to mean\\n25 but great tranquillity of mind. For this reason Epicurus passed\\nhis life wholly in his garden; there he studied, there he exercised,\\nthere he taught his philosophy; and, indeed, no other sort of abode\\nseems to contribute so much to both the tranquillity of mind and\\nindolence of body, which he made his chief ends. The sweetness of\\n30 the air, the pleasantness of smell, the verdure of plants, the clean-\\nness and lightness of food, the exercise of working or walking; but,\\nabove all, the exemption from cares and solicitude, seem equally to\\nfavour and improve both contemplation and health, the enjoyment of\\nsense and imagination, and thereby the quiet and ease both of the\\n35 body and mind. Where Paradise was, has been much debated,\\nand little agreed; but what sort of place is meant by it may per-\\nhaps easier be conjectured. It seems to have been a Persian word,\\nsince Xenophon and other Greek authors mention it as what was\\nmuch in use and delight among the kings of those Eastern coun-\\n40 tries. Strabo describing Jericho: Ibi est palmetum, cui immixtae\\nsunt etiam aliae stirpes hortenses, locus ferax palmis abundans.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "1 8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nsays,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the statesman, the ambassador no more; but\\nthe philosopher, the Epicurean, the fine gentleman\\nand courtier at Saint James s as at Shene; where,\\nin place of kings and fair ladies, he pays his court\\nto the Ciceronian majesty; or walks a minuet with 5\\nthe Epic Muse; or dallies by the south wall with\\nthe ruddy nymph of gardens.\\nTemple seems to have received and exacted a\\nprodigious deal of veneration from his household,\\nand to have been coaxed, and warmed, and cuddled 10\\nby the people round about him, as delicately as any\\ncf the plants which he loved. When he fell ill in\\n1693, the household was aghast at his indisposition;\\nmild Dorothea his wife, the best companion of the\\nbest of men 15\\nMild Dorothea, peaceful, wise, and great,\\nTrembing beheld the doubtful hand of fate.\\nAs for Dorinda, his sister,\\nThose who would grief describe, might come and trace\\nIts watery footsteps in Dorinda s face. 20\\nTo see her weep, joy every face forsook,\\nAnd grief flung sables on each menial look.\\nThe humble tribe mourned for the quickening soul,\\nThat furnished spirit and motion through the whole,\\nspatio stadiorum centum, totus irriguus: ibi est Regis Balsami25\\nparadisus. Essay on Gardens.\\nIn the same famous essay Temple speaks of a friend, whose con-\\nduct and prudence he characteristically admires:\\nI thought it very prudent in a gentleman of my friends in\\nStafltordshire, who is a great lover of his garden, to pretend no30\\nhigher, though his soil be good enough, than to the perfection of\\nplums; and in these (by bestowing south walls upon them) he has\\nvery well succeeded, which he could never have done in attempts\\nupon peaches and grapes; and a good plum is certainly better than an\\nill peach. 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 19\\nIsn t that line in which grief is described as putting\\nthe menials into a mourning livery, a line image?\\nOne of the menials wrote it, who did not like that\\nTemple livery nor those twenty-pound wages. Can-\\n5 hot one fancy the uncouth young servitor, with\\ndowncast eyes, books and papers in hand, follow-\\ning at his honour s heels in the garden walk; or\\ntaking his honour s orders as he stands by the great\\nchair, where Sir William has the gout, and his feet\\n10 all blistered with moxa? When Sir William has the\\ngout or scolds it must be hard work at the second\\ntable;* the Irish secretary owned as much after-\\nSwift s Thoughts on Hanging.\\n{Direction s to Servants.)\\n15 To grow old in the office of a footman is the highest of all in-\\ndignities; therefore, when you find years coming on without hopes\\nof a place at Court, a command in the army, a succession to the\\nstewardship, an employment in the revenue (which two last you\\ncannot obtain without reading and writing), or running away with\\n20 your master s niece or daughter, I directly advise you to go upon\\nthe road, which is the only post of honour left you: there you will\\nmeet many of your old comrades, and live a short life and a merry\\none, and make a figure at your exit, wherein I will give you some\\ninstructions.\\n25 The last advice I give you relates to your behaviour when you\\nare going to be hanged: which, either for robbing your master, for\\nhousebreaking, or going upon the highway, or in a drunken quarrel\\nby killing the first man you meet, may very probably be your lot,\\nand is owing to one of these three qualities: either a love of good-\\n30 fellowship, a generosity of mind, or too much vivacity of spirits.\\nYour good behaviour on this article will concern your whole com-\\nmunity: deny the fact with all solemnity of imprecations: a hun-\\ndred of your brethren, if they can be admitted, will attend about the\\nbar, and be ready upon demand to give you a character before the\\n35 court; let nothing prevail on you to confess, but the promise of a\\npardon for discovering your comrades: but I suppose all this to be\\nin vain; for if you escape now, your fate will be the same another\\nday. Get a speech to be written by the best author of Newgate:\\nsome of your kind wenches will provide you with a holland shirt\\n40 and white cap, crowned with a crimson or black ribbon: take leave", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "?0 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwards; and when he came to dinner, how he must\\nhave lashed and growled and torn the household\\nwith his gibes and scorn! What would the steward\\nsay about the pride of them Irish schollards and\\nthis one had got no great credit even at his Irish 5\\ncollege, if the truth were known and what a con-\\ntempt his Excellency s own gentleman must have\\nhad for Parson Teague from Dublin! (The valets\\nand chaplains were always at war. It is hard to say\\nwhich Swift thought the more contemptible.) Andio\\nwhat must have been the sadness, the sadness and\\nterror, of the housekeeper s little daughter with the\\ncurling black ringlets and the sweet smiling face,\\nwhen the secretary who teaches her to read and\\nwrite, and whom she loves and reverences above alP5\\nthings above mother, above mild Dorothea, above\\nthat tremendous Sir William in his square toes and\\nperiwig, when Mr. Szvift comes down from his\\nmaster with rage in his heart, and has not a kind\\nword even for little Hester Johnson? 20\\nPerhaps, for the Irish secretary, his Excellency s\\ncondescension was even more cruel than his frowns.\\nSir William would perpetually quote Latin and the\\nancient classics a propos of his gardens and his\\nDutch statues, and platcs-handes, and talk about 25\\nEpicurus and Diogenes Laertius, Julius Caesar,\\nSemiramis, and the gardens of the Hesperides,\\ncheerfully of all your friends in Newgate: mount the cart with\\ncourage: fall on your knees; lift up your eyes; hold a book in your\\nhands, although you cannot read a word; deny the fact at the gal- 30\\nlows; kiss and forgive the hangman, and so farewell: you shall be\\nburied in pomp at the charge of the fraternity: the surgeon shall\\nnot touch a limb of you;^ and your frame shall continue until a sue*\\ncessor of equal renown stseceeds in your place i", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 21\\nMaecenas, Strabo describing Jericho, and the\\nAssyrian kings. A propos of beans, he would men-\\ntion Pythagoras s precept to abstain from beans, and\\nthat this precept probably meant that wise men\\n5 should abstain from public affairs. He is a placid\\nEpicurean; he is a Pythagorean philosopher; he is\\na wise man that is the deduction. Does not Swift\\nthink so? One can imagine the downcast eyes lifted\\nup for a moment, and the flash of scorn which they\\nloemit. Swift s eyes were as azure as the heavens;\\nPope says nobly (as everything Pope said and\\nthought of his friend was good and noble), His\\neyes are as azure as the heavens, and have a charm-\\ning archness in them. And one person in that\\n15 household, that pompous, stately, kindly Moor\\nPark, saw heaven nowhere else.\\nBut the Temple amenities and solemnities did\\nnot agree with Swift. He was half-killed with a\\nsurfeit of Shene pippins; and in a garden-seat\\n20 which he devised for himself at Moor Park, and\\nwhere he devoured greedily the stock of books\\nwithin his reach, he caught a vertigo and deafness\\nwhich punished and tormented him through life.\\nHe could not bear the place or the servitude. Even\\n25 in that poem of courtly condolence, from which we\\nhave quoted a few lines of mock melancholy, he\\nbreaks out of the funereal procession with a mad\\nshriek, as it were, and rushes away crying his own\\ngrief, cursing his own fate, foreboding madness, and\\n30 forsaken by fortune, and even hope.\\nI don t know anything more melancholy than\\nthe letter to Temple, in which, after having broke", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "22 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfrom his bondage, the poor wretch crouches pit-\\neously towards his cage again, and deprecates his\\nmaster s anger. He asks for testimonials for orders.\\nThe particulars required of me are what relate\\nto morals and learning; and the reasons of quitting 5\\nyour honour s family that is, whether the last was\\noccasioned by any ill action. They are left entirely\\nto your honour s mercy, though in the first I think\\nI cannot reproach myself for anything further than\\nfor infirmities. This is all I dare at present beg 10\\nfrom your honour, under circumstances of life not\\nworth your regard what is left me to wish (next\\nto the health and prosperity of your honour and\\nfamily) is that Heaven would one day allow me the\\nopportunity of leaving my acknowledgments at 15\\nyour feet. I beg my most humble duty and service\\nbe presented to my ladies, your honour s lady and\\nsister.\\nCan prostration fall deeper? could a slave bow\\nlower? 2\u00c2\u00b0\\nHe continued in Sir William Temple s house till the death of\\nthat great man. Anecdotes of the Family of Swift, by the Dean.\\nIt has since pleased Gad to take this good and great person to\\nhimself. Frr/ac^ to Temple s Works.\\nOn all public occasions, Swift speaks ^of Sir William in the same 25\\ntone. [The letter given above was written 6th October 1694, and is\\nhumiliating enough. Swift s relation to Temple changed, as already\\nsaid. The passages, however, which follow, no doubt show a strong\\nsense of indignities at one time or other.] But the reader will\\nbetter understand how acutely he remembered the indignities he 30\\nsuffered in his household, from the subjoined extracts from the\\nJournal to Stella:\\nI called at Mr. Secretary the other day, to see what the d\\nailed him on Sunday: I made him a very proper speech; told him\\nI observed he was much out of temper, that I did not expect he 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 23\\nTwenty years afterwards Bishop Kennet, de-\\nscribing the same man, says:\\nDr. Swift came into the cofifee-house and had a\\nbow from everybody but me. When I came to the\\n5 antechamber [at Court] to wait before prayers, Dr.\\nSwift was the principal man of talk and business.\\nHe was soliciting the Earl of Arran to speak to his\\nbrother, the Duke of Ormond, to get a place for a\\nclergyman. He was promising Mr. Thorold to un-\\nlodertake, with my Lord Treasurer, that he should\\nobtain a salary of \u00c2\u00a3200 per annum as member of\\nthe English Church at Rotterdam. He stopped F.\\nGwynne, Esquire, going into the Queen with the\\nred bag, and told him aloud, he had something to\\n15 say to him from my Lord Treasurer. He took out\\nhis gold watch, and telling the time of day, com-\\nplained that it was very late. A gentleman said he\\nwas too fast. How can I help it, says the Doctor,\\nwould tell me the cause, but would be glad to see he was in better;\\n20 and one thing I warned him of never to appear cold to me, for I\\nwould not be treated like a schoolboy; that I had felt too much of\\nthat in my life already (meaning Sir William Temple), c. c.\\nJournal to Stella.\\nI am thinking what a veneration we used to have for Sir William\\n25 Temple because he might have been Secretjiry of State at fifty; and\\nhere is a young fellow hardly thirty in that employment. Ibid.\\nThe Secretary is as easy with me as Mr. Addison was. I have\\noften thought what a splutter Sir William Temple makes about being\\nSecretary of State. 75 ici.\\n30 Lord Treasurer has had an ugly fit of the rheumatism, but is\\nnow quite well. I was playing at one-and-thirty with him and his\\nfamily the other night. He gave us all twelvepence apiece to begin\\nwith; it put me in mind of Sir William Temple. Ibid.\\nI thought I saw Jack Temple [nephew to Sir William and his\\n35 wife pass by me to-day in their coach; but I took no notice of\\nthem. I am glad I have wholly shaken off that family. 5 to S.,\\nSept. 1710.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "24 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nif the courtiers give me a watch that won t go\\nright? Then he instructed a young nobleman,\\nthat the best poet in England was Mr. Pope (a\\npapist), who had begun a translation of Homer into\\nEnglish, for which he would have them all sub- 5\\nscribe For, says he, he shall not begin to print\\ntill I have a thousand guineas for him. Lord\\nTreasurer, after leaving the Queen, came through\\nthe room, beckoning Doctor Swift to follow him\\nboth went ofif just before prayers. t lo\\nThere s a little malice in the Bishop s just before\\nprayers.\\nThis picture of the great Dean seems a true one,\\nand is harsh, though not altogether unpleasant. He\\nwas doing good, and to deserving men, too, in the 15\\nmidst of these intrigues and triumphs. His jour-\\nnals and a thousand anecdotes of him relate his\\nkind act5 and rough manners. His hand was con-\\nstantly stretched out to relieve an honest man he\\nwas cautious about his money, but read3^ If you 20\\nwere in a strait, would you like such a benefactor?\\nI think I Avould rather have had a potato and a\\nfriendly word from Goldsmith than have been be-\\nSwift must be allowed, says Doctor Johnson, for a time, to\\nhave dictated the political opinions of the English nation. 25\\nA conversation on the Dean s pamphlets excited one of the Doc-\\ntorls liveliest sallies. One, in particular, praised his Conduct of\\nthe ^//jM.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Johnson: Sir, his Conduct of the Allies is a performance\\nof very little ability. Why, sir, Tom Davies might have written\\nthe Conduct of the Allies Boswell s Life of Johnson. 30\\nt The passage as quoted in the text is slightly abbreviated. It\\nmay be observed that Swift fulfilled his promises of support to the\\nclergyman, Dr. Fiddes, author of a good life of Wolsey, and was\\nvery useful to Pope. Many other instances could be given c the\\nkind acts mentioned in the next paragraph. 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 25\\nholden to the Dean for a guinea and a dinner.* He\\ninsulted a man as he served him, made women cry,\\nguests look foolish, bullied unlucky friends, and\\nflung his benefactions into poor men s faces. No;\\n5 the Dean was no Irishman no Irishman ever gave\\nbut with a kind word and a kind heart.\\nIt is told, as if it were, to Swift s credit, that the\\nDean of Saint Patrick s performed his family de-\\nvotions every morning regularly, but with such\\n10 secrecy that the guests in his house were never in\\nthe least aware of the ceremony. There was no\\nneed surely why a Church dignitary should assem-\\nble his family privily in a crypt, and as if he was\\nafraid of heathen persecution. But I think the\\n1 5 world was right, and the bishops who advised\\nQueen Anne when they counselled her not to ap-\\npoint the autlior of the Tale of a Tub to a\\nbishopric, gave perfectly good advice. The man\\nWhenever he fell into the company of any person for the first\\n2otinie, it was his custom to try their tempers and disposition by\\nsome abrupt question that bore the appearance of rudeness. If this\\nwere well taken, and ansv/ered with good-humour, he afterwards\\nmade amends by his civilities. But if he saw any marks of resent-\\nment, from alarmed pride, vanity, or conceit, he dropped all further\\n25 intercourse with the party. This will be illustrated by an anecdote\\nof that sort related by Mrs. Pilkington. After supper, the Dean, having\\ndecanted a bottle of wine, poured what remained into a glass, and\\nseeing it was muddy, presented it to Mr. Pilkington to drink it.\\nFor, said he, I always keep some poor parson to drink the foul\\n30wine for me. Mr. Pilkington, entering into his humour, thanked\\nhim, and told him he did not know the difference, but was glad\\nto get a glass at any rate. Why, then, said the Dean, you shan t,\\nfor I ll drink it myself Why, take you, you are wiser than a\\npaltry curate whom I asked to dine with me a few days ago; for\\n35 upon my making the same speech to him, he said he did not under-\\nstand such usage, and so walked off without his dinner. By the\\nsame token, I told the gentleman who recommended him to me that\\nthe fellow was a blockhead, and I had done with him.\\nSheridan s Life of SwifL", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "26 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwho wrote the arguments and illustrations in that\\nwild book, could not but be aware what must be\\nthe sequel of the propositions which he laid down.\\nThe boon companion of Pope and Bolingbroke,\\nwho chose these as the friends of his life, and the re- 5\\ncipients of his confidence and affection, must have\\nheard many an argument, and joined in many a\\nconversation over Pope s port, or St. John s bur-\\ngundy, which would not bear to be repeated at\\nother men s boards. 10\\nI know of few things more conclusive as to the\\nsincerity of Swift s religion than his advice to poor\\nJohn Gay to turn clergyman, and look out for a\\nseat on the Bench. Gay, the author of the Beg-\\ngar s Opera Gay, the wildest of the wits about 15\\ntown it was this man that Jonathan Swift advised\\nto take orders to invest in a cassock and bands\\njust as he advised him to husband his shillings and\\nput his thousand pounds out at interest. The\\nQueen, and the bishops, and the world, were right 20\\nin mistrusting the religion of that man.\\nFrom the Archbishop of Cashell.\\nCashell: May ^isf, 1735.\\nDear Sir, I have been so unfortunate in all my contests of late,\\nthat I am resolved to have no more, especially where I am likely to 25\\nbe overmatched; and as I have some reason to hope what is past\\nwill be forgotten, I confess I did endeavour in my last to put the\\nbest colour I could think of upon a very bad cause. My friends\\njudge right of my idleness; but, in reality, it has hitherto proceeded\\nfrom a hurry and confusion, arising from a thousand unlucky un-30\\nforeseen accidents rather than mere sloth. I have but one trouble-\\nsome affair now upon my hands, which, by the help of the prime\\nSerjeant, I hope soon to get rid of; and then you shall see me a\\ntrue Irish bishop. Sir James Ware has made a very useful collection\\nof the memorable actions of my predecessors. He tells me, they 35\\nwere born in such a town of England or Ireland; were consecrated", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 27\\nI am not here, of course, to speak of any man s\\nreligious views, except in so far as they influence\\nhis literary character, his life, his humour. The\\nmost notorious sinners of all those fellow-mortals\\n5 whom it is our business to discuss Harry Field-\\ning and Dick Steele were especially loud, and I\\nbelieve really fervent in their expressions of belief;\\nthey belaboured freethinkers, and stoned imaginary\\natheists on all sorts of occasions, going out of their\\n10 such a year; and if not translated, were buried in the Cathedral\\nChurch, either on the north or south side. Whence I conclude that\\na good bishop has nothing more to do than to cat, drink, grow fat,\\nrich, and die; which laudable example I propose for the remainder\\nof my life to follow; for to tell you the truth, I have for these four\\n1 5 or five years past met with so much treachery, baseness, and in-\\ngratitude among mankind, that I can hardly think it incumbent on\\nany man to endeavour to do good to so perverse a generation.\\nI am truly concerned at the account you give me of your\\nhealth. Without doubt a southern ramble will prove the best remedy\\n20you can take to recover your flesh; and I do not know, except in\\none stage, where you can choose a road so suited to your circum-\\nstances, as from Dublin hither. You have to Kilkenny a turnpike\\nand good inns, at every ten or twelve miles end. From Kilkenny\\nhither is twenty long miles, bad road, and no inns at all: but I have\\n-5 an expedient for you. At the foot of a very high hill, just midway,\\nthere lives in a neat thatched cabin a parson, who is not poor; his\\nwife is allowed to be the best little woman in the world. Her\\nchickens are the fattest, and her ale the best in all the country.\\nBesides, the parson has a little cellar of his own, of which he keeps\\n30the key, where he always has a hogshead of the best wine that can\\nbe got, in bottles well corked, upon their side; and he cleans, and\\npulls out the cork better, I think, than Robin. Here I design to\\nmeet you with a coach; if you be tired, yovi shall stay all night;\\nif not, after dinner, we will set out about four, and be at Cashell by\\n35nine; and by going through fields and bye-ways, which the parson\\nwill show us, we shall escape all the rocky and stony roads that lie\\nbetween this place and that, which are certainly very bad. I hope\\nyou will be so kind as to let me know a post or two before you set\\nout, the very day you will be at Kilkenny, that I may have all things\\n40prepared for you. It may be, if you ask him. Cope will come: he\\nwill do nothing for me. Therefore, depending upon your positive\\npromise, I shall add no more arguments to persuade you, and am,\\nwith the greatest truth, your most faithful and obedient servant,\\nTheo. Cashell.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "2S ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nway to bawl their own creed, and persecute their\\nneighbour s, and if they sinned and stumbled, as\\nthey constantly did with debt, with drink, with all\\nsorts of bad behaviour, they got upon their knees\\nand cried Peccavi with a most sonorous ortho- 5\\ndoxy. Yes; poor Harry Fielding and poor Dick\\nSteele were trusty and undoubting Church of Eng-\\nland men; they abhorred Popery, Atheism, and\\nwooden shoes and idolatries in general; and hic-\\ncupped Church and State with fervour. 10\\nBut Swift? His mind had had a diiTerent school-\\ning, and possessed a very different logical power.\\nHe was not bred up in a tipsy guardroom, and did\\nnot learn to reason in a Covent Garden tavern. He\\ncould conduct an argument from beginning to end. 15\\nHe could see forward with a fatal clearness. In his\\nold age, looking at the Tale of a Tub, when he\\nsaid, Good God, what a genius I had when I\\nwrote that book! I think he was admiring, not\\nthe genius, but the consequences to which the 20\\ngenius had brought him a vast genius, a magni-\\nficent genius, a genius wonderfully bright, and daz-\\nzl ng, and strong, to seize, to know, to see, to\\nflash upon falsehood and scorch it into perdition,\\nto penetrate into the hidden motives, and expose 25\\nthe black thoughts of men, an awful, an evil\\nspirit.\\nAh man! you, educated in Epicurean Temple s li-\\nbrary, you whose friends were Pope and St. John\\nwhat made you to swear to fatal vows, and bind 30\\nyourself to a life-long hypocrisy before the Heaven\\nwhich you adored with such real wonder, humility.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 29\\nand reverence? For Swift s was a reverent, was a\\npious spirit for Swift could love and could pray.\\nThrough the storms and tempests of his furious\\nmind, the stars of religion and love break out in the\\n5 blue, shining serenely, though hidden by the driv-\\ning clouds and the maddened hurricane of his life.\\nIt is my belief that he suffered frightfully from\\nthe consciousness of his own scepticism, and that he\\nhad bent his pride so far dow^n as to put his\\n10 apostasy out to hire.* The paper left behind him,\\ncalled Thoughts on Religion, is merely a set of\\nexcuses for not professing disbelief. He says of his\\nsermons that he preached pamphlets: they have\\nscarce a Christian characteristic; they might be\\nispreached from the steps of a synagogue, or the floor\\nof a mosque, or the box of a coffee-house almost.\\nThere is little or no cant he is too great and too\\nproud for that; and, in so far as the badness of his\\nsermons goes, he is honest. But having put that\\n20 cassock on, it poisoned him; he was strangled in\\nhis bands. He goes through life, tearing, like a\\nman possessed with a devil. Like Abudah in the\\nArabian story, he is always looking out for the\\nFury, and knows that the night will come and the\\n25 inevitable hag with it. What a night, my God, it\\nwas! what a lonely rage and long agony what a\\nvulture that tore the heart of that giant! f It is\\nMr. Swift lived with him [Sir William Temple] some time,\\nbut resolving to settle himself in some way of living, was inclined\\n30 to take orders. However, although his fortune was very small, he\\nhad a scruple of entering into the Church merely for support.\\nAnecdotes of the Family of Swift, by the Dean.\\nt Dr. Swift had a natural severity of face, which even his smiles\\ncould scarce soften, or his utmost gaiety render placid and serene;", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "30 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nawful to think of the great sufiferings of this great\\nman. Through life he always seems alone, some-\\nhow. Goethe was so. I can t fancy Shakspeare\\notherwise. The giants must live apart. The kings\\ncan have no company. But this man sufifered so; 5\\nand deserved so to suffer. One hardly reads any-\\nwhere of such a pain.\\nThe sseva indignatio of which he spoke as\\nlacerating his heart, and which he dares to inscribe\\non his tombstone as if the wretch who lay under 10\\nthat stone waiting God s judgment had a right to be\\nangry breaks out from him in a thousand pages\\nof his writing, and tears and rends him. Against\\nmen in ofhce, he having been overthrown; against\\nmen in England, he having lost his chance of pre- 15\\nferment there, the furious exile never fails to rage\\nand curse. Is it fair to call the famous Drapier s\\nLetters patriotism? They are masterpieces of\\ndreadful humour and invective: they are reasoned\\nlogically enough too, but the proposition is as 20\\nmonstrous and fabulous as the Lilliputian island.\\nIt is not that the grievance is so great, but there is\\nhis enemy the assault is wonderful for its activity\\nand terrible rage. It is Samson, with a bone in his\\nhand, rushing on his enemies and felling them one 25\\nadmires not the cause so much as the strength, the\\nanger, the fury of the champion. As is the case\\nwith madmen, certain subjects provoke him, and\\nbut when that sternness of visage was increased by rage, it is scarce\\npossible to imagine looks or features that carried in them moreSO\\nterror and austerity. Orrery.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 31\\nawaken his fits of wrath. Marriage is one of\\nthese; in a hundred passages in his writings he\\nrages against it; rages against children; an object\\nof constant satire, even more contemptible in his\\n5 eyes than a lord s chaplain, is a poor curate with a\\nlarge family. The idea of this luckless paternity\\nnever fails to bring down from him gibes and foul\\nlanguage. Could Dick Steele, or Goldsmith, or\\nFielding, in his most reckless moment of satire,\\n10 have written anything like the Dean s famous\\nModest Proposal for eating children? Not one\\nof these but melts at the thoughts of childhood,\\nfondles and caresses it. Mr. Dean has no such\\nsoftness, and enters the nursery with the tread and\\n15 gaiety of an ogre.* I have been assured, says\\nhe in the Modest Proposal, by a very knowing\\nAmerican of my acquaintance in London, that a\\nyoung healthy child, well nursed, is, at a year old,\\na most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food,\\n20 whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I\\nmake no doubt it will equally serve in a ragout\\nAnd taking up this pretty joke, as his way is, he\\nargues it with perfect gravity and logic. He turns\\nand twists this subject in a score of different ways;\\n25 he hashes it; and he serves it up cold; and he\\ngarnishes it; and relishes it always. He describes\\nLondon: April lotli, 1713.\\nLady Masham s eldest boy is very ill: I doubt he will not live;\\nand she stays at Kensington to nurse him, which vexes us all. She\\n30 is so excessively fond, it makes me mad. She should never leave\\nthe Queen, but leave everything, to stick to what is so much the\\ninterest of the public, as well as her own. Journal.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "32 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthe little animal as dropped from its dam, ad-\\nvising that the mother should let it suck plentifully\\nin the last month, so as to render it plump and fat\\nfor a good table! A child, says his Reverence,\\nwill make two dishes at an entertainment for 5\\nfriends; and when the family dines alone, the fore\\nor hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and\\nso on; and the subject being so delightful that he\\ncan t leave it, he proceeds to recommend, in place\\nof venison for squires tables, the bodies of young 10\\nlads and maidens not exceeding fourteen or under\\ntwelve. Amiable humourist! laughing castigator\\nof morals! There was a process well known and\\npractised in the Dean s gay days; when a lout en-\\ntered the coffee-house, the wags proceeded to what 15\\nthey called roasting him. This is roasting a\\nsubject with a vengeance. The Dean had a native\\ngenius for it. As the Almanach des Gourmands\\nsays, On nait rotisseur.\\nAnd it was not merely by the sarcastic method 20\\nthat Swift exposed the unreasonableness of loving\\nand having children. In Gulliver, the folly of\\nlove and marriage is urged by graver arguments\\nand advice. In the famous Lilliputian kingdom,\\nSwift speaks with approval of the practice of in-25\\nstantly removing children from their parents and\\neducating them by the State; and amongst his\\nfavourite horses, a pair of foals are stated to be the\\nvery utmost a well-regulated equine couple would\\npermit themselves. In fact, our great satirist was3o\\nof opinion that conjugal love was unadvisable, and\\nillustrated the theory by his own practice and ex-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 33\\nample God help him which made him about the\\nmost wretched being in God s world.*\\nThe grave and logical conduct of an absurd\\nproposition, as exemplified in the cannibal pro-\\nSposal just mentioned, is our author s constant\\nmethod through all his works of humour. Given a\\ncountry of people six inches or sixty feet high, and\\nby the mere process of the logic, a thousand won-\\nderful absurdities are evolved, at so many stages of\\nlothe calculation. Turning to the First Minister who\\nwaited behind him with a white staff near as tall as\\nthe mainmast of the Royal Sowreign, the King of\\nBrobdingnag observes how contemptible a thing\\nhuman grandeur is, as represented by such a con-\\nistemptible little creature as Gulliver. The Em-\\nperor of Lilliput s features are strong and mascu-\\nline (what a surprising humour there is in this\\ndescription!) The Emperor s features, Gulliver\\nsays, are strong and masculine, with an Austrian\\n20 lip, an arched nose, his complexion olive, his coun-\\ntenance erect, his body and limbs well proportioned,\\nand his deportment majestic. He is taller by the\\nbreadth of my nail than any of his Court, which\\nalone is enough to strike an awe into beholders.\\n25 What a surprising humour there is in these de-\\nscriptions! How noble^ the satire is here! how just\\nand honest! How perfect the image! Mr. Macau-\\nlay has quoted the charming lines of the poet where\\nthe king of the pigmies is measured by the same\\n30 standard. We have all read in Milton of the spear\\nMy health is somewhat mended, but at best I have an ill head\\nand an aching heart. In May 1719.", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "34 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthat was like the mast of some great ammiral;\\nbut these images are surely likely to come to the\\ncomic poet originally. The subject is before him.\\nHe is turning it in a thousand ways. He is full of\\nit. The figure suggests itself naturally to him, and 5\\ncomes out of his subject, as in that wonderful pas-\\nsage, when Gulliver s box having been dropped by\\nthe eagle into the sea, and Gulliver having been re-\\nceived into the ship s cabin, he calls upon the crew\\nto bring the box into the cabin, and put it on theio\\ntable, the cabin being only a quarter the size of the\\nbox. It is the vcrCicity of the blunder which is so\\nadmirable. Had a man come from such a country\\nas Brobdingnag, he would have blundered so.\\nBut the best stroke of humour, if there be a best 15\\nin that abounding book, is that where Gulliver, in\\nthe unpronounceable country, describes his parting\\nfrom his master the horse.*\\nPerhaps the most melancholy satire in the whole of the dreadful\\nbook is the description of the very old people in the Voyage to 20\\nLaputa. At Lugnag, Gulliver hears of some persons who never die,\\ncalled the Struldbrugs, and expressing a wish to become acquainted\\nwith men who must have so much learning and experience, his\\ncolloquist describes the Struldbrugs to him.\\nHe said: They commonly acted like mortals, till about thirty 25\\nyears old, after which, by degrees, they grew melancholy and de-\\njected, increasing in both till they came to fourscore. This he\\nlearned from their own confession: for otherwise there not being\\nabove two or three of that species born in an age, they were too few\\nto form a general observation by. When they came to fourscore 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nyears, which is reckoned the extremity of living in this country,\\nthey had not only all the follies and infirmities of other old men, but\\nmany more, which arose from the dreadful prospect of never dying.\\nThey were not only opinionative, peevish, covetous, morose, vain,\\ntalkative, but incapable of friendship, and dead to all natural aflfec- 35\\ntion, which never descended below their grandchildren. Envy and\\nimpotent desires are their prevailing passions. But those objects\\nagainst which their envy seems principally directed, are the vices\\nof the younger sort and the deaths of the old. By reflecting on the\\n1", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 3S\\nI took, he says, a second leave of my mas-\\nter, but as I was going to prostrate myself to kiss\\nhis hoof, he did me the honour to raise it gently to\\nmy mouth. I am not ignorant how much I have\\n5 been censured for mentioning this last particular.\\nDetractors are pleased to think it improbable that\\nso illustrious a person should descend to give so\\ngreat a mark of distinction to a creature so inferior\\nas I. Neither have I forgotten how apt some trav-\\nloellers are to boast of extraordinary favours they\\nformer, they find themselves cut off from all possibility of pleasure;\\nand whenever they see a funeral, they lament, and repine that others\\nare gone to a harbour of rest, to which they themselves never can\\nhope to arrive. They have no remembrance of anything but what\\n15 they learned and observed in their youth and middle age, and even\\nthat is very imperfect. And for the truth or particulars of any fact,\\nit is safer to depend on common tradition than upon their best\\nrecollections. The least miserable among them appear to be those\\nwho turn to dotage, and entirely lose their memories; these meet\\n20 with more pity and assistance, because they want many bad qualities\\nwhich abound in others.\\nIf a Struldbrug happen to marry one of his own kind, the mar-\\nriage is dissolved of course, by the courtesy of the kingdom, as\\nsoon as the younger of the two comes to be fourscore. For the law\\n25 thinks it a reasonable indulgence that those who are condemned,\\nwithout any fault of their own, to a perpetual continuance in the\\nworld, should not have their misery doubled by the load of a wife.\\nAs soon as they have completed the term of eighty years, they\\nore looked on as dead in law; their heirs immediately succeed to\\n30 their estates, only a small pittance is reserved for their support; and\\nthe poor ones are maintained at the public charge. After that\\nperiod they are held incapable of any employment of trust or profit,\\nthey cannot purchase lands or take leases, neither are they allowed\\nto be witnesses in any cause, either civil or criminal, not even for\\n35 the decision of meers and bounds.\\nAt ninety they lose their teeth and hair; they have at that age\\nno distinction of taste, but eat and drink whatever they can get\\nwithout relish or appetite. The diseases they were subject to still\\ncontinue, without increasing or diminishing. In talking, they for-\\n40 get the common appellation of things, and the names of persons,\\neven of those who are their nearest friends and relations. For the\\nsame reason, they can never amuse themselves with reading, be-\\ncause their memory will not serve to carry them from the begin-", "height": "3121", "width": "1789", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "36\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nhave received. But if these censurers were better\\nacquainted with the noble and courteous disposition\\nof the Houyhnhnms they would soon change their\\nopinion.\\nThe surprise here, the audacity of circumstantial 5\\nevidence, the astounding gravity of the speaker, who\\nis not ignorant how much he has been censured, the\\nnature of the favour conferred, and the respectful\\nexultation at the receipt of it, are surely complete:\\nit is truth topsy-turvy, entirely logical and absurd. lo\\nAs for the humour and conduct of this famous\\nning of a sentence to the end; and by this defect they are deprived\\nof the only entertainment whereof they might otherwise be capable.\\nThe language of this country being always upon the flux, the\\nStruldbrugs of one age do not vniderstand those of another; neither 15\\nare they able, after two hundred years, to hold any conversation\\n(further than by a few general words) with their neighbours, the\\nmortals; and thus they lie under the disadvantage of living like\\nforeigners in their own country.\\nThis was the account given me of the Struldbrugs, as near as I 20\\ncan remember. I afterwards saw five or six of different ages, the\\nyoungest not above two hundred years old, who were brought to\\nme- at several times by some of my friends; but although they were\\ntold that I was a great traveller, and had seen all the world, they\\nhad not the least curiosity to ask me a question; only desired I 25\\nwould give them slumskudask, or a token of remembrance; which\\nis a modest way of begging, to avoid the law, that strictly forbids it,\\nbecause they are provided for by the public, although indeed with a\\nvery scanty allowance.\\nThey are despised and hated by all sorts of people; when one 30\\nof them is born, it is reckoned ominous, and their birth is recorded\\nvery particularly; so that you may know their age by consulting\\nthe register, which, however, has not been kept above a thousand\\nyears past, or at least has been destroyed by time or public dis-\\nturbances. Cut the usual way of computing how old they are, is by 3 5\\nasking them what kings or great persons they can remember, and\\nthen consulting history; for infallibly the last prince in their mind\\ndid not begin his reign after they were fourscore years old.\\nThey were the most mortifying sight I ever beheld, and tlie\\nwomen more horrible than the men; besides the usual deformities 4^\\nin extreme old age, they acquired an additional ghastliness, in pro-\\nportion to their number of years, which is not to be described;\\nand among half-a-dozen, I soon distinguished w-hich was the eldest,\\nalthough there was not above a century or two between them.\\nGulliver s Travels, 45\\nI", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 37\\nfable, I suppose there is no person who reads but\\nmust admire; as for the moral, I think it horrible,\\nshameful, unmanly, blasphemous; and giant and\\ngreat as this Dean is, I say we should hoot him.\\n5 Some of this audience mayn t have read the last\\npart of Gulliver, and to such I would recall the ad-\\nvice of the venerable Mr. Punch to persons about\\nto marry, and say Don t. When Gulliver first\\nlands among the Yahoos, the naked howling\\nlo wretches clamber up trees and assault him, and he\\ndescribes himself as almost stifled with the filth\\nwhich fell about him. The reader of the fourth\\npart of Gulliver s Travels is like the hero him-\\nself in this instance. It is Yahoo language: a mon-\\n15 ster gibbering shrieks, and gnashing imprecations\\nagainst mankind tearing down all shreds of\\nmodesty, past all sense of manliness and shame;\\nfilthy in word, filthy in thought, furious, raging,\\nobscene.\\n20 And dreadful it is to think that Swift knew the\\ntendency of his creed the fatal rocks towards\\nwhich his logic desperately drifted. That last part\\nof Gulliver is only a consequence of what has\\ngone before; and the worthlessness of all man-\\n25 kind, the pettiness, cruelty, pride, imbecility, the\\ngeneral vanity, the foolish pretension, the mock\\ngreatness, the pompous dulness, the mean aims,\\nthe base successes all these were present to him;\\nit was with the din of these curses of the world,\\nsoblasphemies against Heaven, shrieking in his ears,\\nthat he began to^ write his dreadful allegory ot\\nwhich the meaning is that man is utterly wicked,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "38 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ndesperate, and imbecile, and his passions are so\\nmonstrous, and his boasted powers so mean, that he\\nis and deserves to be the slave of brutes, and igno-\\nrance is better than his vaunted reason. What had\\nthis man done? what secret remorse was rankling 5\\nat his heart? what fever was boiling in him, that he\\nshould see all the world bloodshot? We view the\\nworld with our own eyes, each of us; and we make\\nfrom within us the world we see. A weary heart\\ngets no gladness out of sunshine; a selfish man is 10\\nsceptical about friendship, as a man with no ear\\ndoesn t care for music. A frightful self-conscious-\\nness it must have been, which looked on mankind\\nso darkly through those keen eyes of Swift.\\nA remarkable story is told by Scott, of Delany, 15\\nwho interrupted Archbishop King and Swift in a\\nconversation which left the prelate in tears, and\\nfrom which Swift rushed away with marks of strong\\nterror and agitation in his countenance, upon which\\nthe Archbishop said to Delany, You have just 20\\nmet the most unhappy man on earth; but on the\\nsubject of his wretchedness you must never ask a\\nquestion.\\nThe most unhappy man on earth; Miser rimus\\nwhat a character of him And at this time all the 25\\ngreat wits of England had been at his feet. All\\nIreland had shouted after him, and worshipped him\\nas a liberator, a saviour, the greatest Irish patriot\\nand citizen. Dean Drapier Bickerstafif Gulliver\\nThis remarkable story came to Scott from an unnamed friend of 3^\\nDelany s widow. It has been supposed to confirm the conjecture\\nabout his natural relationship to Stella; but, even if correctly re-\\nported, is open to any number of interpretations.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 39\\nthe most famous statesmen and the greates t poets of\\nhis day had applauded him and done him homage;\\nand at this time, writing over to BoHngbr,oke from\\nIreland, he says, It is time forme to have done with\\n5 the world, and so I would if I could get into a bet-\\nter before I was called into the best, and not die\\nhere in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.\\nWe have spoken about the men, and Swift s be-\\nhaviour to them; and now it behoves us not to for-\\nloget that there are certain other persons in the crea-\\ntion who had rather intimate relations with the\\ngreat Dean. Two women whom he loved and in-\\njured are known by every reader of books so\\nfamiliarly that if we had seen them, or if they had\\n15 been relatives of our own, we scarcely could have\\nknown them better. Who hasn t in his mind an\\nimage of Stella? Who does not love her? Fair\\nand tender creature: pure and affectionate heart!\\nThe name of Varina has been thrown into the shade by those\\n20of the famous Stella and Vanessa; but she had a story of her own\\nto tell about the blue eyes of young Jonathan. One may say that\\nthe book of Swift s Life opens at places kept by these blighted\\nflowers Varina must have a paragraph.\\nShe was a Miss Jane Waryng, sister to a college chum of his. In\\n25 1696, when Swift was nineteen years old, we find him writing a love-\\nletter to her, beginning, Impatience is the most inseparable quality\\nof a lover. But absence made a great diflference in his feelings;\\nso, four years afterwards, the tone is changed. He writes again, a\\nvery curious letter, offering to marry her, and putting the offer in\\n30 such a way that nobody could possibly accept it.\\nAfter dwelling on his poverty, c., he says, conditionally, I\\nshall be blessed to have you in my arms, without regarding whether\\nyour person be beautiful, or your fortune large. Cleanliness in the\\nfirst, and competency in the second, is all I ask for\\n35 The editors do not .ell us what became of Varina in life. One\\nwould be glad to know that she met with some worthy partner, and\\nlived long enough to see her little boys laughing over Lilliput,\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0without any arrtere pensee of a sad character about the great\\nPean", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "40 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\n1\\nBoots it to you, now that you have been at rest for\\na hundred and twenty years, not divided in deatli 1\\nfrom the cold heart whicli caused yours, wliilst f\\nit beat, such faithful pangs of love and grief\\nboots it to you now, that the whole world loves 5\\nand deplores you? Scarce any man, I believe, ever\\nthought of that grave, that did not cast a flower of\\npity on it, and write over it a sweet epitaph. Gentle\\nlady, so lovely, so loving, so unhappy! you have\\nhad countless champions; millions of manly hearts 10\\nmourning for you. From generation to generation\\nwe take up the fond tradition of your beauty, we\\nwatch and follow your tragedy, your bright morn-\\ning love and purity, your constancy, your grief,\\nyour sweet martyrdom. We know your legend by 15\\nheart. You are one of the saints of English story.\\nAnd if Stella s love and innocence are charming\\nto contemplate, I will say that, in spite of ill-usage,\\nin spite of drawbacks, in spite of mysterious sep-\\naration and union, of hope delayed and sickened 20\\nheart in the teeth of Vanessa, and that little\\nepisodical aberration which plunged Swift into such\\nwoeful pitfalls and quagmires of amorous per-\\nplexity in spite of the verdicts of most women, I\\nbelieve, who, as far as my experience and conversa- 25\\ntion go, generally take Vanessa s part in the con-\\ntroversy in spite of the tears w^hich Swift caused\\nStella to shed, and the rocks and barriers which\\nfate and temper interposed, and which prevented\\nthe pure course of that true love from running 30\\nsmoothly the brightest part of Swift s story, the\\npure star in that dark and tempestuous life of", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 41\\nSwift s, is his love for Hester Johnson. It has been\\nmy business, professionally of course, to go through\\na deal of sentimental reading in my time, and to ac-\\nquaint myself with love-making, as it has been de-\\n5 scribed in various languages, and at various ages of\\nthe world; and I know of nothing more manly,\\nmore tender, more exquisitely touching, than some\\nof these brief notes, written in what Swift calls his\\nlittle language in his journal to Stella.* He writes\\n10 to her night and morning often. He never sends\\naway a letter to her but he begins a new one on the\\nsame day. He can t bear to let go her kind little\\nhand, as it were. He knows that she is thinking of\\nhim, and longing for him far away in Dublin yon-\\n15 der. He takes her letters from under his pillow and\\ntalks to them, familiarly, paternally, with fond\\nepithets and pretty caresses as he would to the\\nsweet and artless creature who loved him. Stay,*\\nhe writes one morning it is the 14th of December\\n20 1710 Stay, I will answer some of your letter this\\nmorning in bed. Let me see. Come and appear,\\nlittle letter! Here I am, says he, and what say you\\nto Stella this morning fresh and fasting? And can\\nA sentimental Champollion might find a good deal of matter for\\n25 his art, in expounding the symbols of the Little Language.\\nUsually, Stella is M.D., but sometimes her companion, Mrs.\\nDingley, is included in it. Swift is Presto also P.D.F.R. We\\nhave Good-night, M.D.; Night, M.D.; Little M.D.; Stellakins;\\nPretty Stella; Dear, roguish, impudent, pretty M.D. Every now\\n30 and then he breaks into rhyme, as\\nI wish you both a merry new year,\\nRoast-beef, mince-pies, and good strong beer,\\nAnd me a share of your good cheer,\\nThat I was there, as you were here,\\n35 And you are a little saucy dear.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "42 ENGLISH HUMOWRISrS\\nStella read this writing without hurting her dear\\neyes? he goes on, after more kind prattle and\\nfond whispering. The dear eyes shine clearly upon\\nhim then the good angel of his life is with him\\nand blessing him. Ah, it was a hard fate that wrung 5\\nfrom them so many tears, and stabbed pitilessly\\nthat pure and tender bosom. A hard fate: but\\nwould she have changed it? I have heard a woman\\nsay that she would have taken Swift s cruelty to\\nhave had his tenderness. He had a sort of worship lo\\nfor her whilst he wounded her. He speaks of her\\nafter she is gone; of her wit, of her kindness, of hei\\ngrace, of her beauty, with a simple love and rever-\\nence that are indescribably touching; in contem-\\nplation of her goodness his hard heart melts into 1 5\\npathos; his cold rhyme kindles and glows into\\npoetry, and he falls down on his knees, so to speak,\\nbefore the angel whose life he had embittered, con-\\nfesses his own wretchedness and unworthiness, and\\nadores her with cries of remorse and love: 20\\nWhen on my sickly couch I lay,\\nImpatient both of night and day,\\nAnd groaning in unmanly strains,\\nCalled every power to ease my pains,\\nThen Stella ran to my relief, 25\\nWith cheerful face and inward grief.\\nAnd though by Heaven s severe decree\\nShe suffers hourly more than me.\\nNo cruel master could require\\nFrom slaves employed for daily hire, 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nWhat Stella, by her friendship warmed,\\nWith vigour and delight performed.\\nNow, with a soft and silent tread,\\nUnheard she moves about my bed:\\nMy sinking spirits now supplies 35\\nWith cordials in her hands and eyes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 43\\nBest pattern of true friends beware\\nYou pay too dearly for your care\\nIf, while your tenderness secures\\nMy life, it must endanger yours:\\n5 For such a fool was never found\\nWho pulled a palace to the ground.\\nOnly to have the ruins made\\nMaterials for a house decayed.\\nOne little triumph Stella had in her life one\\nlodear little piece of injustice was performed in her\\nfavour, for which I confess, for my part, I can t help\\nthanking fate and the Dean. That other person was\\nsacrificed to her that\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that young woman, who\\nlived five doors from Doctor Swift s lodgings in\\n15 Bury Street, and who flattered him, and made love\\nto him in such an outrageous manner Vanessa\\nwas thrown over.\\nSwift did not keep Stella s letters to him in reply\\nto those he wrote to her.* He kept Bolingbroke s,\\n20 The following passages are from a paper begun by Swift on the\\nevening of the day of her death, Jan. 28, 1727-28:\\nShe was sickly from her childhood, until about the age of fifteen;\\nbut then she grew into perfect health, and was looked upon as\\none of the most beautiful, graceful, and agreeable young women in\\n25 London\u00e2\u0080\u0094 only a little too fat. Her hair was blacker than a raven,\\nand every feature of her face in perfection.\\nProperly speaking he goes on, with a calmness which,\\nunder the circumstances, is terrible she has been dying six\\nmonths\\n-^O Never was any of her sex born with better gifts of the mind,\\nor who more improved them by reading and conversation. All\\nof us who had the happiness of her friendship agreed unanimously,\\nthat in an afternoon s or evening s conversation she never failed\\nbefore we parted of delivering the best thing that was said in the\\n35 company. Some of us have written down several of her sayings,\\nor what the French nail bons mots, wherein she excelled beyond\\nbelief.\\nThe specimens on record, however, in the Dean s paper, called\\nBon Mots de Stella, scarcely bear out this last part of the\\n40 panegyric. But the following prove her wit:\\nA gentleman who had been very silly and pert in her company,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "44 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nand Pope s, and Harley s, and Peterborough s: but\\nStella very carefully, the Lives say, kept Swift s.\\nOf course: that is the way of the world: and so\\nwe cannot tell what her style was, or of what sort\\nwere the little letters which the Doctor placed there 5\\nat night, and bade to appear from under his pillow\\nof a morning. But in Letter IV. of that famous\\ncollection he describes his lodging in Bury Street,\\nwhere he has the first-floor, a dining-room and\\nbed-chamber, at eight shillings a week; and in Let- 10\\nter VL he says he has visited a lady just come to\\ntown, whose name somehow is not mentioned;\\nand in Letter VIIL he enters a query of Stella s\\nWhat do you mean that boards near me, that 1\\ndine with now and then. What the deuce! You 15\\nknow whom I have dined with every day since I left\\nyou, better than I do. Of course she does. Of\\ncourse Swift has not the slightest idea of what she\\nmeans. But in a few letters more it turns out that\\nat last began to grieve at remembering the loss of a child lately 20\\ndead. A bishop sitting by comforted him\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that he should be easy,\\nbecause the child was gone to heaven. No, my Lord, said she;\\nthat is it which most grieves him, because he is sure never to see\\nhis child there.\\nWhen she was extremely ill, her physician said, Madam, you 25\\nare near the bottom of the hill, but we will endeavour to get you\\nup again. She answered, Doctor, I fear I shall be out of breath\\nbefore I get up to the top.\\nA very dirty clergyman of her acquaintance, who aflfected smart-\\nness and repartees, was asked by some of the company how his30\\nnails came to be so dirty. He was at a loss; but she solved the\\ndifficulty by saying, The Doctor s nails grew dirty by scratching\\nhimself.\\nA Quaker apothecary sent her a vial, corked; it had a broad\\nbrim, and a label of paper about its neck. What is that \u00e2\u0080\u0094said 35\\nshe my apothecary s son The ridiculous resemblance, and the\\nsuddenness of the question, set us all a-laughing. 5 wt// .y IVorks,\\nScott s ed. vol. ix. 295-96.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 45\\nthe Doctor has been to dine gravely with a Mrs.\\nVanhomrigh: then that he has been to his neigh-\\nbour then that he has been unwell, and means to\\ndine for the whole week with his neighbour! Stella\\n5 was quite right in her previsions. She saw from the\\nvery first hint what was going to happen; and\\nscented Vanessa in the air.* The rival is at the\\nDean s feet. The pupil and teacher are reading to-\\ngether, and drinking tea together, and going to\\nlo prayers together, and learning Latin together, and\\nconjugating amo, amas, amavi together. The lit-\\ntle language is over for poor Stella. By the rule\\nof grammar and the course of conjugation, doesn t\\nmnavi come after amo and amas?\\n15 The loves of Cadenus and Vanessa f you may\\nperuse in Cadenus s own poem on the subject, and\\nin poor Vanessa s vehement expostulatory verses\\nand letters to him; she adores him, implores him,\\nadmires him, thinks him something god-like, and\\n20 only prays to be admitted to lie at his feet. if As they\\nI am so hot and lazy after my morning s walk, that I loitered\\nat Mrs. Vanhomrigh s, where my best gown and periwig was, and\\nout of mere listlessness dine there very often; so I did to-day.\\nJournal to Stella.\\n25 Mrs. Vanhomrigh, Vanessa s mother, was the widow of a\\nDutch merchant who held lucrative appointments in King William s\\ntime. The family settled in London in 1709, and had a house in\\nBury Street, St. James s\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a street made notable by such residents\\nas Swift and Steele; and, in our own time, Moore and Crabbe.\\n30 t Vanessa was excessively vain. The character given of her\\nby Cadenus is fine painting, but in general fictitious. She was fond\\nof dress; impatient to be admirdd; very romantic in her turn of\\nmind; superior, in her own opinion, to all her sex; full of pertness,\\ngaiety, and pride; not without some agreeable accomplishments,\\n35 but far from being either beautiful or genteel; happy in the\\nthoughts of being reported Swift s concubine, but still aiming and\\nintending to be his wife. LorJ Orrery.\\nX You bid me be easy, and you would see me as often as you", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "4^ ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nare bringing him home from church, those divine\\nfeet of Doctor Swift s are found pretty often in\\nVanessa s parlour. He Hkes to be admired and\\nadored. He finds Miss Vanhomrigh to be a woman\\nof great taste and spirit, and beauty and wit, and a 5\\nfortune too. He sees her every day; he does not\\ntell Stella about the business; until the impetuous\\nVanessa becomes too fond of him, until the Doctor\\nis quite frightened by the young woman s ardour,\\nand confounded by her warmth. He wanted to 10\\nmarry neither of them that I believe was the truth;\\nbut if he had not married Stella, Vanessa would\\nhave had him in spite of himself. When he went\\nback to Ireland, his Ariadne, not content to remain\\nin her isle, pursued the fugitive Dean. In vain he 15\\nprotested, he vowed, he soothed, and bullied; the\\nnews of the Dean s marriage with Stella at last\\ncould. You had better have said, as often as you can get the better\\nof your inclinations so much; or as often as you remember there\\nwas such a one in the world. If you continue to treat me as you 20\\ndo, you will not be made uneasy by me long. It is impossible to\\ndescribe what I have suffered since I saw you last: I am sure I\\ncould have borne the rack much better than those killing words of\\nyours. Sometimes I have resolved to die without seeing you\\nmore; but those resolves, to your misfortune, did not last long; for 25\\nthere is something in human nature that prompts one so to find\\nrelief in this world I must give way to it, and beg you would see\\nme, and speak kindly to me; for I am sure you d not condemn any\\none to suffer what I have done, could you but know it. The reason\\nI write to you is, because I cannot tell it to you should I see you; 30\\nfor when I begin to complain, then you are angry, and there is\\nsomething in your looks so awful that it strikes me dumb. Oh\\nthat you may have but so much regard for me left that this com-\\nplaint may touch your soul with pity. I say as little as ever I can;\\ndid you but know what I thought, I am sure it would move you to 35\\nforgive me; and believe I cannot help telling you this and live.\\nVanessa. (M. 1714.)", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 47\\ncame to her, and it killed her she died of that\\npassion.*\\nIf we consider Swift s behaviour, so far only as it relates to\\nwomen, we shall find that he looked upon them rather as busts than\\n5 as whole figures. Orrery.\\nYou would have smiled to have found his house a constant\\nseraglio of very virtuous women, who attended him from morning\\ntill night. Orrery.\\nA correspondent of Sir Walter Scott s furnished him with the\\nlO materials on which to found the following interesting passage about\\nVanessa after she had retired to cherish her passion in retreat:\\nMarley Abbey, near Celbridge, where Miss Vanhomrigh resided,\\nis built much in the form of a real cloister, especially in its external\\nappearance. An aged man (upwards of ninety, by his own account)\\n15 showed the grounds to my correspondent. He was the son of Mrs.\\nVanhomrigh s gardener, and used to work with his father in the\\ngarden when a boy. He remembered the unfortunate Vanessa well;\\nand his account of her corresponded with the usual description of\\nher person, especially as to her embonpoint. He said she went sel-\\n20 dom abroad, and saw little company: her constant amusement was\\nreading, or walking in the garden. She avoided company, and\\nwas always melancholy, save when Dean Swift was there, and then\\nshe seemed happy. The garden was to an uncommon degree\\ncrowded with laurels. The old man said that when Miss Van-\\n25 homrigh expected the Dean she always planted with her own hand\\na laurel or two against his arrival. He showed her favourite seat,\\nstill called Vanessa s bower. Three or four trees and some laurels\\nindicate the spot. There were two seats and a rude table within\\nthe bower, the opening of which commanded a view of the Liffey.\\n30. In this sequestered spot, according to the old gardener s ac-\\ncount, the Dean and Vanessa used often to sit, with books and\\nwriting-materials on the table before them. Scott s Swift, vol. i.\\npp. 246-7.\\nBut Miss Vanhomrigh, irritated at the situation in which\\n35 she found herself, determined on bringing to a crisis those expecta-\\ntions of a tmion with the object of her afifections to the hope of\\nwhich she had clung amid every vicissitude of his conduct towards\\nher. The most probable bar was his undefined connection with\\nMrs. Johnson, which, as it must have been perfectly known to her,\\n4c had, doubtless, long excited her secret jealousy, although only a\\nsingle hint to that purpose is to be found in their correspondence,\\nand that so early as 1713, when she writes to him then in Ireland\\nIf you are very happy, it is ill-natured of you not to tell me so,\\nexcept tis what is inconsistent with mine. Her silence and patience\\n45 under this state of uncertainty for no less than eight years, must\\nhave been partly owing to her awe for Swift, and partly, perhaps,\\nto the weak state of her rival s health, which, from year to year,\\nseemed to announce speedy dissolution. At length, however,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "48 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nAnd when she died, and Stella heard that Swift\\nhad written beautifully regarding her, That\\ndoesn t surprise me/ said Mrs. Stella, for we all\\nknow the Dean could write beautifully about a\\nbroomstick. A woman a true woman! Would 5\\nyou have had one of them forgive the other?\\nIn a note in his biography, Scott says that his\\nfriend Doctor Tuke, of Dublin, has a lock of Stella s\\nhair, enclosed in a paper by Swift, on which are\\nwritten in the Dean s hand, the words: Only a 10\\nzvommi s hair. An instance, says Scott, of the\\nDean s desire to veil his feelings under the mask of\\ncynical indifference.\\nSee the various notions of critics! Do those\\nwords indicate indifference or an attempt to hide 1 5\\nfeeling? Did you ever hear or read four words\\nmore pathetic? Only a woman s hair; only love,\\nVanessa s impatience prevailed, and she ventured on the decisive\\nstep of writing to Mrs. Johnson herself, requesting to know the\\nnature of that connection. Stella, in reply, informed her of her20\\nmarriage with the Dean; and full of the highest resentment against\\nSwift for having given another female such a right in him as Miss\\nVanhomrigh s inquiries implied, she sent to him her rival s letter\\nof interrogation, and without seeing him, or awaiting his reply, re-\\ntired to the house of Mr. Ford, near Dublin. Every reader knows 25\\nthe consequence. Swift, in one of those paroxysms of fury to which\\nhe was liable, both from temper and disease, rode instantly to\\nMarley Abbey. As he entered the apartment, the sternness of his\\ncountenance, which was peculiarly formed to express the fiercer\\npassions, struck the unfortunate Vanessa with such terror that she30\\ncould scarce ask whether he would not sit down. He answered\\nby flinging a letter on the table, and, instantly leaving the house,\\nmounted his horse, and returned to Dublin. When Vanessa opened\\nthe packet, she only found her own letter to Stella. It was her\\ndeath-warrant. She sunk at once under the disappointment of the 35\\ndelayed yet cherished hopes which had so long sickened her heart,\\nand beneath the unrestrained wrath of him for whose sake she had\\nindulged them. How long she survived this last interview is un-\\ncertain, but the time does not seem to have exceeded a few weeks.\\n^Scott. 40", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "SWIFT 49\\nonly fidelity, only purity, innocence, beauty; only\\nthe tenderest heart in the world stricken and\\nwounded, and passed away now out of reach of\\npangs of hope deferred, love insulted, and pitiless\\n5 desertion only that lock of hair left and memory\\nand remorse, for the guilty lonely wretch, shudder-\\ning over the grave of his victim.*\\nAnd yet to have had so much love, he must have\\ngiven some. Treasures of wit and wisdom, and\\nlo tenderness, too, must that man have had locked up\\nin the caverns of his gloomy heart, and shown fit-\\nfully to one or two whom he took in there. But it\\nwas not good to visit that place. People did not re-\\nmain .there long, and suffered for having been\\n15 there. t He shrank away from all affection sooner\\nor later. Stella and Vanessa both died near him,\\nand away from him. He had not heart enough to\\nsee them die. He broke from his fastest friend.,\\nSheridan; he slunk away from his fondest admirer,\\n20 Pope. His laugh jars on one s ear after seven\\nscore years. He was always alone alone and\\ngnashing in the darkness, except when Stella s\\nsweet smile came and shone upon him. When that\\nThackeray wrote to Hayward, who had said something of this\\n25 lecture when originally delivered, and had apparently misunderstood\\nthis passage, that the phrase quoted seemed to him to be the most\\naffecting words I ever heard, indicating the truest love, passion, and\\nremorse. Hayward Correspondence, i. 119.\\nt M. Swift est Rabelais dans son bon sens, et vivant en bonne\\n30 compagnie. II n a pas, a la verite, la gaite du premier, mais il a\\ntoute la finesse, la raison, le choix, le bon gout qui manquent a\\nnotre cure de Meudon. Ses vers sont d un goiit singulier, et presque\\ninimitable; la bonne plaisanterie est son partage en vers et en prose;\\nmais pour le bien entendre il faut faire un petit voyage dans son\\n35 pays. Voltaire; Lettres sur les Anglais. Lettre XX.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "50 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwent, silence and utter night closed over him. An\\nimmense genius: an awful downfall and ruin. So\\ngreat a man he seems to me, that thinking of him\\nis like thinking of an empire falling. We have\\nother great names to mention none I think, how-\\never, so great or so gloomy.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "Comvcvc anb HbMson\\nA great number of years ago, before the passing\\nof the Reform Bill, there existed at Cambridge a\\ncertain debating club, called the Union and I\\nremember that there was a tradition amongst the\\n5 undergraduates who frequented that renowned\\nschool of oratory, that the great leaders of the Op-\\nposition and Government had their eyes upon the\\nUniversity Debating Club, and that if a man dis-\\ntinguished himself there he ran some chance of be-\\nloing returned to Parliament as a great nobleman s\\nnominee. So Jones of John s, or Thomson of Trin-\\nity, would rise in their might, and draping them-\\nselves in their gowns, rally round the monarchy, or\\nhurl defiance at priests and kings, with the majesty\\n15 of Pitt or the fire of Mirabeau, fancying all the while\\nthat the great nobleman s emissary was listening to\\nthe debate from the back benches, where he was\\nsitting with the family seat in his pocket. Indeed,\\nthe legend said that one or two young Cambridge\\n20 men, orators of the Union, were actually caught\\nup thence, and carried down to Cornwall or Old\\nSarum, and so into Parliament. And many a young\\nfellow deserted the jogtrot University curriculum,\\nto hang on in the dust behind the fervid wheels of\\n25 the parliamentary chariot.\\n51", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "52 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nWhere, I have often wondered, were the sons of\\nPeers and Members of Parhament in Anne s and\\nGeorge s time? Were they all in the army, or hunt-\\ning in the country, or boxing the watch? How\\nwas it that the young gentlemen from the Univer- 5\\nsity got such a prodigious number of places? A\\nlad composed a neat copy of verses at Christchurch\\nor Trinity, in which the death of a great personage\\nwas bemoaned, the French King assailed, the\\nDutch or Prince Eugene complimented, or the re- lo\\nverse; and the party in power was presently to pro-\\nvide for the young poet; and a commissionershif\\nor a post in the Stamps, or the secretaryship of an\\nEmbassy, or a clerkship in the Treasury, came into\\nthe bard s possession. A wonderful fruit-bearing i5 j\\nrod was that of Busby s. What have men of letters\\ngot in our time? Think, not only of Swift, a king\\nfit to rule in any time or empire but Addison,\\nSteele, Prior, Tickell, Congreve, John Gay, John\\nDennis, and many others, who got public employ- 20\\nment, and pretty little pickings out of the public\\npurse.* The wits of whose names we shall treat in\\nthis lecture and two following, all (save one)\\nThe following is a conspectus of them\\nAddison.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Commissioner of Appeals; Under-Secretary of State; 25\\nSecretary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland;\\nKeeper of the Records in Ireland; Lord of Trade;\\nand one of the Principal Secretaries of State, suc-\\ncessively.\\nSteele.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Commissioner of the Stamp Office; Surveyor of the Royal 30\\nStables at Hampton Court; and Governor of the\\nRoyal Company of Comedians; Commissioner of\\nForfeited Estates in Scotland.\\nPrior.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Secretary of the Embassy at the Hague; Gentleman of the\\nBed-chamber to King William; Secretary to the 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 53\\ntouched the King s coin, and had, at some period\\nof their Hves, a happy quarter-day coming round\\nfor them.\\nThey all began at school or college in the regular\\n5 way, producing panegyrics upon public characters,\\nwhat were called odes upon public events, battles,\\nsieges. Court marriages and deaths, in which the\\ngods of Olympus and the tragic muse were fatigued\\nwith invocations, according to the fashion of the\\nlo time in France and in England. Aid us, Mars,\\nBacchus, Apollo, cried Addison, or Congreve,\\nsinging of William or Marlborough. Accourez,\\nchastes nymphes du Permesse, says Boileau, cele-\\nbrating the Grand Monarch. Des sons que ma\\n15 lyre enfante ces arbres sont rejouis; marquez-en\\nbien la cadence; et vous, vents, faites silence! je\\nvais parler de Louis! Schoolboys themes and\\nfoundation exercises are the only relics left now\\nof this scholastic fashion. The Olympians are left\\n20 quite ilndisturbed in their mountain. What man\\nof note, what contributor to the poetry of a country\\nnewspaper, would now think of writing a congratu-\\nEmbassy in France; Under-Secretary of State;\\nAmbassador to France.\\n25 TiCKELL. Under-Secretary of State; Secretary to the Lords Justices\\nof Ireland.\\nCoNGREViE. Commissioner for licensing Hackney-Coaches; Com-\\nmissioner for Wine Licences; place in the Pipe\\nOffice; post in the Custom House; Secretary of\\n30 Jamaica.\\nGay. Secretary to the Earl of Clarendon (when Ambassador to\\nHanover).\\nJohn Dennis.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 A place in the Custom House.\\nEn Angleterre les lettres sont plus en honneur qu ici.\\n35 Voltaire: Lettres sur les Anglais. Lettre XX.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "54 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nlatory ode on the birth of the heir to a dukedom, or\\nthe marriage of a nobleman? In the past century\\nthe young gentlemen of the Universities all exer-\\ncised themselves at these queer compositions; and\\nsome got fame, and some gained patrons and places 5\\nfor life, and many more took nothing by these ef-\\nforts of what they were pleased to call their muses.\\nWilliam Congreve s Pindaric Odes are still to\\nbe found in Johnson s Poets, that now unfre-\\nquented poets -corner, in which so many forgotten lo\\nbigwigs have a niche; but though he was also\\nvoted to be one of the greatest tragic poets of any\\nday, it was Congreve s wit and humour which hrst\\nrecommended him to courtly fortune. And it is re-\\ncorded that his first play, the Old Bachelor, 5\\nbrought our author to the notice of that great\\npatron of English muses, Charles Montague, Lord\\nHalifax who, being desirous to place so eminent\\na wit in a state of ease and tranquillity, instantly\\nmade him one of the Commissioners for licensing 20\\nhackney-coaches, bestowed on him soon after a\\nplace in the Pipe Ofhce, and likewise a post in the\\nCustom House of the value of \u00c2\u00a36oo.t\\nA commissionership of hackney-coaches a post\\nin the Custom House a place in the Pipe Office, 25\\nand all for writing a comedy! Doesn t it sound\\nHke a fable, that place in the Pipe Office? Ah,\\nHe was the son of Colonel William Congreve, and grandson of\\nRichard Congreve, Esquire, of Congreve and Stretton in Stafford-\\nshire\u00e2\u0080\u0094a very ancient family. 30\\nt The Old Bachelor u as produced January 1693. Congreve was\\nmade Commissioner of Hackney-Coaches in 1695.\\nX Pipe.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Fj a, in law, is a roll in the Exchequer, called also the\\ngreat roll.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "CONG RE VE AND ADDISON 55\\nriieureux temps que celui de ces fables Men of\\nletters there still be: but I doubt whether any Pipe\\nOffices are left. The public has smoked them long\\nago.\\n5 Words, like men, pass current for a while with\\nthe public, and, being known everywhere abroad,\\nat length take their places in society; so even the\\nmost secluded and refined ladies here present will\\nhave heard the phrase from their sons or brothers\\n10 at school, and will permit me to call William Con-\\ngreve, Esquire, the most eminent literary swell\\nof his age. In my copy of Johnson s Lives Con-\\ngreve s wig is the tallest, and put on with the jaun-\\ntiest air of all the laurelled worthies. I am the\\n15 great Mr. Congreve, he seems to say, looking out\\nfrom his voluminous curls. People called him the\\ngreat Mr. Congreve.* From the beginning of his\\ncareer until the end everybody admired him. Hav-\\nPipe Office is an office in which a person called the Clerk of the\\n20 Pipe makes out leases of Crown lands, by warrant from the Lord\\nTreasurer, or Commissioners of the Treasury, or Chancellor of the\\nExchequer.\\nClerk of the Pipe makes up all accounts of sheriffs, c.\\nRees: Cyclopced. Art. Pipe.\\n25 Pipe Office. Spelman thinks so called, because the papers were\\nkept in a large pipe or cask.\\nThese be at last brought into that office of her Majesty s\\nExchequer, which we, by a metaphor, do call the pipe because\\nthe whole receipt is finally conveyed into it by means of divers small\\n30 pipes or quills. Bacon The Office of Alienations.\\n[We are indebted to Richardson s Dictionary for this fragment of\\nerudition. But a modern man of letters can know little on these\\npoints by experience.]\\nIt has been observed that no change of Ministers affected him\\n35 in the least; nor was he ever removed from any post that was\\ngiven to him, except to a better. His place in the Custom House,\\nand his office of Secretary in Jamaica, are said to have brought\\nhim in upwards of twelve hundred a year. Biog. Brit. Art.\\nCongreve.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "56 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\n1\\ning got his education in Ireland, at the same school\\nand college with Swift, he came to live in the Mid\\ndie Temple, London, where he luckily bestowed no\\nattention to the law; but splendidly frequented the\\ncoffee-houses and theatres, and appeared in the 5\\nside-box, the tavern, the Piazza, and the Mall, bril-\\nliant, beautiful, and victorious from the first.\\nEverybody acknowledged the young chieftain. The\\ngreat Mr. Dryden declared that he was equal to\\nShakspeare, and bequeathed to him his own un-io\\ndisputed poetical crown, and writes of him Mr.\\nDryden addressed his twelfth epistle to My dear friend,\\nMr. Congreve, on his comedy called the Double Dealer, in which he\\nsays\\nGreat Jonson did by strength of judgment please; 15\\nYet, doubling Fletcher s force, he wants his ease.\\nIn differing talents both adorned their age:\\nOne for the study, t other for the stage.\\nBut both to Congreve justly shall submit.\\nOne match d in judgment, both o ermatched in wit. 20\\nIn him all beauties of this age we see, c. c.\\nThe Double Dealer, however, was not so palpable a hit as the Old\\nBachelor, but, at first, met with opposition. The critics having\\nfallen foul of it, our Swell applied the scourge to that pre-\\nsumptuous body, in the Epistle Dedicatory to the Right Hon-2\\ncurable Charles Montague.\\nI was conscious, said he, where a true critic mignt have put\\nme upon my defence. I was prepared for the attack but I\\nhave not heard anything said sufficient to provoke an answer.\\nHe goes on\u00e2\u0080\u0094 30\\nBut there is one thing at which I am more concerned than all\\nthe false criticisms that are made upon me; and that is, some of the\\nladies are offended. I am heartily sorry for it; for I declare, I\\nwould rather disoblige all the critics in the world than one of the\\nfair sex. They are concerned that I have represented some women 35\\nvicious and affected. How can I help it It is the business of a\\npomic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind. I\\nshould be very glad of an opportunity to make my compliments to\\nthose ladies who are offended. But they can no more expect it in\\na comedy, than to be tickled by a surgeon when he is letting their 4^\\nblood,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISQN 5/\\nCongreve has done me the favour to review the\\n^neis and compare my version with the original.\\nI shall never be ashamed to own that this excellent\\nyoung man has showed me many faults which I\\n5 have endeavoured to correct.\\nThe excellent young man was but three or\\nfour and twenty when the great Dryden thus spoke\\nof him: the greatest literary chief in England, the\\nveteran field-marshal of letters, himself the marked\\nloman of all Europe, and the centre of a^school of\\nwits who daily gathered round his chair and to-\\nbacco-pipe at Will s. Pope dedicated his Iliad\\nto him;* Swift, Addison, Steele, all acknowledge\\nCongreve s rank, and lavish compliments upon him.\\n15 Voltaire went to wait upon him as on one of the Rep-\\nresentatives of Literature and the man who scarce\\npraises any other living person who flung abuse\\nat Pope, and Swift, and Steele, and Addison the\\nGrub Street Timon, old John Dennis,t was hat in\\n20 hand to Mr. Congreve; and said that when he re-\\ntired from the stage. Comedy went with him.\\nInstead of endeavouring to raise a vain monument to myself,\\nlet me leave behind me a memorial of my friendship with one of the\\nmost valuable men as well as finest writers of my age and country\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\n25 one who has tried, and knows by his own experience, how hard an\\nundertaking it is to do justice to Homer\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and one who, I am sure,\\nseriously rejoices with me at the period of my labours. To him,\\ntherefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, I desire\\nto dedicate it, and to have the honour and satisfaction of placing\\n30 together in this manner the names of Mr. Congreve and of\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nA. FoTE. Postscript to Translation of the Iliad of Homer, March 25,\\n1720.\\nt When asked why he listened to the praises of Dennis, he\\nsaid he had much rather be flattered than abused. Swift had a\\n35 particular friendship for our author, and generously took him under\\nhis protection in his high authoritative manner. Thos. Davies;\\nDramatic Miscellanies.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "55 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nNor was he less victorious elsewhere. He was\\nadmired in the drawing-rooms as well as the coffee-\\nhouses; as much beloved in the side-box as on the\\nstage. He loved, and concjuered, and jilted the\\nbeautiful Bracegirdle,* the heroine of all his plays, 5\\nthe favourite of all the town of her day; and the\\nDuchess of Marlborough, Marlborough s daughter,\\nhad such an admiration of him, that when he died\\nshe had an ivory figure made to imitate him,t and\\na large wax doll with gouty feet to be dressed just 10\\nas the great Congreve s gouty feet were dressed in\\nhis great lifetime. He saved some money by his\\nPipe office, and his Custom House office, and his\\nHackney-Coach office, and nobly left it,J not to\\nCongreve was very intimate for years with Mrs. Bracegirdle, 15\\nand lived in the same street, his house very near hers, until his\\nacquaintance with the young Duchess of Marlborough. He then\\nquitted that house. The Duchess showed me a diamond necklace\\n(which Lady Di used afterwards to wear) that cost seven thousand\\npounds, and was purchased with the money Congreve left her. 20\\nHow much better would it have been to have given it to poor Mrs.\\nBracegirdle. Dr. Young. Spcncc s Anecdotes.\\nt A glass was put in the hand of the statue, which was sup-\\nposed to bow to her Grace and to nod in approbation of what she\\nspoke to it. Thos. Davies: Dramatic Miscellanies. 25\\nt The sum Congreve left Mrs. Bracegirdle was \u00c2\u00a3200, as is said in\\nthe Dramatic Miscellanies of Tom Davies; where are some particu-\\nlars about this charming actress and beautiful woman.\\nShe had a lively aspect, says Tom, on the authority of Cibber,\\nand such a glow of health and cheerfulness in her countenance, 30\\nas inspired everybody with desire. Scarce an audience saw her\\nthat were not half of them her lovers.\\nCongreve and Rowe courted her in the persons of their lovers.\\nIn Tamerlane, Rowe courted her Selima, in the person of\\nAxalla Congreve insinuated his addresses in his Valentine to 35\\nher Angelica, in Love for Love in his Osmyn to her Almena, in the\\nMourning Bride; and, lastly, in his Mirabel to her Millamant, in the\\nWay of the World. Mirabel, the fine gentleman of the play, is, I\\nbelieve, not very distant from the real character of Congreve.\\nDramatic Miscellanies, vol. iii. 1784. 40\\nShe retired from the stage when Mrs, Oldfield began to be the", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISON 59\\nBracegirdle, who wanted it, but to the Duchess of\\nMarlborough, who didn t.*\\nHow can I introduce to you that merry and\\nshameless Comic Muse who won him such a repu-\\nStation? Nell Gwynn s servant fought the other\\nfootman for having called his mistress a bad name;\\nand in like manner, and with pretty little epithets,\\nJeremy Collier attacked that godless reckless Jeze-\\nbel, the English comedy of his time, and called her\\nlowhat Nell Gwynn s man s fellow-servants called\\nNell Gwynn s man s mistress. The servants of the\\ntheatre, Dryden, Congreve,t and others, defended\\npublic favourite. She died in 1748, in the eighty-fifth year of her\\nage.\\n15 Johnson calls his legacy the accumulation of attentive parsi-\\nmony, which, he continues, though to her (the Duchess) super-\\nfluous and useless, might have given great assistance to the ancient\\nfamily from which he descended, at that time, by the imprudence\\nof his relation, reduced to difficulties and distress. Lwf.y of the\\n^opoets.\\nt He replied to Collier, in the pamphlet called Amendments of Mr.\\nCollier s False and Imperfect Citations, c. A specimen or two are\\nsubjoined:\\nThe greater part of these examples which he has produced are\\n25 only demonstrations of his own impurity: they only savour of his\\nutterance,. and were sweet enough till tainted by his breath.\\nWhere the expression is unblameable in its own pure and genuine\\nsignification, he enters into it, himself, like the evil spirit; he\\npossesses the innocent phrase, and makes it bellow forth his own\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a25*- blasphemies.\\nIf I do not return him civilities in calling him names, it is be-\\ncause I am not very well versed in his nomenclatures. I will\\nonly call him Mr. Collier, and that I will call him as often as I think\\nhe shall deserve it.\\n35 The corruption of a rotten divine is the generation of a sour\\ncritic.\\nCongreve, says Doctor Johnson, a very young man, elated\\nwith success, and impatient of censure, assumed an air of confidence\\nand security. The dispute was protracted through ten years;\\n4^ but at last comedy grew more modest, and Collier lived to see the\\nreward of his labours in the reformation of the theatre. Life of\\nCongreve.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "Co ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthemselves with the same success, and for the same\\ncause which set Nell s lacquey fighting. She was a\\ndisreputable, daring, laughing, painted French bag-\\ngage, that Comic Muse. She came over from the\\nContinent with Charles (who chose many more of 5\\nhis female friends there) at the Restoration a wild\\ndishevelled Lais, with eyes bright with wit and wine\\na saucy Court-favourite that sat at the King s\\nknees, and laughed in his face, and when she\\nshowed her bold cheeks at her chariot-window, had lo\\nsome of the noblest and most famous people of the\\nland bowing round her wheel. She was kind and\\npopular enough, that daring Comedy, that auda-\\ncious poor Nell: she was gay and generous, kind,\\nfrank, as such people can afford to be: and the men 15\\nwho lived with her and laughed with her, took her\\npay and drank her wine, turned out when the Puri-\\ntans hooted her, to fight and defend her. But the\\njade was indefensible, and it is pretty certain her\\nservants knew it. 20\\nThere is life and death going on in everything:\\ntruth and lies always at battle. Pleasure i always\\nwarring against self-restraint. Doubt is always\\ncrying Psha! and sneering. A man in life, a hu-\\nmourist, in writing about life, sways over to one 25\\nprinciple or the other, and laughs with the rever-\\nence for right and the love of truth in his heart, or\\nlaughs at these from the other side. Didn t I tell\\nyou that dancing was a serious business to Harle-\\nquin? I have read two or three of Congreve s plays 3\\nover before speaking of him and my feelings were\\nrather like those, which I dare say most of us here", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 6 1\\nhave bad, at Pompeii, looking at Sallust s house\\nand the relics of an orgy; a dried wine-jar or two,\\na charred supper-table, the breast of a dancing-girl\\npressed against the ashes, the laughing skull of a\\n5 jester: a perfect stihness round about, as the\\ncicerone twangs his moral, and the blue sky shines\\ncalmly over the ruin. The Congreve Muse is dead,\\nand her song choked in Time s ashes. We gaze at\\nthe skeleton, and wonder at the life which once re-\\n10 veiled in its mad veins. We take the skull up, and\\nmuse over the frolic and daring, the wit, scorn, pas-\\nsion, hope, desire, with which that empty bowl once\\nfermented. We think of the glances that allured,\\nthe tears that melted, of the bright eyes that shone\\n15 in those vacant sockets; and of lips whispering\\nlove, and cheeks dimpling with smiles, that once cov-\\nered yon ghastly yellow framework. They used to\\ncall those teeth pearls once. See, there s the cup she\\ndrank from, the gold chain she wore on her neck,\\n2o the vase which held the rouge for her cheeks, her\\nlooking-glass, and the harp she used to dance to.\\nInstead of a feast we find a gravestone, and in place\\nof a mistress, a few bones!\\nReading in these plays now, is like shutting your\\n25 ears and looking at people dancing. What does it\\nmean? the measures, the grimaces, the bowing,\\nshuffling, and retreating, the cavalier sail advancing\\nupon those ladies those ladies and men twirling\\nround at the end in a mad galop, after which every-\\n30 body bows and the quaint rite is celebrated. With-\\nout the music we can t understand that comic dance\\nof the last century its strange gravity and gaiety,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "62 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nits decorum or its indecorum. It has a jargon of its\\nown quite unlike life; a sort of moral of its own\\nquite unlike life too. I m afraid it s a Heathen mys-\\ntery, symbolising a Pagan doctrine; protesting\\nas the Pompeians very likely were, assembled at 5\\ntheir theatre and laughing at their games; as Sal-\\nlust and his friends, and their mistresses protested,\\ncrowned with flowers, with cups in their hands\\nagainst the new, hard, ascetic, pleasure-hating doc-\\ntrine whose gaunt disciples, lately passed over frornio\\nthe Asian shores of the Mediterranean, were for\\nbreaking the fair images of Venus and flinging the\\naltars of Bacchus down.\\nI fancy poor Congreve s theatre is a temple of\\nPagan delights, and mysteries not permitted except 1 5\\namong heathens. I fear the theatre carries down that\\nancient tradition and worship, as masons have carried\\ntheir secret signs and rites from temple to temple.\\nWhen the libertine hero carries ofif the beauty in the\\nplay, and the dotard is laughed to scorn for having 20\\nthe young wife: in the ballad, when the poet bids\\nhis mistress to gather roses while she may, and\\nwarns her that old Time is still a-flying: in the\\nballet, when honest Corydon courts Phillis under\\nthe treillage of the pasteboard cottage, and leers 25\\nat her over the head of grandpapa in red stockings,\\nwho is opportunely asleep; and when seduced by\\nthe invitations of the rosy youth she comes forward\\nto the footlights, and they perform on each other s\\ntiptoes that pas which you all know, and which is 3o\\nonly interrupted by old grandpapa awaking from\\nhis doze at the pasteboard chalet (whither he re-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISON 63\\nturns to take another nap in case the young people\\nget an encore) when Harlequin, splendid in\\nyouth, strength, and agility, arrayed in gold and a\\nthousand colours, springs over the heads of count-\\n5 less perils, leaps down the throat of bewildered\\ngiants, and, dauntless and splendid, dances danger\\ndown: when Mr. Punch, that godless old rebel,\\nbreaks every law and laughs at it with odious\\ntriumph, outwits his lawyer, bullies the beadle,\\n10 knocks his wife about the head, and hangs the\\nhangman, don t you see in the comedy, in the\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0,song, in the dance, in the ragged little Punch s pup-\\npet-show the Pagan protest? Doesn t it seem as\\nif Life puts in its plea and sings its comment? Look\\n15 how the lovers walk and hold each other s hands\\nand whisper! Sings the chorus There is noth-\\ning like love, there is nothing like youth, there is\\nnothing like beauty of your springtime. Look!\\nhow old age tries to meddle with merry sport! Beat\\n20 him with his own crutch, the wrinkled old dotard!\\nThere is nothing like youth, there is nothing like\\nbeauty, there is nothing like strength. Strength\\nand valour win beauty and youth. Be brave and\\nconquer. Be young and happy. Enjoy, enjoy, en-\\n25 joy! Would you know the Segreto per esscr fclice?\\nHere it Is, in a smiling mistress and a cup of Faler-\\nnian. As the boy tosses the cup and sings his\\nsong hark! what is that chaunt coming nearer\\nand nearer? What is that dirge which will disturb\\n30 us? The lights of the festival burn dim the cheeks\\nturn pale the voice quavers and the cup drops", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "64 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\non the floor. Who s there? Death and Fate are\\nat the gate, and they will come in.\\nCongreve s comic feast flares with hghts, and\\nround the table, emptying their flaming bowls of\\ndrink, and exchanging the wildest jests and 5\\nribaldry, sit men and women, waited on by rascally\\nvalets and attendants as dissolute as their mis-\\ntresses perhaps the very worst company in the\\nworld. There doesn t seem to be a pretence of\\nmorals. At the head of the table sits Mirabel or 10\\nBelmour (dressed in the French fashion and waited\\non by English imitators of Scapin and Frontin).\\nTheir calling is to be irresistible, and to conquer\\neverywhere. Like the heroes of the chivalry story,\\nwhose long-winded loves and combats they were^S\\nsending out of fashion, they are always splendid\\nand triumphant overcome all dangers, vanquish\\nall enemies, and win the beauty at the end. Fathers,\\nhusbands, usurers, are the foes these champions\\ncontend with. They are merciless in old age, in- 20\\nvariably, and an old man plays the part in the\\ndramas which the wicked enchanter or the great\\nblundering giant performs in the chivalry tales, who\\nthreatens and grumbles and resists a huge stupid\\nobstacle always overcome by the knight. It is an 25\\nold man with a money-box: Sir Belmour his son\\nor nephew spends his money and laughs at him.\\nIt is an old man with a young wife whom he locks\\nup: Sir Mirabel robs him of his wife, trips up his\\ngouty old heels and leaves the old hunks. The old 3^\\nfool, what business has he to hoard his money, or\\nto lock up blushing eighteen? Money is for youth,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 65\\nlove is for youth, away with the old people. When\\nMillamant is sixty, having of course divorced the\\nfirst Lady Millamant, and married his friend Dori-\\ncourt s granddaughter out of the nursery it will\\n5 be his turn; and young Belmour will make a fool of\\nhim. All this pretty morality you have in the come-\\ndies of William Congreve, Esquire. They are full\\nof wit. Such manners as he observes, he observes\\nwith great humour; but ah! it s a weary feast, that\\n10 banquet of wit where no love is. It palls very\\nsoon; sad indigestions follow it and lonely blank\\nheadaches in the morning.\\nI can t pretend to quote scenes from the splendid\\nCongreve s plays which are undeniably bright,\\nje The scene of Valentine s pretended madness in Love for Love\\nis a splendid specimen of Congreve s daring manner:\\nScandal. And have you given your master a hint of their plot\\nupon him\\nJeremy. Yes, sir; he says he ll favour it, and mistake her for\\nCO Angelica.\\nScandal. It may make us sport.\\nForesight. Mercy on us\\nValentine. Husht interrupt me not I ll w^hisper predictions to\\nthee, and thou shalt prophesie; I am truth, and can teach thy\\n-5 tongue a new trick, I have told thee what s passed now I ll tell\\nwhat s to come:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Dost thou know what will happen to-morrow\\nAnswer me not for I will tell thee. To-morrow knaves will thrive\\nthro craft, and fools thro fortune: and honesty will go as it did,\\nfrost-nipt in a summer suit. Ask me questions concerning to-\\n30 morrow.\\nScandal. Ask him, Mr. Foresight.\\nForesight. Pray what will be done at Court\\nValentine. Scandal will tell ypu;\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I am truth, I never come\\nthere.\\n35 Foresight. In the city\\nValentine. Oh, prayers ,will be said in empty churches at the\\nusual hours. Yet you will see such zealous faces behind counters\\nas if religion were to be sold in every shop. Oh, things will go\\nmethodically in the city, the clocks will strike twelve at noon, and\\n40 the horn d herd buzz in the Exchange at tv/o. Husbands and wives\\nwill drive distinct trades, and care and pleasure separately occupy", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "66 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwitty, and daring any more than I could ask you\\nto hear the dialogue of a witty bargeman and a\\nbrilliant fishwoman exchanging compliments at\\nthe family. Coffee-houses will be full of smoke and stratagem. And\\nthe cropt prentice that sweeps his master s shop in the morning, 5\\nmay, ten to one, dirty his sheets before night. But there are two\\nthings, that you will see very strange; which are, wanton wives\\nwith their legs at liberty, and tame cuckolds with chains about their\\nnecks. But hold, I must examine you before I go further; you\\nlook suspiciously. Are you a husband lO\\nForesight. I am married.\\nValentine. Poor creature Is your wife of Covent-garden\\nParish\\nForesight. No; St. Martin s-in-the-Fields.\\nValentine. Alas, poor man his eyes are sunk, and his hands 15\\nshrivelled; his legs dwindled, and his back bow d. Pray, pray for\\na metamorphosis change thy shape, and shake off age; get thee\\nMedea s kettle and be boiled anew; come forth with lab ring callous\\nhands, and chine of steel, and Atlas shoulders. Let Taliacotius\\ntrim the calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pedestals to 20\\nstand erect upon, and look matrimony in the face. Ha, ha, ha i\\nThat a man should have a stomach to a wedding supper, when the\\npidgeons ought rather to be laid to his feet Ha, ha, ha\\nForesight. His frenzy is very high now, Mr. Scnndal.\\nScandal. I believe it is a spring-tide. 25\\nForesight. Very likely truly; you understand these matters.\\nMr. Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with you about these\\nthings he has uttered. His sayings are very mysterious and hiero-\\nglyphical.\\nValentitte. Oh why would Angelica be absent from my eyes 30\\nso long\\nJeremy. She s here, sir.\\nMrs. Foresight. Now, sister\\nMrs. Frail. O Lord what must I say\\nScandal. Humour him, madam, by all means. 35\\nValentine. Where is she Oh I see her: she comes, like\\nRiches, Health, and Liberty at once, to a despairing, starving, and\\nabandoned wretch. Oh v/elcome, welcome\\nMjs. Frail. How d ye, sir Can I serve you\\nValentine. Hark ee I have a secret to tell you. Endymion and 40\\nthe moon shall meet us on MouAf Lattnos, and we ll be married in\\nthe dead of night. But say not a word. Hymen shall put his torch\\ninto a dark lanthorn, that it may be secret; and Juno shall give\\nher peacock poppy-water, that he may fold his ogling tail; and\\nArgus s hundred eyes be shut\u00e2\u0080\u0094 ha Nobody shall know, but 45\\nJeremy.\\nMrs. Frail. No, no; we ll keep it secret; it shall be done\\npresently.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 67\\nBillingsgate; but some of his verses\u00e2\u0080\u0094 they were\\namongst the most famous lyrics of the time, and\\npronounced equal to Horace by his contemporaries\\nValentine. The sooner the better. Jeremy, come hither closer\\n5 that none may overhear us. Jeremy, I can tell you news: Angelica\\nis turned nun, and I am turning friar, and yet we ll marry one\\nanother in spite of the Pope. Get me a cowl and beads, that I may\\nplay my part; for she ll meet me two hours hence in black and\\nwhite, and a long veil to cover the project, and we won t see one\\n10 another s faces till we have done something to be ashamed of, and\\nthen we ll blush once for all.\\nEnter Tattle.\\nTattle. Do you know me, Valentine\\nValentine. You who are you No, I hope not.\\n15 Tattle. I am Jack Tattle, your friend.\\nValentine. My friend What to do I am no married man,\\nand thou canst not lye with my wife; I am very poor, and thou\\ncanst not borrow money of me. Then, what employment have I for\\na friend\\n-O Tattle. Ha A good open speaker, and not to be trusted with\\na secret.\\nAngelica. Do you know me, Valentine\\nValentine. Oh, very well.\\nAngelica. Who am I\\n25 Valentine. You re a woman, one to whom Heaven gave beauty\\nwhen it grafted roses on a brier. You are the reflection of Heaven\\nin a pond; and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white\\na sheet of spotless paper when you first are born; but you are to\\nbe scrawled and blotted by every goose s quill. I know you; for\\n30 I loved a woman, and loved her so long that I found out a strange\\nthi: g: I found out what a woman was good for.\\nTattle. Ay pr ythee, what s that\\nValentine. Why, to keep a secret.\\nTattle. O Lord\\n35 Valentine. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for, though she\\nshould tell, yet she is not to be believed.\\nTattle. Hah Good again, faith.\\nValentine. I would have musick. Sing me the song that I\\nlike. Congreve: Love for Love.\\n40 There is a Mrs. Nickle jy, of the year 1700, in Congreve s comedy\\nof The Double Dealer, in whose character the author introduces some\\nwonderful traits of roguish satire. She is practised on by the gal-\\nlants of the play, and no more knows how to resist them than any\\nof the ladies above quoted could resist Congreve.\\n45 Lady Plyant. Oh reflect upon the horror of your conduct I", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "68 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmay give an idea of his power, of his grace, of\\nhis daring manner, his magnificence in coniphment,\\nand his pohshed sarcasm. He writes as if he was\\nso accustomed to conquer, that he has a poor\\nOffering to pervert me [the joke is that the gentleman is pressing e\\nthe lady for her daughter s hand, not for her own] perverting me\\nfrom the road of virtue, in w^hich I have trod thus long, and never\\nmade one trip not one faux pas. Oh, consider it: what would you\\nhave to answer for, if you should provoke me to frailty Alas\\nhumanity is feeble, Heaven knows Very feeble, and unable to lo\\nsupport itself.\\nMcllefont. Where am I Is it day and am I awake\\nMadam\\nLady Plyant. O Lord, ask me the question I swear I ll deny\\nit therefore don t ask me; nay, you shan t ask me, I swear I ll 15\\ndeny it. O Gemini, you have brought all the blood into my face;\\nI warrant I am as red as a turkey-cock. O fie, cousin Mellefont\\nMellefont. Nay, madam, hear me; I mean\\nLady Plyant. Hear you No, no; I ll deny you first, and hear\\nyou afterwards. For one does not know how one s mind may 20\\nchange upon hearing hearing is one of the senses and all the senses\\nare fallible. I won t trust my honour, I assure you; my honour is\\ninfallible and uncomatable.\\nMellefont. For Heaven s sake, madam\\nLady Plyant. Oh, name it no more. Bless me, how can you 25\\ntalk of Heaven, and have so much wickedness in your heart May\\nbe, you don t think it a sin. They say some of you gentlemen don t\\nthink it a sin; but still, my honour, if it were no sin But, then,\\nto marry my daughter for the convenience of frequent opportunities\\nI ll never consent to that: as sure as can be, I ll break the match. 30\\nMellefont. Death and amazement Madam, upon my knees\\nLady Plyant. Nay, nay, rise up come, you shall see my good-\\nnature. I know love is powerful, and nobody can help his passion.\\nTis not your fault; nor I swear, it is not mine. How can I help\\nit, it I have charms And how can you help it, if you are made 335\\ncaptive I swear it is pity it should be a fault; but, my honour.\\nWell, but your honour, too\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but the sin Well, but the necessity.\\nO Lord, here s somebody coming. I dare not stay. Well, you must\\nconsider of y/jur crime: and strive as much as can be against it\\nstrive, be sure; but don t be melancholick\u00e2\u0080\u0094 don t despair; but never -^o\\nthink that I ll grant you anything. O Lord, no; but be sure you\\nlay aside all thoughts of the marriage, for though I know you don t\\nlove Cynthia, only as a blind to your passion for me yet it vt il!\\nmake me jealous. O Lord, what did I say Jealous No, no, I\\ncan t be jealous; for I must not love you. Therefore don t hope; but45\\ndon t despair neither. Oh, they re coming; I must fly. The Doublt\\nDealer, act ii. sc. v. page 156.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "CONGKEVE AND ADD.ISON 69\\nOpinion of his victims. Nothing s new except their\\nfaces, says he: every woman is the same. He\\nsays this in his first comedy, which he wrote lan-\\nguidly in illness, when he was an excellent\\n5 young man. Richelieu at eighty could have hardly\\nsaid a more excellent thing.\\nWhen he advances to make one of his conquests,\\nit is with a splendid gallantry, in full uniform and\\nwith the fiddles playing, like Grammont s French\\n10 dandies attacking the breach of Lerida.\\nCease, cease to ask her name, he writes of a\\nyoung lady at the Wells of Tunbridge, whom he\\nsalutes with a magnificent compliment\\nCease, cease to ask her name,\\n15 The crowned Muse s noblest theme,\\nWhose glory by immortal fame\\nShall only sounded be.\\nBut if you long to know,\\nThen look round yonder dazzling row:\\n20 Who most does .like an angel show,\\nYou may be sure tis she.\\nHere are lines about another beauty, who perhaps\\nwas not so well pleased at the poet s manner of\\ncelebrating her\\n^5 When Lesbia first I saw, so heavenly fair,\\nWith eyes so bright and with that awful air,\\nI thought my heart which durst so high aspire\\nAs bold as his who snatched celestial fire.\\nThere seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing\\n30 to have done everything by chance. The Old Bachelor was written\\nfor amusement in the languor of convalescence. Yet it is apparently\\ncomposed with great elaborateness of dialogue and incessant am-\\nbition of wit. Johnson: Lives of the Poets,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "JO ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nBut soon as e er the beauteous idiot spoke,\\nForth from her coral lips such folly broke:\\nLike balm the trickling nojisense heal d my wound,\\nAnd what her eyes enthralled, her tongue unbound.\\nAmoret is a cleverer woman than the lovely Lesbia, 5\\nbut the poet does not seem to respect one much\\nmore than the other; and describes both with ex-\\nquisite satirical humour\\nFair Amoret is gone astray:\\nPursue and seek her, every lover. 10\\nI ll tell the signs by which you may\\nThe wandering shepherdess discover.\\nCoquet and coy at once her air,\\nBoth studied, though both seemed neglected;\\nCareless she is with artful care, 15\\nAffecting to seem unaffected.\\nWith skill her eyes dart every glance,\\nYet change so soon you d ne er suspect them;\\nFor she d persuade they wound by chance.\\nThough certain aim and art direct them. 20\\nShe likes herself, yet others hates,\\nFor that which in herself she prizes; k.l\\nAnd, while she laughs at them, forgets\\nShe is the thing that she despises.\\nWhat could Amoret have done to bring down such 25\\nshafts of ridicule upon her? Could she have re-\\nsisted the irresistible Mr. Congreve? Could any-\\nbody? Could Sabina, when she woke and heard\\nsuch a bard singing under her window? See, he\\nwrites\\nSee see, she wakes Sabina wakes 30\\nAnd now the sun begins to rise.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "CONG RE VE AND ADDISON 7 1\\nLess glorious is the morn, that breaks\\nFrom his bright beams, than her fair eyes.\\nWith light united, day they give;\\nBut different fates ere night fulfil:\\nI How many by his warmth will live\\nHow many will her coldness kill\\nAre you melted? Don t you think him a divine\\nman? If not touched by the brilliant Sabina, hear\\nthe devout Selinda:\\nlo Pious Selinda goes to prayers,\\nIf I but ask the favour;\\nAnd yet the tender fool s in tears,\\nWhen she believes I ll leave her:\\nWould I were free from this restraint,\\n15 Or else had hopes to win her:\\nWould she could make of me a saint,\\nOr I of her a sinner\\nWhat a conquering air there is about these!\\nWhat an irresistible Mr. Congreve it is! Sinner!\\n20 of course he will be a sinner, the delightful rascal!\\nWin her! of course he will win her, the victorious\\nrogue! He knows he will: he must with such a\\ngrace, with such a fashion, with such a splendid\\nembroidered suit. You see him with red-heeled\\n25 shoes deliciously turned out, passing a fair jewelled\\nhand through his dishevelled periwig, and deliver-\\ning a killing ogle along with his scented billet. And\\nSabina? What a comparison that is between the\\nnymph and the run! The sun gives Sabina the\\n30 pas, and does not venture to rise before her lady-\\nship: the morn s bright beams are less glorious than\\nher fair eyes; but before night everybody will be", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "72 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfrozen by her glances: everybody but one lucky\\nrogue who shall be nameless. Louis Quatorze in all\\nhis glory is hardly more splendid than our Phoebus\\nApollo of the Mall and Spring Gardens.*\\nWhen Voltaire came to visit the great Congreve, 5\\nthe latter rather affected to despise his literary\\nreputation, and in this perhaps the great Congreve\\nwas not far wrong.f A touch of Steele s tender-\\nness is worth all his finery; a flash of Swift s light-\\nning, a beam of Addison s pure sunshine, audio\\nhis tawdry playhouse taper is invisible. But the\\nladies loved him, and he was undoubtedly a pretty\\nfellow.^\\nAmong those by whom it Will s was frequented, Southerne\\nand Congreve were principally distinguished by Dryden s friend 1 5\\nship. But Congreve seems to have gained yet farther than\\nSoutherne upon Dryden s friendship. He was introduced to him\\nby his first play, the celebrated Old Bachelor, being put into the\\npoet s hands to be revised. Dryden, after making a few alterations\\nto fit it for the stage, returned it to the author with the high and 20\\njust commendation, that it was the best first play he had ever seen.\\nScott s Dryden, vol. i. p. 370.\\nt It was in Surrey Street, Strand (where he afterwards died), that\\nVoltaire visited him, in the decline of his life.\\nThe anecdote relating to his saying that he wished to be visited 25\\non no other footing than as a gentleman who led a life of plainness\\nand simplicity, is common to all writers on the subject of Con-\\ngreve, and appears in the English version of Voltaire s Letters con-\\ncerning the English Nation, published in London, 1733, as also in\\nGoldsmith s Memoir of Voltaire. But it is worthy of remark, that 3^\\nit does not appear in the text of the same Letters in the edition of\\nVoltaire s CEuvrcs Completes in the Pantheon Litteraire. Vol. v.\\nof his works. (Paris, 1837.)\\nCelui de tous les Anglais qui a porte le plus loin la gloire du\\ntheatre comique est feu M. Congreve. U n a fait que peu de pieces, 35\\nniais toutes sont excellentes dans leur genre. Vous y voyez\\npartout le langage des honnetes gens avec des actions de fripon;\\nce qui prouve qu il connaissait bien monde, et qu il vivait dans\\nce qu on appelle la bonne compagnie. Voltaire: Lettrcs stir les\\nAnglais. Lettre XIX, jo\\nOn the death of Queen Mary he published 3 Pastoral\u00e2\u0080\u0094 TA?", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISON 73\\nWe have seen in Swift a humourous philosopher,\\nwhose truth frightens one, and whose laughter\\nmakes one melancholy. We have had in Congreve\\nMourning Muse of Alexis. Alexis and Menalcas sing alternately in\\n5 the orthodox way. The Qufeen is called Pastora\\nI mourn Pastora dead, let Albion mourn,\\nAnd sable clouds her chalky cliffs adorn,\\nsays Alexis. Among other phenomena, we learn that\\nWith their sharp nails themselves the Satyrs wound,\\n10 And tug their shaggy beards, and bite with grief the ground\\n(a degree of sensibility not always found in the Satyrs of that\\nperiod). It continues\\nLord of these woods and wide extended plains,\\nStretch d on the ground and close to earth his face\\n^5 Scalding with tears the already faded grass.\\nTo dust must all that Heavenly beauty come\\nAnd must Pastora moulder in the tomb\\nAh Death more fierce and unrelenting far\\nThan wildest wolves or savage tigers are\\n2o With lambs and sheep their hungers are appeased.\\nBut ravenous Death the shepherdess has seized.\\nThis statement that a wolf eats but a sheep, whilst Death eats a\\nshepherdess that figure of the Great Shepherd lying speechless\\non his stomach, in a state of despair which neither winds nor floods\\n25 nor air can exhibit are to be remembered in poetry surely; and\\nthis style was admired in its time by the admirers of the great\\nCongreve\\nIn the Tears of Amaryllis for Amyntas (the young Lord Bland-\\nford, the great Duke of Marlborough s only son), Amaryllis repi-e-\\n30 sents Sarah Duchess\\nThe tigers and wolves, nature and motion, rivers and echoes, come\\ninto work here again. At the sight of her grief\\nTigers and wolves their wonted rage forego.\\nAnd dumb dirtress and new compassion show,\\n35 Nature herself attentive silence kept.\\nAnd motion seemed suspended while she wept\\nAnd Pope dedicated the Iliad to the author of these lines and\\nDryden wrote to him in his great hand:", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "74 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\na humourous observer of another school, to whom\\nthe world seems to have no morals at all, and whose\\nghastly doctrine seems to be that we should\\neat, drink, and be merry when we can, and go to\\nthe deuce (if there be a deuce) when the time 5\\ncomes. We come now to a humour that flows from\\nquite a different heart and spirit a wit that makes\\nus laugh and leaves us good and happy; to one of\\nthe kindest benefactors that society has ever had;\\nand I believe you have divined already that I am lo\\nabout to mention Addison s honoured name.\\nTime, place, and action may with pains be wrought,\\nBut Genius must be born and never can be taught.\\nThis is your portion, this your native store;\\nHeaven, that but once was prodigal before, jr\\nTo Shakespeare gave as much, she could not give him more.\\nMaintain your Post: that s all the fame you need.\\nFor tis impossible you should proceed;\\nAlready I am worn with cares and age.\\nAnd just abandoning th ungrateful stage: 20\\nUnprofitably kept at Heaven s expence,\\nI live a Rent-charge upon Providence:\\nBut you, whom every Muse and Grace adorn,\\nWhom I foresee to better fortune born,\\nBe kind to my remains, and oh defend 25\\nAgainst your Judgment your departed Friend\\nLet not the insulting Foe my Fame pursue;\\nBut shade those Lawrels which descend to You:\\nAnd take for Tribute what these Lines express;\\nYou merit more, nor could my Love do less. 30\\nThis is a very different manner of welcome to that of our own day.\\nIn Shadwell, Higgons, Congreve, and the comic authors of their\\ntime, when gentlemen meet they fall into each other s arms, with\\nJack, Jack, I must buss thee; or, Fore George, Harry, I must\\nkiss thee, lad. And in a similar manner the poets saluted their 35\\nbrethren. Literary gentlemen do not kiss now; I wonder if they\\nlove each other better\\nSteele calls Congreve Great Sir and Great Author says\\nWell-dressed barbarians knew his awful name, and addresses\\nhim as if he were a prince; and speaks of Pastora as one of the 4^\\nmost famous tragic compositions.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISON 75\\nFrom reading over his writings, and the biog-\\nraphies which we have of him, amongst which the\\nfamous article in the Edinburgh Review may be\\ncited as a magnificent statue of the great writer and\\n5 moraHst of the last age, raised by the love and the\\nmarvellous skill and genius of one of the most il-\\nlustrious artists of our own: looking at that calm\\nfair face, and clear countenance those chiselled fea-\\ntures pure and cold, I can t but fancy that this great\\n10 man in this respect, like him of whom we spoke\\nin the last lecture was also one of the lonely ones\\nof the world. Such men have very few equals, and\\nthey don t herd with those. It is in the nature of\\nsuch lords of intellect to be solitary they are in the\\n15 world, but not of it; and our minor struggles,\\nbrawls, successes, pass under them.\\nKind, just, serene, impartial, his fortitude not\\ntried beyond easy endurance, his affections not\\nmuch used, for his books were his family, and his\\n20 society was in public; admirably wiser, wittier,\\nTo Addison himself we are bound by a sentiment as much\\nlike affection as any sentiment can be which is inspired by one\\nwho has been sleeping a hundred and twenty years in Westminster\\nAbbey. After full inquiry and impartial reflection we have long\\n25 been convinced that he deserved as much love and esteem as can\\njustly be claimed by any of our infirm and erring race.\\nMacaulay.\\nMany who praise virtue do no more than praise it. Yet it is\\nreasonable to believe that Addison s profession and practice were\\n30 at no great variance; since, amidst that storm of faction in which\\nmost of his life was passed, though his station made him conspicu-\\nous, and his activity made him formidable, the character given him\\nby his friends was never contradicted by his enemies. Of those\\nwith whom interest or opinion united him, he had not only the\\n35 esteem but the kindness; and of others, whom the violence of\\nopposition drove against him, though he might lose the love, he\\nretained the reverence. Johnson.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "7^ ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncalmer, and more instructed than almost every man\\nwith whom he met, how could Addison suffer, de-\\nsire, admire, feel much? I may expect a child to\\nadmire me for being taller or writing more cleverly\\nthan she; but how can I ask my superior to say that 5\\nI am a wonder when he knows better than I? In\\nAddison s days you could scarcely show him a lit-\\nerary performance, a sermon, or a poem, or a piece\\nof literary criticism, but he felt he could do better.\\nHis justice must have made him indifferent. He 10\\ndidn t praise, because he measured his compeers\\nby a higher standard than common people have.*\\nHow was he who was so tall to look up to any but\\nthe loftiest genius? He must have stooped to put\\nhimself on a level with most men. By that pro- 15\\nfusion of graciousness and smiles with which\\nGoethe or Scott, for instance, greeted almost every\\nliterary beginner, every small literary adventurer\\nwho came to his court and went away charmed\\nfrom the great king s audience, and cuddling to his 20\\nheart the compliment which his literary majesty\\nhad paid him each of the two good-natured po-\\ntentates of letters brought their star and riband\\ninto discredit. Everybody had his majesty s or-\\nders. Everybody had his majesty s cheap portrait, 25\\non a box surrounded by diamonds worth twopence\\napiece. A very great and just and wise man ought\\nnot to praise indiscriminately, but give his idea of\\nAddison was perfect good company with intimates, and had\\nsomething more charming in his conversation than I ever knew in 3^\\nany other man; but with any mixture of strangers, and sometimes\\nonly with one, he seemed to preserve his dignity much, with a stifl\\nsort of silence. Pope. Spcnce s Anecdotes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "CONG RE VE AND ADDISON 77\\nthe truth. Addison praises the ingenious Mr.\\nPinkethman: Addison praises the ingenious Mr.\\nDoggett, the actor, whose benefit is coming off\\nthat night: Addison praises Don Saltero: Addison\\n5 praises Mihon with all his heart, bends his knee and\\nfrankly pays homage to that imperial genius. But\\nbetween those degrees of his men his praise is very\\nscanty. I don t think the great Mr. Addison liked\\nyoung Mr. Pope, the Papist, much; I don t think\\nlo he abused him. But when Mr. Addison s men\\nabused Mr. Pope, I don t think Addison took his\\npipe out of his mouth to contradict them.f\\nAddison s father was a clergyman of good repute\\nin Wiltshire, and rose in the Church. J His famous\\n15 son never lost his clerical training and scholastic\\ngravity, and was called a parson in a tye-wig\\nMilton s chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing excellence,\\nlies in the sublimity of his thoughts. There are others of the\\nmoderns, who rival him in every other part of poetry; but in the\\n20 greatness of his sentiments he triumphs over all the poets, both\\nmodern and ancient. Homer only excepted. It is impossible for\\nthe imagination of man to distend itself with greater ideas than\\nthose which he has laid together in his first, second, and sixth\\nhooyis. Spectator, No. 279.\\n25 If I were to name a poet that is a perfect master in all these\\narts of working on the imagination, I think Milton may pass for\\none.^ Ibid. No. 417.\\nThese famous papers appeared in each Saturday s Spectator, from\\nJanuary 19th to May 3rd, 1712. Besides his services to Milton, we\\n30 may place those he did to Sacred Music.\\nt Addison was very kind to me at first, but my bitter enemy\\nafterwards. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nLeave him as soon as you can, said Addison to me, speaking\\nof Pope; he will certainly play you some devilish trick else: he\\n35 has an appetite to satire. Lady Wortley Montagu. Spetice s\\nAnecdotes.\\nt Lancelot Addison, his father, was the son of another Lancelot\\nAddison, a clergyman in Westmoreland. He became Dean of\\nLichfield and Archdeacon of Coventry.\\n40 The remark of Mandeville, who, when he had passed an", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "7S ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nin London afterwards at a time when tie-wigs were\\nonly worn by the laity, and the fathers of theology\\ndid not think it decent to appear except in a full\\nbottom. Having been at school at Salisbury, and\\nthe Charterhouse, in 1687, when he was fifteen 5\\nyears old, he went to Queen s College, Oxford,\\nwhere he speedily began to distinguish himself by\\nthe making of Latin verses. The beautiful and\\nfanciful poem of The Pigmies and the Cranes, is\\nstill read by lovers of that sort of exercise; and 10\\nverses are extant in honour of King William, by\\nwhich it appears that it was the loyal youth s cus-\\ntom to toast that sovereign in bumpers of purple\\nLyaeus: many more works are in the Collection,\\nincluding one on the Peace of Ryswick, in 1697, 15\\nwhich was so good that Montague got him a pen-\\nsion of \u00c2\u00a3300 a year, on which Addison set out on\\nhis travels.\\nDuring his ten years at Oxford, Addison had\\nevening in his company, declared that he was a parson in a tye- 20\\nwig, can detract little from his character. He was always reserved\\nto strangers, and was not incited to uncommon freedom by a\\ncharacter like that of Mandeville. Johnson: Lives of the Poets.\\n(Mandeville was the author of the famous Fable of the Bees.)\\nOld Jacob Tonson did not like Mr. Addison: he had a quarrel 25\\nwith him, and, after his quitting the secretaryship, used frequently\\nto say of him One day or other you ll see that man a bishop\\nI m sure he looks that way; and indeed I ever thought him a priest\\nin his heart. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nMr. Addison stayed about a year at Blois. He would rise as 30\\nearly as between two and three in the height of summer, and lie\\nabed till between eleven and twelve in the depth of winter. He was\\nuntalkative whilst here, and often thoughtful: sometimes so lost\\nin thought, that I have come into his room and stayed five minutes\\nthere before he has known anything of it. He had his masters 35\\ngenerally at supper with him; kept very little company besides;\\nand had no amour that I know of; and I think I should have\\nknown it if he had had any. Abbe Philippeaux of Blo\u00c2\u00bbs.\\nSpence s Anecdotes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "CONGKEVE AND ADDISON 79\\ndeeply imbued himself with the Latin poetical lit-\\nerature, and had these poets at his fingers ends\\nwhen he travelled in Italy.* His patron went out\\nof office, and his pension was unpaid: and hearing\\n5 that this great scholar, now eminent and known to\\nthe literati of Europe (the great Boileau,t upon\\nperusal of Mr. Addison s elegant hexameters, was\\nfirst made aware that England was not altogether\\na barbarous nation) hearing that the celebrated\\nlo Mr. Addison, of Oxford, proposed to travel as gov-\\nernor to a young gentleman on the grand tour, the\\ngreat Duke of Somerset proposed to Mr. Addison\\nto accompany his son. Lord Hertford.\\nMr. Addison was delighted to be of use to his\\n^5 Grace, and his Lordship his Grace s son, and ex-\\npressed himself ready to set forth.\\nHis Grace the Duke of Somerset now announced\\nto one of the most famous scholars of Oxford and\\nEurope that it was his gracious intention to allow\\n2orny Lord Hertford s tutor one hundred guineas per\\nannum. Mr. Addison wrote back that his services\\nwere his Grace s, but he by no means found his ac-\\ncount in the recompense for them. The negotia-\\ntion was broken ofif. They parted with a pro-\\n25 fusion of congees on one side and the other.J\\nHis knowledge of the Latin poets, from Lucretius and Catullus\\ndown to Claudian and Prudentius, was singularly exact and pro-\\nfound. Macaulay.\\nt Our country owes it to him, that the famous Monsieur Boileau\\n30 first conceived an opinion of the English genius for poetry, by\\nperusing the present he made him of the Muses Anglicance.\\nTickell: Preface to Addison s Works.\\nt This proposal was made to Addison when he was in Holland\\non the return from his travels. He was recommended to the Duke\\n35 by the bookseller, Tonson, for whom he had undertaken a transla-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "So ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nAddison remained abroad for some time, living\\nin the best society of Europe. How could he do\\notherwise? He must have been one of the finest\\ngentlemen the world ever saw: at all moments of\\nlife serene and courteous, cheerful and calm.* He 5\\ncould scarcely ever have had a degrading thought.\\nHe might have omitted a virtue or two, or many,\\nbut could not have committed many faults for\\nwhich he need blush or turn pale. When warmed\\ninto confidence, his conversation appears to have 10\\nbeen so delightful that the greatest wits sat rapt\\nand charmed to listen to him. No man bore poverty\\nand narrow fortune with a more lofty cheerfulness.\\nHis letters to his friends at this period of his life,\\nwhen he had lost his Government pension and 15\\ngiven up his college chances, are full of courage and\\na gay confidence and philosophy: and they are\\nnone the worse in my eyes, and I hope not in those\\nof his last and greatest biographer (though Mr.\\nMacaulay is bound to own and lament a certain 20\\nweakness for wine, which the great and good\\nJoseph Addison notoriously possessed, in common\\nwith countless gentlemen of his time), because some\\nof the letters are written when his honest hand was\\nshaking a little in the morning after libations to 25\\npurple Lyseus over-night. He was fond of drinking\\ntion of Herodotus. He had as yet published nothing separately,\\nthough he was well known in Oxford, and to some of the Whig\\nnobility.\\nIt was my fate to be much with the wits my father was 3^\\nacquainted with all of them. Addison was the best company in the\\nworld. I never knew anybody that had so much wit as Congreve.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094Lady Wortley Montagu. Spence s Anecdotes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AND ADDISON 8 1\\nthe healths of his friends: he writes to Wyche,* of\\nHamburg, gratefully remembering Wyche s hoc/\\nI have been drinking your health to-day with Sir\\nRichard Shirley, he writes to Bathurst. I have\\n5 lately had the honour to meet my Lord Effingham\\nat Amsterdam, where we have drunk Mr. Wood s\\nhealth a hundred times in excellent champagne,\\nhe writes again. Swift f describes him over his\\nMr. Addison to Mr. IVyche.\\nlO Dear Sir, My hand at present begins to grow steady enough\\nfor a letter, so the properest use I can put it to is to thank y* honest\\ngentleman that set it a shaking. I have had this morning a\\ndesperate design in my head to attack you in verse, which I should\\ncertainly have done could I have found oift a rhyme to rummer.\\n15 But though you have escaped for y\u00c2\u00ab present, you are not yet out\\nof danger, if I can a little recover my talent at crambo. I am sure,\\nin whatever way I write to you, it v/ill be impossible for me to\\nexpress y\u00c2\u00ae deep sense I have of y\u00c2\u00ae many favours you have lately\\nshown me. I shall only tell you that Hambourg has been the\\n20 pleasantest stage I have met with in my travails. If any of my\\nfriends wonder at me for living so long in that place, I dare say\\nit will be thought a very good excuse when I tell him Mr. Wyche\\nwas there. As your company made our stay at Hambourg agree-\\nable, your wine has given us all y\u00c2\u00ae satisfaction that we have found\\n25 in our journey through Westphalia. If drinking your health will\\ndo you any good, you may expect to be as long-lived as Methuselah,\\nor, to use a more familiar instance, as y* oldest hoc in y* cellar.\\nI hope y^ two pair of legs that was left a swelling behind us are\\nby this time come to their shapes again. I can t forbear troubling\\n30 you with my hearty respects to y\u00c2\u00ab owners of them, and desiring\\nyou to believe me always, Dear Sir,\\nYours, c.\\nTo Mr. Wyche, His Majesty s Resident at\\nHambourg, May 1703.\\n35 From the Life of Addison, by Miss Aikin. Vol. i. p. 146.\\nt It is pleasing to remember that the relation between Swift and\\nAddison was, on the whole, satisfactory from first to last. The\\nvalue of Swift s testimony, when nothing personal inflamed his\\nvision or warped his judgment, can be doubted by nobody.\\n40 Sept. 10, 1710. I sat till ten in the evening with Addison and\\nSteele.\\nII. Mr. Addison and I dined together at his lodgings, and I\\nsat with him part of this evening.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "B2 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncups, when Joseph yielded to a temptation which\\nJonathan resisted. Joseph was of a cold nature,\\nand needed perhaps the fire of wine tp warm his\\nblood. If he was a parson, he wore a tie-wig,\\nrecollect. A better and more Christian man 5\\nscarcely ever breathed than Joseph Addison. If he\\nhad not that little weakness for wine why, we\\ncould scarcely have found a fault with him, and\\ncould not have liked him as we do.*\\nAt thirty-three years of age, this most distin-io\\nguished wit, scholar, and gentleman was without a\\nprofession and an income. His book of Travels\\nhad failed: his Dialogues on Medals f had had\\ni8. To-day I dined with Mr. Stratford at Mr. Addison s retire-\\nment near Chelsea. I will get what good offices I can from Mr. i-\\nAddison.\\n27. To-day all our company dined at Will Frankland s, with\\nSteele and Addison, too.\\n29.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I dined with Mr. Addison, c. Journal to Stella.\\nAddison inscribed a presentation copy of his Travels To Dr. 20\\nJonathan Swift, the most agreeable companion, the truest friend,\\nand the greatest genius of his age. (Scott. Prom the information\\nof Mr. Theophilus Swift.)\\nMr. Addison, who goes over first secretary, is a most excellent\\nperson; and being my most intimate friend, I shall use all my 25\\ncredit to set him right in his notions of persons and things.\\nLetters.\\nI examine my heart, and can find no other reason why I write\\nto you now, besides that great love and esteem I have always had\\nfor you. I have nothing to ask you either for my friend or for 30\\nmyself. Swift to Addison (1717). Scott s Szvift. Vol. xix. p.\\n274.\\nPolitical differences only dulled for a while their friendly com-\\nmunications. Time renewed them: and Tickell enjoyed Swift s\\nfriendship as a legacy from the man with whose memory his is so 3 5\\nhonourably connected.\\nAddison usually studied all the morning; then met his party\\nat Button s; dined there, and stayed five or six hours, and some-\\ntimes far into the night. I was of the company for about a year,\\nbut found it too much for me: it hurt my health, and so I quitted40\\nit. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nt The Dialogues or. Medals only appeared posthumously. The\\nI", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 83\\nno particular success his Latin verses, even though\\nreported the best since Virgil, or Statins at any rate,\\nhad not brought him a Government place, and Ad-\\ndison was living up three shabby pair of stairs in\\n5 the Haymarket (in a poverty over which old Samuel\\nJohnson rather chuckles), when in these shabby\\nrooms an emissary from Government and Fortune\\ncame and found him. A poem was wanted about\\nthe Duke of Marlborough s victory of Blenheim.\\n10 Would Mr. Addison write one? Mr. Boyle, after-\\nwards Lord Carleton, took back the reply to the\\nLord Treasurer Godolphin, that Mr. Addison\\nwould. When the poem had reached a certain\\nstage, it was carried to Godolphin; and the last\\n15 lines which he read were these:\\nBut, O my Muse what numbers wilt thou find\\nTo sing the furious troops in battle join d\\nMethinks I hear the drum s tumultuous sound\\nThe victor s shouts and dying groans confound;\\n20 The dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies,\\nAnd all the thunder of the battle rise.\\nTwas then great Marlborough s mighty soul was proved\\nThat, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved,\\nAmidst confusion, horror, and despair,\\n25 Examined all the dreadful scenes of war:\\nIn peaceful thought the field of death surveyed.\\nTo fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,\\nInspired repulsed battalions to engage,\\nAnd taught the doubtful battle where to rage.\\n2oTravels appeared in 1705, i.e. after the Campaign. It is announced\\nin the Diverting Post of December 2-9, 1704, that Mr. Addison s\\nlong-expected poem on the Campaign is to be published next\\nweek.\\nWhen he returned to England (in 1702), with a meanness of\\n35 appearance which gave testimony of the difficulties to which he had\\nbeen reduced, he found his old patrons out of power, and was,\\ntherefore, for a time, at full leisure for the cultivation of his mind.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094Johnson: Lives of the Poets.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "84 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nSo when an angel, by divine command,\\nWith rising tempests shakes a guilty land\\n(Such as of late o er pale Britannia passed),\\nCalm and serene he drives the furious blast;\\nAnd, pleased the Almighty s orders to perform, 5\\nRides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.\\nAddison left ofif at a good moment. That simile\\nwas pronounced to be of the greatest ever produced\\nin poetry. That angel, that good angel, flew off\\nwith Mr. Addison, and landed him in the place of lo\\nCommissioner of Appeals vice Mr. Locke provi-\\ndentially promoted. In the following year Mr. Ad-\\ndison went to Hanover with Lord Halifax, and the\\nyear after was made Under-Secretary of State. O\\nangel visits! you come few and far between to 15\\nliterary gentlemen s lodgings! Your wings seldom\\nquiver at second-floor windows now\\nYou laugh? You think it is in the power of few\\nwriters nowadays to call up such an angel? Well,\\nperhaps not; but permit us to comfort ourselves 20\\nby pointing out that there are in the poem of the\\n[The famous story in the text, which has been generally ac-\\ncepted, is probably inaccurate. It was first told in 1732 by Addison s\\ncousin, Eustace Budgell, then ruined and half sane, who was trying\\nto pufif himself by professing familiar knowledge of his eminent 25\\nrelation. The circumstantiality of the story is suspicious; Godol-\\nphin was the last man to give preferment to a poet in the way\\ndescribed, and Addison was not in the position implied. He had\\nstrong claims upon Halifax, his original patron. When Halifax\\nlost office, Addison s pension had ceased. Halifax was now being ^o\\ncourted by Godolphin, and could make an effective application on\\nbehalf of his client. This and not the simile of the angel, was\\nprobably at the bottom of Addison s preferment. It has lately\\nappeared, from the publication of Hearne s diaries by the Oxford\\nHistorical Society, that, in December 1705, it was reported that 33\\nAddison was to marry the Countess of Warwick. The marriage was\\ndelayed for eleven years; but it is clear that Addison Iiad powerful\\nfriends at this time.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "CONG RE VE AND ADDISON 85\\nCampaign some as bad lines as heart can desire;\\nand to hint that Mr. Addison did very wisely in not\\ngoing further with my Lord Godolphin than that\\nangelical simile. Do allow me, just for a little\\n5 harmless mischief, to read you some of the lines\\nwhich follow. Here is the interview between the\\nDuke and the King of the Romans after the bat-\\ntle:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nAustria s young monarch, whose imperial sway\\n10 Sceptres and thrones are destined to obey,\\nWhose boasted ancestry so high extends\\nThat in the Pagan Gods his lineage ends,\\nComes from afar, in gratitude to own\\nThe great supporter of his father s throne.\\n15 What tides of glory to his bosom ran\\nClasped in th embraces of the godlike man\\nHow were his eyes with pleasing wonder fixt,\\nTo see such fire with so much sweetness mixt\\nSuch easy greatness, such a graceful port,\\n20 So turned and finished for the camp or court\\nHow many fourth-form boys at Mr. Addison s\\nschool of Charterhouse could write as well as that\\nnow? The Campaign has blunders, triumphant\\nas it was; and weak points like all campaigns.*\\n25 In the year 1713 Cato came out. Swift has\\nleft a description of the first night of the perform-\\nance. All the laurels of Europe were scarcely suffi-\\ncient for the author of this prodigious poem.f\\nMr. Addison wrote very fluently; but he was sometimes very\\n30slow and scrupulous in correcting. He would show his verses to\\nseveral friends; and would alter almost everything that any of\\nthem hinted at as wrong. He seemed to be too diffident of himself;\\nand too much concerned about his character as a poet; or (as he\\nworded it) too solicitous for that kind of praise which, God knows,\\n35 is but a very little matter after all \u00e2\u0080\u0094Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nt As to poetical affairs, says Pope in 1713, I am content at", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "86 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nLaudations of Whig and Tory chiefs, popular ova-\\ntions, compHmentary garlands from literary men,\\npresent to be a bare looker-on. Cato was not so much the won-\\nder of Rome in his days, as he is of Britain in ours; and though\\nall the foolish industry possible has been used to make it thought 5\\na party play, yet what the author once said of another may the most\\nproperly in the world be applied to him on this occasion:\\nEnvy itself is dumb in wonder lost;\\nAnd factions strive who shall applaud him most.\\nThe numerous and violent claps of the Whig party on the one lo\\nside of the theatre were echoed back by the Tories on the other;\\nwhile the author sweated behind the scenes with concern to find\\ntheir applause proceeding more from the hand than the head.\\nI believe you have heard that, after all the applauses of the opposite\\nfaction, my Lord Bolingbroke sent for Booth, who played Cato, 1 5\\ninto the box, and presented him with fifty guineas in acknowledg-\\nment (as he expressed it) for defending the cause of liberty so\\nwell against a perpetual dictator. Pope s Letters to Sir W. Trum-\\nbull.\\nCato ran for thirty-five nights without interruption. Pope wrote\\nthe Prologue, and Garth the Epilogue. 20.\\nIt is worth noticing how many things in Cato keep their ground I\\nas habitual quotations; e.g. I\\nbig with the fate 1\\nOf Cato and of Rome. 1\\nTis not in mortals to command success;\\nBut we ll do more, Sempronius, we ll deserve it.\\nBlesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.\\nI think the Romans call it Stoicism.\\nMy voice is still for war.\\nWhen vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, 3^\\nThe post of honour is a private station.\\nNot to mention\\nThe woman who deliberates is lost.\\nAnd the eternal\\nPlato, thou reasonest well, 35\\nwhich avenges, perhaps, on the public their neglect of the play I", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 8/\\ntranslations in all languages, delight and homage\\nfrom all save from John Dennis in a minority of\\none. Mr. Addison was called the great Mr. Addi-\\nson after this. The Coffee-house Senate saluted\\nshim Divus: it was heresy to question that decree.\\nMeanwhile he was writing political papers and\\nadvancing in the political profession. He went\\nSecretary to Ireland. He was appointed Secretary\\nof State in 1717. And letters of his are extant,\\n10 bearing date some year or two before, and written\\nto young Lord Warwick, in which he addresses\\nhim as my dearest Lord, and asks afifectionately\\nabout his studies, and writes very prettily about\\nnightingales and birds -nests, which he has found\\n1 5 at Fulham for his Lordship. Those nightingales\\nwere intended to warble in the ear of Lord War-\\nwick s mamma. Addison married her Ladyship in\\n1716; and died at Holland House three years after\\nthat splendid but dism*al union.*\\n20 The lady was persuaded to marry him on terms much like\\nthose on which a Turkish princess is espoused to whom the Sultan is\\nreported to pronounce, Daughter, I give thee this man for thy slave.\\nThe marriage, if uncontradicted report can be credited, made no addi-\\ntion to his happiness; it neither found them, nor made them,\\n25 equal. Rowe s ballad of The Despairing Shepherd is said\\nto have been written, either before or after marriage, upon this\\nmemorable pair. Dr. Johnson.\\nI received the news of Mr. Addison s being declared Secretary\\nof State with the less surprise, in that I knew that post was almost\\nlO offered to him before. At that time he declined it, and I really\\nbelieve that he would have done well to have declined it now. Such\\na post as that, and such a wife as the Countess, do not seem to be,\\nin prudence, eligible for a man that is asthmatic, and we may see\\nthe day when he will, be heartily glad to resign them both.\\n35 Lady Wortley Montagu to Pope: Works, Lord IVharncliffc s\\nedit., vol. ii. p. iii.\\nThe issue of this marriage was a daughter, Charlotte Addison,\\nwho inherited, on her mother s death, the estate of Bilton, near", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "55 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nBut it is not for his reputation as the great author\\nof Cato and the Campaign, or for his merits\\nas Secretary of State, or for his rank and high dis-\\ntinction as my Lady Warwick s husband, or for his\\neminence as an Examiner of poHtical questions on 5\\nthe Whig side, or a Guardian of British Hberties,\\nthat we admire Joseph Addison. It is as a Tatler of\\nsmall talk and a Spectator of mankind, that we\\ncherish and love him, and owe as much pleasure to\\nhim as to any human being that ever wrote. He 10\\ncame in that artificial age, and began to speak with\\nhis noble, natural voice. He came, the gentle\\nsatirist who hit no unfair blow; the kind judge who\\ncastigated only in smiling. While Swift went about,\\nhanging and ruthless a literary Jeffreys in Addi-15\\nson s kind court only minor cases were tried; only\\npeccadilloes and small sins against society: only a\\ndangerous libertinism in tuckers and hoops;* or a\\nRugby, which her father had purchased. She was of weak intellect,\\nand died, unmarried, at an advanced age. 20\\nRowe appears to have been faithful to Addison during his court-\\nship, for his Collection contains Stanzas to Lady Warwick, on\\nMr. Addison s going to Ireland, in which her Ladyship is called\\nChloe, and Joseph Addison Lycidas besides the ballad\\nmentioned by the Doctor, and which is entitled Colin s Com- 25\\nplaint. But not even the interest attached to the name of Ad-\\ndison could induce the reader to peruse this composition, though\\none stanza may serve as a specimen:\\nWhat though I have skill to complain\\nThough the Muses my temples have crowned; -^O\\nWhat though, when they hear my soft strain.\\nThe virgins sit weeping around.\\nAh, Colin thy hopes are in vain;\\nThy pipe and thy laurel resign;\\nThy false one inclines to a swain 35\\nWhose music is sweeter than thine.\\nOne of the most humourous of these is the paper on Hoops,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "CONG RE VE AND ADDISON 89\\nnuisance in the abuse of beaux canes and snuff-\\nboxes. It may be a lady is tried for breaking the\\npeace of our sovereign lady Queen Anne, and\\nogling too dangerously from the side-box; or a\\n5 which, the Spectator tells us, particularly pleased his friend Sir\\nRoger:\\nMr. Spectator,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 You have diverted the town almost a whole\\nmonth at the expense of the country; it is now high time that you\\nshould give the country their revenge. Since your withdrawing\\nJO from this place, the fair sex are run into great extravagances. Their\\npetticoats, which began to heave and swell before you left us, are\\nnow blown up into a rnost enormous concave, and rise every day\\nmore and more; in short, sir, since our women know themselves\\nto be out of the eye of the Spectator, they will be kept within no\\n15 compass. You praised them a little too soon, for the modesty of\\ntheir head-dresses; for as the humour of a sick person is often\\ndriven out of one limb into another, their superfluity of ornaments,\\ninstead of being entirely banished, seems only fallen from their\\nheads upon their lower parts. What they have lost in height they\\n20 make up in breadth, and, contrary to all rules of architecture,\\nwiden the foundations at the same time that they shorten the\\nsuperstructure.\\nThe woinen give out, in defence of these wide bottoms, that\\nthey are airy and very proper for the season; but this I look upon\\n25 to be only a pretence and a piece of art, for it is well known we\\nhave not had a more moderate summer these many years, so that\\nit is certain the heat they complain of cannot be in the weather;\\nbesides, I would fain ask these tender-constituted ladies, why they\\nshould require more cooling than their mothers before them\\n3 I find several speculative persons are of opinion that our sex\\nhas of late years been very saucy, and that the hoop-petticoat is\\nmade use of to keep us at a distance. It is most certain that a\\nwoman s honour cannot be better entrenched than after this man-\\nner, in circle within circle, amidst such a variety of outworks of\\n35 lines and circumvallation. A female who is thus invested in whale-\\nbone is sufficiently secured against the approaches of an ill-bred\\nfellow, who might as well think of Sir George Etherege s way of\\nmaking love in a tub as in the midst of so many hoops.\\nAmong these various conjectures, there are men of superstitious\\n40 tempers who look upon the hoop-petticoat as a kind of prodigy.\\nSome will have it that it portends the downfall of the French king,\\nand observe, that the farthingale appeared in England a little before\\nthe ruin of the Spanish monarchy. Others are of opinion that it\\nforetells battle and bloodshed, and believe it of the same prognostic\\n45 cation as the tail of a blazing star. For my part, I am apt to think\\nit is a sign that multitudes are coming into the world rather than\\ngoing out of it, c. Sec\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Spectator, No. 127.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "90 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nTemplar for beating the watch, or breaking Pris-\\ncian s head; or a citizen s wife for caring too much\\nfor the puppet-show, and too little for her husband\\nand children: every one of the little sinners brought\\nbefore him is amusing, and he dismisses each with 5\\nthe pleasantest penalties and the most charming\\nwords of admonition.\\nAddison wrote his papers as gaily as if he was\\ngoing out for a holiday. When Steele s Taller first\\nbegan his prattle, Addison, then in Ireland, caught lo\\nat his friend s notion, poured in paper after paper,\\nand contributed the stores of his mind, the sweet\\nfruits of his reading, the delightful gleanings of his\\ndaily observation, with a wonderful profusion, and\\nas it seemed an almost endless fecundy. He was^S\\nsix-and-thirty years old: full and ripe. He had not\\nworked crop after crop from his brain, manuring\\nhastily, sub-soiling indifferently, cutting and sow-\\ning and cutting again, like other luckless cultivators\\nof letters. He had not done much as yet: a few 20\\nLatin poems graceful prolusions; a polite book\\nof travels; a dissertation on medals, not very deep;\\nfour acts of a tragedy, a great classical exercise;\\nand the Campaign, a large prize poem that won\\nan enormous prize. But with his friend s discov- 25\\ncry of the Tatler, Addison s calling was found,\\nand the most delightful talker in the world began\\nto speak. He does not go very deep: let gentle-\\nmen of a profound genius, critics accustomed to I\\nthe plunge of the bathos, console themselves by 30\\nthinking that he couldnl go very deep. There are\\nno traces of snfTfering in his writing. He was so", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "CONGREVE AND ADDISON 9 1\\ngood, SO honest, so healthy, so cheerfully selfish, if\\nI must use the word. There is no deep sentiment.\\nI doubt, until after his marriage, perhaps, whether\\nhe ever lost his night s rest or his day s tranquillity\\n5 about any woman in his life; whereas poor Dick\\nSteele had capacity enough to melt, and to languish,\\nand to sigh, and to cry his honest old eyes out, for\\na dozen. His writings do not show insight into or\\nreverence for the love of women, which I take to\\n10 be, one the consequence of the other. He walks\\nabout the world watching their pretty humours,\\nfashions, follies, flirtations, rivalries: and noting\\nthem with the most charming archness. He sees\\nthem in public, in the theatre, or the assembly, or\\n15 the puppet-show; or at the toy-shop higgling for\\ngloves and lace; or at the auction, battling together\\nover a blue porcelain dragon, or a darling monster\\nin Japan; or at church, eyeing the width of their\\nrivals hoops, or the breadth of their laces, as they\\n2c sweep down the aisles. Or he looks out of his window\\nat the Garter in Saint James s Street, at Ardelia s\\ncoach, as she blazes to the drawing-room with her\\ncoronet with six footmen; and remembering that\\nher father was a Turkey merchant in the City, cal-\\n25culates how many sponges went to purchase her\\nearring, and how many drums of figs to build her\\ncoach-box; or he demurely watches behind a tree\\nin Spring Garden as Saccharissa (whom he knows\\nunder her mask) trips out of her chair to the alley\\n30 Mr. Addison has not had one epithalamium that I can hear\\nof, and must even be reduced, like a poorer and a better poet,\\nSpenser, to make his own. ^Pope s Letters.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "92 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwhere wSir Fopling is waiting. He sees only the pub-\\nhe hfe of women. Addison was one of the most\\nresolute clubmen of his day. He passed many\\nhours daily in those haunts. Besides drinking\\nwhich, alas! is past praying for you must know it, 5\\nhe owned, too, ladies, that he indulged in that\\nodious practice of smoking. Poor fellow! He was\\na man s man, remember. The only woman he did\\nknow, he didn t write about. I take it there would\\nnot have been much humour in that story. 10\\nHe likes to go and sit in the smoking-room at\\nthe Grecian, or the Devil to pace Change\\nand the Mall to mingle in that great club of the\\nI have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book with\\npleasure till he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fair 15\\nman, of mild or a choleric disposition, married or a bachelor; with\\nother particulars of a like nature, that conduce very much to the\\nright understanding of an author. To gratify this curiosity, which\\nis so natural to a reader, I design this paper and my next as pre-\\nfatory discourses to my following writings; and shall give some 20\\naccount in them of the persons that are engaged in this work. As\\nthe chief trouble of compiling, digesting, and correcting will fall to\\nmy share, I must do myself thfe justice to open the work with my\\nown history. There runs a story in the family, that when my\\nmother was gone with child of me about three months, she dreamt 25\\nthat she was brought to bed of a judge. Whether this might\\nproceed from a lawsuit which was then depending in the family,\\nor my father s being a justice of the peace, I cannot determine;\\nfor I am not so vain as to think it presaged any dignity that I\\nshould arrive at in my future life, though that was the interpretation 30\\nwhich the neighbourhood put upon it. The gravity of my behaviour\\nat my very first appearance in the world, and all the time that I\\nsucked, seemed to favour my mother s dream; for, as she fias\\noften told me, I threw away my rattle before I was two months old,\\nand would not make use of my coral till they had taken away 35\\nthe bells from it.\\nAs for the rest of my infancy, there being nothing in it re-\\nmarkable, I shall pass it over in silence. I find that during my\\nnonage I had the reputation of a very sullen youth, but was always\\nthe favourite of my schoolmaster, who used to say that my parts 40\\nwere solid and would wear well. I had not been long at the Uni-\\nersity before I distinguished myself by a most profound silence;", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "CONGKEVE AND ADDISON 93\\nworld\u00e2\u0080\u0094 sitting alone in it somehow: having good-\\nwill and kindness for every single man and woman\\nin it having need of some habit and custom bind-\\ning him to some few; never doing any man a wrong\\n5 (unless it be a wrong to hint a little doubt about\\na man s parts, and to damn him with faint praise);\\nand so- he looks on the world and plays with the\\nceaseless humours of all of us\u00e2\u0080\u0094 laughs the kindest\\nlaugh\u00e2\u0080\u0094 points our neighbour s foible or eccentricity\\n10 out to us with the most good-natured smiling con-\\nfidence; and then, turning over his shoulder, whis-\\nfor during the space of eight years, excepting in the pubUc exer-\\ncises of the college, I scarce uttered the quantity of a hundred\\nwords; and, indeed, I do not remember that I ever spoke three\\n1 5 sentences together in my whole life.\\nI have passed my latter years in the city, where I am frequently\\nseen in most public places, though there are not more _ than\\nhalf-a-dozen of my select friends that know me. There is no\\nplace of general resort wherein I do not often make my appearance;\\n20 sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians\\nat Will s, and listening with great attention to the narratives that\\nare made in these little circular audiences. Sometimes I smoke a\\npipe at Child s, and whilst I seem attentive to nothing but the\\nPostman, overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I\\n25 appear on Tuesday night at St. James s Cofifee-house and some-\\ntimes join the little committee of politics in the inner room, as one\\nwho comes to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well\\nknov/n at the Grecian, the Cocoa-tree, and in the theatres both\\nof Drury Lane and the Haymarket. I have been taken for a\\n30merchant upon the Exchange for above these two years; and^ some-\\ntimes pass for a Jew in the assembly of stock-jobbers at Jona-\\nthan s. In short, wherever I see a cluster of people, I mix with\\nthem, though I never open my lips but in my own club.\\nThus I live in the world rather as a Spectator of mankind\\n35 than as one of the species; by which means I have made myself\\na speculative statesman, soldier, merchant, and artizan, without ever\\nmeddling in any practical part in life. I am very well versed in\\nthe theory of a husband or a father, and can discern the errors in\\nthe economy, business, and diversions of others, better than those\\n4Cwho are engaged in them\u00e2\u0080\u0094 as standers-by discover blots which are\\napt to escape those who are in the game. In short, I have\\nacted, in all the parts of my life, as a looker-on, which is the\\ncharacter I intend to preserve in this paper. \u00e2\u0080\u0094Spectator, No. i.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "94 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npers our foibles to our neighbour. What would Sir\\nRoger de Coverley be without his follies and his\\ncharming little brain-cracks? If the good knight\\ndid not call out to the people sleeping in church,\\nand say Amen with such a delightful pomposity; 5\\nif he did not make a speech in the assize-court a\\npropos de bottcs, and merely to show his dignity to\\nMr. Spectator: f if he did not mistake Madam Doll\\nTearsheet for a lady of quality in Temple Garden:\\nif he were wiser than he is: if he had not his hu-io\\nmour to salt his life, and were but a mere English\\ngentleman and game-preserver of what worth were\\nhe to us? We love him for his vanities as much as\\nhis virtues. What is ridiculous is delightful in him;\\nwe are so fond of him because we laugh at him so. 15\\nAnd out of that laughter, and out of that sweet\\nweakness, and out of those harmless eccentricities\\nSo effectually, indeed, did he retort on vice the mockery which\\nhad recently been directed against virtue, that, since his time, the\\nopen violation of decency has always been considered, amongst us, 20\\nthe sure mark of a fool. Macaulay.\\nt The Court was sat before Sir Roger came; but, notwithstand-\\ning all the justices had taken their places upon the bench, they\\nm_ade room for the old knight at the head of them; who for his\\nreputation in the country took occasion to whisper in the judge s 25\\near that he zvas glad his Lordship had met with so much good\\nweather in his circuit. I was listening to the proceedings of the\\nCourt with much attention, and infinitely pleased with that great\\nappearance and solemnity which so properly accompanies such a\\npublic administration of our laws; when, after about an hour s sit- 30\\nting, I observed, to my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that\\nmy friend Sir Roger was getting up to speak. I was in some pain\\nfor him, till I found he had acquitted himself of tv/o or three\\nsentences, with a look of much business and great intrepidity.\\nUpon his first rising, the Court was hushed, and a general whisper 35\\nran among the country people that Sir Roger was up. The speech\\nhe made was so little to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my\\nreaders with an account of it, and I believe was not so much\\ndesigned by the knight himself to inform the Court as to give him\\na figure in my eyes, and to keep up his credit in the country. iO\\nSpectator, No. 122,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "CONG REV E AMD ADDISON- 95\\nand follies, and out of that touched brain, and out\\nof that honest manhood and simplicity we get a\\nresult of happiness, goodness, tenderness, pity,\\npiety; such as, if my audience will think their read-\\nsing and hearing over, doctors and divines but sel-\\ndom have the fortune to inspire. And why not? Is\\nthe glory of Heaven to be sung only by gentlemen\\nin black coats? Must the truth be only expounded\\nin gown and surplice, and out of those two vest-\\nloments can nobody preach it? Commend me to this\\ndear preacher without orders this parson in the\\ntie-wig. When this man looks from the world,\\nwhose weaknesses he describes so benevolently, up\\nto the Heaven which shines over us all, I can hardly\\n1 5 fancy a human face lighted up with a more serene\\nrapture: a human intellect thrilling with a purer\\nlove and adoration than Joseph Addison s. Listen\\nto him: from your childhood you have known the\\nverses: but who can hear their sacred music with-\\n20 out love and awe?\\nSoon as the evening shades prevail,\\nThe moon takes up the wondrous tale,\\nAnd nightly to the listening earth\\nRepeats the story of her birth;\\n25 Whilst all the stars that round her burn,\\nAnd all the planets in their turn,\\nConfirm the tidings as they roll.\\nAnd spread the truth from pole to pole.\\nWhat though, in solemn silence, all\\n30 Move round the dark terrestrial ball;\\nWhat though no real voice nor sound\\nAmid their radiant orbs be found;\\nIn reason s ear they all rejoice,\\nAnd utter forth a glorious voice,\\n35 For ever singing as they shine.\\nThe hand that made us is divine.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "96 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nIt seems to me those verses shine hke the stars.\\nThey shine out of a great deep calm. When he\\nturns to Heaven, a Sabbath comes over that man s\\nmind: and his face Hghts up from it with a glory of\\nthanks and prayer. His sense of religion stirs 5\\nthrough his whole being. In the fields, in the town:\\nlooking at the birds in the trees: at the children in\\nthe streets: in the morning or in the moonlight:\\nover his books in his own room: in a happy party\\nat a country merry-making or a town assembly, 10\\ngood-will and peace to God s creatures, and love\\nand awe of Him who made them, fill his pure heart\\nand shine from his kind face. If Swift s life was\\nthe most wretched, I think Addison s was one of\\nthe most enviable. A life prosperous and beautiful 15\\na calm death ^an immense fame and afifection\\nafterwards for his happy and spotless name.*\\nGarth sent to Addison (of whom he had a very high opinion)\\non his death-bed, to ask him whether the Christian reHgion was\\ntrue. Dr. Young. Spoice s Anecdotes. 20\\nI have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I\\nconsider as an act, the former as an habit of the mind. Mirth is\\nshort and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. Those are\\noften raised into the greatest transports of mirth who are subject\\nto the greatest depression of melancholy: on the contrary, cheer- 25\\nfulness, though it does not give the mind such an exquisite gladness,\\nprevents us from falling into any depths of sorrOw. Mirth is like\\na flash of lightning that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and\\nglitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in\\nthe mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual serenity. 3C\\nAddison: Spectator, No. 381.\\nS", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "Steele\\nWhat do we look for in studying the history of\\na past age? Is it to learn the poHtical transactions\\nand characters of the leading public men? is it to\\nmake ourselves acquainted with the life and being\\n5 of the time? If we set out with the former grave\\npurpose, where is the truth, and who believes that\\nhe has it entire? What character of what great man\\nis known to you? You can but make guesses as\\nto character more or less happy. In common life\\nlo don t you often judge and misjudge a man s whole\\nconduct, setting out from a wrong impression? The\\ntone of a voice, a word said in joke, or a trifle in\\nbehaviour the cut of his hair or the tie of his\\nneckcloth may disfigure him in your eyes, or poison\\niSvour good opinion; or at the end of years of in-\\ntimacy it may be your closest friend says some-\\nthing, reveals something which had previously been\\na secret, which alters all your views about him, and\\nshows that he has been acting on quite a different\\n20 motive to that which you fancied you knew. And\\nif it is so with those you know, how much more\\nwith those you don t know? Say, for example, that\\nI want to understand the character of the Duke of\\nMarlborough. I read Swift s history of the times\\n97", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "9o ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nin which he took a part; the shrewdest of observers\\nand initiated, one would think, into the pohtics of\\nthe age he hints to me that Marlborough was a\\ncoward, and even of doubtful military capacity:\\nhe speaks of Walpole as a contemptible boor, and 5\\nscarcely mentions, except to flout it, the great in-\\ntrigue of the Queen s latter days, which was to have\\nended in bringing back the Pretender. Again, I\\nread Marlborough s Life by a copious archdeacon,\\nwho has the command of immense papers, of sono-io\\nrous language, of what is called the best informa-\\ntion; and I get little or no insight into this secret\\nmotive which, I believe, influenced the whole of\\nMarlborough s career, which caused his turnings\\nand windings, his opportune fidelity and treason, t5\\nstopped his army almost at Paris gate, and landed\\nhim finally on the Hanoverian side the winning\\nside: I get, I say, no truth, or only a portion of it,\\nin the narrative of either writer, and believe that\\nCoxe s portrait, or Swift s portrait, is quite unlike2o\\nthe real Churchill. I take this as a single instance,\\nprepared to be as sceptical about any other, and\\nsay to the Muse of History, O venerable daugh-\\nter of Mnemosyne, I doubt every single statement\\nyou ever made since your ladyship was a Museiss\\nFor all your grave airs and high pretensions, you\\nare not a whit more trustworthy than some of your\\nlighter sisters on whom your partisans look down.\\nYou bid me listen to a general s oration to his sol-\\ndiers: Nonsense! He no more made it than Tur-3o\\npin made his dying speech at Newgate. You pro-\\nnounce a panegyric on a hero I doubt it, ^and say", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "STEELE 99\\nyou flatter outrageously. You utter the condem-\\nnation of a loose character: I doubt it, and think\\nyou are prejudiced and take the side of the Dons.\\nYou ofifer me an autobiography: I doubt all auto-\\n5 biographies I ever read; except those, perhaps, of\\nMr. Robinson Crusoe, Mariner, and writers of his\\nclass. These have no object in setting themselves\\nright with the public or their own consciences;\\nthese have no motive for concealment or half-\\n10 truths; these call for no more confidence than I can\\ncheerfully give, and do not force me to tax my\\ncredulity or to fortify it by evidence. I take up a\\nvolume of Doctor Smollett, or a volume of the\\nSpectator, and say the fiction carries a greater\\n15 amount of truth in solution than the volume which\\npurports to be all true. Out of the fictitious book\\nI get the expression of the life of the time; of the\\nmanners, of the movement, the dress, the pleasures,\\nthe laughter, the ridicules of society the old times\\n20 live again, and I travel in the old country of Eng-\\nland. Can the heaviest historian do more for me?\\nAs we read in these delightful volumes of the\\nTatlcr and Spectator the past age returns, the Eng-\\nland of our ancestors is revivified. The Maypole\\n23 rises in the Strand again in London;^ the churches\\nare thronged with daily worshippers; the beaux are\\ngathering in the coffee-houses; the gentry are go-\\ning to the Drawing-room the ladies are thronging\\nto the toy-shops: the chairmen are jostling in the\\n30 streets; the footmen are running with links be-\\nfore the chariots, or fighting round the theatre\\ndoors. In the country I see the young Squire rid-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "lOO ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ning to Eton with his servants behind him, and Will\\nWimble, the friend of the family, to see him safe.\\nTo make that journey from the Squire s and back,\\nWill is a week on horseback. The coach takes five\\ndays between London and Bath. The judges and 5\\nthe bar ride the circuit. If my Lady comes to town\\nin her post-chariot, her people carry pistols to fire\\na salute on Captain Macheath if he should appear,\\nand her couriers ride ahead to prepare apartments\\nfor her at the great caravanserais on the road; 10\\nBoniface receives her under the creaking sign of the\\nBell or the Ram, and he and his chamber-\\nlains bow her up the great stair to the state apart-\\nments, whilst her carriage rumbles into the court-\\nyard, where the Exeter Fly is housed that per- 15\\nforms the journey in eight days, God willing, hav-\\ning achieved its daily flight of twenty miles, and\\nlanded its passengers for supper and sleep. The\\ncurate is taking his pipe in the kitchen, where the\\nCaptain s man having hung up his master s half- 20\\npike is at his bacon and eggs, bragging of Ramil-\\nlies and Malplaquet to the townsfolk, who have\\ntheir club in the chimney-corner. The Captain is\\nogling the chambermaid in the wooden gallery, or\\nbribing her to know wdio is the pretty young mis- 25\\ntress that has come in the coach. The pack-horses\\nare in the great stable, and the drivers and ostlers\\ncarousing in the tap. And in Mrs. Landlady s bar,\\nover a glass of strong waters, sits a gentleman of\\nmilitary appearance, who travels with pistols, as all 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nthe rest of the world does, and has a rattling grey\\nmare in the stables which will be saddled and away", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "STEELE lOI\\nv/itli Its owner half-an-hour before the Fly sets\\nout on its last day s flight. And some five miles on\\nthe road, as the Exeter Fly comes jingling and\\ncreaking onwards, it will suddenly be brought to a\\n5 halt by a gentleman on a grey mare, with a black\\nvizard on his face, who thrusts a long pistol into the\\ncoach window, and bids the company to hand out\\ntheir purses. It must have been no small pleas-\\nure even to sit in the great kitchen in those days,\\nlo and see the tide of humankind pass by. We arrive\\nat places now, but we travel no more. Addison\\ntalks jocularly of a difference of manner and cos-\\ntume being quite perceivable at Staines, where\\nthere passed a young fellow with a very tolerable\\n15 periwig, though, to be sure, his hat was out of\\nfashion, and had a Ramillies cock. I would have\\nliked to travel in those days (being of that class of\\ntravellers who are proverbially pretty easy coram\\nlatronibus) and have seen my friend with the grey\\n20 mare and the black vizard. Alas! there always\\ncame a day in the life of that warrior when it was\\nthe fashion to accompany him as he passed with-\\nout his black mask, and with a nosegay in his hand,\\naccompanied by halberdiers and attended by the\\n25 sheriff, in a carriage without springs, and a\\nclergyman jolting beside him, to a spot close by\\nCumberland Gate and the Marble Arch, where a\\nstone still records that here Tyburn turnpike stood.\\nWhat a change in a century; in a few years! Within\\n3\u00c2\u00aba few yards of that gate the fields began: the fields\\nof his exploits, behind the hedges of which he\\nlurked and robbed. A great and wealthy city has", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "I02 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ngrown over those meadows. Were a man brought\\nto die there now, the windows would be closed and\\nthe inhabitants keep their houses in sickening hor-\\nror. A hundred years back, people crowded to see\\nthat last act of a highwayman s life, and make jokes 5\\non it. Swift laughed at him, grimly advising him\\nto provide a Holland shirt and white cap crowned\\nwith a crimson or black riband for his exit, to\\nm.ount the cart cheerfully shake hands with the\\nhangman, and so farewell. Gay wrote the most 10\\ndelightful ballads, and made merry over the same\\nhero. Contrast these with the writings of our\\npresent humourists! Compare those morals and\\nours those manners and ours!\\nWe can t tell you would not bear to be told 15\\nthe whole truth regarding those men and manners.\\nYou could no more suffer in a Britisli drawing-\\nroom, under the reign of Queen Victoria, a fine\\ngentleman or fine lady of Queen Anne s time, or\\nhear what they heard and said, than you would re- 20\\nceive an ancient Briton. It is as one reads about\\nsavages, that one contemplates the wild ways, the\\nbarbarous feasts, the terrific pastimes, of the men\\nof pleasure of that age. We have our fine gentle-\\nmen, and our fast men permit me to give you 25\\nan idea of one particularly fast nobleman of Queen\\nAnne s days, whose biography has been preserved\\nto us by the law reporters.\\nIn 1691, when Steele was a boy at school, my\\nLord Mohun was tried by his peers for the murder 30\\nof William Mountford, comedian. In Howell s\\nState Trials, the reader will find not only an edi-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "STEELE 103\\nfying account of this exceedingly fast nobleman,\\nbut of the times and manners of those days. My\\nLord s friend, a Captain Hill, smitten with the\\ncharms of the beautiful Mrs. Bracegirdle, and\\n5 anxious to marry her at all hazards, determined to\\ncarry her off, and for this purpose hired a hackney-\\ncoach with six horses, and a half-dozen of soldiers\\nto aid him in the storm. The coach with a pair of\\nhorses (tire four leaders being in waiting elsewhere)\\n10 took its station opposite my Lord Craven s house\\nin Drury Lane, by which door Mrs. Bracegirdle\\nwas to pass on her way from the theatre. As she\\npassed in company of her mamma and a friend, Mr.\\nPage, the Captain seized her by the hand, the sol-\\n^Sdiers hustled Mr. Page and attacked him sword in\\nhand, and Captain Hill and his noble friend en-\\ndeavoured to force Madam Bracegirdle into the\\ncoach. Mr. Page called for help: the population of\\nDrury Lane rose: it was impossible to effect the\\n-o capture; and bidding the soldiers go about their\\nbusiness, and the coach to drive ofif. Hill let go of\\nhis prey sulkily, and waited for other opportunities\\nof revenge. The man of whom he was most jealous\\nwas Will Mountford, the comedian; Will removed,\\n-She thought Mrs. Bracegirdle might be his: and ac-\\ncordingly the Captain and his Lordship lay that\\nnight in wait for Will, and as he was coming out of\\na house in Norfolk Street, while Mohun engaged\\nhim in talk, Hill, in the words of the Attorney-\\nGeneral, made a pass and ran him clean through the\\nbody.\\nSixty-one of my Lord s peers finding him not", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "I04 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nguilty of murder, while but fourteen found him\\nguilty, this very fast nobleman was discharged and\\nmade his appearance seven years after in another\\ntrial for murder when he, my Lord Warwick, and\\nthree gentlemen of the military profession, were 5\\nconcerned in the fight which ended in the death of\\nCaptain Coote.\\nThis jolly company were drinking together in\\nLockit s at Charing Cross, when angry words\\narose between Captain Coote and Captain French; 10\\nwhom my Lord Mohun and my Lord the Earl of\\nWarwick and Holland endeavoured to pacify.\\nMy Lord Warwick was a dear friend of Captain\\nCoote, lent him iioo to buy his commission in .the\\nGuards; once when the Captain was arrested for 15\\n\u00c2\u00a313 by his tailor, my Lord lent him five guineas,\\noften paid his reckoning for him, and showed him\\nother offices of friendship. On this. evening the dis-\\nputants, French and Coote, being separated whilst\\nthey were upstairs, unluckily stopped to drink ale 20\\nagain at the bar of Lockit s. The row began\\nThe husband of the Lady Warwick who married Addison, and the\\nfather of the young Earl, who was brought to his stepfather s bed\\nto see how a Christian could die. He was amongst the wildest\\nof the nobility of that day; and in the curious collection of Chap- 25\\nBooks at the British Museum, I have seen more than one anecdote\\nof the freaks of the gay lord. He was popular in London, as such\\ndaring spirits have been in our time. The anecdotists speak very\\nkindly of his practical jokes. Mohun was scarcely out of prison for\\nhis second homicide, when he went on Lord Macclesfield s embassy30\\nto the Elector of Hanover when Queen Anne sent the Garter to\\nhis Highness. The chronicler of the expedition speaks of his Lord-\\nship as an amiable young man, who had been in bad company,\\nbut was quite repentant and reformed. He and Macartney after-\\nwards murdered the Duke of Hamilton between them, in which act 35\\nLord Mohun died. This amiable Baron s name was Charles, and\\nnot Henry, as a recent novelist has christened him (in Esmond).", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "STEELE 105\\nafresh Coote lunged at French over the bar, and\\nat last all six called for chairs, and went to Leices-\\nter Fields, where they fell to. Their Lordships en-\\ngaged on the side of Captain Coote. My Lord of\\n5 Warwick was severely wounded in the hand, Mr.\\nFrench also was stabbed, but honest Captain Coote\\ngot a couple of wounds one especially, a wound\\nin the left side just under the short ribs, and pierc-\\ning through the diaphragma, which did for Cap-\\n10 tain Coote. Hence the trials of my Lords War-\\nwick and Mohun: hence the assemblage of peers,\\nthe report of the transaction in which these defunct\\nfast men still live for the observation of the curioiiis.\\nMy Lord of Warwick is brought to the bar by the\\n15 Deputy-Governor of the Tower of London, having\\nthe axe carried before him by the gentleman gaoler,\\nwho stood with it at the bar at the right hand of the\\nprisoner, turning the edge from him; the prisoner,\\nat his approach, making three bows, one to his\\n20 Grace the Lord High Steward, the other to the\\npeers on each hand; and his Grace and the peers\\nreturn the salute. And besides these great person-\\nages, august in periwigs, and nodding to the right\\nand left, a host of the small come up out of the past\\n25 and pass before us the jolly captains brawling in\\nthe tavern, and laughing and cursing over their\\ncups the drawer that serves, the bar-girl that\\nwaits, the bailiff on the prowl, the chairmen trudg-\\ning through the black lampless streets, and smok-\\n3oing their pipes by the railings, whilst swords are\\nclashing in the garden within. Help there! a\\ngentleman is hurt The chairmen put up their", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "I06 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npipes, and help the gentleman over the railings,\\nand carry him, ghastly and bleeding, to the Bagnio\\nin Long Acre, where they knock up the surgeon\\na pretty tall gentleman but that wound under the\\nshort ribs has done for him. Surgeon, lords, cap- 5\\ntains, bailiffs, chairmen, and gentleman gaoler with\\nyour axe, where be you now? The gentleman axe-\\nman s head is oil his o.wn shoulders; the lords and\\njudges can wag theirs no longer; the bailiff s writs\\nhave ceased to run: the honest chairmen s pipes are 10\\nput out, and with their brawny calves they have\\nwalked away into Hades all is irrecoverably done\\nfor as Will Mountford or Captain Coote. The sub-\\nject of our night s lecture saw all these people\\nrode in Captain Coote s company of the Guards 15\\nvery probably wrote and sighed for Bracegirdle,\\nwent home tipsy in many a chair, after many a bot-\\ntle, in many a tavern fled from many a bailiff.\\nIn 1709, when the publication of the Tatler be-\\ngan, our great-great-grandfathers must have seized 20\\nupon that new and delightful paper with much such\\neagerness as lovers of light literature in a later day\\nexhibited when the Waverley novels appeared,\\nupon which the public rushed, forsaking that feeble\\nentertainment of which the Miss Porters, the Anne 25\\nof Swanseas, a.nd worthy Mrs. Radcliffe herself,\\nwith her dreary castles and exploded old ghosts,\\nhad had pretty much the monopoly. I have looked\\nover many of the comic books with which our an-\\ncestors amused themselves, from the novels of 3o\\nSwift s coadjutrix, Mrs. Manley, the delectable au-\\nthor of the New Atlantis, to the facetious pro-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "STEELE 107\\nductions of Tom Durfey, and Tom Brown, and Ned\\nWard, writer of the London Spy and several\\nother volumes of ribaldry. The slang of the tav-\\nerns and ordinaries, the wit of the bagnios, form the\\n5 strongest part of the farrago of which these libels\\nare composed. In the excellent newspaper collec-\\ntion at the British Museum, you may see, besides,\\nthe Craftsman and Postboy specimens and queer\\nspecimens they are of the higher literature of\\n10 Queen Anne s time. Here is an abstract from a nota-\\nble journal bearing date Wednesday, October 13th,\\n1708, and entitled The British Apollo; or, curious\\namusements for the ingenions, by a society of gentle-\\nmen. The British Apollo invited and professed to\\n15 answer questions upon all subjects of wit, morality,\\nscience, and even religion; and two out of its four\\npages are filled with queries and replies much like\\nsome of the oracular penny prints of the present\\ntime.\\n20 One of the first querists, referring to the passage\\nthat a bishop should be the husband of one wife,\\nargues that polygamy is justifiable in the laity. The\\nsociety of gentlemen conducting the British Apollo\\nare posed by this casuist, and promis-e to give him\\n25 an answer. Celinda then wishes to know from the\\ngentleman, concerning the souls \u00c2\u00a9f the dead,\\nwhether they shall have the satisfaction to know\\nthose whom they most valued in this transitory\\nlife. The gentlemen of the Apollo give but poor\\n30comifort to poor Celinda. They are inclined to\\nthink not; for, say they, since every inhabitant of\\nThe Craftsman did not appear till 1726.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "Io8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthose regions will be infinitely dearer than here are\\nour nearest relatives what have we to do with a\\npartial friendship in that happy place? Poor Ce-\\nlinda! it may have been a child or a lover whom\\nshe had lost, and w^as pining after, wdien the oracle 5\\nof British Apollo gave her this dismal answer. She\\nhas solved the question for herself by this time, and\\nknows quite as well as the society of gentlemen.\\nFrom theology we come to physics, and Q. asks,\\nWhy does hot water freeze sooner than cold? 10\\nApollo replies, Hot water cannot be said to freeze\\nsooner than cold; but water once heated and cold\\nmay be subject to freeze by the evaporation of the\\nspirituous parts of the water, which renders it less\\nable to withstand the power of frosty weather. 15\\nThe next query is rather a delicate one. You,\\nMr. Apollo, who are said to be the God of Wisdom,\\npray give us the reason why kissing is so much in\\nfashion: what benefit one receives by it, and who\\nwas the inventor, and you will oblige Corinna. 20\\nTo this queer demand the lips of Phoebus, smiling,\\nanswer: Pretty innocent Corinna! Apollo owns\\nthat he was a little surprised by your kissing ques-\\ntion, particularly at that part of it where you desire\\ntt) know the benefit you receive by it. Ah 25\\nmadam, had you a lover, you would not come to\\nApollo fOT a solution; since there is no dispute but\\nthe kisses of mutual lovers give infinite satisfaction.\\nAs to its invention, tis certain nature was its au-\\nthor, and it began with the first courtship. 3^\\nAfter a column more of questions, follow nearly\\ntwo pages of poems, signed bv Philander, Armenia,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "STEELE iC9\\nand the like, and chiefly on the tender passion; and\\nthe paper winds up with a letter from Leghorn, an\\naccount of the Duke of Marlborough and Prince\\nEugene before Lille, and proposals for publishing\\n5 two sheets on the present state of Ethiopia, by Mr.\\nHill: all of which is printed for the authors by J.\\nMayo, at the Printing Press against Water Lane\\nin Fleet Street. What a change it must have been\\nhow Apollo s oracles must have been struck dumb\\nlo when the Taller appeared, and scholars, gentle-\\nmen, men of the world, men of genius, began to\\nspeak!\\nShortly before the Boyne was fought, and young\\nSwift had begun to make acquaintance with Eng-\\nislish Court manners and English servitude, in Sir\\nWilliam Temple s family, another Irish youth was\\nbrought to learn his humanities at the old school\\nof Charterhouse, near Smithfield; to which founda-\\ntion he had been appointed by James, Duke of Or-\\n20 mond, a governor of the House, and a patron of\\nthe lad s family. The boy was an orphan, and de-\\nscribed, twenty years after, with a sweet pathos and\\nsimplicity, some of the earliest recollections of a life\\nwhich was destined to be chequered by a strange\\n25 variety of good and evil fortune.\\nI am afraid no good report could be given by\\nhis masters and ushers of that thick-set, square-\\nfaced, black-eyed, soft-hearted little Irish boy. He\\nwas very idle. He was whipped deservedly a great\\n30 number of times. Though he had very good parts\\nof his own, he got other boys to do his lessons for\\nhim, and only took just as much trouble as should", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "no ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nenable him to scuffle through his exercises, and by\\ngood fortune escape the flogging-block. One hun-\\ndred and fifty years after, I have myself inspected,\\nbut only as an amateur, that instrument of righteous\\ntorture still existing, and in occasional use, in a 5\\nsecluded private apartment of the old Charterhouse\\nSchool; and have no doubt it is the very counter-\\npart, if not the ancient and interesting machine it-\\nself, at which poor Dick Steele submitted himself to\\nthe tormentors.\\nBesides being very kind, lazy, and good-na-\\ntured, this boy went invariably into debt with the\\ntart- woman; ran out of bounds, and entered into\\npecuniary, or rather promissory engagements with\\nthe neighbouring lollipop vendors and piemen\u00e2\u0080\u0094 15\\nexhibited an early fondness and capacity for drink-\\ning mum and sack, and borrowed from all his com-\\nrades who had money to lend. I have no sort of\\nauthority for the statements here made of Steele s\\nearly life; but if the child is father of the man, the 20\\nfather of young Steele of Merton, who left Oxford\\nwithout taking a degree, and entered the Life\\nGuards\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the father of Captain Steele of Lucas s\\nFusiliers, who got his company through the\\npatronage of my Lord Cutts\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the father of Mr. 25\\nSteele the Commissioner of Stamps, the editor of\\nthe Gazette, the Tatler, and Spectator, the expelled\\nMember of ParHament, and the author of the Ten-\\nder Husband and the Conscious Lovers if\\nman and boy resembled each other, Dick Steele the 30\\nschoolboy must have been one of the most gen-\\nerous, good-for-nothing, amiable little creatures", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "STEELE III\\nthat ever conjugated the verb tiipto, I beat, tuptomai,\\nI am whipped, in any school in Great Britain.\\nAhiiost every gentleman who does me the honour\\nto hear me will remember that the very greatest\\n5 character which he has seen in the course of his life,\\nand the person to whom he has looked up with\\nthe greatest wonder and reverence, was the head\\nboy at his school. The schoolmaster himself hardly\\ninspires such an awe. The head boy construes as\\nlo well as the schoolmaster himself. When he begins\\nto speak the hall is hushed, and every little boy lis-\\ntens. He writes off copies of Latin verses as me-\\nlodiously as Virgil. He is good-natured, and, his\\nown masterpieces achieved, pours out other copies\\n15 of verses for other boys with an astonishing ease\\nand fluency; the idle ones only trembling lest they\\nshould be discovered on giving in their exercises\\nand whipped because their poems were too good.\\nI have seen great men in my time, but never such\\n20 a great one as that head boy of my childhood we\\nall thought he must be Prime Minister, and I was\\ndisappointed on meeting him in after life to find he\\nwas no more than six feet high.\\nDick Steele, the Charterhouse gownboy, con-\\n25 tracted such an admiration in the years of his child-\\nhood, and retained it faithfully through his life.\\nThrough the school and through the world, whith-\\nersoever his strange fortune led this erring, way-\\nward, affectionate creature, Joseph Addison was\\n30 always his head boy. Addison wrote his exercises.\\nAddison did his best themes. He ran on Addison s\\nmessages; fagged for him and blacked his shoes:", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "1 I ENGLISH H UMO URIS TS\\nto be in Joe s company was Dick s greatest pleas-\\nure; and he took a sermon or a caning from his\\nmonitor with the most boundless reverence, ac-\\nquiescence, and affection.*\\nSteele fourid Addison a stately College Don at 5\\nOxford, and himself did not make much figure at\\nthis place. He wrote a comedy, which, by the ad-\\nvice of a friend, the humble fellow burned there;\\nand some verses, which I dare say are as sublime as\\nother gentlemen s compositions at that age; but 10\\nbeing smiitten with a sudden love for military glory,\\nhe threw up the cap and gown for the saddle and\\nbridle, and rode privately in the Horse Guards, in\\nthe Duke of Ormond s troop the second and,\\nprobably, with the rest of the gentlemen of his 15\\ntroop, all mounted on black horses with white\\nfeathers in their hats, and scarlet coats richly\\nlaced, marched by King William, in Hyde Park,\\nin November 1699,^ and a great show of the no-\\nbility, besides twenty thousand people, and above 20\\na thousand coaches. The Guards had just got\\ntheir new clothes, the London Post said: they are\\nSteele had the greatest veneration for Addison, and used to\\nshow it, in all companies, in a particular manner. Addison, now\\nand then, used to play a little upon him; but he always took it 25\\nwell. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nSir Richard Steele was the best-natured creature in the world:\\neven in his worst state of health, he seemed to desire nothing but\\nto please and be pleased. Dr. Young. Spcnce s Anecdotes.\\nSteele, it may be noted, was a few weeks older than Addison. 30\\nHe was born in March, Addison on ist May, 1672.\\nt Steele appears to have been a trooper in the Life Guards; but\\nin 1699 he had received from Lord Cutts an ensigncy in the Cold-\\nstream Guards. In 1702 he became captain in Lucas s regiment,\\nwhich, however, was not called Fusiliers. See Aitken s Life 0/ 35\\nSteele.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "STEELE 113\\nextraordinary grand, and thought to be the finest\\nbody of horse in the world. But Steele could\\nhardly have seen any actual service. He who wrote\\nabout himself, his mother, his wife, his loves, his\\n5 debts, his friends, and the wine he drank, would\\nhave told us of his battles if he had seen any. His\\nold patron, Ormond, probably got him his cornetcy\\nin the Guards, from which he was promoted to be\\na captain in Lucas s Fusiliers, getting his company\\n10 through the patronage of Lord Cutts, whose sec-\\nretary he was, and to whom he dedicated his work\\ncalled the Christian Hero. As for Dick, whilst\\nwriting this ardent devotional work, he was deep\\nin debt, in drink, and in all the follies of the town;\\n15 it is related that all the officers of Lucas s, and the\\ngentlemen of the Guards, laughed at Dick.* And\\nThe gaiety of his dramatic tone may be seen in this little scene\\nbetween two brilliant sisters, from his comedy The Funeral, or Grief\\na la Mode. Dick wrote this, he said, from a necessity of en-\\n20 livening his character, which, it seemed, the Christian Hero had a\\ntendency to make too decorous, grave, and respectable in the eyes\\nof readers of that pious piece.\\n[Scene draws and discovers Lady Charlotte, reading at a fable,\\nLady Harriet, playing at a glass, to and fro, and viewing herself.}\\n25 L. Ha. Nay, good sister, you may as well talk to me [looking at\\nherself as she speaks} as sit staring at a book which I know you\\ncan t attend. Good Dr. Lucas may have writ there what he pleases,\\nbut there s no putting Francis, Lord Hardy, now Earl of Brump-\\nton, out of your head, or making him absent fi om your eyes. Do\\n30 but look on me, now, and deny it if you can.\\nL. Ch. You are the maddest girl [smiling}.\\nL. Ha. Look ye, I knew you could not say it and forbear\\nlaughing. [Looking over Charlotte.}\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Oh I see his name as plain\\nas you do F-r-a-n, Fran, c-i-s, cis, Francis, tis in every line of\\n35 the book.\\nL. Ch. [rising}. It s in vain, I see, to mind anything in such\\nimpertinent company\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but, granting twere as you say, as to my\\nLord Hardy tis more excusable to admire another than oi\u00c2\u00bbeself.\\ni-. Ha. No. I think not, yes, I grant you, than really to be", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "114 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nI\\nin truth a theologian in liquor is not a respectable\\nobject, and a hermit, though he may be out\\nat elbows, must not be in debt to the tailor.\\nvain of one s person, but I don t admire myself, Pish I don t\\nbelieve my eyes to have that softness. [Looking in the glass. They 5\\na n t so piercing: no, tis only stuff, the men will be talking. Some\\npeople are such admirers of teeth\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Lord, what signifies teeth\\n[Showing her teeth. A very black-a-moor has as white a set of\\nteeth as I. No, sister, I don t admire myself, but I ve a spirit of\\ncontradiction in me: I don t know I m in love with myself, only ^O\\nto rival the men.\\nL. Ch. Ay, but Mr. Campley will gain ground ev n of that\\nrival of his, your dear self.\\nL. Ha. Oh, what have I done to you, that you should name\\nthat insolent intruder A confident, opinionative fop. No, in- ^5\\ndeed, if I am, as a poetical lover of mine sighed and sung of both\\nsexes,\\nThe public envy and the public care,\\nI shan t be so easily catched\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I thank him\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I want but to be sure\\nI should heartily torment him by banishing him, and then con- 20\\nsider whether he should depart this life or not.\\nL. Ch. Indeed, sister, to be serious with you, this vanity in your\\nhumour does not at all become you.\\nL. Ha. Vanity All the matter is, we gay people are more\\nsincere than you wise folks: all your life s an art. Speak your 25\\nsoul.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Look you there.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 [Hauling her to the glass.] Are you not\\nstruck with a secret pleasure when you view that bloom in your\\nlook, that harmony in your shape, that promptitude in your mien\\nL. Ch. Well, simpleton, if I am at first so simple as to be a\\nlittle taken with myself, I know it a fault, and take pains to 30\\ncorrect it.\\nL. Ha. Pshaw Pshaw Talk this musty tale to old Mrs.\\nFardingale, tis too soon for me to think at that rate.\\nL. Ch. They that think it too soon to understand themselves\\nwill very soon find it too late.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 But tell me honestly, don t you 35\\nlike Campley\\nL. Ha. The fellow is not to be abhorred, if the forward thing\\ndid not think of getting me so easily.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Oh, I hate a heart I can t\\nbreak when I please. What makes the value of dear china, but that\\ntis so brittle were it not for that, you might as well have stone 40\\nmugs in your closet. The Funeral, Oct. 2nd.\\nWe knew the obligations the stage had to his writings [Steele s];\\nthere being scarcely a comedian of merit in our whole company\\nwhom, his Tatlers had not made better by his recommendation of\\nthem. Cibber. 45", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "STEELE 115\\nSteele says of himself that he was always sin-\\nning and repenting. He beat his breast and\\ncried most piteously when he did repent: but\\nas soon as crying had made him thirsty, he\\n5 fell to sinning again. In that charming paper in\\nthe Tatler, in which he records his father s death,\\nhis mother s griefs, his own most solemn and ten-\\nder emotions, he says he is interrupted by the ar-\\nrival of a hamper of wine, the same as is to be\\n10 sold at Garraway s next week upon the receipt\\nof which he sends for three friends, and they fall\\nto instantly, drinking two bottles apiece, with\\ngreat benefit to themselves, and not separating till\\ntwo o clock in the morning.\\n15 His life was so. Jack the drawer was always in-\\nterrupting it, bringing him a bottle from the\\nRose, or inviting him over to a bout there with\\nSir Plume and Mr. Diver; and Dick wiped his eyes,\\nwhich were whimpering over his papers, took down\\n20 his laced hat, put on his sword and wig, kissed his\\nwife and children, told them a lie about pressing\\nbusiness, and went off to the Rose to the jolly\\nfellows.\\nWhen Mr. Addison was abroad, and after he came\\n25 home in rather a dismal way to wait upon Provi-\\ndence in his shabby lodging in the Haymarket,\\nyoung Captain Steele was cutting a much smarter\\nfigure than that of his classical friend of Charter-\\nhouse Cloister and Maudlin Walk. Could not some\\n30 painter give an interview between the gallant Cap-\\ntain of Lucas s, with his hat cocked, and his lace,\\nand his face too, a trifle tarnished with drink, and", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "Il6 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthat poet, that philosopher, pale, proud, and poor,\\nhis friend and monitor of school-days, of all days?\\nHow Dick must have bragged about his chances\\nand his hopes, and the fine company he kept, and\\nthe charms of the reigning toasts and popular act- 5\\nresses, and the number of bottles that he and my\\nLord and some other pretty fellows had cracked\\nover-night at the Devil, or the Garter Can-\\nnot one fancy Joseph Addison s calm smile and\\ncold grey eyes following Dick for an instant, as he 10\\nstruts down the Mall to dine with the Guard at\\nSaint James s, before he turns, with his sober pace\\nand threadbare suit, to walk back to his lodgings up\\nthe two pair of stairs? Steele s name was down for\\npromotion, Dick always said himself, in the glo- 15\\nrious, pious, and immortal William s last table-\\nbook. Jonathan Swift s name had been written\\nthere by the same hand too.\\nOur worthy friend, the author of the Christian\\nHero, continued to make no small figure about 20\\ntown by the use of his wits.* He was appointed\\nGazetteer: he wrote, in 1703, The Tender Hus-\\nband, his second play, in which there is some de-\\nlightful farcical writing, and of which he fondly\\nowned in after life, and when Addison was no 25\\nmore, that there were many applauded strokes\\nfrom Addison s beloved hand.f Is it not a pleasant\\nThere is not now in his sight that excellent man, whom\\nHeaven made his friend and superior, to be at a certain place in\\npain for what he should say or do. I will go on in his further 30\\nencouragement. The best woman that ever man had cannot now\\nlament and pine at his neglect of himself. Steele [of himself]\\nThe Theatre. No. 12, Feb. 1719-20.\\nt The Funeral supplies an admirable stroke of humour, one which", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "STEELE 117\\npartnership to remember? Can t one fancy Steele\\nfull of spirits and youth, leaving his gay company\\nto go to Addison s lodging, where his friend sits in\\nthe shabby sitting-room, quite serene, and cheerful,\\nSand poor? In 1704, Steele came on the town with\\nanother comedy, and behold it was so moral\\nand religious, as poor Dick insisted, so dull the\\ntown thought,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that the Lying Lover was\\ndamned.*\\n10 Addison s hour of. success now came, and he was\\nable to help our friend the Christian Hero in\\nsuch a way, that, if there had been any chance of\\nkeeping that poor tipsy champion upon his legs,\\nhis fortune was safe, and his competence assured.\\n15 Steele procured the place of Commissioner of\\nStamps: he wrote so richly, so gracefully often, so\\nkindly always, with such a pleasant wit and easy\\nfrankness, with such a gush of good spirits and\\ngood humour, that his early papers may be com-\\n20 pared to Addison s own, and are to be read, by a\\nSydney Smith has used as an illustration of the faculty in his\\nlectures.\\nThe undertaker is talking to his employes about their duty.\\nSahle. Ha, you A little more upon the dismal [forming their\\n25 countenances] this fellow has a good mortal look,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 place him near\\nthe corpse: that wainscot-face must be o top of the stairs; that\\nfellow s almost in a fright (that looks as if he were full of some\\nstrange misery) at the end of the hall. So\u00e2\u0080\u0094 But I ll fix you all my-\\nself. Let s have no laughing now on any provocation. Look yonder\\n30 \u00e2\u0080\u0094that hale, well-looking puppy You ungrateful scoundrel, did\\nnot I pity you, take you out of a great man s service, and show\\nyou the pleasure of receiving wages Did not I give you ten, then\\nfifteen, and twenty shillings a week to be sorrowful f\u00e2\u0080\u0094and the more I\\ngive you I think the gladder you are\\n35 There is some confusion here as to dates. Steele s first play,\\nthe Funeral, was brought out in December 1701 his second, the\\nLying Lover, in December 1703; and his third, the Tender Husband,\\nin April 1705.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "Il8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmale reader at least, with quite an equal plea-\\nsure.*\\nAfter the Tatler in 171 1, the famous Spectator\\nmade its appearance, and this was followed at\\nFrom my own Apartment: Nov. i6. e\\nThere are several persons who have many pleasures and enter-\\ntainments in their possession, which they do not enjoy; it is, there-\\nfore, a kind and good office to acquaint them with their own\\nhappiness, and turn their attention to such instances of their good\\nfortune as they are apt to overlook. Persons in the married state lo\\noften want such a monitor; and pine away their days by looking\\nupon the same condition in anguish and murmuring, which carries\\nwith it, in the opinion of others, a complication of all the pleasures\\nof life, and a retreat from its inquietudes.\\nI am led into this thought by a visit I made to an old friend 15\\nwho was formerly my schoolfellow. He came to town last week,\\nwith his family, for the winter; and yesterday morning sent me\\nword his wife expected me to dinner. I am, as it were, at home at\\nthat house, and every member of it knows me for their well-wisher.\\nI cannot, indeed, express the pleasure it is to be met by the chil- 20\\ndren with so much joy as I am when I go thither. The boys and\\ngirls strive who shall come first, when they think it is I that am\\nknocking at the door; and that child which loses the race to me\\nruns back again to tell the father it is Mr. Bickerstaflf. This day\\nI was led in by a pretty girl that we all thought must have forgot 25\\nme; for the family has been out of town these two years. Her\\nknowing me again was a mighty subject with us, and took up our\\ndiscourse at the first entrance; after which, they began to rally me\\nupon a thousand little stories they heard in the country, about my\\nmarriage to one of my neighbours daughters; upon which, the 30\\ngentleman, my friend, said, Nay; if Mr. Bickerstaflf marries a child\\nof any of his old companions, I hope mine shall have the preference:\\nthere is Mrs. Mary is now sixteen, and would make him as fine\\na widow as the best of them. But I know him too well; he is so\\nenamoured with the very memory of those who flourished in our 35\\nyouth, that he will not so much as look upon the modern beauties.\\nI remember, old gentleman, how often you went home in a day to\\nrefresh your countenance and dress when Teraminta reigned in\\nyour heart. As we came up in the coach, I repeated to my wife\\nsome of your verses on her. With such reflections on little passages -,0\\nwhich happened long ago, we passed our time during a cheerful and\\nelegant meal. After dinner his lady left the room, as did also the\\nchildren. As soon as we were alone, he took me by the hand:\\nWell, my good friend, says he, I am heartily glad to see thee;\\nI was afraid you would never have seen all the company that dined 45\\nwith you to-day again. Do not you think the good woman of the\\nhouse a little altered since you followed her from the playhouse", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "STEELE 119\\nvarious intervals, by many periodicals under the\\nsanie editor the Guardian the Euglishman the\\nLover, whose love was rather insipid the Reader,\\nof whom the public saw no more after his second ap-\\nc to find out who she was for me I perceived a tear fall down his\\ncheek as he spoke, which moved me not a little. But, to turn the\\ndiscourse, I said, She is not, indeed, that creature she was when\\nshe returned me the letter I carried from you, and told me, She\\nhoped, as I was a gentleman, I would be employed no more to\\n1 10 trouble her, who had never ofifended me; but would be so much the\\ngentleman s friend as to dissuade him from a pursuit which he\\ncould never succeed in. You may remember I thought her in\\nearnest, and you were forced to employ your cousin Will, who\\nmade his sister get acquainted with her for you. You cannot expect\\nher to be for ever fifteen. Fifteen replied my good friend.\\nAh you little understand\u00e2\u0080\u0094 you, that have lived a bachelor\u00e2\u0080\u0094 how\\ngreat, how exquisite a pleasure there is in being really beloved\\nIt is impossible that the most beauteous face in nature should raise\\nin me such pleasing ideas as when I look upon that excellent\\n(20 woman. That fading in her countenance is chiefly caused by her\\nwatching with me in my fever. This was followed by a fit of sick-\\nness, which had like to have carried me off last winter. I tell you,\\nsincerely, I have so many obligations to her that I cannot, with\\nany sort of moderation, think of her present state of health. But,\\nas to what you say of fifteen, she gives me every day pleasure\\nbeyond what I ever knew in the possession of her beauty when I\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0was in the vigour of youth. Every moment of her life brings me\\nfresh instances of her complacency to my inclinations, and her\\nprudence in regard to my fortune. Her face is to me much more\\n30 beautiful than when I first saw it; there is no decay in any feature\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0which I cannot trace from the very instant it was occasioned by\\nsome anxious concern for my welfare and interests. Thus, at the\\nsame time, methinks, the love I conceived towards her for what\\nshe was, is heightened by my gratitude for whali she is. The love\\n35 of a wife is as much above the idle passion commonly called by that\\nname, as the loud laughter of buffoons is inferior to the elegant\\nmirth of gentlemen. Oh she is an inestimable jewel In her\\nexamination of her household afifairs, she shows a certain tearful-\\nness to find a fault, which makes her servants obey her like children;\\n40 and the meanest we have has an ingenuous shame for an ofTence\\nnot always to be seen in children in other families. I speak freely\\nto you, my old friend; ever since her sickness, things that gave\\nme the quickest joy before turn now to a certain anxiety. As the\\nchildren play in the next room, I know the poor things by theif\\n45 steps, and am considering what they must do should they lose thcit\\nmother in their tender years. The pleasure I used to take in telling\\nmy boy stories of battles, and asking my girl questions about the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "I20 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npearance the Theatre, under the pseudonym of Sir\\nJohn Edgar, which Steele wrote while Governor of\\nthe Royal Company of Comedians, to which post,\\nand to that of Surveyor of the Royal Stables at\\ndisposal of her baby, and the gossiping of it, is turned into inward e\\nreflection and melancholy.\\nHe would have gone on in this tender way, when the good lady\\nentered, and, with an inexpressible sweetness in her countenance,\\ntold us, she had been searching her closet for something very good\\nto treat such an old friend as I was. Her husband s eyes sparkled lO\\nwith pleasure at the cheerfulness of her countenance; and I saw\\nall his fears vanish in an instant. The lady observing something\\nin our looks which showed we had been more serious than ordinary,\\nand seeing her husband receive her with great concern under a\\nforced cheerfulness, immediately guessed at what we had been 15\\ntalking of; and applying herself to me, said, with a smile, Mr.\\nBickerstaff, do not believe a word of what he tells you; I shall still\\nlive to have you for my second, as I have often promised you,\\nunless he takes more care of himself than he has done since his\\ncoming to town. You must know he tells me, that he finds London 20\\nis a much more healthy place than the country; for he sees several\\nof his old acquaintances and schoolfellows are here young fellows\\nwith fair, full-bottomed periivigs. I could scarce keep him this\\nmorning from going out open-brcasied. My friend, who is always\\nextremely delighted with her agreeable humour, made her sit down 25\\nwith us. She did it with that easiness which is peculiar to women\\nof sense; and to keep up the good humour she had brought in\\nwith her, turned her raillery upon me. Mr. Bickerstaff, you re-\\nmember you followed me one night from the playhouse; suppose\\nyou should carry me thither to-morrow night, and lead me in the 3^\\nfront box. This put us into a long field of discourse about the\\nbeauties who were the mothers to the present, and shined in the\\nboxes twenty years ago. I told her I was glad she had transferred\\nso many of her charms, and I did not question but her eldest daugh-\\nter was within half-a-year of being a toast. 35\\nWe were pleasing ourselves with this fantastical preferment of\\nthe young lady, when, on a sudden, we were alarmed with the\\nnoise of a drum, and immediately entered my little godson to give\\nme a point of war. His mother, between laughing and chiding,\\nwould have put him out of the room but I would not part with 40\\nhim so. I found, upon conversation with him, though he was a\\nlittle noisy in his mirth, that the child had excellent parts, and v. as\\na great master of all the learning on the other side of eight years\\nold. I perceived him a very great historian in ^sop s Fables; but\\nhe frankly declared to me his mind, that he did not delight in 45\\nthat learning, because he did not believe they were true; for\\nwhich reason I found he had very much turned his studiss, Usit", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "STEELE \\\\2\\\\\\nHampton Court, and to the Commission of the\\nPeace for Middlesex, and to the honour of knight-\\nhood, Steele had been preferred soon after the\\naccession of George I.; whose cause honest Dick\\n5 had nobly fought, through disgrace, and danger,\\nagainst the most formidable enemies, against trai-\\ntors and bullies, against Bolingbroke and Swift in\\nthe last reign. With the arrival of the King, that\\nsplendid conspiracy broke up; and a golden op-\\nlo portunity came to Dick Steele, whose hand, alas,\\nwas too careless to gripe it.*\\nSteele married twke; and o-utlived his places,\\nhis schemes, his wife, his income, his health, and\\nalmost everything but his kind heart. That ceased\\n15 about a twelvemonth past, into the lives of Don Bellianis of Greece,\\nGuy of Warwick, the Seven Champions, and other historians of\\nthat age. I could not but observe the satisfaction the father took\\nin the forwardness of his son, and that these diversions might turn\\nto some profit. I found the boy had made remarks which might\\n20 be of service to him during the course of his whole life. He would\\ntell you the mismanagement of John Hickerthrift, find fault with the\\npassionate temper in Bevis of Southampton, and loved Saint George\\nfor being the champion of England; and by this means had his\\nthoughts insensibly moulded into the notions of discretion, virtue,\\n25 and honour. I was extolling his accomplishments, when his m.other\\ntold me that the little girl who let me in this morning was, in her\\nway, a better scholar than he. Betty, said she, deals chiefly in\\nfairies and sprights; and sometimes in a winter night will terrify\\nthe maids with her accounts, until they are afraid to go up to\\n30 bed.\\nI sat with them until it was very late, sometimes in merry\\nsometimes in serious discourse, with this particular pleasure, which\\ngives the only true relish to all conversation, a sense that every\\none of us liked each other. I went home, considering the different\\n35 conditions of a married life and that of a bachelor; and I must\\nconfess it struck me with a secret concern to reflect, that whenever\\nI go oflF I shall leave no traces behind me. In this pensive mood\\nI return to my family; that is to say, to my maid, ray dog/^ my\\ncat, who only can be the better or worse for what happens to me.\\n40 The Tatler.\\nHe took what he could get, though it was not much.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "122 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nto trouble him in 1729, when he died, worn out and\\nalmost forgotten by his contemporaries, in Wales,\\nwhere he had the remnant of a property.\\nPosterity has been kinder to this amiable crea-\\nture; all women especially are bound to be grate- 5\\nful to Steele, as he was the first of our writers who\\nreally seemed to admire and rerpect them. Con-\\ngreve the Great, who alludes to the low estima-\\ntion in which women were held in Elizabeth s time,\\nas a reason why the women of Shakspeare make 10\\nso small a figure in the poet s dialogues, though\\nhe can himself pay splendid compliments to women,\\nyet looks on them as mere instruments of gallantry,\\nand destined, like the most consummate fortifica-\\ntions, to fall, after a certain time, before the arts and i5\\nbravery of the besieger, man. There is a letter of\\nSwift s entitled Advice to a very Young Married\\nLady, which shows the Dean s opinion of the fe-\\nmale society of his day, and that if he despised man\\nhe utterly scorned women too. No lady of our 20\\ntime could be treated by any man, were he ever so\\nmuch a wit or Dean, in such a tone of insolent pa-\\ntronage and vulgar protection. In this perform-\\nance. Swift hardly takes pains to hide his opinion\\nthat a woman is a fool: tells her to read books, as -5\\nif reading was a novel accomplishment; and in-\\nforms her that not one gentleman s daughter in a\\nthousand has been brought to read or understand\\nher own natural tongue. Addison laughs at\\nwomen equally; but, with the gentleness and polite- 3o\\nness of his nature, smiles at them and watches them,\\nas if they were harmless, half-witted, amusing-,\\n1", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "^STEELE 123\\npretty creatures, only made to be men s playthings.\\nIt was Steele who first began to pay a manly\\nhomage to their goodness and understanding, as\\nwell as to their tenderness and beauty. In his\\n5 comedies the heroes do not rant and rave about\\nthe divine beauties of Gloriana or Statira, as the\\ncharacters were made to do in the chivalry ro-\\nmances and the high-flown dramas just going out\\nof vogue; but Steele admires women s virtue, ac-\\n10 knowledges their sense, and adores their purity and\\nbeauty, with an ardour and strength which should\\nwin the good-will of all women to their hearty and\\nrespectful champion. It is this ardour, this respect,\\nthis manliness, which makes his comedies so pleas-\\n15 ant and their heroes such fine gentlemen. He paid\\nthe finest complim.ent to a woman that perhaps ever\\nwas offered. Of one woman, whom Congreve had\\n?lso admired and celebrated, Steele says, that to\\nhave loved her was a liberal education. How\\n20 often, he says, dedicating a volume to his wife,\\nhow often has your tenderness removed pain\\nfrom my sick head, how often anguish from my\\nafflicted heart! If there are such beings as guar-\\nAs to the pursuits after affection and esteem, the fair sex are\\n25 happy in this particular, that with them the one is much more nearly-\\nrelated to the other than in men. The love of a woman is in-\\nseparable from some esteem of her; and as she is naturally the\\nobject of affection, the woman who has your esteem has also some\\ndegree of your love. A man that dotes on a woman for her beauty,\\n30 will whisper his friend, That creature has a great deal of wit when\\nyou are well acquainted with her. And if you examine the bottom\\nof your esteem for a woman, you will find you have a greater\\nopinion of her beauty than anybody else. As to us men, I design\\nto pass most of my time with- the facetious Harry Bickerstaff; but\\n35 William BickerstafY, the most prudent man of our family, shall be\\nmy executor. Taller, No. 206.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "124 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ndian angels, they are thus employed. I cannot be-\\nlieve one of them to be more good in inclination,\\nor more charming in form than my wife. His\\nbreast seems to warm and his eyes to kindle when\\nhe meets with a good and beautiful woman, and it 5\\nis with his heart as well as with his hat that he sa-\\nlutes her. About children, and all that relates to\\nhome, he is not less tender, and more than once\\nspeaks in apology of what he calls his softness. He\\nwould have been nothing without that delightful lo\\nweakness. It is that which gives his works their\\nworth and his style its charm. It, like his life, is\\nfull of faults and careless blunders; and redeemed,\\nlike that, by his sweet and compassionate nature.\\nWe possess of poor Steele s wild and chequered ^5\\nlife some of the most curious memoranda that ever\\nwere left of a man s biography.* Most men s let-\\nThe Correspondence of Steele passed after his death into the\\npossession of his daughter Elizabeth, by his second wife, Miss Scur-\\nlock of Carmarthenshire. She married the Hon. John, afterwards 20\\nthird Lord Trevor. At her death, part of the letters passed to Mr.\\nThomas, a grandson of a natural daughter of Steele s; and part to\\nLady Trevor s next of kin, Mr. Scurlock. They were published by\\nthe learned Nichols from whose later edition of them, in 1809, our\\nspecimens are quoted. 25\\nHere we have him, in his courtship which was not a very long\\none:\\nTo Mrs. Scurlock.\\nAug. 30, 1707.\\nMadam,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I beg pardon that my paper is not finer, but I am 30\\nforced to write from a coffee-house, where I am attending about\\nbusiness. There is a dirty crowd of busy faces all around me,\\ntalking of money; while all my ambition, all my wealth, is love\\nLove which animates my heart, sweetens my humour, enlarges my\\nsoul, and affects every action of my life. It is to my lovely charmer 35\\nI owe, that many noble ideas are continually affixed to my words\\nand actions; it is the natural effect of that generous passion to", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "STEELE 125\\nters, from Cicero down to Walpole, or down to the\\ngreat men of our time, if you will, are doctored\\ncompositions, and written with an eye suspicious\\ntowards posterity. That dedication of Steele s to\\n5 his wife is an artificial performance, possibly; at\\ncreate in the admirer some similitude of the object admired. Thus,\\nmy dear, am I every day to improve from so sweet a companion.\\nLook up, my fair one, to that Heaven which made thee such; and\\njoin with me to implore its influence on our tender innocent hours,\\n10 and beseech the Author of love to bless the rites He has ordained\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094and mingle with our happiness a just sense of our transient condi-\\ntion, and a resignation to His will, which only can regulate our\\nminds to a steady endeavour to please Him and each other.\\nI am for ever your faithful servant,\\nRich. Steele.\\nSome few hours afterwards, apparently, Mistress Scurlock received\\nthe next one\u00e2\u0080\u0094 obviously written later in the day\\n15\\nSaturday Night (Aug. 30, 1707).\\nDear lovely Mrs. Scurlock,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I have been in very good com-\\n20Pa y where your health, under the character of the woman I love\\nbest, has been often drunk so that I may say that I am dead\\ndrunk for your sake, which is more than die for you.\\nRich. Steele.\\nTo Mrs. Scurlock.\\n25 Sept. I, 1707.\\nMadam,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love, and\\nyet attend business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out,\\nand I must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me.\\nA gentleman asked me this morning, What news from Lis-\\n30 bon and I answered, She is exquisitely handsome. Another\\ndesired to know when I had last been at Hampton Court I\\nreplied, It will be on Tuesday come se nnight. Pr ythee allow me\\nat least to kiss your hand before that day, that my mind may be in\\nsome composure. O Love\\n33 A thousand torments dwell about thee,\\nYet who could live, to live without thee\\nMethinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language\\non earth would fail in saying how much, and with what disin-\\nterested passion, I am ever yours,\\n40 Rich. Steele.\\nTwo days after this, he is found expounding his circumstances\\nand prospects to the young lady s mamma. He dates from Lord", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "126 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nleast, it is written with that degree of artifice which\\nan orator uses in arranging a statement for the\\nHouse, or a poet employs in preparing a sentiment\\nin verse or for the stage. But there are some four\\nhundred letters of Dick Steele s to his wife, which 5\\nSunderland s office, Whitehall; and states his clear income at\\n\u00c2\u00a31025 per annum. I promise myself, says he, the pleasure of\\nan industrious and virtuous life, in studying to do things agreeable\\nto you.\\nThey were married, according to the most probable conjectures, \\\\o\\nabout the 7th Sept. There are traces of a tiflf about the middle of\\nthe next month; she being prudish and fidgety, as he was im-\\npassioned and reckless. General progress, however, may be seen\\nfrom the following notes. The house in Bury Street, Saint\\nJames s, was now taken. 5\\nTo Mrs. Steele.\\nOct. 16, 1707.\\nDearest Being on Earth,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Pardon me if you do not see me\\ntill eleven o clock, having met a schoolfellow from India, by whom\\nI am to be informed on things this night which expressly concern 20\\nyour obedient husband,\\nRich. Steele.\\nTo Mrs. Steele.\\nEight o clock, Fountain Tavern:\\nOct. 22, 1707. 25\\nMy Dear,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I beg of you not to be uneasy; for I have done a\\ngreat deal of business to-day very successfully, and wait an hour or\\ntwo about my Gazette.\\nDec. 22, 1707.\\nMy dear, dear Wife, I write to let you know I do not come 30\\nhome to dinner, being obliged to attend some business abroad, of\\nwhich I shall give you an account (when I see you in the evening),\\nas becomes your dutiful and obedient husband.\\nDevil Tavern, Temple Bar:\\nJan. 3, 1707-8. 35\\nDear Prue, I have partly succeeded in my business to-day,\\nand inclose two guineas as earnest of more. Dear Prue, I cannot", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "STEELE 127,\\nthat thrifty woman preserved accurately, and which\\ncould have been written but for her and her\\nalone. They contain details of the business, pleas-\\nures, quarrels, reconciliations of the pair; they have\\n5 come home to dinner. I languish for your welfare, and will never\\nbe a moment careless more.\\nYour faithful husband, c.\\nJan. 14, 1707-8.\\nDear Wife, Mr. Edgecombe, Ned Ask, and Mr. Lumley have\\n10 desired me to sit an hour with them at the George in Pall Mall,\\nfor which I desire your patience till twelve o clock, and that you\\nwill go to bed, c.\\nGray s Inn: Feb. 3, 1708.\\nDear Prue,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 If the man who has my shoemaker s bill calls,\\n15 let him be answered that I shall call on him as I come home. I\\nstay here in order to get Jonson to discount a bill for me, and shall\\ndine with him for that end. He is expected at home every minute.\\nYour most humble, obedient servant, c.\\nTennis-Court Coffee-house: May 5, 1708.\\nDear Wife, I hope I have done this day what will be pleasing\\nto you; in the meantime shall lie this night at a baker s, one Leg,\\nover against the Devil Tavern, at Charing Cross. I shall be able\\nto confront the fools who wish me uneasy, and shall have the satis-\\nfaction to see thee cheerful and at ease.\\n25 If the printer s boy be at home, send him hither; and let Mrs.\\nTodd send by the boy my night-gown, slippers, and clean linen.\\nYou shall hear from me early i\u00c2\u00ab the morning, c.\\nDozens of similar letters follow, with occasional guineas, little\\nparcels of tea, or walnuts, c. In 1709 the Tatler made its appear-\\n30 ance. The following curious note dates April 7th, 1710:\\nI enclose to you Dear Prue a receipt for the saucepan\\nand spoon, and a note of \u00c2\u00a323 of Lewis s, which will make up the\\n\u00c2\u00a350 I promised for your ensuing occasion.\\nI know no happiness in this life in any degree comparable to\\n35 the pleasure I have in your person and society. I only beg of you\\nto add to your other charms a fearfulness to see a man that loves\\nyou in pain and uneasiness, to make me as happy as it is possible\\nto be in this life. Risirg a little in a morning, and being disposed\\nto a cheerfulness would not be amiss.\\nAy In another, he is found excusing his coming home, being invited\\nto supper to Mr. Boyle s. Dear Prue, he says on this occasion,\\ndo not send after me, for I shall be ridiculous.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "128 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nall the genuineness of conversation; they are as\\nartless as a child s prattle, and as confidential as\\na curtain-lecture. Some are written from the print-\\ning-office, where he is waiting for the proof-sheets\\nof his Gazette, or his Tatlcr; some are written from 5\\nthe tavern, whence he promises to come to his wife\\nwithin a pint of wine, and where he has given\\na rendezvous to a friend or a money-lender: some\\nare composed in a high state of vinous excitement,\\nwhen his head is flustered with burgundy, and his 10\\nheart abounds with amorous warmth for his darling\\nPrue: some are under the influence of the dismal\\nheadache and repentance next morning: some,\\nalas, are from the lock-up house, where the law-\\nyers have impounded him, and where he is wait- 15\\ning for bail. You trace many years of the\\npoor fellow s career in these letters. In Sep-\\ntember 1707, from which day she began to\\nsave the letters, he married the beautiful Mis-\\ntress Scurlock. You have his passionate pro- 20\\ntestations to the lady; his respectful proposals to\\nher mamma; his private prayer to Heaven when\\nthe union so ardently desired was completed; his\\nfond professions of contrition and promises of\\namendment, when, immediately after his marriage, 25\\nthere began to be just cause for the one and need\\nfor the other.\\nCaptain Steele took a house for his lady upon\\ntheir marriage, the third door from Germain\\nStreet, left hand of Berry Street, and the next 30\\nyear he presented his wife with a country house at\\nHampton. It appears she had a chariot and pair,\\nI", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "STEELE 129\\nund sometimes four horses: he himself enjoyed a\\nlittle horse for his own riding. He paid, or prom-\\nised to pay, his barber fifty pounds a year, and al-\\nways went abroad in a laced coat and a large black\\n5 buckled periwig, that must have cost somebody\\nfifty guineas. He was rather a well-to-do gentle-\\nI man, Captain Steele, with the proceeds of his es-\\ntates in Barbadoes (left to him by his first wife),\\nhis income as a writer of the Gazette, and his office\\njo of gefitleman waiter to his Royal Highness Prince\\nI George. His second wife brought him a fortune\\nj too. But it is melancholy to relate, that with these\\nhouses and chariots and horses and income, the\\nCaptain was constantly in want of money, for which\\n[5 his beloved bride was asking as constantly. In the\\ncourse of a few pages we begin to find the shoe-\\nmaker calling for money, and some directions from\\nthe Captain, who has not thirty pounds to spare.\\nHe sends his wife, the beautifullest object in the\\n20 world, as he calls her, and evidently in reply to\\napplications of her own, which have gone the way\\nof all waste paper, and lighted Dick s pipes, which\\nwere smoked a hundred and forty years ago he\\nsends his wife now a guinea, then a half-guinea,\\n25 then a couple of guineas, then half a pound of tea;\\nand again no money and no tea at all, but a prom-\\nise that his darling Prue shall have some in a day\\nor two: or a request, perhaps, that she will send\\nover his night-gown and shaving-plate to the tem-\\n3oporary lodging where the nomadic Captain is lying,\\nhidden from the bailifYs. Oh that a Christian hero\\nand .late Captain in Lucas s should be afraid of a", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "130 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ndirty sheriff s officer! That the pink and pride of\\nchivalry should turn pale before a writ! It stands\\nto record in poor Dick s own handwriting\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the\\nqueer collection is preserved at the British Museum\\nto this present day\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that the rent of the nuptial\\nhouse in Jermyn Street, sacred to unutterable ten-\\nderness and Prue, and three doors from Bury\\nStreet, was not paid until after the landlord had\\nput in an execution on Captain Steele s furniture.\\nAddison sold the house and furniture at Hampton, J\\nand, after deducting the sum which his incorrigible\\nfriend was indebted to him, handed over the residue\\nof the proceeds of the sale to poor Dick, who wasn t\\nin the least angry at Addison s summary proceed-\\ning, and I dare say was very glad of any sale ons\\nexecution, the result of which was to give him a\\nlittle ready money. Having a small house in\\nJermyn Street for which he couldn t pay, and a\\ncountry house at Hampton on which he had bor-\\nrowed money, nothing must content Captain Dick 20\\nbut the taking, in 1712, a much finer, larger, and\\ngrander house in Bloomsbury Square: where his\\nunhappy landlord got no better satisfaction than\\nhis friend in Saint James s, and where it is recorded\\nthat Dick giving a grand entertainment, had a half- 25\\ndozen queer-looking fellows in livery to wait upon\\nhis noble guests, and confessed that his servants\\nwere bailiffs to a man. I fared like a distressed\\nprince, the .kindly prodigal writes, generously\\ncomplimenting Addison for his assistance in the 30\\nTatlcr,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I fared like a distressed prince, who calls\\nin a powerful neighbour to his aid. I was undone", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "STEELE 131\\nby my auxiliary; when I had once called him in,\\nI could not subsist without dependence on him.\\nPoor needy Prince of Bloomsbury! think of him\\nin his palace with his allies from Chancery Lane\\n5 ominously guarding him.\\nAll sorts of stories are told mdicative of his reck-\\nlessness and his good-humour. One narrated by\\nDoctor Hoadly is exceedingly characteristic; it\\nshows the life of the time; and our poor friend\\nlovery weak, but very kind both in and out of his\\ncups.\\nMy father, says Doctor John Hoadly, the\\nBishop s son, when Bishop of Bangor, was, by\\ninvitation, present at one of the Whig meetings,\\n;5 held at the Trumpet, in Shire Lane, when Sir\\nRichard, in his zeal, rather exposed himself, hav-\\ning the double duty of the day upon him, as w^ell\\nto celebrate the immortal memory of King William,\\nit being the 4th November, as to drink his friend\\n\u00c2\u00a9Addison up to conversation pitch, whose phleg-\\nmatic constitution was hardly warmed for society\\nby that time. Steele was not fit for it. Two re-\\nmarkable circumstances happened. John Sly, the\\nhatter of facetious memory, was in the house; and\\n5 John, pretty mellow, took it into his head to come\\ninto the company on his knees, with a tankard of\\nale in his hand to drink of\u00c2\u00a5 to the immortal memory,\\nand to return in the same manner. Steele, sitting\\nnext my father, whispered him Do laugh. It is\\n3 humanity to laugh. Sir Richard, in the evening, be-\\ning too much in the same condition, was put into a\\nchair, and sent home. Nothing would serve him", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "132 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nbut being carried to the Bishop of Bangor s, late as\\nit was. However, the chairman carried him home,\\nand got him upstairs, when his great complaisance\\nwould wait on them downstairs, which he did, and\\nthen was got quietly to bed.\\nThere is another amusing story which, I believe,\\nthat renowned collector, Mr. Joseph Miller, or his j\\nsuccessors, have incorporated into their work. Sir i\\nRichard Steele, at a time when he w^as much oc-\\ncupied with theatrical affairs, built himself a pretty lo I\\nprivate theatre, and before it was opened to his\\nfriends and guests, was anxious to try whether the\\nhall was well adapted for hearing. Accordingly he\\nplaced himself in the most remote part of the gal-\\nlery, and begged the carpenter who had built the 15\\nhouse to speak up from the stage. The man at\\nfirst said that he was unaccustomed to public speak-\\ning, and did not know what to say to his honour;\\nbut the good-natured knight called out to him to\\nsay whatever was uppermost; and, after a moment, 20\\nthe carpenter began, in a voice perfectly audible:\\nSir Richard Steele! he said, for three months\\npast me and my men has been a working in this\\ntheatre, and we ve never seen the colour of your\\nhonour s money: we will be very much obliged if^S\\nyou ll pay it directly, for until you do we won t\\ndrive in another nail. Sir Richard said that his\\nOf this famous Bishop, Steele wrote i\\nVirtue with so much ease on Bangor sits.\\nAll faults he pardons, though he none commits. 30\\nThis couplet was sent to Hoadly next day in an apologetic letter.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "STEELE 133\\nfriend s elocution was perfect, but that he didn t\\nHke his subject much.\\nThe great charm of Steele s writing is its natural-\\nness. He wrote so quickly and carelessly that he\\n5 was forced to make the reader his confidant, and\\nhad not the time to deceive him. He had a small\\nshare of book-learning, but a vast acquaintance\\nwith the world. He had known men and taverns.\\nHe had lived with gownsmen, with troopers, with\\n10 gentlemen ushers of the Court, with men and\\nwomen of fashion; with authors and wits, with the\\ninmates of the spunging-houses, and with the fre-\\nquenters of all the clubs and cofifee-houses in the\\ntown. He was liked in all company because he\\n15 liked it; and you like to see his enjoyment as you\\nlike to see the glee of a boxful of children at the\\npantomime. He was not of those lonely ones\\ncf the earth whose greatness obliged them to be\\nsolitary; on the contrary, he admired, I think, more\\n20 than any man who ever wrote; and full of hearty\\napplause and sympathy, wins upon you by calling\\nyou to share his delight and good-humour. His\\nlaugh rings through the whole house. He must\\nhave been invaluable at a tragedy, and have cried as\\n25 much as the most tender young lady in the boxes.\\nHe has a relish for beauty and goodness wherever\\nhe meets it. He admired Shakspeare affectionately,\\nand more than any man of his time and according\\nto his generous expansive nature, called upon all\\n30 his company to like what he liked himself. He did\\nnot damn with faint praise he Was in the w-orld and\\nof it; and his enjoyment of life presents the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "134 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nStrangest contrast to Swift s savage indignation and\\nAddison s lonely serenity.* Permit me to read to\\nHere we have some of hi- later letters:\\nTo Lady Steele.\\nHampton Court: March 16, 1716-17. 5\\nDear Prue,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 If you have written anything to me which I\\nshould have received last night, I beg your pardon that I cannot\\nanswer till the next post. Your son at the present writing is\\nmighty well employed in tumbling on the floor of the room, and\\nsweeping the sand with a feather. He grows a most delightful 10\\nchild, and very full of play and spirit. He is also a very great\\nscholar: he can read his primer; and I have brought down my\\nVirgil. He makes most shrewd remarks about the pictures. We\\nare very intimate friends and playfellows. He begins to be very\\nragged; and I hope I shall be pardoned if I equip him with new 1 5\\nclothes and frocks, or what Mrs. Evans and I shall think for his\\nservice.\\nTo Lady Steele.\\n[Undated.]\\nYou tell me you want a little flattery from me. I assure you 1 20\\nknow no one who deserves so much commendation as yourself, and\\nto whom saying the best things would be so little like flattery. The\\nthing speaks for itself, considering you as a very handsome woman\\nthat loves retirement\u00e2\u0080\u0094 one who does not want wit, and yet is ex-\\ntremely sincere; and so I could go through all the vices which ^5\\nattend the good qualities of other people, of which you are exempt.\\nBut, indeed, though you have every perfection, you have an ex-\\ntravagant fault, which almost frustrates the good in you to me;\\nand that is, that you do not love to dress, to appear, to shine out,\\neven at my request, and to make me proud of you, or rather to 30\\nindulge the pride I have that you are mine.\\nYour most affectionate obsequious husband,\\nRichard Steele.\\nA quarter of Molly s schooling is paid. The children are per-\\nfectly well. 35\\nTo Lady Steele.\\nMarch 2b, 1717.\\nMy dearest Prue,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I have received yours, wherein you give\\nme the sensible affliction of telling me enow of the continual pain\\nin your head. When I lay in your place, and on your pillow, I 40\\nassure you I fell into tears last night, to think that my charming", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "STEELE 135\\nyou a passage from each writer, curiously indicative\\nof his pecuHar humour: the subject is the same, and\\nthe mood the very gravest. We have said that upon\\nall the actions of man, the most trifling and the\\n5 most solemn, the humourist takes upon himself to\\ncomment. All readers of our old masters know the\\nterrible lines of Swift, in which he hints at\\nhis philosophy and describes the end of man-\\nkind\\n10 Amazed, confused, its fate unknown,\\nThe world stood trembling at Jove s throne;\\nWhile each pale sinner hung his head,\\nJove, nodding, shook the heavens and said:\\nOffending race of human kind,\\n15 By nature, reason, learning, blind;\\nYou who through frailty stepped aside,\\nAnd you who never err d through pride;\\nYou who in different sects were shamm d,\\nAnd come to see each other damn d;\\n20 (So some folk told you, but they knew\\nNo more of Jove s designs than you;)\\nThe world s mad business now is o er,\\nAnd I resent your freaks no more;\\nto such blockheads set my wit,\\n25 I damn such fools go, go, you re bit\\nlittle insolent might be then awake and in pain; and took it to be\\na sin to go to sleep.\\nFor this tender passion towards you, I must be contented that\\nyour Prueship will condescend to call yourself my well-wisher.\\n30\\nAt the time when the above later letters were written, Lady Steele\\nwas in Wales, looking after her estate there. Steele, about this time,\\nwas much occupied with a project for conveying fish alive, by\\nwhich, as he constantly assures his wife, he firmly believed he\\nshould make his fortune. It did not succeed, however.\\n35 Lady Steele died in December of the succeeding year. She lies\\nburied in Westminster Abbey.\\nLord Chesterfield sends these verses fo Voltaire in a character-\\nistic letter.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "136 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nAddison speaking on the very same theme, but\\nwith how different a voice, says, in his famous paper\\non Westminster Abbey {Spectator, No. 26):\\nFor my own part, though I am always serious,\\nI do not know what it is to be melancholy, and can 5\\ntherefore take a view of nature in her deep and\\nsolemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her\\nmost gay and delightful ones. When I look upon\\nthe tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies\\nwithin me; when I read the epitaphs of the beauti-io\\nful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet\\nwith the grief of parents on a tombstone, my heart\\nmelts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the\\nparents themselves, I consider the vanity of griev-\\ning for those we must quickly follow. ^5\\n(I have owned that I do not think Addison s\\nheart melted very much, or that he indulged very\\ninordinately in the vanity of grieving.\\nWhen, he goes on, when I see kings lying\\nby those who deposed them when I consider rival 20\\nwits placed side by side, or the holy men that di-\\nvided the world with their contests and disputes\\nI reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little\\ncompetitions, factions, and debates of mankind.\\nAnd, when I read the several dates on the tombs of 25\\nsome that died yesterday, and some six hundred\\nyears ago, I consider that great day when we shall\\nall of us be contemporaries, and make our appear-\\nance together.\\nOur third humourist comes to speak on the same 30", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "STEELE 137\\nsubject. You will have observed in the previous\\nextracts the characteristic humour of each writer\\nthe subject and the contrast the fact of Death, and\\nthe play of individual thought by which each\\n5 comments on it, and now hear the third writer\\ndeath, sorrow, and the grave, being for the moment\\nalso his theme.\\nThe first sense of sorrow I ever knew, Steele\\nsays in the Tatler, was upon the death of my\\n10 father, at which time I was not quite five years of\\nage: but was rather amazed at what all the house\\nmeant, than possessed of a real understanding\\nwhy nobody would play with us. I remember I\\nwent into the room where his body lay, and my\\n15 mother sate weeping alone by it. I had my battle-\\ndore in my hand, and fell a beating the coffin and\\ncalling papa; for, I know not how, I had some idea\\nthat he was locked up there. My mother caught\\nme in her arms, and, transported beyond all pa-\\n2otience of the silent grief she was before in, she al-\\nmost smothered me in her embraces, and told me\\nin a flood of tears, Papa could not hear me, and\\nwould play with me no more: for they were going\\nto put him under ground, whence he would never\\n25 come to us again. She was a very beautiful woman,\\nof a noble spirit, and there was a dignity in her grief,\\namidst all the wildness of her transport, which me-\\nthought struck me with an instinct of sorrow that,\\nbefore I was sensible what it was to grieve, seized\\n30 my very soul, and has made pity the weakness of\\nmy heart ever since.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "138 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nCan there be three more characteristic moods of\\nminds and men? Fools, do you know anything\\nof this mystery? says Swift, stamping on a grave,\\nand carrying his scorn for mankind actually beyond\\nit. Miserable purblind wretches, how dare you 5\\nto pretend to comprehend the Inscrutable, and how\\ncan your dim eyes pierce the unfathomable depths\\nof yonder boundless heaven? Addison, in a much\\nkinder language and gentler voice, utters much the\\nsame sentiment and speaks of the rivalry of wits, 10\\nand the contests of holy men, with the same sceptic\\nplacidity. Look what a little vain dust we are,\\nhe says, smiling over the tombstones; and catching,\\nas is his wont, quite a divine effulgence as he looks\\nheavenward, he speaks, in words of inspiration al- 15\\nmost, of the Great Day, when we shall all of us be\\ncontemporaries, and make our appearance to-\\ngether.\\nThe third, whose theme is Death, too, and who\\nwill speak -his word of moral as Heaven teaches 20\\nhim, leads you up to his father s coffin, and shows\\nyou his beautiful mother weeping, and himself an\\nunconscious little boy wondering at her side. His\\nown natural tears flow as he takes your hand and\\nconfidingly asks your sympathy. See how good 25\\nand innocent and beautiful women are, he says;\\nhow tender little children! Let us love these and\\none another, brother\u00e2\u0080\u0094 God knows we have need\\nof love and pardon. So it is each looks with his\\nown eyes, speaks with his own voice, and prays his 30\\nown prayer.\\nWhen Steele asks your sympathy for the actors", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "STEELE 139\\nin that charming scene of I.ove and Grief and\\nDeath, who can refuse it? One yields to it as to the\\nfrank advance of a child, or to the appeal of a\\nwoman. A man is seldom more manly than when\\n5 he is what you call unmanned the source of his\\nemotion is championship, pity, and courage; the\\ninstinctive desire to cherish those who are innocent\\nand unhappy, and defend those who are tender and\\nweak. If Steele is not our friend he is nothing. He\\n10 is by no means the most brilliant of wits nor the\\ndeepest of thinkers: but he is our friend: we love\\nhim, as children love with an A, because he is\\namiable. Who likes a man best because he is the\\ncleverest or the wisest of mankind; or a woman\\n15 because she is the most virtuous, or talks French\\nor plays the piano better than the rest of her sex?\\nI own to liking Dick Steele the man, and Dick\\nSteele the author, much better than much better\\nmen and much better authors.\\n20 The misfortune regarding Steele is, that most\\npart of the company here present must take his\\namiability upon hearsay, and certainly can t make\\nhis intimate acquaintance. Not that Steele was\\nworse than his time; on the contrary, a far better,\\n25 truer, and high-hearted man than most who lived\\nin it. But things were done in that society, and\\nnames were named, which would make you shudder\\nnow. What would be the sensation of a polite\\nyouth of the present day, if at a ball he saw the\\n30 young object of his affections taking a box out of\\nher pocket and a pinch of snuff: or if at dinner,\\nby the charmer s side, she deliberately put her knife", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "140 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ninto her mouth? If she cut her mother s throat\\nwith it, mamma would scarcely be more shocked.\\nI allude to these peculiarities of bygone times as\\nan excuse for my favourite Steele, who was not\\nworse, and often much more delicate than his 5\\nneighbours.\\nThere exists a curious document descriptive of\\nthe manners of the last age, which describes most\\nminutely the amusements and occupations of per-\\nsons of fashion in London at the time of which we lo\\nare speaking; the time of Swift, and Addison, and\\nSteele.\\nWhen Lord Sparkish, Tom Neverout, and Col-\\nonel Alwit, the immortal personages of Swift s\\npolite conversation, came to breakfast with my i5\\nLady Smart, at eleven o clock in the morning, my\\nLord Smart was absent at the levee. His Lordship\\nwas at home to dinner at three o clock to receive\\nhis guests; and we may sit down to this meal, like\\nthe Barmecide s, and see the fops of the last century 20\\nbefore us. Seven of them sat down at dinner, and\\nwere joined by a country baronet who told them\\nthey kept Court hours. These persons of fashion\\nbegan their dinner with a sirloin of beef, fish, a\\nshoulder of veal, and a tongue. My Lady Smart 25\\ncarved the sirloin, my Lady Answerall helped the\\nfish, and the gallant Colonel cut the shoulder of\\nveal. All made a considerable inroad on the sir-\\nloin and the shoulder of veal with the exception of\\nSir John, who had no appetite, having already par-S\\n\\\\aken of a beef-steak and two mugs of ale, besides\\nSwift s Polite Conversation.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "STEELE 141\\na tankard of March beer as soon as he got out of\\nbed. They drank claret, which the master of the\\nhouse said should always be drunk after fish; and\\nmy Lord Smart particularly recommended some\\n5 excellent cider to my Lord Sparkish, which occa-\\nsioned some brilliant remarks from that nobleman.\\nWhen the host called for wine, he nodded to one\\nor other of his guests, and said, Tom Neverout,\\nmy service to you.\\n10 After the first course came almond-pudding,\\nfritters, which the Colonel took with his hands out\\nof the dish, in order to help the brilliant Miss\\nNotable; chickens, black puddings, and soup; and\\nLady Smart, the elegant mistress of the mansion,\\n15 finding a skewer in a dish, placed it in her plate with\\ndirections that it should be carried down to the\\ncook and dressed for the cook s own dinner. Wine\\nand small beer were drunk during the second\\ncourse; and when the Colonel called for beer, he\\n20 called the butler Friend, and asked whether the beer\\nwas good. Various jocular remarks passed from\\nthe gentlefolk to the servants; at breakfast several\\npersons had a word and a joke for Mrs. Betty, my\\nLady s maid, who warmed the cream and had\\n25 charge of the canister (the tea cost thirty shillings\\na pound in those days). When my Lady Sparkish\\nsent her footman out to my Lady Match to come\\nat six o clock and play at quadrille, her Ladyship\\nwarned the man to follow his nose, and if he fell by\\n30 the way not to stay to get up again. And when the\\ngentlemen asked the hall-porter if his lady was at\\nhome, that functionary replied, with manly wag-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "142 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ngishness, She was at home just now, but she s not\\ngone out yet.\\nAfter the puddings, sweet and black, the fritters\\nand soup, came the third course, of which the chief\\ndish was a hot venison pasty, which was put before 5\\nLord Smart, and carved by that nobleman. Besides\\nthe pasty, there was a hare, a rabbit, some pigeons,\\npartridges, a goose, and a ham. Beer and wine\\nwere freely imbibed during this course, the gentle-\\nmen always pledging somebody with every glass 10\\nwhich they drank; and by this time the conversation\\nbetween Tom Neverout and Miss Notable had\\ngrown so brisk and liively, that the Derbyshire baro-\\nnet began to think the young gentlewoman was\\nTom s sweetheart: on which Miss remarked, that 15\\nshe loved Tom like pie. After the goose, some\\nof the gentlewomen took a dram of brandy, which\\nwas very good for the wholesomes, Sir John said:\\nand now having had a tolerably substantial dinner,\\nhonest Lord Smart bade the butler bring up the 20\\ngreat tankard full of October to Sir John. The\\ngreat tankard was passed from hand to hand and\\nmouth to mouth, but when pressed by the noble\\nhost upon the gallant Tom Neverout, he said, No,\\nfaith, my Lord; I like your wine, and won t put a 25\\nchurl upon a gentleman. Your honour s claret is\\ngood enough for me. And so, the dinner over, the\\nhost said, Hang saving, bring us up a ha porth of\\ncheese.\\nThe cloth was now taken away, and a bottle of 30\\nburgundy was set down, of which the ladies were\\ninvited to partake before they went to their tea.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "STEELE 143\\nWhen they withdrew, the gentlemen promised to\\njoin them in an hour: fresh bottles were brought;\\nthe dead men, meaning the empty bottles, re-\\nmoved; and D you hear, John! bring clean\\n5 glasses, my Lord Smart said. On which the gal-\\nlant Colonel Alwit said, I ll keep my glass; for\\nwine is the best hquor to wash glasses in.\\nAfter an hour the gentlemen joined the ladies,\\nand then they all sat and played quadrille until three\\n10 o clock in the morn.ing, when the chairs and the\\nflambeaux came, and this noble company went to\\nbed.\\nSuch were manners six or seven score years ago.\\nI draw no inference from this queer picture let all\\n15 moralists here present deduce their own. Fancy\\nthe moral condition of that society in which a lady\\nof fashion joked with a footman, and carved a sir-\\nloin, and provided besides a great shoulder of veal,\\na goose, hare, rabbit, chickens, partridges, black\\n20 puddings, and a ham for a dinner for eight Chris-\\ntians. What what could have been the condition\\nof that polite world in which people openly ate\\ngoose after almond-pudding, and took their soup\\nin the middle of dinner? Fancy a Colonel in the\\n25 Guards putting his hand into a dish of bcigncfs\\nd abricof and helping his neighbour, a young lady\\ndu mondc! Fancy a noble lord calling out to the\\nservants, before the ladies at his table, Hang ex-\\npense, bring us a ha porth of cheese! Such were\\n30 the ladies of Saint James s such were the fre-\\nquenters of White s Chocolate House, when\\nSwift used to visit it, and Steele described it as the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "144 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncentre of pleasure, gallantry, and entertainment, a\\nhundred and forty years go!\\nDennis, who ran amuck at the literary society of\\nhis day, falls foul of poor Steele, and thus depicts\\nhim 5\\nSir John Edgar, of the county of in Ire-\\nland, is of a middle stature, broad shoulders, thick\\nlegs, a shape like the picture of somebody over a\\nfarmer s chimney a short chin, a short nose, a\\nshort forehead, a broad flat face, and a dusky coun- lo\\ntenance. Yet with such a face and such a shape,\\nhe discovered at sixty that he took himself for a\\nbeauty, and appeared to be more mortified at be-\\ning told that he was ugly, than he was by any re-\\nflection made upon his honour or understanding. 15\\nHe is a gentleman born, witness himself, of\\nvery honourable family; certainly of a very ancient\\none, for his ancestors flourished in Tipperary long\\nbefore the English ever set foot in Ireland. He\\nhas testimony of this more authentic than the Her- 20\\naids Ofifice, or any human testimony. For God\\nhas marked him more abundantly than he did Cain,\\nand stamped his native country on his face, his un-\\nderstanding, his writings, his actions, his passions,\\nand, above all, his vanity. The Hibernian brogue 25\\nis still upon all these, though long habit and length\\nof days have worn it ofif his tongue.\\nSteele replied to Dennis in an Answer to a Whimsical\\nPamphlet, called the Character of Sir John Edgar. What Steele\\nhad to say against the cross-grained old Critic discovers a great 3\\ndeal of humour:\\nThou never didst let the sun into thy garret, for fear he should\\nbring a bailiff along with him.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "STEELE 145\\nAlthough this portrait is the work of a man who\\nwas neither the friend of Steele nor of any other\\nman alive, yet there is a dreadful resemblance to\\nthe original in the savage and exaggerated traits of\\n5 the caricature, and everybody who knows him\\nmust recognise Dick Steele. Dick set about almost\\nall the undertakings of his life with inadequate\\nmeans, and, as he took and furnished a house with\\nthe most generous intentions towards his friends,\\n10 the most tender gallantry towards his wife, and\\nwith this only drawback, that he had not where-\\nwithal to pay the rent when quarter-day came,\\nYour years are about sixty-five, an ugly vinegar face, that if\\nyou had any command you would be obeyed out of fear, from\\n15 your ill-nature pictured there; not from any other motive. Your\\nheight is about some five feet five inches. You see I can give your\\nexact measure as well as if I had taken your dimension with a\\ngood cudgel, which I promise you to do as soon as ever I have\\nthe good fortune to meet you.\\n20 Your doughty paunch stands before you like a firkin of butter,\\nand your duck legs seem to be cast for carrying burdens.\\nThy works are libels upon others, and satires upon thyself;\\nand while they bark at men of sense, call him fool and knave that\\nwrote them. Thou hast a great antipathy to thy own species; and\\n25 hatest the sight of a fool but in thy glass.\\nSteele had been kind to Dennis, and once got arrested on account\\nof a pecuniary service which he did him. When John heard of the\\nfact Sdeath cries John; why did not he keep out of the\\nway as I did\\n30 The Answer concludes by mentioning that Cibber had offered\\nTen Pounds for the discovery of the authorship of Dennis s\\npamphlet; on which, says Steele, I am only sorry he has offered\\nso much, because the tzventieth part would have overvalued his whole\\ncarcase. But I know the fellow that he keeps to give answers to\\n35 his creditors will betray him; for he gave me his word to bring\\nofficers on the top of the house that should make a hole through\\nthe ceiling of his garret, and so bring him to the punishment he\\ndeserves. Some people think this expedient out of the way, and that\\nhe would make his escape upon hearing the least noise. I say so\\n40 too; but it takes him up half-an-hour every night to fortify him-\\nself with his old hair trunk, two or three joint-stools, and some\\nother lumber, which he ties together with cords so fast that it takes\\nhim up the same time in the morning to release himself.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "14^ ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nSO, in his life he proposed to himself the most mag-\\nnificent schemes of virtue, forbearance, public and\\nprivate good, and the advancement of his own and\\nthe national religion; but when he had to pay for\\nthese articles so difficult to purchase and so costly 5\\nto maintain poor Dick s money was not forth-\\ncoming: and when Virtue called with her little bill,\\nDick made a shuffling excuse that he could not see\\nher that morning, having a headache from being\\ntipsy over-night; or when stern Duty rapped at the 10\\ndoor with his account, Dick was absent and not\\nready to pay. He was shirking at the tavern; or\\nhad some particular business (of somebody s else)\\nat the ordinary; or he was in hiding, or worse than\\nin hiding, in the lock-up house. What a situation 15\\nfor a man! for a philanthropist for a lover of\\nright and truth for a magnificent designer and\\nschemer! Not to dare to look in the face the Re-\\nligion which he adored and which he had ofifended:\\nto have to shirk down back lanes and alleys, so as 20\\nto avoid the friend whom he loved and who had\\ntrusted him; to have the house which he had in-\\ntended for his wife, whom he loved passionately,\\nand for her Ladyship s company which he wished\\nto entertain splendidly, in the possession of a 25\\nbailifif s man; with a crowd of little creditors,\\ngrocers, butchers, and small-coal men lingering\\nround the door with their bills and jeering at him.\\nAlas for poor Dick Steele! For nobody else, of\\ncourse. There is no man or woman in our time 30\\nwho makes fine projects and gives them up from\\nidleness or want of means. When duty calls upon", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "STEELE 147\\nuSy we no doubt are always at home and ready to\\npay that grim tax-gatherer. When zvc are stricken\\nwith remorse and promise reform, we keep our\\npromise, and are never angry, or idle, or extrava-\\n5 gant any more. There are no chambers in our\\nhearts, destined for family friends and affections,\\nand now occupied by some Sin s emissary and\\nbailiff in possession. There are no little sins,\\nshabby peccadilloes, importunate remembrances, or\\n10 disappointed holders of our promises to reform,\\nhovering at our steps, or knocking at our door! Of\\ncourse not. We are living in the nineteenth century;\\nand poor Dick Steele stumbled and got up again,\\nand got into jail and out again, and sinned and re-\\ni5pented, and loved and suffered, and lived and died,\\nscores of years ago. Peace be with him! Let us\\nthink gently of one who was so gentle let us speak\\nkindly of one whose own breast exuberated with\\nhuman kindness.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "prior, (5a\\\\\\\\ anb ipope\\nMatthew Prior was one of those famous and\\nlucky wits of the auspicious reign of Queen Anne,\\nwhose name it behoves us not to pass over. Mat\\nwas a world-philosopher of no small genius, good- 5\\nnature, and acumen.* He loved, he drank, he\\nGay calls him Dear Prior beloved by every muse.\\nMr. Pope s Welcome from Greece.\\nSwift and Prior were very intimate, and he is frequently men-\\ntioned in the Journal to Stella. Mr. Prior, says Swift, walks lO\\nto make himself fat, and I to keep myself down. We often walk\\nround the park together.\\nIn Swift s works there is a curious tract called Remarks on the\\nCharacters of the Court of Queen Anne [Scott s edition, vol. xii.].\\nThe Remarks are not by the Dean; but at the end of each is an 15\\naddition in italics from his hand, and these are always characteristic.\\nThus, to the Duke of Marlborough, he adds, Detestably covetous,\\nc. Prior is thus noticed\\nMatthew Prior, Esquire, Commissioner of Trade.\\nOn the Queen s accession to the throne, he was continued in 20\\nhis ofifice; is very well at Court with the ministry, and is an entire\\ncreature of my Lord Jersey s, whom he supports by his advice; is\\none of the best poets in England, but very facetious in conversation.\\nA thin hollow-looked man, turned of forty years old. This is near\\nthe truth. 25\\nYet counting as far as to fifty his years.\\nHis virtues and vices were as other men s are.\\nHigh hopes he conceived and he smothered great fears,\\nIn a life party-coloured\u00e2\u0080\u0094 half pleasure, half care.\\nNot to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, 30\\nHe strove to make interest and freedom agree;\\nIn public employments industrious and grave,\\nAnd alone with his friends, Lord, how merry was he f\\n148", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 149\\nsang. He describes himself, in one of his lyrics,\\nin a little Dutch chaise on a Saturday night; on\\nhis left hand his Horace, and a friend on his right,\\ngoing out of town from the Hague to pass that\\n5 evening and the ensuing Sunday boozing at a\\nSpielhaus with his companions, perhaps bobbing\\nfor perch in a Dutch canal, and noting down, in a\\nstrain and with a grace not unworthy of his Epi-\\ncurean master, the charms of his idleness, his re-\\nlo treat, and his Batavian Chloe. A vintner s son\\nin Whitehall, and a distinguished pupil of Eusby\\nof the Rod, Prior attracted some notice by writing\\nverses at Saint John s College, Cambridge, and,\\ncoming up to town, aided Montague f in an attack\\n1% on the noble old English lion John Dryden; in\\nM ridicule of whose work, The Hind and the\\nPanther, he brought out that remarkable and fa-\\nmous burlesque, The Town and Country Mouse.\\nAren t you all acquainted with it? Have you not\\n20 all got it by heart? What! have you never heard\\nof it? See what fame is made of! The wonderful\\npart of the satire was, that, as a natural conse-\\nNow in equipage stately, now humble on foot.\\nBoth fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust;\\n~5 And whirled in the round as the wheel turned about.\\nHe found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.\\nPrior s Poems. [For my own monument.\\n[He was a joiner s son. His uncle was a vintner, and kept the\\nRhenish Wine House in Channel (now Cannon) Row, Westminster.]\\n30 t They joined to produce a parody, entitled The Town and\\nCountry Mouse, part of which Mr. Bayes is supposed to gratify his\\nold friends. Smart and Johnson, by repeating to them. The piece\\nis therefore founded upon the twice-told jest of the Rehearsal.\\nThere is nothing new or original in the idea. In this piece,\\n35 Prior, though the younger man, seems to have had by far the largest\\nshare. Scott s Dryden, vol. i. p. 330.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "150 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nquence of The Town and Country Mouse,\\nMatthew Prior was made Secretary of Embassy at\\nthe Hague! I believe it is dancing, rather than\\nsinging, which distinguishes the young EngHsh\\ndiplomatists of the present day; and have seen them 5\\nin various parts perform that part of their duty very\\nfinely. In Prior s time it appears a different ac-\\ncomplishment led to preferment.* Could you write\\na copy of Alcaics? that was the question. Could\\nyou turn out a neat epigram or two? Could you 10\\ncompose The Town and Country Mouse It\\nis manifest that, by the possession of this faculty,\\nthe most difficult treaties, the laws of foreign na-\\ntions, and the interests of our own, are easily under-\\nstood. Prior rose in the diplomatic service, and 15\\nsaid good things that proved his sense and his\\nspirit. When the apartments at Versailles were\\nshown to him, with the victories of Louis XIV.\\npainted on the walls, and Prior was asked whether\\nthe palace of the King of England had any such 20\\ndecorations, The monuments of my master s ac-\\ntions, Mat said, of William, whom he cordially\\nrevered, are to be seen everywhere except in his\\nown house. Bravo, Mat! Prior rose to be. full\\nambassador at Paris,t where he somehow was 25\\ncheated out of his ambassadorial plate; and in an\\nheroic poem, addressed by him to her late lamented\\nMajesty, Queen Anne, Mat makes some magnifi-\\n[It is doubtful, however, whether Prior s appointment had much\\nto do with his literary reputation.] 3^\\nt He was to have been in the same commission with the Duke\\nof Shrewsbury, but that that nobleman, says Johnson, refused to\\nbe associated with one so meanly born. Prior therefore continued to", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE Igl\\ncent allusions to these dishes and spoons, of which\\nFate had deprived him. All that he wants, he says,\\nis her Majesty s picture; without that he can t be\\nhappy.\\n5 Thee, gracious Anne, thee present I adore:\\nThee, Queen of Peace, if Time and Fate have power\\nHigher to raise the glories of thy reign,\\nIn words sublimer and a nobler strain\\nMay future bards the mighty theme rehearse.\\nlo Here, Stator Jove, and Phoebus, king of verse,\\nThe votive tablet I suspend.\\nWith that word the poem stops abruptly. The\\nvotive tablet is suspended for ever, like Mahomet s\\ncoffin. News came that the Queen was dead.\\n15 Stator Jove, and Phoebus, king of verse, were left\\nthere, hovering to this day, over the votive tablet.\\nThe picture was never got, any more than the\\nspoons and dishes: the inspiration ceased, the\\nverses were not wanted the ambassador wasn t\\n20 wanted. Poor Mat was recalled from his embassy,\\nsuffered disgrace along with his patrons, lived un-\\nder a sort of cloud ever after, and disappeared in\\nEssex. When deprived of all his pensions and\\nemoluments, the hearty and generous Oxford pen-\\n25 act without a title till the Duke s return next year to England, and\\nthen he assumed the style and dignity of ambassador.\\nHe had been thinking of slights of this sort when he wrote his\\nEpitaph:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nNobles and heralds, by your leave,\\n3\u00c2\u00ab\u00c2\u00bb Here lies what once was Matthew Prior,\\nThe son of Adam and of Eve:\\nCan Bourbon or Nassau claim higher\\nBut, in this case, the old prejudice got the better of the old joke.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "152 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nsioned him.* They played for gallant stakes the\\nbold men of those days and lived and gave splen-\\ndidly.\\nJohnson quotes from Spence a legend, that Prior,\\nafter spending an evening with Harley, St. John, sj\\nPope, and Swift, would go of\u00c2\u00a5 and smoke a pipe\\nW ith a couple of friends of his, a soldier and his\\nwife, in Long Acre. Those who have not read his\\nlate Excellency s poems should be warned that\\nthey smack not a little of the conversation of his lo\\nLong Acre friends. Johnson speaks slightingly of\\nhis lyrics; but with due deference to the great\\nSamuel, Prior s seem to me amongst the easiest,\\nthe richest, the most charmingly humourous of\\nEnglish lyrical poems.* Horace is always in his^S\\n[Prior s poems published (in folio) by subscription brought him\\n\u00c2\u00a34000. Lord Harley (not his father, the Earl of Oxford) added\\n;\u00c2\u00a34ooo to this for the purchase of an estate (Down Hall) in Essex.]\\nHis epigrams have the genuine sparkle\\nThe Remedy ivorse than the Disease. 20\\n1 sent for Radcliff; was so ill,\\nThat other doctors gave me over:\\nHe felt my pulse, prescribed his pill,\\nAnd I was likely to recover.\\nBut when the wit began to wheeze, 25\\nAnd wine had warmed the politician.\\nCured yesterday of my disease,\\nI died last night of my physician.\\nYes, every poet is a fool;\\nBy demonstration Ned can show it;\\nHappy could Ned s inverted rule\\nProve every fool to be a poet.\\n.SO\\nOn his deathbed poor Lubin lies.\\nHis spouse is in despair;\\nWith frequent sobs and mutual cries 35\\nThey both express their care.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 153\\nmind; and his song, and his philosophy, his good\\nsense, his happy easy turns and melody, his loves\\nand his Epicureanism bear a great resemblance to\\nthat most delightful and accomplished master. In\\n5 reading his works one is struck with their modern\\nair, as well as by their happy similarity to the songs\\nof the charming owner of the Sabine farm. In his\\nverses addressed to Halifax, he says, writing of that\\nendless theme to poets, the vanity of human\\nlo wishes\\nSo whilst in fevered dreams we sink,\\nAnd waking, taste what we desire,\\nThe real draught but feeds the fire,\\nThe dream is better than the drink.\\n15 Our hopes like towering falcons aim\\nAt objects in an airy height:\\nTo stand aloof and view the flight,\\nIs all the pleasure of the game.\\nWould you not fancy that a poet of our own\\n20 days was singing? and in the verses of Chloe\\nweeping and reproaching him for his inconstancy,\\nwhere he says\\nThe God of us versemen, you know, child, the Sun,\\nHow, after his journeys, he sets up his rest.\\n25 If at morning o er earth tis his fancy to run,\\nAt night he declines on his Thetis s breast,\\nA different cause, says Parson Sly,\\nThe same effect may give\\nPoor Lubin fears that he shall die,\\n\u00c2\u00abQ His wife that he may live.\\n[Thackeray, however, has ingeniously transposed the order of\\nthese verses, which, in the original, are not in the metre made\\nfamiliar by a poet of our own days.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "154 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nSo, when I am wearied with wandering all day,\\nTo thee, my delight, in the evening I come:\\nNo matter what beauties I saw in my way,\\nThey were but my visits, but thou art my home\\nThen finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war, 5\\nAnd let us like Horace and Lydia agree:\\nFor thou art a girl as much brighter than her,\\nAs he was a poet sublimer than me.\\nIf Prior read Horace, did not Thomas Moore\\nstudy Prior? Love and pleasure find singers in alho\\ndays. Roses are always blowing and fading to-\\nday as in that pretty time when Prior sang of them,\\nand of Chloe lamentinsf their decay\\nShe sighed, she smiled, and to the flowers\\nPointing, the lovely moralist said: ij-\\nSee, friend, in some few fleeting hours,\\n*Sec yonder what a change is made\\nAh me! the blooming pride of May\\nAnd that of Beauty are but one:\\nAt morn both flourish, bright and gay, 20\\nBoth fade at evening, pale and gone.\\nAt dawn poor Stella danced and sung,\\nThe amorous youth around her bowed:\\nAt night her fatal knell was rung:\\nI saw, and kissed her in her shroud. 25\\nSuch as she is who died to-day.\\nSuch I, alas, may be to-morrow:\\nGo, Damon, bid thy Muse display\\nThe justice of thy Chloe s sorrow.\\nDamon s knell was rung in 1721. May his turf 30\\nlie lightly on him! Deus sit propitius huic", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 1 55\\npotatori, as Walter de Mapes sang.* Perhaps\\nSamuel Johnson, who spoke slightingly of Prior s\\nverses, enjoyed them more than he was willing to\\nPrior to Sir Thomas Hanmer.\\n5 Aug. 4, 1709.\\nDear Sir, Friendship may live, I grant you, without being fed\\nand cherished by correspondence; but with that additional benefit\\nI am of opinion it will look more cheerful and thrive better: for in\\nthis case, as in love, though a man is sure of his own constancy,\\n10 yet his happiness depends a good deal upon the sentiments of\\nanother, and while you and Chloe are alive, tis not enough that I\\nlove you both, except I am sure you both love me again; and as\\none of her scrawls fortifies my mind more against afBiction than\\nall Epictetus, with Simplicius s comments into the bargain, so your\\n^5 single letter gave me more real pleasure than all the works of\\nPlato. I must return my answer to your very kind question\\nconcerning my health. The Bath waters have done a good deal\\ntowards the recovery of it, and the great specific, Cape cahalhim,\\nwill, I think, confirm it. Upon this head I must tell you that my\\nmare Betty grows blind, and may one day, by breaking my neck,\\nperfect my cvire: if at Rixham fair any pretty nagg that is between\\nthirteen and fourteen hands presented himself, and you would be\\npleased to purchase him for me, one of your servants might ride\\nhim to Euston, and I might receive him there. This, sir, is just\\n25 as such a thing happens. If you hear, too, of a Welch widow, with\\na good jointure, that has her goings and is not very skittish, pray\\nbe pleased to cast your eye on her for me too. You see, sir, the\\ngreat trust I repose in your skill and honour, when I dare put\\ntwo such commissions in your hand. The Hanmer Corre-\\n30 spondence, p. 120.\\nFrom Mr. Prior.\\nParis: ist-izth May, 1714.\\nMy dear Lord and Friend, Matthew never had so great\\noccasion to write a word to Henry as now: it is noised here that\\n33 I am soon to return. The question that I wish I could answer to\\nthe many that ask, and to our friend Colbert de Torcy (to whom I\\nmade your compliments in the manner you commanded) is, what\\nis done for me; and to what I am recalled It may look like a\\nbagatelle, what is to become of a philosopher like me but it is\\n40 not such: what is to become of a person who had the honour to be\\nchosen, and sent hither as intrusted, in the midst of a war, with\\nwhat the Queen designed should make the peace; returning with\\nthe Lord Bolingbroke, one of the greatest men in England, and one\\nof the finest heads in Europe (as they say here, if true or not,\\n45 n importe) having been left by him in the greatest character (that\\nof her Majesty s Plenipotentiary), exercising that power conjointly", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "156\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nown. The old moralist had studied them as well\\nas Mr. Thomas Moore, and defended them and\\nshowed that he remembered them very well too,\\nwith the Duke of Shrewsbury, and solely after his departure;\\nhaving here received more distinguished honour than any Minister, 5\\nexcept an Ambassador, ever did, and some which were never given\\nto any but who had that character; having had all the success that\\ncould be expected; having (God be thanked spared no pains,\\nat a time when at home the peace is voted safe and honourable\\nat a time when the Earl of Oxford is Lord Treasurer and Lord lO\\nBolingbroke First Secretary of State This unfortunate person,\\nI say, neglected, forgot, unnamed to anything that may speak the\\nQueen satisfied with his services, or his friends concerned as to his\\nfortune.\\nMr. de Torcy put me quite out of countenance, the other day, 15\\nby a pity that wounded me deeper than ever did the cruelty of the\\nlate Lord Godolphin. He said he would write to Robin and Harry\\nabout me. God forbid, my Lord, that I should need any foreign in-\\ntercession, or owe the least to any Frenchman living, besides the\\ndecency of behaviour and the returns of common civility: some say 20\\nI am to go to Baden, others that I am to be added to the Com-\\nmissioners for settling the commerce. In all cases I am ready, but\\nin the meantime, die aliquid de tribus capellis. Neither of these two\\nare, I presume, honours or rewards, neither of them (let me say\\nto my dear Lord Bolingbroke, and let him not be angry with me) 25\\nare what Drift may aspire to, and what Mr. Whitworth, who was\\nhis fellow-clerk, has or may possess. I am far from desiring to\\nlessen the great merit of the gentleman I named, for I heartily\\nesteem and love him; but in this trade of ours, my Lord, in whicfi\\nyou are the general, as in that of the soldiery, there is a certain 30\\nright acquired by time and long service. You would do anything\\nfor your Queen s service, but you would not be contented to\\ndescend, and be degraded to a charge, no way proportioned to\\nthat of Secretary of State, any more than Mr. Ross, though he\\nwould charge a party with a halbard in his hand, would be con- 35\\ntent all his life after to be Serjeant. Was my Lord Dartmouth,\\nfrom Secretary, returned again to be Commissioner of Trade, or\\nfrom Secretary of War, would Frank Gwyn think himself kindly\\nused to be returned again to be Commissioner In short, my\\nLord, you have put me above myself, and if I am to return 1040\\nmyself, I shall return to something very discontented and uneasy.\\nI am sure, my Lord, you will make the best use you can of this\\nhint for my good. If I am to have anything, it will certainly be for\\nher Majesty s service, and the credit of my friends in the Ministry,\\nthat it be done before I am recalled from home, lest the world may 45\\nthink either that I have merited to be disgraced, or that ye dare\\nnot stand by me. If nothing is to be done, fiat voluntas Dei. I\\nhave writ to Lord Treasurer upon this subject, and having im-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE I S7\\non an occasion when their nioraUty was called in\\nquestion by that noted puritan, James Boswell, Es-\\nquire, of Auchinleck.*\\nIn the great society of the wits, John Gay de-\\n5 served to be a favourite, and to have a good place.f\\nplored your kind intercession, I promise you it is the last remon-\\nstrance of this kind that I will ever make. Adieu, my Lord, all\\nhonour, health, and pleasure to you.\\nYours ever, Matt.\\nlO F.5 Lady Jersey is just gone from me. We drank your healths\\ntogether in usquebaugh after our tea: we are the greatest friends\\nalive. Once more adieu. There is no such thing as the Book of\\nTravels you mentioned; if there be, let friend Tilson send us\\nmore particular account of them, for neither I nor Jacob Tonson\\n15 can find them. Pray send Barton back to me, I hope with some\\ncomfortable tidings. Bolingbrokc s Letters.\\nI asked whether Prior s poems were to be printed entire;\\nJohnson said they were. I mentioned Lord Hales s censure of\\nPrior in his preface to a collection of sacred poems, by various\\n20 hands, published by him at Edinburgh a great many years ago,\\nwhere he mentions these impure tales, which will be the eternal\\nopprobrium of their ingenious author. Johnson: Sir, Lord Hales\\nhas forgot. There is nothing in Prior that will excite to lewdness.\\nIf Lord Hales thinks there is, he must be more combustible than\\n25 other people. I instanced the tale of Paulo Purganti and his wife.\\nJohnson: Sir, there is nothing there but that his wife wanted to\\nbe kissed, when poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, sir. Prior is a\\nlady s book. No lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.\\nBoswell s Life of Johnson.\\n.30 I Gay was of an old Devonshire family, but his pecuniary prospects\\nnot being great, was placed in his youth in the house of a silk-\\nmercer in London. He was born in 1688 Pope s year [It has been\\nlately shown that Gay was born in 1685], and in 1712 the Duchess\\nof Monmouth made him her secretary; Next year he published his\\n35 Rural Sports, which he dedicated to Pope, and so made an acquain-\\ntance which became a memorable friendship.\\nGay, says Pope, was quite a natural man, wholly without art\\nor design, and spoke just what he thought and as he thought it.\\nHe dangled for twenty years about a Court, and at last was offered\\n40 to be made usher to the young princesses. Secretary Craggs made\\nGay a present of stock in the South Sea year; and he was once\\nworth \u00c2\u00a320,000, but lost it all again. He got about \u00c2\u00a3400 by the first\\nBeggar s Opera, and ;\u00c2\u00a3iioo or \u00c2\u00a31200 by the second. He was\\nnegligent and a bad manager. Latterly, the Duke of Queensberry\\n45 took his money into his keeping, and let him only have what was", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "IS8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nIn his set all were fond of him. His success of-\\nfended nobody. He missed a fortune once or twice.\\nHe was talked of for Court favour, and hoped to\\nwin it; but the Court favour jilted him. Craggs\\ngave him some South Sea stock; and at one time 5\\nGay had very nearly made his fortune. But For-\\ntune shook her swift wings and jilted him too: and\\nso his friends, instead of being angry with him, and\\njealous of him, were kind and fond of honest Gay.\\nIn the portraits of the literary worthies of the early 10\\npart of the last century, Gay s face is the pleasantest\\nperhaps of all. It appears adorned with neither\\nperiwig nor nightcap (the full dress and neglige of\\nlearning, without which the painters of those days\\nscarcely ever portrayed wits), and he laughs at you 15\\nover his shoulder with an honest boyish glee an\\nartless sweet humour. He was so kind, so gentle,\\nso jocular, so delightfully brisk at times, so dismally\\nwoebegone at others, such a natural good creature,\\nthat the Giants loved him. The great Swift was 20\\ngentle and sportive with him,* as the enormous\\nBrobdingnag maids of honour were with little Gul-\\nliver. He could frisk and fondle round Pope,t and\\nsport, and bark, and caper, without offending the\\nnecessary out of it, and, as he lived with them, he could not have 25\\noccasion for much. He died worth upwards of ;\u00c2\u00a33ooo. Pope.\\nSpcnce s Anecdotes.\\nMr. Gay is, in all regards, as honest and sincere a man as\\never I knew. Swift, To Lady Betty Germaine, Jan. 1733.\\nt Of manners gentle, of aflfections mild; 30\\nIn wit a man; simplicity, a child;\\nWith native humour temp ring virtuous rage,\\nForm d to delight at once and lash the age;\\nAbove temptation in a low estate,\\nAnd uncorrupted e en among the great: 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 1 59\\nmost thin-skinned of poets and men; and when he\\nwas jilted in that httle Court affair of which we\\nhave spoken, his warm-hearted patrons the Duke\\nand Duchess of Oueensberry (the Kitty, beau-\\nc A safe companion, and an easy friend,\\nUnblamed through life, lamented in thy end.\\nThese are thy honours; not that here thy bust\\nIs mixed with heroes, or with kings thy dust;\\nBut that the worthy and the good shall say,\\nlO Striking their pensive bosoms, Here lies Gay.\\nPope s Epitaph on Gay.\\nA hare who in a civil way.\\nComplied with everything, like Gay.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094Fables, The Hare and many Friends.\\n15 I can give you no account of Gay, says Pope curiously, since\\nhe was raffled for, and won back by his Duchess. Works, Roscoe s\\ned., vol. ix. p. 392.\\nHere is the letter Pope wrote to him when the death of Queen\\nAnne brought back Lord Clarendon from Hanover, and lost him\\n20 the Secretaryship of that nobleman, of which he had had but a\\nshort tenure.\\nGay s Court prospects were never happy from this time.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 His\\ndedication of the Shepherd s Week to Bolingbroke, Swift used to\\ncall the original sin which had hurt him with the house of\\n25 Hanover:\\nSept. 23, 1714.\\nDear Mr. Gay,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Welcome to your native soil welcome to your\\nfriends thrice welcome to me whether returned in glory, blest\\nwith Court interest, the love and familiarity of the great, and filled\\n.30 with agreeable hopes; or melancholy with dejection, contemplative of\\nthe changes of fortune, and doubtful for the future; whether returned\\na triumphant Whig, or a desponding Tory, equally all hail equally\\nbeloved and welcome to me If happy, I am to partake in your\\n^_ elevation; if unhappy, you have still a warm corner in my heart,\\n35 and a retreat at Binfield in the worst of times at your service. If\\nyou are a Tory, or thought so by any man, I know it can proceed\\nfrom nothing but your gratitude to a few people who endeavoured\\nto serve you, and whose politics were never your concern. If you\\nare a Whig, as I rather hope, and as I think your principles and\\n40 mine (as brother poets) hsd ever a bias to the side of liberty, I know\\nyou will be an honest man and an inoffensive one. Upon the whole,\\nI know you are incapable of being so much of either party as to be\\ngood for nothing. Therefore, once more, whatever you are or in\\nwhatever state you are, all hail\\n45 One or two of your own friends complained they had heard\\nnothing from you since the Queen s death; I told them no man", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "l6o ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ntifiil and young, of Prior) pleaded his cause with\\nindignation, and quitted the Court in a huff, carry-\\ning off with them into their retirement their kind\\ngentle protege. With these kind lordly folks, a real\\nDuke and Duchess, as delightful as those who har- 5\\nliving loved Mr. Gay better than I, yet I had not once written to\\nhim in all his voyage. This I thought a convincing proof how\\ntruly one may be a friend to another without telling him so every\\nmonth. But they had reasons, too, themselves to allege in your\\nexcuse, as men who really value one another will never want such lO\\nas make their friends and themselves easy. The late universal con-\\ncern in public affairs threw us all into a hurry of spirits: even I,\\nwho am more a philosopher than to expect anything from any reign,\\nwas borne away with the current, and full of the expectation of the\\nsuccessor. During your journeys, I knew not whither to aim a 15\\nletter after you; that was a sort of shooting flying: add to this the\\ndemand Homer had vipon me, to write fifty verses a day, besides\\nlearned notes, all which are at a conclusion for this year. Rejoice\\nwith me, O my friend that my labour is over; come and make\\nmerry with me in much feasting. We will feed among the lilies (by 20\\nthe lilies I mean the ladies). Are not the Rosalindas of Britain as\\ncharming as the Blousalindas of the Hague or have the two great\\nPastoral poets of our nation renounced love at the same time for\\nPhilips, immortal Philips, hath deserted, yea, and in a rustic manner\\nkicked his Rosalind. Dr. Parnell and I have been inseparable ever ^5\\nsince you went. We are now at the Bath, where (if you are not, as\\nI heartily hope, better engaged) your coming would be the greatest\\npleasure to us in the world. Talk not of expenses: Homer shall\\nsupport his children. I beg a line from you, directed to the Post-\\nhouse in Bath. Poor Parnell is in an ill state of health. 3^\\nPardon me if I add a word of advice in the poetical way. Write\\nsomething on the King, or Prince, or Princess. On whatsoever foot\\nyou may be with the Court, this can do no harm. I shall never know\\nwhere to end, and am confoimded in the many things I have to say\\nto you, though they all amount but to this, that I am, entirely, 35\\nas ever,\\nYour, c.\\nGay took the advice in the poetical way, and published An\\nEpistle to a Lady, occasioned by the arrival of her Royal Highness\\nthe Princess of Wales. But though this brought him access to 40\\nCourt, and the attendance of the Prince and Princess at his farce\\nof the What d ye call it it did not bring him a place. On the\\naccession of George II., he was offered the situation of Gentleman\\nUsher to the Princess Louisa (her Highness being then two years\\nold) but by this offer, says Johnson, he thought himself 45\\ninsulted.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE l6l\\nboured Don Quixote, and loved that dear old\\nSancho, Gay lived, and was lapped in cotton, and\\nhad his plate of chicken, and his saucer of cream,\\nand frisked, and barked, and wheezed, and grew fat,\\n5 and so ended.* He became very melancholy and\\nlazy, sadly plethoric, and only occasionally divert-\\ning in his latter days. But everybody loved him,\\nand the remembrance of his. pretty little tricks and\\nthe raging old Dean of Saint Patrick s, chafing in\\nlohis banishment, was afraid to open the letter which\\nPope wrote him announcing the sad news of the\\ndeath of Gay.f\\nSwift s letters to him are beautiful; and having\\nno purpose but kindness in writing to him, no party\\n15 aim to advocate, or slight or anger to wreak, every\\nword the Dean says to his favourite is natural,\\ntrustworthy, and kindly. His admiration for Gay s\\nGay was a great eater.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 As the French philosopher used to\\nprove his existence by Cogito, ergo sum, the greatest proof of Gay s\\n20 existence is, Edit, ergo est. Congreve, in a letter to Pope. Spence s\\nAnecdotes.\\nt Swift endorsed the letter\u00e2\u0080\u0094 On my dear friend Mr. Gay s death;\\nreceived Dec. 15, but not read till the 20th, by an impulse fore-\\nboding some misfortune.\\n25 It was by Swift s interest that Gay was made known to Lord\\nBolingbroke, and obtained his patronage. Scott s Swift, vol. i.\\np. 156.\\nPope wrote on the occasion of Gay s death, to Swift, thus:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\niDec. 5, 1732.1\\n30 One of the nearest and longest ties I have ever had is\\nbroken all on a sudden by the unexpected death of poor Mr. Gay.\\nAn inflammatory fever hurried him out of this life in three days.\\nHe asked of you a few hours before when in acute torment by the\\ninflammation in his bowels and breast. His sisters, we suppose,\\n35 will be his heirs, who are two widows. Good God how often\\nare we to die before we go quite off this stage In every friend we\\nlose a part of ourselves, and the best part. God keep those we\\nhave left few are worth praying for, and one s self the least of\\nall.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "1 62 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nparts and honesty, and his laughter at his weak-\\nnesses, were ahke just and genuine. He paints his\\ncharacter in wonderful pleasant traits of jocular\\nsatire. I writ lately to Mr. Pope, Swift says,\\nwriting to Gay: I wish you had a little villakin 5\\nin his neighbourhood; but you are yet too volatile,\\nand any lady with a coach and six horses would\\ncarry you to Japan. .If your ramble, says Swift,\\nin another letter, was on horseback, I am glad of\\nit, on account of your health; but I know your arts 10\\nof patching up a journey between stage-coaches\\nand friends coaches for you are as arrant a\\ncockney as any hosier in Cheapside. I have often\\nhad it in my head to put it into yours, that you\\nought to have some great work in scheme, which 15\\nmay take up seven years to finish, besides two or\\nthree under-ones that may add another thousand\\npounds to your stock. And then I shall be in less\\npain about you. I know you can find dinners, but\\nyou love twelvepenny coaches too well, without 20\\nconsidering that the interest of a whole thousand\\npounds brings you but half-a-crown a day. And\\nthen Swift goes off from Gay to pay some grand\\ncompliments to her Grace the Duchess of Queens-\\nberry, in whose sunshine Mr. Gay was basking, and 25\\nin whose radiance the Dean would have liked to\\nwarm himself too.\\nBut we have Gay here before us, in these letters\\nlazy, kindly, uncommonly idle; rather slovenly,\\nI m afraid; for ever eating and saying good things; 30\\na little round French abbe of a man, sleek, soft-\\nhanded, and soft-hearted.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 1 63\\nOur object In these lectures is rather to describe\\nthe men than their works or to deal with the latter\\nonly in as far as they seem to illustrate the charac-\\nter of their writers. Mr. Gay s Fables which\\n5 were written to benefit that amiable Prince the\\nDuke of Cumberland, the warrior of Dettingen and\\nCuUoden, I have not, I own, been able to peruse\\nsince a period of very early youth; and it must be\\nconfessed that they did not effect much benefit\\n10 upon the illustrious young Prince, whose manners\\ndiey were intended to mollify, and whose natural\\nferocity our gentle-hearted Satirist perhaps pro-\\nposed to restrain. But the six pastorals called the\\nShepherd s Week, and the burlesque poem of\\ni5 Trivia, any man fond of lazy literature will find\\ndelightful at the present day, and must read from\\nbeginning to end with pleasure. They are to poetry\\nwhat charming little -Dresden china figures are to\\nsculpture: graceful, minikin, fantastic; with a cer-\\n20 tain beauty always accompanying them. The\\npretty little personages of the pastoral, with gold\\nclocks to their stockings, and fresh satin ribands\\nto their crooks and waistcoats and bodices, danced\\ntlieir loves to a minuet-tune played on a bird-organ,\\n25 approach the charmer, or rush from the false one\\ndaintily on their red-heeled tiptoes, and die of\\ndespair or rapture, with the most pathetic little\\ngrins and ogles; or repose, simpering at each\\nother, under an arbour of pea-green crockery; or\\n30 piping to pretty flocks that have just been washed\\nwith the best Naples in a stream of bergamot.\\nGay s gay plan seems to me far pleasanter than that", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "104 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nof Philips his rival and Pope s a serious and\\ndreary idyllic cockney; not that Gay s Bum-\\nkinets and Hobnelias are a whit more natural\\nthan the would-be serious characters of the other\\nposture-master; but the quality of this true hu- 5\\nmourist was to laugh and make laugh, though al-\\nways with a secret kindness and tenderness, to\\nperform the drollest little antics and capers, but\\nalways with a certain grace, and to sweet music\\nas you may have seen a Savoyard boy abroad, with 10\\na hurdy-gurdy and a monkey, turning over head\\nand heels, or clattering and pirouetting in a pair of\\nwooden shoes, yet always with a look of love and\\nappeal in his bright eyes, and a smile that asks and\\nwins affection and protection. Happy they who 15\\nhave that sweet gift of nature! It was this which\\nmade the great folk and Court ladies free and\\nfriendly with John Gay which made Pope and\\nArbuthnot love him which melted the savage\\nheart of Swift when he thought of him and drove 20\\naway, for a moment or two, the dark frenzies which\\nobscured the lonely tyrant s brain, as he heard\\nGay s voice with its simple melody and artless ring-\\ning laughter.\\nWhat used to be said about Rubini,* qii il avaii 25\\ndes larmcs dans la voix, may be said of Gay,t and of\\none other humourist of whom we shall have to\\n[This was said earlier of Mdlle. Duchesnois of the Theatre\\nFrangais, who was not beautiful, but had a most beautiful voice.]\\nt Gay, like Goldsmith, had a musical talent. He could play 30\\non the flute, says Malone, and was, therefore, enabled to adapt\\nso happily some of the airs in the Beggar s Opera. \u00e2\u0080\u0094Notes to\\nSpenee.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 1 65\\nSpeak. In almost every ballad of his, however\\nslight, in the Beggar s Opera f and in its vveari-\\nTwas when the seas were roaring\\nWith hollow blasts of wind,\\n5 A damsel lay deploring\\nAll on a rock reclined.\\nWide o er the foaming billows\\nShe cast a wistful look;\\nHer head was crown d with willows\\n10 That trembled o er the brook.\\nTwelve months are gone and over,\\nAnd nine long tedious days;\\nWhy didst thou, venturous lover\\nWhy didst thou trust the seas\\n15 Cease, cease, thou cruel Ocean,\\nAnd let my lover rest;\\nAh what s thy troubled motion\\nTo that within my breast\\nThe merchant, robb d of pleasure,\\n20 Sees tempests in despair;\\nBut what s the loss of treasure\\nTo losing of my dear\\nShould you some coast be laid on.\\nWhere gold and diamonds grow,\\n25 You d find a richer maiden,\\nBut none that loves you so.\\nHow can they say that Nature\\nHas nothing made in vain;\\nWhy, then, beneath the water\\n20 Should hideous rocks remain\\nNo eyes the rocks discover\\nThat lurk beneath the deep.\\nTo wreck the wandering lover.\\nAnd leave the maid to weep\\n35 All melancholy lying,\\nThus wailed she for her dear;\\nRepay d each blast with sighing.\\nEach billow with a tear;\\nWhen o er the white wave stooping,\\n40 His floating corpse she spy d;\\nThen like a lily drooping,\\nShe bow d her head, and died.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094A Ballad from the What d ye call it\\nWhat can be prettier than Gay s ballad, or, rather, Swift s,\\n45 t See foot-note on page 166.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "1 66 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nsome continuation (where the verses are to the full\\nas pretty as in the first piece, however), there is a\\npecuhar, hinted, pathetic sweetness and melody. It\\ncharms and melts you. It s indefinable, but it\\nexists; and is the property of John Gay s and OH- 5\\nver Goldsmith s best verse as fragrance is of a vio-\\nlet, or freshness of a rose.\\nLet me read a piece from one of his letters, which\\nis so famous that most people here are no doubt\\nfamiliar with it, but so delightful that it is always 10\\npleasant to hear:\\nI have just passed part of this summer at an\\nold romantic seat of my Lord Harcourt s which he\\nlent me. It overlooks a common field, where, un-\\nder the shade of a haycock, sat two lovers as con- 15\\nArbuthnot s, Pope s, and Gay s, in the What d ye call it Twas\\nwhen the seas were roaring I have been well informed that they\\nall contributed. Cotvpcr to Univin, 1783.\\nt Dr. Swift had been observing once to Mr. Gay, what an odd\\npretty sort of thing a Newgate Pastoral might make. Gay was in- 20\\nclined to try at such a thing for some time, but afterwards thought\\nit would be better to write a comedy on the same plan. This was\\nwhat gave rise to the Beggar s Opera. He began on it, and when\\nhe first mentioned it to Swift, the Doctor did not much like the\\nproject. As he carried it on, he showed what he wrote to both of 25\\nus; and we now and then gave a correction, or a word or two of\\nadvice; but it was wholly of his own writing. When it was done,\\nneither of us thought it would succeed. We showed it to Congreve,\\nwho, after reading it over, said, It would either take greatly, or be\\ndamned confoundedly. We were all at the first night of it, in great 30\\nuncertainty of the event, till we were very much encouraged by over-\\nhearing the Duke of Argyle, who sat in the next box to us, say,\\nIt will do\u00e2\u0080\u0094 it must do I see it in the eyes of them This was\\na good while before the first act was over, and so gave us ease soon;\\nfor the Duke [besides his own good taste] has a more particular 35\\nknack than any one now living in discovering the taste of the public.\\nHe was quite right in this as usual; the good-nature of the audience\\nappeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamour\\nof applause. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 167\\nstant as ever were found in romance beneath a\\nspreading beech. The name of the one (let it sound\\nas it will) was John Hewet; of the other Sarah\\nDrew. John was a well-set man, about five-and-\\n5 twenty; Sarah a brown woman of eighteen. John\\nhad for several months borne the labour of the day\\nin the same field with Sarah; when she milked, it\\nwas his morning and evening charge to bring the\\ncows to her pail. Their love was the talk, but not\\n10 the scandal, of the whole neighbourhood, for all\\nthey aimed at was the blameless possession of each\\nother in marriage. It was but this very morning\\nthat he had obtained her parents consent, and it\\nwas but till the next week that they were to wait\\n15 to be happy. Perhaps this very day, in the inter--\\nvals of their work, they were talking of their wed-\\nding-clothes; and John was now matching several\\nkinds of poppies and field-flowers to her complex-\\nion, to make her a present of knots for the day.\\n20 While they were thus employed (it was on the last\\nof July) a terrible storm of thunder and lightning\\narose, that drove the labourers to what shelter the\\ntrees or hedges afforded. Sarah, frightened and out\\nof breath, sunk on a haycock; and John (who never\\n25 separated from her), sat by her side, having raked\\ntwo or three heaps together, to secure her. Im-\\nmediately there was heard so loud a crack, as if\\nheaven, had burst asunder. The labourers, all so-\\nlicitous for each other s safety, called to one\\n30 another: those that were nearest our lovers, hear-\\ning no answer, stepped to the place where they lay:\\nthey first saw a little smoke, and after, this faithful", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "1 68\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npair John, with one arm about his Sarah s neck,\\nand the other held over her face, as if to screen her\\nfrom the Hghtning. They were struck dead, and\\nalready grown stiff and cold in this tender posture.\\nThere was no mark or discolouring on their bodies 5\\nonly that Sarah s eyebrow was a little singed, and\\na small spot between her breasts. They were buried\\nthe next day in one grave.\\nAnd the proof that this description is delightful\\nand beautiful is, that the great Mr. Pope admired it 10\\nso much that he thought proper to steal it and to\\nsend it off to a certain lady and wit, with whom he\\npretended to be in love in those days my Lord\\nDuke of Kingston s daughter, and married to Mr.\\nWortley Montagu, then his Majesty s Ambassador 15 j\\nat Constantinople.*\\nWe are now come to the greatest name on our\\nlist\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the highest among the poets, the highest\\namong the English wits and humourists with whom\\nwe have to rank him. If the author of the Dun- 20\\nciad be not a humourist, if the poet of the Rape\\nof the Lock be not a wit, who deserves to be\\ncalled so? Besides that brilliant genius and im-\\nmense fame, for both of which we should respect\\nhim, men of letters should admire him as being the 25\\ngreatest literary artist that England has seen. He\\n[This was a natural conjecture, but now appears to be erroneous,\\nine letter seems to have been a joint composition of Gay and Pope\\nwho were staying together at Lord Harcourt s house. Gay wrote to\\nRJ^r.^ ^T t v^\u00c2\u00b0P^ substantially the same letter to Martha 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nBlount, Lord Bathurst, and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.-See Mr\\nCourthope s notes in Pope s Works, vol. ix., 284, 399", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 1 69\\npolished, he refined, he thought; he took thoughts\\nfrom other works to adorn and complete his own;\\nborrowing an idea or a cadence from another poet\\nas he would a figure or a simile from a flower, or a\\n5 river, stream, or any object which struck him in his\\nwalk, or contemplation of nature. He began to\\nimitate at an early age;* and taught himself to\\nwrite by copying printed books. Then he passed\\ninto the hands of the priests, and from his first\\n10 clerical master, who came to him when he was eight\\nyears old, he went to a school at Twyford, and\\nanother school at Hyde Park, at which places he\\nunlearned all that he had got from his first in-\\nWaller, Spenser, and Dryden were Mr. Pope s great favourites,\\n15 in the order they are named, in his first reading, till he was about\\ntwelve years old. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nMr. Pope s father (who was an honest merchant, and dealt in\\nhollands, wholesale) was no poet, but he used to set him to make\\nEnglish verses when very young. He was pretty difficult in being\\n20 pleased; and used often to send him back to new turn them. These\\nare not good rhimes; for that was my husband s word for verses.\\nPope s Mother. Spence.\\nI wrote things, I m ashamed to say how soon. Part of an Epic\\nPoem when about twelve. The scene of it lay at Rhodes and some\\n25 of the neighbouring islands; and the poem opened under water\\nwith a description of the Court of Neptune. Pope. Ibid.\\nHis perpetual application (after he set to study of himself) re-\\nduced him in four years time to so bad a state of health, that,\\nafter trying physicians for a good while in vain, he resolved to give\\n30 way to his distemper; and sat down calmly in a full expectation\\nof death in a short time. Under this thought, he wrote letters to\\ntake a last farewell of some of his more particular friends, and,\\namong the rest, one to the Abbe Southcote. The Abbe was ex-\\ntremely concerned both for his very ill state of health and the reso-\\n35 lution he said he had taken. He thought there might yet be hope,\\nand went immediately to Dr. Radcliffe, with whom he was well\\nacquainted, told him Mr. Pope s case, got full directions from him,\\nand carried them down to Pope in Windsor Forest. The chief\\nthing the Doctor ordered him was to apply less, and to ride every\\n40 day. The following his advice soon restored him to his health.\\nPope. Spence.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "I/O ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nstructor. At twelve years old, he went with his\\nfather into Windsor Forest, and there learned for\\na few months under a fourth priest. And this was\\nall the teaching- I ever had, he said, and God\\nknows it extended a very little way. 5\\nWhen he had done with his priests he took to\\nreading by himself, for which he had a very great\\neagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry.\\nHe learnt versification from Dryden, he said. .In\\nhis youthful poem of Alcander, he imitated every lo\\npoet, Cowley, Milton, Spenser, Statins, Homer,\\nVirgil. In a few years he had dipped into a great\\nnumber of the English, French, Italian, Latin, and\\nGreek poets. This I did, he says, without any\\ndesign, except to amuse myself; and got the Ian- 15\\nguages by hunting after the stories in the several\\npoets I read, rather than read the books to get the\\nlanguages. I followed everywhere as my fancy led\\nme, and was like a boy gathering flowers in the\\nfields and woods, just as they fell in his way. These 20\\nfive or six years I looked upon as the happiest in\\nmy life. Is not here a beautiful holiday picture?\\nThe forest and the fairy story-book the boy spell-\\ning Ariosto or Virgil under the trees, battling with\\nthe Cid for the love of Chimene, or dreaming of 25\\nArmida s garden peace and sunshine round about\\nthe kindest love and tenderness waiting for him\\nat his quiet home yonder and Genius throbbing\\nin his young heart, and whispering to him, You\\nshall be great, you shall be famous; you too shall 30\\nlove and sing; you will sing her so nobly that some\\nkind heart shall forget you are weak and ill formed.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE I/I\\nEvery poet had a love. Fate must give one to you\\ntoo, and day by day he walks the forest, very\\nlikely looking out for that charmer. They were\\nthe happiest days of his life, he says, when he was\\n5 only dreaming of his fame: when he had gained\\nthat mistress she was no consoler.\\nThat charmer made her appearance, it would\\nseem, about the year 1705, when Pope was seven-\\nteen. Letters of his are extant, addressed to a cer-\\n10 tain Lady M whom the youth courted, and\\nto whom he expressed his ardour in language, to\\nsay no worse of it, that is entirely pert, odious, and\\naffected. He imitated love-compositions as he had\\nbeen imitating love-poems just before it was a\\n15 sham mistress he courted, and a sham passion, ex-\\npressed as became it. These unlucky letters found\\ntheir way into print years afterwards, and were sold\\nto the congenial J\\\\lr. Curll. If any of my hearers,\\nas I hope they may, should take a fancy to look at\\n20 Pope s correspondence, let them pass over that first\\npart of it; over, perhaps, almost all Pope s letters\\nto women; in which there is a tone of not pleasant\\ngallantry, and, amidst a profusion of compliments\\nand politenesses, a something which makes one dis-\\n25 trust the little pert, prurient bard. There is very\\nlittle indeed to say about his loves, and that little\\nnot edifying. He wrote flames and raptures and\\nelaborate verse and prose for Lady Mary Wortley\\nMontagu; but that passion probabl) came to a\\n30 climax in an impertinence, and was extinguished\\nby a box on the ear, or some such rebuflf, and he be-\\ngan on a sudden to hate her with a fervour much", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "1/2 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmore genuine than that of his love had been. It\\nwas a feeble puny grimace of love, and paltering\\nwith passion. After Mr. Pope had sent ofif one of\\nhis fine compositions to Lady Mary, he made a\\nsecond draft from the rough copy, and favoured 5\\nsome other friend with it. He was so charmed with\\nthe letter of Gay s that I have just quoted, that he\\nhad copied that and amended it, and sent it to Lady\\nMary as his own.* A gentleman who writes letters\\na deux fins, and after having poured out his heart 10\\nto the beloved, serves up the same dish rechauffe\\nLo a friend, is not very much in earnest about his\\nloves, however much he may be in his piques and\\nvanities when his impertinence gets its due.\\nBut, save that unlucky part of the Pope Cor- 15\\nrespondence, I do not know, in the range of our\\nliterature, volumes more delightful. f You live in\\n[See note on p. 168. Pope, however, was capable of very similar\\nperformances.]\\nt Mr. Pope to the Rev. Mr. Broom, Pulhatn, Norfolk. 20\\nAug. 29, 1730.\\nDear Sir, I intended to write to you on this melancholy\\nsubject, the death of Mr. Fenton, before yours came, but stayed to\\nhave informed myself and you of the circumstances of it. All I hear\\nis, that he felt a gradual decay, though so early in life, and was 25\\ndeclining for five or six months. It was not, as I apprehended,\\nthe gout in his stomach, but, I believe, rather a complication first\\nof gross humours, as he was naturally corpulent, not discharging\\nthemselves, as he used no sort of exercise. No man better bore\\nthe approaches of his dissolution (as I am told), or with less osten- ,0\\ntation yielded up his being. The great modesty which you know\\nwas natural to him, and the great contempt he had \u00c2\u00abfor all sorts of\\nvanity and parade, never appeared more than in his last moments:\\nhe had a conscious satisfaction (no doubt) in acting right, in feeling\\nhimself honest, true, and unpretending to more than his own So 35\\nhe died as he lived, with that secret, yet sufificient contentment.\\nAs to any papers left behind him, I dare say they can be but\\nfew; for this reason, he never wrote out of vanity, or thought much\\nof the applause of men. I know an instance when he did his utmost", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 173\\nthem in the finest company in the world. A little\\nstately, perhaps; a little apprcte and conscious that\\nthey are speaking to whole generations who are\\nlistening; but in the tone of their voices pitched,\\n5 to conceal his own merit that way; and if we join to this his natural\\nlove of ease, I fancy we must expect little of this sort: at least, I\\nhave heard of none, except some few further remarks on Waller\\n(which his cautious integrity made him leave an order to be given\\nto Mr. Tonson), and perhaps, though it is many years since I saw\\nO it, a translation of the first book of Oppian. He had begun a tragedy\\nof Dion, but made small progress in it.\\nAs to his other affairs, he died poor but honest, leaving no\\ndebts or legacies, except of a few pounds to Mr. Trumbull and my\\nlady, in token of respect, gratefulness, and mutual esteem.\\n5 I shall with pleasure take upon me to draw this amiable, quiet,\\ndeserving, unpretending, Christian, and philosophical character in\\nhis epitaph. \u00e2\u0080\u00a2There truth may be spoken in a few words; as for\\nflourish, and oratory, and poetry, I leave them to younger and more\\nlively writers, such as love writing for writing s sake, and would\\n20 rather show their own fine parts than report the valuable ones of\\nany other man. So the elegy I renounce.\\nI condole with you from my heart on the loss of so worthy a\\nman, and a friend to us both.\\nAdieu; let us love his memory and profit by his example. Am\\n25 very sincerely, dear sir,\\nYour affectionate and real servant.\\nTo the Earl of Burlington.\\nAugust 1714,\\nMy Lord,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 If your mare could speak, she would give you an\\n30 account of what extraordinary company she had on the road, which,\\nsince she cannot do, I will.\\nIt was the enterprising Mr. Lintot, the redoubtable rival of\\nMr. Tonson, who, mounted on a stone-horse, overtook me in\\nWindsor Forest. He said he heard I designed for Oxford, the seat\\n35 of the Muses, and would, as my bookseller, by all means accompany\\nme thither.\\nI asked him where he got his horse He answered he got it\\nof his publisher; for that rogue, my printer, said he, disappointed\\nme. I hoped to put him in good humour by a treat at the tavern\\n40 of a brown fricassee of r.-^bbits, which cost ten shillings, with two\\nquarts of wine, besides my conversation. I thought myself cock-\\nsure of his horse, which he readily promised me, but said that Mr.\\nTonson had just such another design of going to Cambridge, ex-\\npecting there the copy of a new kind of Horace from Dr. and\\n45 if Mr. Tonson went, he was pre-engaged to attend him, being to\\nhave the printing of the said copy. So, in short, I borrowed this", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "174 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nas no doubt they are, beyond the mere conversation\\nkey in the expression of their thoughts, their\\nvarious views and natures, there is something\\ngenerous, and cheering, and ennobhng. You are\\nstone-horse of my publisher, which he had of Mr. Oldmixon for a 5\\ndebt. He lent me, too, the pretty boy you see after me. He was\\na smutty dog yesterday, and cost me more than two hours to wash\\nthe ink off his face; but the devil is a fair-conditioned devil, and\\nvery forward in his catechism. If you have any more bags, he shall\\ncarry them. lO\\nI thought Mr. Lintot s civility not to be neglected, so gave the\\nboy a small bag containing three shirts and an Elzevir Virgil, .and,\\nmounting in an instant, proceeded on the road, with my man before,\\nmy courteous stationer beside, and the aforesaid devil behind.\\nMr. Lintot began in this manner: Now, damn them What if 15\\nthey should put it into the newspaper how you and I went together\\nto Oxford What would I care If I should go down into Sussex,\\nthey would say I was gone to the Speaker; but what of that If\\nmy son were but big enough to go on with the business, by G-d, I\\nwould keep as good company as old Jacob. 20\\nHereupon, I inquired of the son. The lad, says he, has fine\\nparts, but is somewhat sickly, much as you are. I spare for nothing\\nin his education at Westminster. Pray, don t you think Westminster\\nto be the best school in England Most of the late Ministry came\\nout of it; so did many of this Ministry. I hope the boy will make 25\\nhis fortune.\\nDon t you design to let him pass a year at Oxford To\\nwhat purpose said he. The Universities do but make pedants,\\nand I intend to breed him a man of business.\\nAs Mr. Lintot was talking I observed he sat uneasy on his 30\\nsaddle, for which I expressed some solicitude. Nothing, says he.\\nI can bear it well enough; but, since we have the day before us,\\nmethinks it would be very pleasant for you to rest awhile under the\\nwoods. When we were alighted, See, here, what a mighty pretty\\nHorace I have in my pocket What if you amused yourself in 35\\nturning an ode till we mount again Lord if you pleased, what\\na clever miscellany might you make at leisure hours Perhaps\\nI may, said I, if we ride on: the motion is an aid to my fancy;\\na round trot very much awakens my spirits; then jog on apace, and\\nI ll think as hard as I can. 40\\nSilence ensued for a full hour; after which Mr. Lintot lugged\\nthe reins, stopped shott, and broke out, Well, sir, how far have\\nyou gone I answered, seven miles. Z ds, sir, said Lintot, I\\nthought you had done seven stanzas. Oldisworth, in a ramble\\nround Wimbledon Hill, would translate a whole ode in half this 45\\ntime. I ll say that for Oldisworth [though I lost by his Timothy s],\\nhe translates an ode of Horace the quickest of any man in England.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 175\\nin the society of men who have filled the greatest\\nparts in the world s story you are with St. John\\nthe statesman; Peterborough the conqueror;\\nSwift, the greatest wit of all times; Gay, the kind-\\n5 I remember. Dr. King would write verses in a tavern, three hours\\nafter he could not speak: and there is Sir Richard, in that rumbling\\nold chariot of his, between Fleet Ditch and St. Giles s Pound, shall\\nmake you half a Job.\\nPray, Mr. Lintot, said I, now you talk of translators, what\\nlO is your method of managing them Sir, replied he, these are\\nthe saddest pack of rogues in the world: in a hungry fit, they ll\\nswear they understand all the languages in the universe. I have\\nknown one of them take down a Greek book upon my counter and\\ncry, Ah, this is Hebrew, and must read it from the latter end.\\n15 By G-d, I can never be sure in these fellows, for I neither under-\\nstand Greek, Latin, French, nor Italian myself. But this is my way:\\nI agree with them for ten shillings per sheet, with a proviso that I\\nwill have their doings corrected with whom I please; so by one or\\nthe other they are led at last to the true sense of an author; my\\n20 judgment giving the negative to all my translators. Then how\\nare you sure these correctors may not impose upon you Why,\\nI get any civil gentleman (especially any Scotchman) that comes into\\nmy shop, to read the original to me in English; by this I know\\nwhether my first translator be deficient, and whether my corrector\\n25 merits his money or not.\\nI ll tell you what happened to me last month. I bargained\\nwith S for a new version of Lucretius, to publish against Ton-\\nson s, agreeing to pay the author so many shillings at his producing\\nso many lines. He made a great progress in a very short time, and\\n30 I gave it to the corrector to compare with the Latin; but he went\\ndirectly to Creech s translation, and found it the same, word for\\nword, all but the first page. Now, what d ye think I did I arrested\\nthe translator for a cheat; nay, and I stopped the corrector s pay,\\ntoo, upon the proof that he had made use of Creech instead of the\\n35 original.\\nPray tell me next how you deal with the critics Sir, said\\nhe, nothing more easy. I can silence the most formidable of them:\\nthe rich ones for a sheet apiece of the blotted manuscript, which\\ncost me nothing; they ll go about with it to their acquaintance,\\n40 and pretend they had it from the author, who submitted it to their\\ncorrection: this has given some of them such an air, that in time\\nthey come to be consulted with and dedicated to as tiptop critics\\nof the town. As for the poor critics, I ll give you one instance of my\\nmanagement, by which you may guess the rest: A lean man, that\\n45 looked like a very good scholar, came to me t other day; he turned\\nover your Homer, shook his head, shrugged up his shoulders, and\\npish d at every line of it. One would wonder, says he, at the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "iy6\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nliest laughter, it is a privilege to sit in that com-\\npany. Delightful and generous banquet! with a\\nlittle faith and a little fancy any one of us here may\\nstrange presumption of some men; Homer is no such easy task as\\nevery stripling, every versifier he was going on when my wife 5\\ncalled to dinner. Sir, said I, will you please to eat a piece of\\nbeef with me Mr. Lintot, said he, I am very sorry you\\nshould be at the expense of this great book: I am really concerned\\non your account. Sir, I am much obliged to you: if you can\\ndine upon a piece of beef, together with a slice of pudding lO\\nMr. Lintot, I do not say but Mr. Pope, if he would condescend\\nto advise with men of learning Sir, the pudding is upon the\\ntable, if you please to go in. My critic complies; he comes to a\\ntaste of your poetry, and tells me in the same breath that the book\\nis commendable, and the pudding excellent. ^5\\nNow, sir, continued Mr. Lintot, in return for the frankness I\\nhave shown, pray tell me, is it the opinion of your friends at Court\\nthat my Lord Lansdowne will be brought to the bar or not I\\ntold him I heard he would not, and I hoped it, my Lord being one\\nI had particular obligations to.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 That may be, replied Mr. Lintot; 20\\nbut by G\u00e2\u0080\u0094 if he is not, I shall lose the printing of a very good\\ntrial.\\nThese, my Lord, are a few traits with which you discern the\\ngenius of Mr. Lintot, which I have chosen for the subject of a letter.\\nI dropped him as soon as I got to Oxford, and paid a visit to my 25\\nLord Carlton, at Middleton. I am, c.\\nDr. Swift to Mr. Pope.\\nSept. 29, 1725.\\nI am now returning to the noble scene of Dublin into the\\ngrand mondc\u00e2\u0080\u0094ior fear of burying my parts; to signalise myself 30\\namong curates and vicars, and correct all corruptions crept in re-\\nlating to the weight of bread-and-butter through those dominions\\nwhere I govern. I have employed my time (besides ditching) in\\nfinishing, correcting, amending, and transcribing my Travels\\n[Gulliver s], in four parts complete, newly augmented, and intended 35\\nfor the press when the world shall deserve them, or rather, when a\\nprinter shall be found brave enough to venture his ears. I like the\\nscheme of our meeting after distresses and dispersions; but the\\nchief end I propose to myself in all my labours is^to vex the world\\nrather than divert it; and if I could compass that design without 40\\nhurting my own person or fortune, I would be the most indefatigable\\nwriter you have ever seen without reading. I am exceedingly, pleased\\nthat you have done with translations; Lord Treasurer Oxford often\\nlamented that a rascally world should lay you under a necessity of\\nmisemploying your genius for so long a time; but since you will 45\\nnow be so much better employed, when you think of the world.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA Y, AND POPE 177\\nenjoy it, and conjure up those great figures out of\\nthe past, and hsten to their wit and wisdom. Mind\\nthat there is always a certain cachet about great\\ngive it one lash the more at my request. I have ever hated all\\ng nations, professions, and communities; and all my love is towards\\nindividuals\u00e2\u0080\u0094 for instance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love\\nCouncillor Such-a-one and Judge Such-a-one: it is so with physicians\\n(I will not speak of my own trade), soldiers, English, Scotch,\\nFrench, and the rest. But principally I hate and detest that animal\\nlO called man\u00e2\u0080\u0094 although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and\\nso forth.\\nI have got materials towards a treatise proving the falsity of\\nthat definition animal rationale, and to show it should be only\\nrationis capax. The matter is so clear that it will admit of no\\n15 dispute\u00e2\u0080\u0094 nay, I will hold a hundred pounds that you and I agree in\\nthe point.\\nMr. Lewis sent me an account of Dr. Arbuthnot s illness, which is\\na very sensible affliction to me, who, by living so long out of the world,\\nhave lost that hardness of heart contracted by years and general\\n20 conversation. I am daily losing friends, and neither seeking nor\\ngetting others. Oh if the world had but a dozen of Arbuthnots\\nin it, I would burn my Travels\\nMr. Pope to Dr. Swift.\\nOctober 15, 1725.\\n25 I am wonderfully pleased with the suddenness of your kind an-\\nswer. It makes me hope you are coming towards us, and that yon\\nincline more and more to your old friends. Here is one [Lord\\nBolingbroke] who was once a powerful planet, but has now (after\\nlong experience of all that comes of shining) learned to be content\\n30 with returning to his first point without the thought or ambition of\\nshining at all. Here is another [Edward, Earl of Oxford], who\\nthinks one of the greatest glories of his father was to have distin-\\nguished and loved you, and who loves you hereditarily. Here is\\nArbuthnot, recovered from the jaws of death, and more pleased with\\n35 the hope of seeing you again than of reviewing a world, every part\\nof which he has long despised but what is made up of a few men\\nlike yourself.\\nOur friend Gay is used as the friends of Tories are by Whigs\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nand generally by Tories too. Because he had humour, he was sup-\\n40 posed to have dealt with Dr. Swift, in like manner as when any one\\nhad learning formerly, he was thought to have dealt with the\\ndevil.\\nLord Bolingbroke had not the least harm by his fall; I wish\\nhe had received no more by his other fall. But Lord Bolingbroke\\n45 is the most improved mind since you saw him, that ever was im-\\nproved without shifting into a new body, or being patillo minus ab\\nangelis. I have often imagined to myself, that if ever all of us meet", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "17^ ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\n^en they may be as mean on many points as you\\nor I, but they carry their great air they speak of\\ncommon hfe more largely and generously than\\ncommon men do they regard the world with a\\nmanlier countenance, and see its real features more 5\\nfairly than the timid shufflers who only dare to look\\nup at life through blinkers, or to have an opinion\\nwhen there is a crowd to back it. He who reads\\nthese noble records of a past age, salutes and\\nreverences the great spirits who adorn it. You may 10\\ngo home now and talk with St. John; you may\\ntake a volume from your library and listen to Swift\\nand Pope.\\nMight I give counsel to myyounghearer, I would\\nsay to him, Try to frequent the company of your 15\\nbetters. In books and life that is the most whole-\\nsome society; learn to admire rightly; the great\\npleasure of life is that. Note what the great men\\nadmired; they admired great things: narrow spirits\\nadmire basely, and worship meanly. I know noth- 20\\ning in any story more gallant and cheering than the\\nlove and friendship which this company of famous\\nmen bore towards one another. There never has\\nbeen a society of men more friendly, as there never\\nagain, after so many varieties and changes, after so much of the i\\nold world and of the old man in each of us has been altered, that\\nscarce a single thought of the one, any more than a single atom of\\nthe other, remains just the same; I have fancied, I say, that we\\nshould meet like the righteous in the millennium, quite in peace,\\ndivested of all our former passions, smiling at our past follies, and 30\\ncontent to enjoy the kingdom of the just in tranquillity.\\n^11 ^^d^t ed to have left the following page for i)r. Arbu thnot to\\nhll, but he is so touched with the period in yours to me, concerning\\nhim, that he intends to answer it by a whole letter.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 1/9\\nwas one more illustrious. Who dares quarrel with\\nMr. Pope, great and famous himself, for liking the\\nsociety of men great and famous? and for liking\\nthem for the qualities which made them so? A\\n5 mere pretty fellow from White s could not have\\nwritten the Patriot King, and would very likely\\nhave despised little Mr. Pope, the decrepit Papist,\\nwhom the great St. John held to be one of the best\\nand greatest of men a mere nobleman of the Court\\n10 could no more have won Barcelona, than he could\\nhave written Peterborough s letters to Pope,*\\nwhich are as witty as Congreve a mere Irish Dean\\nOf the Earl, of Peterborough, Walpole says:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 He was one of\\nthose men of careless wit and negligent grace, who scatter a thousand\\n15 bon-mots and idle verses, which we painful compilers gather and\\nhoard, till the authors stare to find themselves authors. Such was\\nthis lord, of an advantageous figure and enterprising spirit; as\\ngallant as Amadis and as brave; but a little more expeditious in his\\njourneys: for he is said to have seen more kings and more pos-\\n20 tillions than any man in Europe. He was a man, as his friend\\nsaid, who would neither live nor die like any other mortal.\\nFrom the Earl of Pcterhoroiigh to Pope.\\nYou must receive my letters with a just impartiality, and give\\ngrains of allowance for a gloomy or rainy day; I sink grievously\\n25 with the weather-glass, and am quite spiritless when oppressed with\\nthe thoughts of a birthday or a return.\\nDutiful affection was bringing me to town; but undutiful lazi-\\nness, and being much out of order, keep me in the country: how-\\never, if alive, I must make my appearance at the birthday.\\n30 You seem to think it vexatious that I shall allow you but one\\nwoman at a time either to praise or love. If I dispute with you upon\\nthis point, I doubt every jury will give a verdict against me. So,\\nsir, with a Mahometan indulgence, I allow your pluralities, the\\nfavourite privilege of our church.\\n35 I find you don t mend upon correction; again I tell you you\\nmust not think of women in a reasonable way; you know we always\\nmake goddesses of those we adore upon earth; and do not all the\\ngood men tell us we must lay aside reason in what relates to the\\nDeity\\n40 I should have been glad of anything of Swift s. Pray,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "l8o ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncould not have written Gulliver and all these\\nmen loved Pope, and Pope loved all these men.\\nTo name his friends is to name the best men of his\\ntime. Addison had a senate; Pope reverenced his-\\nequals. He spoke of Swift with respect and ad- 5\\nmiration always. His admiration for Bolingbroke\\nwas so great, that when some one said of his friend,\\nThere is something in that great man which looks\\nas if he was placed here by mistake, Yes, Pope\\nanswered, and when the comet appeared to us a 10\\nmonth or two ago, I had sometimes an imagina-\\ntion that it might possibly be come to carry him\\nhome as a coach comes to one s door for visitors.\\nSo these great spirits spoke of one another. Show\\nme six of the dullest middle-aged gentlemen that 15\\never dawdled round a club table so faithful and so\\nfriendly.\\nWe have said before that the chief wits of this\\ntime, with the exception of Congreve, were what we\\nshould now call men s men. They spent many hours 20\\nof the four-and-twenty, a fourth part of each day\\nnearly, in clubs and coffee-houses, where they\\ndined, drank, and smoked. Wit and news went by\\nword of mouth; a journal of 1710 contained the\\nvery smallest portion of one or the other. The 25\\nchiefs spoke, the faithful habitues sat round;\\nstrangers came to wonder and listen. Old Dryden\\nhad his headquarters at Will s, in Russell Street,\\nwhen you write to him next, tell him I expect him with impatience,\\nin a place as odd and as much out of the way as himself. 3^\\nYours.\\nPeterborough married Mrs. Anastasia Robinson, the celebrated\\nsinger.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE l8l\\nat the corner of Bow Street: at which place Pope\\nsaw him when he was twelve years old. The com-\\npany used to assemble on the first floor what was\\ncslled the dining-room floor in those days and sat\\n5 at various tables smoking their pipes. It is re-\\ncorded that the beaux of the day thought it a great\\nhonour to be aUowed to take a pinch out of Dry-\\nden s snufifbox. When Addison began to reign,\\nhe with a- certain crafty propriety a policy let us\\nlo call it which belonged to his nature, set up his\\ncourt, and appointed the offtcers of his royal house.\\nHis palace was Button s, opposite Will s.\\nA quiet opposition, a silent assertion of empire, dis-\\ntinguished this great man. Addison s ministers\\n15 were Budgell, Tickell, Philips, Carey; his master\\nof the horse, honest Dick Steele, who was what\\nDuroc was to Napoleon, or Hardy to Nelson: the\\nman who performed his master s bidding, and\\nwould have cheerfully died in his quarrel. Addison\\n20 lived with these people for seven or eight hours\\nevery day. The male society passed over their\\npunch-bowls and tobacco-pipes about as much time\\nas ladies of that age spent over spadille and manille.\\nFor a brief space, upon coming up to town. Pope\\n25 formed part of King Joseph s court, and was his\\nButton had been a servant in the Countess of Warwick s\\nfamily, who, under the patronage of Addison, kept a coffee-house\\non the south side of Russell Street, about two doors from Covent\\nGarden. Here it was that the wits of that time used to assemble.\\n30 It is said that when Addison had suffered any vexation from the\\nCountess, he withdrew the company from Button s house.\\nFrom the coffee-house he went again to a tavern, where he often\\nsat late and drank too much wine. Dr. Johnson.\\nWill s Coffee-house was on the west side of Bow Street, and cor-\\n35 ner of Russell Street. See Handbook of London.\\nJ", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "1 82 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nrather too eager and obsequious humble servant.*\\nDick Steele, the editor of the Tatlcr, Mr. Addison s\\nman, and his own man too a person of no little\\nfigure in the world of letters patronised the young\\npoet, and set him a task or two. Young Mr. Pope 5\\ndid the tasks very quickly and smartly (he had been\\nat the feet, quite as a boy, of Wycherley s f de-\\nMy acquaintance with Mr. Addison commenced in 1712: I liked\\nhim then as well as I liked any man, and was very fond of his con-\\nversation. It was very soon after that Mr. Addison advised me 10\\nnot to be content with the applause of half the nation. He used\\nto talk much and often to me, of moderation in parties: and used\\nto blame his dear friend Steele for being too much of a party man.\\nHe encouraged me in my design of translating the Iliad, which was\\nbegun that year, and finished in 1718. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes. 15\\nAddison had Budgell, and I think Philips, in the house with\\nhim. Gay they would call one of my eteves. They were angry with\\nme for keeping so much with Dr. Swift and some of the late\\nMinistry, Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nt To Mr. Blount. 20\\nJan. 21, 1715-16.\\nI know of nothing that will be so interesting to you at present\\nas some circumstances of the last act of that eminent comic poet\\nand our friend, Wycherley. He had often told me, and I doubt not\\nhe did all his acquaintance, that he would marry as soon as his life 25\\nwas despaired of. Accordingly, a few days before his death, he\\nunderwent the ceremony, and joined together those two sacraments\\nwhich wise men say we should be the last to receive; for, if you\\nobserve, matrimony is placed after extreme unction in our cate-\\nchism, as a kind of hint of the order of time in which they are 3G\\nto be taken. The old man then lay down, satisfied in the conscious-\\nness of having, by this one act, obliged a woman who (he was told)\\nhad merit, and shown an heroic resentment of the ill-usage of his\\nnext heir. Some hundred pounds which he had with the lady dis-\\ncharged his debts; a jointure of \u00c2\u00a3500 a year made her a recompence; 35\\nand the nephew was left to comfort himself as well as he could with\\nthe miserable remains of a mortgaged estate. I saw our friend\\ntwice after this was done less peevish in his sickness than he used\\nto be in his health; neither much afraid of dying, nor (which in him\\nhad been more likely) much ashamed of marrying. The evening be- 40\\nfore he expired, he called his young wife to the bedside, and\\nearnestly entreated her not to deny him one request\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the last he\\nshould make. Upon her assurances of consenting to it, he told her:\\nMy dear, it is only this\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that you will never marry an old man", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 1 83\\ncrepit reputation, and propped up for a year that\\ndoting old wit): he was anxious to be well with\\nthe men of letters, to get a footing and a recogni-\\ntion. He thought it an honour to be admitted into\\n5 their company; to have the confidence of Mr. Ad-\\ndison s friend Captain Steele. His eminent parts\\nobtained f6r him the honour of heralding Addi-\\nson s triumph of Cato with his admirable\\nprologue, and heading the victorious procession as\\n10 it were. Not content with this act of homage and\\nadmiration, he wanted to distinguish himself by\\nassaulting Addison s enemies, and attacked John\\nDennis with a prose lampoon, which highly of-\\nfended his lofty patron. Mr. Steele was instructed\\n15 to write to Mr. Dennis, and inform him that Mr.\\nPope s pamphlet against him was written quite\\nwithout Mr. Addison s approval.* Indeed, The\\nNarrative of Dr. Robert Norris on the Phrenzy\\nagain. I cannot help remarking that sickness, which often destroys\\n20 both wit and wisdom, yet seldom has power to remove that talent\\nwhich we call humour. Mr. Wycherley showed his even in his last\\ncompliment; though I think his request a little hard, for why\\nshould he bar her from doubling her jointure on the same easy\\nterms\\n25 So trivial as these circumstances are, I should not be displeased\\nmyself to know such trifles when they concern or characterize any\\neminent person. The wisest and wittiest of men are seldom wiser\\nor wittier than others in these sober moments; at least, our friend\\nended much in the same character he had lived in; and Horace s\\n30 rule for play may as well be applied to him as a playwright:\\nServetur ad imum\\nQualis ab incepto processerit et sibi constet.\\nI am, c.\\nAddison, who was no stranger to the world, probably saw the\\n35 selfishness of Pope s friendship; and resolving that he should have\\nthe consequences of his ofificiousness to himself, informed Dennis\\nby Steele that he was sorry for the insult. Johnson. Life of\\nAddison.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "154 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nof J. D. is a vulgar and mean satire, and such a\\nblow as the magnificent Addison could never desire\\nto see any partisan of his strike in any literary\\nquarrel. Pope was closely allied with Swift when\\nhe wrote this pamphlet. It is so dirty that it has 5\\nbeen printed in Swift s works, too. It bears the\\nfoul marks of the master hand. Swift admired and\\nenjoyed with all his heart the prodigious genius\\nof the young Papist lad out of Windsor Forest,\\nwho had never seen a university in his life, and lo\\ncame and conquered the Dons and the doctors with\\nhis wit. He applauded, and loved him, too, and\\nprotected him, and taught him mischief. I wish\\nAddison could have loved him better. The best\\nsatire that ever has been penned would never have 15 j\\nbeen written then; and one of the best characters\\nthe world ever knew would have been without a\\nflaw. But he who had so few equals could not bear\\none, and Pope was more than that. When Pope,,\\ntrying for himself, and soaring on his immortal 20\\nyoung wings, found that his, too, was a genius,\\nwhich no pinion of that age could follow, he rose\\nand left A_ddison s company, settling on his own\\neminence, and singing his own song.\\nIt was not possible that Pope should remain a 25\\nretainer of Mr. Addison; nor likely that after es-\\ncaping from his vassalage and assuming an inde-\\npendent crown, the sovereign whose allegiance he\\nquitted should view him amicably. They did not\\nWhile I was heated with what I heard, I wrote a letter to 30\\nMr. Addison, to let him know that I was not unacquainted with\\nthis behaviour of his; that if I was to speak of him severely in\\nreturn for it, it should not be in such a dirty way; that I should", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 18$\\ndo wrong to mislike each other. They but fol-\\nlowed the impulse of nature, and the consequence\\nof position. When Bernadotte became heir to a\\nthrone, the Prince Royal of Sweden was naturally\\n5 Napoleon s enemy. There are many passions and\\ntempers of mankind, says Mr. Addison in the\\nSpectator, speaking a couple of years before the lit-\\ntle differences between him and Mr. Pope took\\nplace, which naturally dispose us to depress and\\n^o vilify the merit of one rising in the esteem of man-\\nkind. All those who made their entrance into the\\nworld with the same advantages, and were once\\nlooked on as his equals, are apt to think the fame\\nof his merits a reflection on their own deserts.\\n15 Those who were once his equals envy and defame\\nhim, because they now see him the superior; and\\nthose who were once his superiors, because they\\nlook upon him as their equal. Did Mr. Addison,\\njustly perhaps thinking that, as young Mr. Pope\\n20 had not had the benefit of a university education,\\nhe couldn t know Greek, therefore he couldn t\\ntranslate Homer, encourage his young friend Mr.\\nTickell, of Queen s, to translate that poet, and aid\\nhim with his own known scholarship and skill?*\\n25 It was natural that Mr. Addison should doubt of\\nrather tell him himself fairly of his faults, and allow his good quali-\\nties; and that it should be something in the following manner.\\nI then subjoined the first sketch of what has since been called my\\nsatire on Addison. He used me very civilly ever after; and never\\n30 did me any injustice, that I know of, from that time to his death,\\nwhich was about three years after. Pope. Spence s Anecdotes.\\nThat Tickell should have been guilty of a villainy seems to us\\nhighly improbable; that Addison should have been guilty of a\\nvillainy seems to us highly improbable; but that these two men should\\n35 have conspired together to commit a villainy, seems, to us, im-\\nprobable in a tenfold degree, Macaulay.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "1 86 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthe learning of an amateur Grecian, should have a\\nhigh opinion of Mr. Tickell, of Queen s, and should\\nhelp that ingenious young man. It was natural,\\non the other hand, that Mr. Pope and Mr. Pope s\\nfriends should believe that his counter-translation, 5\\nsuddenly advertised and so long written, though\\nTickell s college friends had never heard of it\\nthough, when Pope first vv^rote to Addison regard-\\ning his scheme, Mr. Addison knew nothing of the\\nsimilar project of Tickell, of Queen s it was lo\\nnatural that Mr. Pope and his friends, having in-\\nterests, passions, and prejudices of their own,\\nshould believe that Tickell s translation was but\\nan act of opposition against Pope, and that they\\nshould call Mr. Tickell s emulation Mr. Addison s 15\\nenvy if envy it were.\\nAnd were there one whose fires\\nTrue genius kindles and fair fame inspires,\\nBlest with each talent and eat art to please,\\nAnd born to write, converse, and live with ease; 20\\nShould such a man, too fond to rule alone,\\nBear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne;\\nView him with scornful yet with jealous eyes,\\nAnd hate for arts that caused himself to rise;\\nDamn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 25\\nAnd, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;\\nWilling to wound, and yet afraid to strike,\\nJust hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;\\nAlike reserved to blame, as to commend,\\nA timorous foe, and a suspicious friend: 30\\nDreading even fools, by flatterers besieged.\\nAnd bO obliging, that he ne er obliged:\\nLike Cato, give his little senate laws,\\nAnd sit attentive to his own applause;\\nWhile wits and templars every sentence raise, 5*5\\nAnd wonder with a foolish face of praise;\\nWho but must laugh, if such a man there be,\\nWho would not weep if Atticus were he\\n1", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA y, AND POPE 1 87\\nI sent the verses to Mr. Addison, said Pope,\\nand he used me very civilly ever after. No won-\\nder he did. It was shame very likely more than\\nfear that silenced him. Johnson recounts an inter-\\n5 view between Pope and Addison after their quar-\\nrel, in which Pope was angry, and Addison tried\\nto be contemptuous and calm. Such a weapon as\\nPope s must have pierced any scorn. It flashes for\\never, and quivers in Addison s memory. His great\\n10 figure looks out on us from the past stainless but\\nfor that pale, calm, and beautiful: it bleeds from\\nthat black wound. He should be drawn, like Saint\\nSebastian, with that arrow in his side. As he sent\\nto Gay and asked his pardon, as he bade his stepson\\n15 come and see his death, be sure he had forgiven\\nPope, when he made ready to show how a Christian\\ncould die.*\\nPope then formed part of the Addisonian court\\nfor a short time, and describes himself in his let-\\n20 ters as sitting with that coterie until two o e!!:ick\\nin the morning over punch and burgundy amidst\\nthe fumes of tobacco. To use an expression of the\\npresent day, the pace of those viveurs of the\\nformer age was awful. Peterborough lived into the\\n25 [This story has been now upset by the researches of Mr. Dilke,\\nMr. Elwin, and others; though, when Thackeray wrote, it was the\\naccepted version. There is no reason to suppose that Addison ever\\nsaw the verses. The statement is part of an elaborate fiction con-\\ncocted by Pope, and supported by manufacturing letters to Addison\\n30 out of letters really written to another correspondent. The whole\\nstory may be found in the edition of Pope by Elwin and Courthope,\\nand is one of the most curious cases of literary imposture on record.\\nIt is enough to say that all stain has been removed from Addison s\\ncharacter. Thackeray would have rejoiced at that result, though\\n35 he would have had to modify some of the eulogy bestowed upon\\nPope.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "1 88 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nvery jaws of death; Godolphin laboured all day and\\ngambled at night; Bolingbroke,* writing to Swift,\\nfrom Dawley, in his retirement, dating his letter at\\nsix o clock in the morning, and rising, as he says,\\nrefreshed, serene, and calm, calls to mind the time 5\\nof his London life; when about that hour he used\\nto be going to bed, surfeited with pleasure, and\\njaded with business; his head often full of schemes,\\nand his heart as often full of anxiety. It was too\\nhard, too coarse a life for the sensitive, sickly Pope. 10\\nHe was the only wit of the day, a friend writes to\\nme, who wasn t fat.f Swift was fat; Addison was\\nfat; Steele was fat; Gay and Thomson were pre-\\nposterously fat all that fuddling and punch-drink-\\ning, that club and coffee-house boozing, shortened 15\\nthe lives and enlarged the waistcoats of the men of\\nthat age. Pope withdrew in a great measure from\\nthis boisterous London company, and being put\\ninto an independence by the gallant exertions of\\nLord Boliitgbroke to the Three Yahoos of Ttvickenham. 20\\nJuly 23, 1726.\\nJonathan, Alexander, John, most excellent Triumvirs of\\nParnassus, Though you are probably very indifferent where I am,\\nor what I am doing, yet I resolve to believe the contrary. I per-\\nsuade myself that you have sent at least fifteen times within this 25\\nfortnight to Dawley farm, and that you are extremely mortified at\\nmy long silence. To relieve you, therefore, from this great anxiety\\nof mind, I can do no less than write a few lines to you; and I\\nplease myself beforehand with the vast pleasure which this epistle\\nmust needs give you. That I may add to this pleasure, and give 30\\nfurther proofs of my beneficent temper, I will likewise inform you,\\nthat I shall be in your neighbourhood again by the end of next\\nweek: by which time I hope that Jonathan s imagination of business\\nwill be succeeded by some imagination more becoming a professor\\nof that divine science, la bagatelle. Adieu. Jonathan, Alexander, 35\\nJohn, mirth be with you\\nt Prior must be excepted from this observation. He was lank\\nand lean.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GAY, AND POPE 1S9\\nSwift and his private friends, and by the enthu-\\nsiastic national admiration which justly rewarded\\nhis great achievement of the Iliad, purchased\\nthat famous villa of Twickenham which his song\\nSand life celebrated; duteously bringing his old\\nparent to live and die there, entertaining his friends\\nthere, and making occasional visits to London in\\nhis little chariot, in which Atterbury compared him\\nto Homer in a nutshell.\\n10 Mr. Dryden was not a genteel man, Pope\\nquaintly said to Spence, speaking of the manner\\nand habits of the famous old patriarch of Will s.\\nWith regard to Pope s own manners, we have the\\nbest contemporary authority that they were\\n15 singularly refined and polished. With his extra-\\nordinary sensibility, with his known tastes, with his\\ndelicate frame, with his power and dread of ridi-\\ncule, Pope could have been no other than what\\nwe call a highly-bred person. f His closest friends,\\n20 with the exception of Swift, were among the de-\\nlights and ornaments of the polished society of\\ntheir age. Garth,* the accomplished and benevo-\\nSwift exerted himself very much in promoting the Iliad sub-\\nscription; and also introduced Pope to Harley and Bolingbroke.\\n25 Pope realised by the Iliad upwards of \u00c2\u00a35000, which he laid out partly\\nin annuities, and partly in the purchase of his famous villa. John-\\nson remarks that it would be hard to find a man so well entitled\\nto notice by his wit, that ever delighted so much in talking of his\\nmoney.\\n30 t His (Pope s) voice in common conversation was so naturally\\nmusical, that I remember honest Tom Soutberne used always to call\\nhim the little nightingale. Orrery.\\nX Garth, whom Dryden calls generous as his Muse, was a\\nYorkshireman. He graduated at Cambridge, and was made M.D.\\n35 in 1691. He soon distinguished himself in his profession, by his\\npoem of the Dispensary, and in society, and pronounced Dryden s\\nfuneral oration. He was a strict Whig, a notable member of the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "190 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nlent, whom Steele has described so charmingly, of\\nwhom Codrington said that his character was all\\nbeauty, and whom Pope himself called the best of\\nChristians without knowing it; Arbuthnot,* one\\nKit-Cat, and a friendly, convivial, able man. He was knighted\\nby George I., with the Duke of Marlborough s sword. He died\\nin 1718.\\nArbuthnot was the son of an Episcopal clergyman in Scotland,\\nand belonged to an ancient and distinguished Scotch family. He was\\neducated at Aberdeen; and, coming up to London according to a 10\\nScotch practice often enough alluded to to make his fortune, first\\nmade him.self known by An Examination of Dr. Woodward s Account\\nof the Deluge. He became physician successively to Prince George\\nof Denmark and to Queen Anne. He is usually allowed to have\\nbeen the most learned, as well as one of the most witty and humour- 15\\nous members of the Scriblerus Club. The opinion entertained of\\nhim by the humourists of the day is abundantly evidenced in their\\ncorrespondence. When he found himself in his last illness, he wrote\\nthus, from his retreat at Hampstead, to Swift:\\nHampstead: Oct. 4, 1734. 20\\nMy Dear and Worthy Friend,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 You have no reason to put\\nme among the rest of your forgetful friends, for I wrote two long\\nletters to you, to which I never received one word of answer. The j\\nfirst was about. your health; the last I sent a great while ago, by one\\nDe la Mar. I can assure you with great truth that none of your 25\\nfriends or acquaintance has a more warm heart towards you than\\nmyself. I am going out of this troublesome world, and you, among\\nthe rest of my friends, shall have my last prayers and good wishes.\\nI came out to this place so reduced by a dropsy and an\\nasthma, that I could neither sleep, breathe, eat, nor move. I most 30\\nearnestly desired and begged of God that He would take me. Con-\\ntrary to my expectation, upon venturing to ride (which I had for-\\nborne for some years) I recovered my strength to a pretty consider-\\nable degree, slept, and had my stomach again. What I did, I\\ncan assure you was not for life, but ease; for I am at present in the 35\\ncase of a man that was almost in harbour, and then blown back to\\nsea who has a reasonable hope of going to a good place, and an\\nabsolute certainty of leaving a very bad one. Not that I have any\\nparticular disgust at the world; for I have as great comfort in my\\nown family and from the kindness of my friends as any man; but 40\\nthe world, in the main, displeases me, and I have too true a pre-\\nsentiment of calamities that are to befall my country. However,\\nif I should have the happiness to see you before I die, you will find\\nthat I enjoy the comforts of life with my usual cheerfulness. I\\ncannot imagine why you are frightened from a journey to England: 45\\nthe reasons you assign are not suiificient the journey, I am sure.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE I9I\\nof the wisest, wittiest, most accomplished, gentlest\\nof mankind; Bolingbroke, the Alcibiades of his\\nage; the generous Oxford; the magnificent, the\\nwitty, the famous, and chivalrous Peterborough:\\n5 these were the fast and faithful friends of Pope, the\\nmost brilliant company of friends, let us repeat, that\\nthe world has ever seen. The favourite recreation\\nof his leisure hours was the society of painters,\\nwhose art he practised. In his correspondence are\\n10 letters between him and Jervas, whose pupil he\\nloved to be Richardson, a celebrated artist of his\\ntime, and who painted for him a portrait of his old\\nwould do you good. In general, I recommend riding, of which I\\nhave always had a good opinion, and can now confirm it from my\\n15 own experience.\\nMy family give you their love and service. The great loss I\\nsustained in one of them gave me my first shock, and the trouble\\nI have with the rest to bring them to a right temper to bear the\\nloss of a father who loves them, and whom they love, is really a\\n20 most sensible affliction to me. I am afraid, my dear friend, we\\nshall never see one another more in this world. I shall, to the last\\nmoment, preserve my love and esteem for you, being well assured\\nyou will never leave the paths of virtue and honour; for all that\\nis in this world is not worth the least deviation from the way. It\\n25 will be great pleasure to me to hear from you sometimes; for none\\nare with more sincerity than I am, my dear friend, your most faith-\\nful friend and humble servant.\\nArbuthnot, Johnson says, was a man of great comprehension,\\nskilful in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with\\n30 ancient literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a\\nbright and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliance of wit;\\na wit who, in the crowd of life, retained and discovered a noble\\nardour of religious zeal.\\nDugald Stewart has testified to Arbuthnot s ability in a depart-\\n35 ment of which he was particularly qualified to judge: Let me\\nadd, that, in the list of philosophical reformers, the authors of\\nMartinus Scriblerus ought not to be overlooked. Their happy ridicule\\nof the scholastic logic and metaphysics is universally known; but\\nfew are aware of the acuteness and sagacity displayed in their\\n40 allusions to some of the most vulnerable passages in Locke s Essay.\\nIn this part of the work it is commonly understood that Arbuthnot\\nhad the principal share. ^See Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopcedia\\nBritannica, note to p. 242, and also note b. b. b., p. 285.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "19^ ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmother, and for whose picture he asked and\\nthanked Richardson in one of the most deUghtful\\nletters that ever were penned,* and the wonderful\\nKneller, who bragged more, spelt worse, and\\npainted better than any artist of his day.f 5\\nIt is affecting to note, through Pope s corre-\\nspondence, the marked way in which his friends,\\nthe greatest, the most famous, and wittiest men of\\nthe time generals and statesmen, philosophers\\nand divines all have a kind word and a kind lo\\nthought for the good simple old mother, w^hom\\nPope tended so affectionately. Those men would\\nhave scarcely valued her, but that they knew how\\nmuch he loved her, and that they pleased him by\\nthinking of her. If his early letters to women are 15\\nTo Mr. Richardson.\\nTwickenham, June lo, 1733.\\nAs I know you and I mutually desire to see one another, I\\nhoped that this day our wishes would have met, and brought you\\nhither. And this for the very reason, which possibly might hinder 20\\nyou coming, that my poor mother is dead. I thank God her death\\nwas as easy as her life was innocent; and as it cost her not a groan,\\nor even a sigh, there is yet upon her countenance such an expression\\nof tranquillity, nay, almost of pleasure, that it is even amiable to\\nbehold it. It would afford the finest image of a saint expired that 25\\never painting drew; and it would be the greatest obligation which\\neven that obliging art could ever bestow on a friend, if you could\\ncome and sketch it for me. I am sure, if there be no very prevalent\\nobstacle, you will leave any common business to do this; and I\\nhope to see you this evening, as late as you will, or to-morrow 30\\nmorning as early, before this winter flower is faded. I will defer\\nher interment till to-morrow night. I know you love me, or I could\\nnot have written this\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I could not (at this time) have written at\\nall. Adieu May you die as happily Yours, c.\\nt Mr. Pope was with Sir Godfrey Kneller one day, when his 3b\\nnephew, a Guinea trader, came in. Nephew, said Sir Godfrey,\\nyou have the honour of seeing the two greatest men in the world.\\nI don t know how great you may be, said the Guinea man, but\\nI don t like your looks: I have often bought a man much better\\nthan both of you together, all muscles and bones, for ten guineas. 4^\\nDr. Warburton. Spence s Anecdotes.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA F, AND POPE l93\\naffected and insincere, whenever he speaks about this\\none, it is with a childish tenderness and an almost\\nsacred simplicity. In 171 3, when young Mr. Pope\\nhad, by a series of the most astonishing victories\\n5 and dazzling achievements, seized the crown of\\npoetry, and the town was in an uproar of admira-\\ntion, or hostility, for the young chief; when Pope\\nwas issuing his famous decrees for the translation\\nof the Iliad when Dennis and the lower critics\\n10 were hooting and assailing him when Addison\\nand the gentlemen of his court were sneering with\\nsickening hearts at the prodigious triumphs of the\\nyoung conqueror; when Pope, in a fever of victory,\\nand genius, and hope, and anger, was struggling\\n15 through the crowd of shouting friends and furious\\ndetractors to his temple of Fame, his old mother\\nwrites from the country, My deare, says she\\nmy deare, there s Mr. Blount, of Mapel Durom,\\ndead the same day that Mr. Inglefield died. Your\\n20 sister is well; but your brother is sick. My service\\nto Mrs. Blount, and all that ask of me. I hope to\\nhear from you, and that you are well, which is my\\ndaily prayer; and this with my blessing. The\\ntriumph marches by, and the car of the young con-\\n25 queror, the hero of a hundred brilliant victories:\\nthe fond mother sits in the quiet cottage at home\\nand says, I send you my daily prayers, and I bless\\nyou, my deare.\\nIn our estimate of Pope s character, let us al-\\n30 ways take into account that constant tenderness\\nand fidelity of affection which pervaded and sanc-\\ntified his life, and never forget that maternal bene-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "194 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ndiction.* It accompanied him always: his Ufe\\nseems purified by those artless and heartfelt\\nprayers. And he seems to have received and de-\\nserved the fond attachment of the other members\\nof his family. It is not a little touching to read in 5\\nSpence of the enthusiastic admiration with which\\nhis half-sister regarded him, and the simple anec-\\ndote by which she illustrates her love. I think no\\nman was ever so little fond of money. Mrs.\\nRackett says about her brother, I think my 10\\nbrother when he was young read more books than\\nany man in the world; and she falls to telling\\nstories of his schooldays, and the manner in which\\nhis master at Twyford ill-used him. I don t think\\nmy brother knew what fear was, she continues; 15\\nand the accounts of Pope s friends bear out this\\ncharacter for courage. When he had exasperated\\nthe dunces, and threats of violence and personal\\nassault were brought to him, the dauntless little\\nchampion never for one instant allowed fear to 20\\ndisturb him, or condescended to take any guard in j\\nhis daily walks except occasionally his faithful dog j\\nto bear him company. I had rather die at once,\\nsaid the gallant little cripple, than live in fear of\\nthose rascals. 25 1\\nAs for his death, it was what the noble Arbuthnot\\nSwift s mention of him as one\\nwhose filial piety excels\\nWhatever Grecian story tells,\\nis well known. And a sneer of Walpole s may be put to a better 3^\\nuse than he ever intended it for, a propos of this subject. He chari-\\ntably sneers, in one of his letters, at Spence s fondling an old\\nmother in imitation of Pope", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 195\\nasked and enjoyed for himself^a euthanasia a\\nbeautiful end. A perfect benevolence, affection,\\nserenity hallowed the departure of that high soul.\\nEven in the very hallucinations of his brain, and\\n5 weaknesses of his delirium, there was something al-\\nmost sacred. Spence describes him in his last days,\\nlooking up and with a rapt gaze as if something had\\nsuddenly passed before him. He said to me,\\nWhat s that? pointing into the air with a very\\nlo steady regard, and then looked down and said, with\\na smile of the greatest softness, Twas a vision\\nHe laughed scarcely ever, but his companions de-\\nscribe his countenance as often illuminated by a\\npeculiar sweet smile.\\n15 When, said Spence,* the kind anecdotist\\nwhom Johnson despised when I was telling\\nLord Bolingbroke that Mr. Pope, on every catch-\\ning and recovery of his mind, was always saying\\nsomething kindly of his present or absent friends;\\n2o and that this was so surprising, as it seemed to me\\nas if humanity had outlasted understanding,^ Lord\\nBolingbroke said, It has so, and then added, I\\nnever in my life knew a man who had so tender a\\nheart for his particular friends, or a more general\\n\u00c2\u00bb5 friendship for mankind. I have known him these\\nthirty years, and value myself more for that man s\\nlove than Here, Spence says, St. John\\nJoseph Spence was the son of a clergyman, near Winchester.\\nHe was a short time at Eton, and afterwards became a Fellow of\\niONew College, Oxford, a clergyman, and professor of poetry. He was\\na friend of Thomson s, whose reputation he aided. He published an\\nEssay on ihc Odyssey in 1726, which introduced him to Pope. Every-\\nbody liked him. His Anecdotes were placed, while still in MS., at the\\nservice of Johnson and also of Malone. They were published by Mr.\\n5 Singer in 1820.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "196 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nsunk his head and lost his voice in tears. The sob\\nwhich finishes the epitaph is finer than words. It\\nis the cloak thrown over the father s face in the\\nfamous Greek picture, which hides the grief and\\nheightens it. 5\\nIn Johnson s Life of Pope you will find de-\\nscribed, with rather a malicious minuteness, some\\nof the personal habits and infirmities of the great\\nlittle Pope. His body was crooked, he was so short\\nthat it was necessary to raise his chair in order to 10\\nplace him on a level with other people at table.*\\nHe was sewed up in a buckram suit every morn-\\ning, and required a nurse like a child. His con-\\ntemporaries reviled these misfortunes with a\\nstrange acrimony, and made his poor deformed 15\\nperson the butt for miany a bolt of heavy wit. The\\nfacetious Mr. Dennis, in speaking of him, says, If\\nyou take the first letter of Mr. Alexander Pope s\\nChristian name, and the first and last letters of his\\nsurname, you have A. P. E. Pope catalogues, at 20\\nthe end of the Dunciad, with a rueful precision,\\nother pretty names, besides Ape, which Dennis\\ncalled him. That great critic pronounced Mr. Pope\\na little ass, a fool, a coward, a Papist, and there-\\nfore a hater of Scripture, and so forth. It must be 25\\nremembered that the pillory was a flourishing and\\nHe speaks of Arbuthnot s having helped him through that long\\ndisease, my life. But not only was he so feeble as is implied in\\nhis use of the buckram, but it now appears, says Mr. Peter\\nCunningham, from his unpublished letters that, like Lord Hervey, 3^\\nhe had recourse to ass s milk for the preservation of his health.\\nIt is to his lordship s use of that simple beverage that he alludes\\nwhen he says\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nLet Sporus tremble A. What, that thing of silk\\nSporus, that mere white-curd of ass s milk 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA F, AND POPE 1 97\\npopular institution in those days. Authors stood\\nin it in the body sometimes: and dragged their\\nenemies thither morally, hooted them with foul\\nabuse and assailed them with garbage of the gutter.\\n5 Poor Pope s figure was an easy one for those\\nclumsy caricaturists to draw. Any stupid hand\\ncould draw a hunchback and write Pope under-\\nneath. They did. A libel was published against\\nPope, with such a frontispiece. This kind of rude\\njesting was an evidence not only of an ill nature,\\nbut a dull one. When a child makes a pun, or a\\nlout breaks out into a laugh, it is some very obvious\\ncombination of words, or discrepancy of objects,\\nwhich provokes the infantine satirist, or tickles the\\n^5 boorish wag; and many of Pope s revilers laughed\\nnot so much because they were wicked, as because\\nthey knew no better.\\nWithout the utmost sensibility. Pope could not\\nhave been the poet he was; and through his life,\\n2o however much he protested that he disregarded\\ntheir abuse, the coarse ridicule of his opponents\\nstung and tore him. One of Gibber s pamphlets\\ncoming into Pope s hands, whilst Richardson the\\npainter was with him, Pope turned round and said,\\n25** These things are my diversions; and Richard-\\nson, sitting by whilst Pope perused the libel, said he\\nsaw his features writhing with anguish. How\\nlittle human nature changes! Can t one see that\\nlittle figure? Can t one fancy one is reading\\n30 Horace? Can t one fancy one is speaking of to-\\nday?\\nThe tastes and sensibilities of Pope, which led", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "198 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nhim to cultivate the society of persons of fine man- i\\nners, or wit, or taste, or beauty, caused him to\\nshrink equally from that shabby and boisterous\\ncrew which formed the rank and file of literature\\nin his time: and he was as unjust to these men as 5\\nthey to him. The delicate little creature sickened\\nat habits and company which were quite tolerable\\nto robuster men: and in the famous feud between\\nPope and the Dunces, and without attributing any\\npeculiar wrong to either, one can quite understand jo\\nhow the two parties should so hate each other. As\\nI fancy, it was a sort of necessity that when Pope s\\ntriumph passed, Mr. Addison and his men should\\nlook rather contemptuously down on it from their\\nbalcony; so it was natural for Dennis and Tibbald, 15\\nand Welsted and Gibber, and the worn and hungry\\npressmen in the crowd below, to howl at him and\\nassail him. And Pope was more savage to Grub\\nStreet than Grub Street was to Pope. The thong\\nwith which he lashed them was dreadful he fired 20\\nupon that howling crew such shafts of flame and\\npoison, he slew and wounded so fiercely, that in\\nreading the Dunciad and the prose lampoons of\\nPope, one feels disposed to side against the ruthless\\nlittle tyrant, at least to pity those wretched folk on 25\\nwhom he was so unmerciful. It was Pope, and\\nSwift to aid him, who established among us the\\nGrub Street tradition. He revels in base descrip-\\ntions of poor men s want; he gloats over poor\\nDennis s garret, and flannel nightcap and red stock- 30\\nings; he gives instructions how to find Curll s au-\\nthors\u00e2\u0080\u0094the historian at the tallow-chandler s under", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 199\\nthe blind arch in Petty France, the two translators\\nin bed together, the poet in the cock-loft in Budge\\nRow, whose landlady keeps the ladder. It was\\nPope, I fear, who contributed, more than any man\\n5 who ever lived, to depreciate the literary calling.\\nIt was not an unprosperous one before that time,\\nas we have seen; at least there were great prizes\\nin the profession which had made Addison a Minis-\\nter, and Prior an Ambassador, and Steele a Com-\\nlo missioner, and Swift all but a Bishop. The pro-\\nfession of letters was ruined by that libel of the\\nDunciad. If authors were wretched and poor\\nbefore, if some of them lived in haylofts, of which\\ntheir landladies kept the ladders, at least nobody\\n15 came to disturb them in their straw; if three ot\\nthem had but one coat between them, the two re-\\nmained invisible in the garret, the third, at any\\nrate, appeared decently at the cofifee-house and\\npaid his twopence like a gentleman. It was Pope\\n20 that dragged into light all this poverty and mean-\\nness, and held up those wretched shifts and rags to\\npublic ridicule. It was Pope that has made gen-\\nerations of the reading world (delighted with the\\nmischief, as who would not be that reads it?) be-\\n25 lieve that author and wretch, author and rags, au-\\nthor and dirt, author and drink, gin, cowheel, tripe,\\npoverty, duns, bailiffs, squalling children and\\n[This statement would require qualification. The Grub Street\\nauthor was probably worse off in the time of Queen Anne than in\\nqo the time of George II., and the Dunciad really showed that\\nhe could make himself more effectually unpleasant to his superiors.\\nThe prizes of Queen Anne s time did not go to the professional\\nauthor, but to the authors who were in a good enough position to\\nbe on friendly terms with ministers.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "200 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nclamorous landladies, were always associated to-\\ngether. The condition of authorship began to fall\\nfrom the days of the Dunciad and I believe\\nin my heart that much of that obloquy which has\\nsince pursued our calling was occasioned by Pope s 5\\nlibels and wicked wit. Everybody read those.\\nEverybody was familiarised with the idea of the\\npoor devil, the author. The manner is so captivat-\\ning that young authors practise it, and begin their\\ncareer with satire. It is so easy to write, and so lo\\npleasant to read! to fire a shot that makes a giant\\nwince, perhaps; and fancy one s self his conqueror.\\nIt is easy to shoot but not as Pope did. The\\nshafts of his satire rise sublimely: no poet s verse\\never mounted higher than that wonderful flight 15\\nwith which the Dunciad concludes:\\nShe comes, she comes the sable throne behold\\nOf Night primeval and of Chaos old;\\nBefore her, Fancy s gilded clouds decay.\\nAnd all its varying rainbows die away; 20\\nWit shoots in vain its momentary fires,\\nThe meteor drops, and in a flash expires.\\nAs, one by one, at dread Medea s strain\\nThe sick ning stars fade off the ethereal plain;\\nAs Argus eyes, by Hermes wand oppress d, 25\\nClosed, one by one, to everlasting rest;\\nThus, at her fell approach and secret might.\\nArt after Art goes out, and all is night.\\nSee skulking Truth to her old cavern fled.\\nMountains of casuistry heaped o er her head; 30\\nPhilosophy, that leaned on Heaven before,\\nShrinks to her second cause and is no more.\\nReligion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,\\nAnd, unawares. Morality expires.\\nHe (Johnson) repeats to us, in his forcible melodious manner 35\\nthe concluding lines of the Dunciad. Boswell,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "PRIOR, GA V, AND POPE 20I\\nNor public flame, nor private, dares to shine,\\nNor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine.\\nLo thy dread empire, Chaos, is restored.\\nLight dies before thy uncreating word;\\n5 Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,\\nAnd universal darkness buries all.\\nIn these astonishing lines Pope reaches, I think,\\nto the very greatest height which his sublime art\\nhas attained, and shows himself the eqtial of all\\nfo poets of all times. It is the brightest ardour, the\\nloftiest assertion of truth, the most generous wis-\\ndom illustrated by the noblest poetic figure, and\\nspoken in words the aptest, grandest, and most\\nharmonious. It is heroic courage speaking: a\\n^5 splendid declaration of righteous wrath and war.\\nIt is the gage flung down, and the silver trumpet\\nringing defiance to falsehood and tyranny, deceit,\\ndulness, superstition. It is Truth, the champion,\\nshining and intrepid, and fronting the great world-\\n!o tyrant with armies of slaves at his back. It is a\\nwonderful and victorious single combat, in that\\ngreat battle which has always been waging since\\nsociety began.\\nIn speaking of a work of consummate art one\\n5 does not try to show what it actually is, for that\\nwere vain; but what it is like, and what are the\\nsensations produced in the mind of him who views\\nit. And in considering Pope s admirable career,\\nI am forced into similitudes drawn from other cour-\\nO Mr. Langton informed me that he once related to Johnson\\n(on the authority of Spence), that Pope himself admired these lines\\nso much that when he repeated them his voice faltered. And\\ni well it might, sir, said Johnson, for they are noble lines.\\ni Boswell, junior.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "202 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nage and greatness, and into comparing him with\\nthose who achieved triumphs in actual war. I\\nthink of the works of young Pope as do of the\\nactions of young Bonaparte or young Nelson. In\\ntheir common life you will find frailties and mean-\\nnesses, as great as the vices and follies of the\\nmeanest men. But in the presence of the great oc-\\ncasion, the great soul flashes out, and conquers\\ntranscendent. In thinking of the splendour of\\nPope s young victories, of his merit, unequalled as loi\\nhis renown, I hail and salute the achieving genius,\\nand do homage to the pen of a hero.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "Ibo^artb, Smollett, anb ffielMna\\nI suppose, as long as novels last and authors\\naim at interesting their public, there must always\\nbe in the story a virtuous and gallant hero, a wicked\\n5 monster his opposite, and a pretty girl who finds a\\nchampion; bravery and virtue conquer beauty; and\\nvice, after seeming to triumph through a certain\\nnumber of pages, is sure to be discomfited in the\\nlast volume, when justice overtakes him and honest\\no folk come by their own. There never was perhaps\\na greatly popular story but this simple plot was\\ncarried through it: mere satiric wit is addressed\\nto a class of readers and thinkers quite different to\\nthose simple souls who laugh and weep over the\\n5 novel. I fancy very few ladies, indeed, for instance,\\ncould be brought to like Gulliver heartily, and\\n(putting the coarseness and difference of manners\\nout of the question) to relish the wonderful satire\\nof Jonathan Wild. In that strange apologue,\\nthe author takes for a hero the greatest rascal,\\ncoward, traitor, tyrant, hypocrite, that his wit and\\nexperience, both large in this matter, could enable\\nhim to devise or depict; he accompanies this vil-\\nlain through all the actions of his life, with a grin-\\nc ning deference and a wonderful mock respect; and\\ndoesn t leave him till he is dangling at the gallows,\\n1 203\\nI", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "204 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nwhen the satirist makes him a low bow and wishes\\nthe scoundrel good-day.\\nIt was not by satire of this sort, or by scorn and\\ncontempt, that Hogarth achieved his vast popu-\\nlarity and acquired his reputation.* His art is 9\\nquite simple; t he speaks popular parables to in-\\nColeridge speaks of the beautiful female faces in Hogarth s\\npictures, in whom, he says, the satirist never extinguished that\\nlove of beauty which belonged to him as a poet. The Friend.\\nt I was pleased with the reply of a gentleman, who, being asked lO\\nwhich book he esteemed most in his library, answered Shakspeare\\nbeing asked which he esteemed next best, replied Hogarth. His\\ngraphic representations are indeed books: they have the teeming,\\nfruitful, suggestive meaning of words. Other pictures we look at\\nhis prints we read. 15\\nThe quantity of thought which Hogarth crowds into every picture\\nwould almost unvulgarise every subject which he might choose.\\nI say not that all the ridiculous subjects of Hogarth have\\nnecessarily something in them to make us like them; some are in-\\ndififerent to us, some in their nature repulsive, and only made inter- 20\\nesting by the wonderful skill and truth to nature in the painter;\\nbut I contend that there is in most of them that sprinkling of the\\nbetter nature, which, like holy water, chases away and disperses the\\ncontagion of the bad. They have this in them, besides, that they\\nbring us acquainted with the every-day human face, they give us 25\\nskill to detect those gradations of sense and virtue (which escape\\nthe careless or fastidious observer) in the circumstances of the world\\nabout us; and prevent that disgust at common life, that twdiuni\\nquotidianaruni formarum, which an unrestricted passion for ideal forms\\nand beauties is in danger of producing. In this, as in many other ^O I\\nthings, they are analogous to the best novels of Smollett and Field-\\ning. Charles Lamb.\\nIt has been observed that Hogarth s pictures are exceedingly\\nunlike any other representations of the same kind of subjects\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that\\nthey form a class, and have a character peculiar to themselves. It 35\\nmay be worth while to consider in what this general distinction\\nconsists.\\nIn the first place, they are, in the strictest sense, historical\\npictures; and if what Fielding says be true, that his novel of Tom\\nJones ought to be regarded as an epic prose-poem, because it con- 40\\ntained a regular development of fable, manners, character, and\\npassion, the compositions of Hogarth will, in like manner, be found\\nto have a higher claim to the title of epic pictures than many which\\nhave of late arrogated that denomination to themselves. When l\\nwe say that Hogarth treated his subjects historically, we mean that 45\\nhis works represent the manners and humours of mankind in action,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FLELDING 20$\\nterest simple hearts, and to inspire them with pleas-\\nure or pity or warning and terror. Not one of his\\ntales but is as easy as Goody Two-Shoes it\\nis the moral of Tommy was a naughty boy and the\\n5 master fiogged him, and Jacky was a good boy\\nand had plum-cake, which pervades the whole\\nworks of the homely and famous English moralist.\\nAnd if the moral is written in rather too large let-\\nters after the fable, we must remember how simple\\nlo the scholars and schoolmaster both were, and like\\nneither the less because they are so artless and\\nhonest. It was a maxim of Doctor Harrison s,\\nFielding says, in Amelia, speaking of the be-\\nnevolent divine and philosopher who represents the\\n15 good principle in that novel\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that no man can\\ndescend below himself, in doing any act which may\\ncontribute to protect an innocent person, or to bring\\na rogue to the gallozvs. The moralists of that age\\nhad no compunction, you see; they had not begun\\n20 to be sceptical about the theory of punishment, and\\nthought that the hanging of a thief was a spectacle\\nand their characters by varied expression. Everything in his pictures\\nhas Hfe and motion in it. Not only does the business of the scene\\nnever stand still, but every feature and muscle is put into full play;\\n25 the exact feeling of the moment is brought out, and carried to its\\nutmost height, and then instantly seized and stamped on the canvas\\nfor ever. The expression is always taken en passant, in a state of\\nprogress or change, and, as it were, at the salient point. His\\nfigures are not like the background on which they are painted:\\n30 even the pictures on the wall have a peculiar look of their own.\\nAgain, with the rapidity, variety, and scope of history, Hogarth s\\nheads have all the reality and correctness of portraits. He gives the\\nextremes of character and expression, but he gives them with perfect\\ntruth and accuracy. This is, in fact, what distinguishes his com-\\n35 positions from all others of the same kind, that they are equally\\nremote from caricature, and from mere still life. His faces go to\\nthe very verge of caricature, and yet never (we believe in any single\\ninstance) go beyond it. Haslitt.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "2o6 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfor edification. Masters sent their apprentices,\\nfathers took their children, to see Jack Sheppard\\nor Jonathan Wild hanged, and it was as undoubt-\\ning subscribers to this moral law, that Fielding\\nwrote and Hogarth painted. Except in one in- 5\\nstance, where, in the madhouse scene in the\\nRake s Progress, the girl whom he has ruined\\nis represented as still tending and weeping over him\\nin his insanity, a glimpse of pity for his rogues\\nnever seems to enter honest Hogarth s mind. lo\\nThere s not the slightest doubt in the breast of the\\njolly Draco.\\nThe famous set of pictures called Marriage a\\nla Mode, and which are now exhibited in the Na-\\ntional Gallery in London, contains the most im- 15\\nportant and highly wrought of the Hogarth come-\\ndies. The care and method with which the moral\\ngrounds of these pictures are laid is as remarkable\\nas the wit and skill of the observing and dexterous\\nartist. He has to describe the negotiations for a 20\\nmarriage pending between the daughter of a rich\\ncitizen Alderman and young Lord Viscount Squan-\\nderfield, the dissipated son of a gouty old Earl.\\nPride and pomposity appear in every accessory sur-\\nrounding the Earl. He sits in gold lace and velvet 25\\nas how should such an Earl wear anything but\\nvelvet and gold lace? His coronet is everywhere:\\non his footstool, on which reposes one gouty toe\\nturned out; on the sconces and looking-glasses;\\non the dogs; on his lordship s very crutches; on 30\\nhis great chair of state and the great baldaquin be-\\n*[There is no coronet on the dogs in the picture. A coronet was\\nconferred upon one dog in the engraving.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 20/\\nhind him; under which he sits pointing majestically\\nto his pedigree, which shows that his race is\\nsprung from the loins of William the Conqueror,\\nand confronting the old Alderman from the City,\\n5 who has mounted his sword for the occasion, and\\nwears his Alderman s chain, and has brought a bag\\nfull of money, mortgage-deeds and thousand-pound\\nnotes, for the arrangement of the transaction pend-\\ning between them. Whilst the steward (a Metho-\\nlo dist therefore a hypocrite and cheat for Hogarth\\nscorned a Papist and a Dissenter) is negotiating\\nbetween the old couple, their children sit together,\\nunited but apart. My lord is admiring his counte-\\nnance in the glass, while his bride is twiddling her\\n15 marriage ring on her pocket-handkerchief, and lis-\\ntening with rueful countenance to Counsellor Sil-\\nvertongue, who has been drawing the settlements.\\nThe girl is pretty, but the painter, with a curious\\nwatchfulness, has taken care to give her a likeness\\n20 to her father; as in the young Viscount s face you\\nsee a resemblance to the Earl, his noble sire. The\\nsense of the coronet pervades the picture, as it is\\nsupposed to do the mind of its wearer. The\\npictures round the room are sly hints indicating\\n25 the situation of the parties about to marry. A\\nmartyr is led to the fire; Andromeda f is ofifered\\nto sacrifice; Judith is going to slay Holofernes.\\nThere is the ancestor of the house (in the picture\\n[This person is the Alderman s clerk or cashier. The Methodist\\n30 steward (a different person) appears in the next picture\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the break-\\nfast scene.]\\nt [This is a mistake. The only person likely to be intended is St.\\nSebastian. Any reference to the incidents is very doubtful.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "208 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nit is the Earl himself as a young man), with a comet\\nover his head, indicating that the career of the\\nfamily is to be brilliant and brief. In the second\\npicture the old lord must be dead, for Madam has\\nnow the Countess s coronet over her bed and toilet- 5\\nglass, and sits listening to that dangerous Counsel-\\nlor Silvertongue, whose portrait now actually hangs\\nup in her room, whilst the counsellor takes his ease\\non the sofa by her side, evidently the familiar of\\nthe house, and the confidant of the mistress. My to\\nLord takes his pleasure elsewhere than at home,\\nwhither he returns jaded and tipsy from the\\nRose, to find his wife yawning in her drawing-\\nroom, her whist-party over, and the daylight\\nstreaming in; or he amuses himself with the very 1 5\\nworst company abroad, whilst his wife sits at home\\nlistening to foreign singers, or wastes her money\\nat auctions, or, worse still, seeks amusement at\\nmasquerades. The dismal end is known. My Lord\\ndraws upon the counsellor, who kills him, and is 20\\napprehended whilst endeavouring to escape. My\\nlady goes back perforce to the Alderman in the\\nCity, and faints f upon reading Counsellor Silver-\\ntongue s dying speech at Tyburn, where the coun-\\nsellor has been executed for sending his Lordship 25\\nout of the world. Moral: Don t listen to evil\\nsilver-tongued counsellors: don t marry a man for\\nhis rank, or a woman for her money: don t fre-\\nquent foolish auctions and masquerade balls un-\\nknown to your husband don t have wicked com- 30\\npanions abroad and neglect your wife, otherwise\\n[Really the fourth.]\\nt [She has taken laudanum and is dead.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 209\\nyou will be run through the body, and ruin will\\nensue, and disgrace, and Tyburn. The people are\\nall naughty, and Bogey carries them all off. In the\\nRake s Progress, a loose life is ended by a simi-\\n5 lar sad catastrophe. It is the spendthrift coming\\ninto possession of the wealth of the paternal miser;\\nthe prodigal surrounded by flatterers, and wasting\\nhis substance on the very worst company; the\\nbailiffs, the gambling-house, and Bedlam for an\\n10 end. In the famous story of Industry and Idle-\\nness, the moral is pointed in a manner similarly\\nclear. Fair-haired Frank Goodchild smiles at his\\nwork, whilst naughty Tom Idle snores over his\\nloom. Frank reads the edifying ballads of Whit-\\n15 tington and the London Prentice, whilst that\\nreprobate Tom Idle prefers Moll Flanders, and\\ndrinks hugely of beer. Frank goes to church of a\\nSunday, and warbles hymns from the gallery; while\\nTom lies on a tombstone outside playing at half-\\n2open ny-under-the-hat with street blackguards, and\\nis deservedly caned by the beadle. Frank is made\\noverseer of the business, whilst Tom is sent to sea.\\nFrank is taken into partnership and marries his\\nmaster s daughter, sends out broken victuals to the\\n25 poor, and listens in his nightcap and gown, with the\\nlovely Mrs. Goodchild by his side, to the nuptial\\nmusic of the City bands and the marrow-bones and\\ncleavers; whilst idle Tom, returned from sea, shud-\\nders in a garret lest the ofhcers are coming to take\\n30 him for picking pockets. The Worshipful Francis\\nGoodchild, Esquire, becomes Sheriff of London,\\nand partakes of the most splendid dinners which", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "210 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmoney can purchase or Alderman devour; whilst\\npoor Tom is taken up in a night-cellar, with that\\none-eyed and disreputable accomplice who first\\ntaught him to play chuck-farthing on a Sunday.\\nWhat happens next? Tom is brought up before 5\\nthe justice of his country, in the person of Mr. Al-\\nderman Goodchild, who weeps as he recognises his\\nold brother prentice, as Tom s one-eyed friend\\npeaches on him, and the clerk makes out the poor\\nrogue s ticket for Newgate. Then the end comes. lo\\nTom goes to Tyburn in a cart with a coffin in it;\\nwhilst the Right Honourable Francis Goodchild,\\nLord Mayor of London, proceeds to his Mansion\\nHouse, in his gilt coach with four footmen and a\\nsword-bearer, whilst the Companies of London 15\\nmarch in the august procession, whilst the train-\\nbands of the City fire their pieces and get drunk\\nin his honour; and O crowning delight and glory\\nof all whilst his Majesty the King looks out\\nfrom his royal balcony, with his riband on his 20\\nbreast, and his Queen and his star by his side, at\\nthe corner house of Saint Paul s Churchyard.\\nHow the times have changed! The new Post\\nOffice now not disadvantageously occupies that\\nspot where the scaffolding is in the picture, where 25\\nthe tipsy trainband-man is lurching against the\\npost, with his wig over one eye, and the prentice-\\nboy is trying to kiss the pretty girl in the gallery.\\nPassed away prentice-boy and pretty girl! Passed\\naway tipsy trainband-man with wig and bandolier! 30\\nOn the spot where Tom Idle (for whom I have an\\n[Really Frederick, Prince of Wales, with the Princess of Wales.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 211\\nunaffected pity) made his exit from this wicked\\nworld, and where you see the hangman smoking\\nhis pipe as he recHnes on the gibbet and views the\\nhills of Harrow or Hampstead beyond, a splendid\\n5 marble arch, a vast and modern city clean, airy,\\npainted drab, populous with nursery-maids and\\nchildren, the abode of wealth and comfort the\\nelegant, the prosperous, the polite Tyburnia rises,\\nthe most respectable district in the habitable globe.\\nlo In that last plate of the London Apprentices, in\\nwhich the apotheosis of the Right Honourable\\nFrancis Goodchild is drawn, a ragged fellow is rep-\\nresented in the corner of the simple, kindly piece,\\noffering for sale a broadside, purporting to contain\\n5 an account of the appearance of the ghost of Tom\\nIdle executed at Tyburn. Could Tom s ghost have\\nmade its appearance in 1847, and not in 1747, what\\nchanges would have been remarked by that aston-\\nished escaped criminal! Over that road which\\n20 the hangman used to travel constantly, and the Ox-\\nford stage twice a week, go ten thousand carriages\\nevery day: over yonder road, by which Dick Tur-\\npin fled to Windsor, and Squire Western jour-\\nneyed into town, when he came to take up his\\n25 quarters at the Hercules Pillars on the outskirts\\nof London, what a rush of civilisation and order\\nflows now! What armies of gentlemen with um-\\nbrellas march to banks, and chambers, and count-\\ning-houses What regiments of nursery-maids and\\n30 pretty infantry; what peaceful processions of po-\\nlicemen, what light broughams and what gay car-\\nriages, what swarms of busy apprentices and arti-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "212 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nficers, riding on omnibus-roofs, pass daily and\\nhourly! Tom Idle s times are quite changed: many\\nof the institutions gone into disuse which were ad-\\nmired in his day. There s more pity and kindness\\nand a better chance for poor Tom s successors now 5\\nthan at that simpler period when Fielding hanged\\nhim and Hogarth drew him.\\nTo the student of history, these admirable works\\nmust be invaluable, as they give us the most com-\\nplete and truthful picture of the manners, and even lo\\nthe thoughts, of the past century. We look, and\\nsee pass before us the England of a hundred years\\nago the peer in his drawing-room, the lady of\\nfashion in her apartment, foreign singers surround-\\ning her, and the chamber filled with gewgaws in ^5\\nthe mode of that day; the church, with its quaint\\nflorid architecture and singing congregation; the\\nparson with his great wig, and the beadle with his\\ncane: all these are represented before us, and we\\nare sure of the truth of the portrait. We see how 20\\nthe Lord Mayor dines in state; how the prodigal\\ndrinks and sports at the bagnio; how the poor girl\\nbeats hemp in Bridewell; how the thief divides his\\nbooty and drinks his punch at the night-cellar, and\\nhow he finishes his career at the gibbet. We may 25\\ndepend upon the perfect accuracy of these strange\\nand varied portraits of the bygone generation: we\\nsee one of Walpole s Members of Parliament\\nchaired after his election, and the lieges celebrating\\nthe event, and drinking confusion to the Pretender: 30\\nwe see the grenadiers and trainbands of the City\\nmarching out to meet the enemy; and have before", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 213\\nUS, with sword and firelock, and White Hano-\\nverian Horse embroidered on the cap, the very\\nfigures of the men who ran away with Johnny Cope,\\nand who conquered at Culloden. The Yorkshire\\n5 waggon rolls into the inn yard; the country par-\\nson, in his jack-boots, and his bands and short cas-\\nsock, comes trotting into town, and we fancy it is\\nParson Adams, with his sermon in his pocket. The\\nSalisbury fly sets forth from the old Angel\\nJO you see the passengers entering the great heavy\\nvehicle, up the wooden steps, their hats tied down\\nwith handkerchiefs over their faces, and under their\\narms, sword, hanger, and case-bottle; the landlady\\napoplectic with the liquors in her own bar is tug-\\niSging at the bell; the hunchbacked postillion he\\nmay have ridden the leaders to Humphrey Clinker\\nis begging a gratuity; the miser is grumbling at\\nthe bill; Jack of the Centurion lies on the top\\nof the clumsy vehicle, with a soldier by his side\\n20 it may be Smollett s Jack Hatchway it has a\\nlikeness to Lismahago. You see the suburban\\nfair and the strolling company of actors the pretty\\nmilkmaid singing under the windows of the en-\\nraged French musician: it is such a girl as Steele\\n25 charmingly described in the Guardian, a few years\\nbefore this date,t singing, under Mr. Ironside s\\nwindow in Shire Lane, her pleasant carol of a May\\nmorning. You see noblemen and blacklegs bawl-\\ning and betting in the Cockpit: you see Garrick\\n30 as he was arrayed in King Richard Macheath\\n[The commentators say that the soldier is a Frenchman.]\\nt [The Guardian ended in 1713. The enraged musician is\\ndated 1741.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "214 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nand Polly in the dresses which they wore when they\\ncharmed our ancestors, and when noblemen in blue\\nribands sat on the stage and listened to their de-\\nlightful music. You see the ragged French sol-\\ndiery, in their white coats and cockades, at Calais\\nGate: they are of the regiment, very likely, which\\nfriend Roderick Random joined before he was res-\\ncued by his preserver Monsieur de Strap, with\\nwhom he fought on the famous day of Dettingen.\\nYou see the judges on the bench; the audience lo\\nlaughing in the pit; the student in the Oxford thea-\\ntre; the citizen on his country walk; you see\\nBroughton the boxer, Sarah Malcolm the mur-\\nderess, Simon Lovat the traitor, John Wilkes the\\ndemagogue, leering at you with that squint which 15\\nhas become historical, and that face which, ugly as\\nit was, he said he could make as captivating to\\nwoman as the countenance of the handsomest beau\\nin town. All these sights and people are with you.\\nAfter looking in the Rake s Progress at Ho- 20\\ngarth s picture of Saint James s Palace Gate, you I\\nmay people the street, but little altered within these\\nhundred years, with the gilded carriages and\\nthronging chairmen that bore the courtiers your\\nancestors to Queen Caroline s drawing-room more 25\\nthan a hundred years ago.\\nWhat manner of man was he who executed\\nHogarth (whose family name was Hogart) was the grandson of\\na Westmoreland yeoman. His father came to London, and was\\nan author and schoolmaster. William was born loth November 1697, 3*-*\\nin the parish of Saint Martin, Ludgate. He was early apprenticed\\nto an engraver of arms on plate. The following touches arc from\\nhis Anecdotes of Himself (Edition of 1833):\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nAs I had naturally a good eye, and a fondness for drawing,\\nshows of all sorts gave me uncommon pleasure when an infant; and 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 21$\\nthese portraits so various, so faithful, and so ad-\\nmirable? In the National Collection of Pictures\\nmost of us have seen the best and most carefully\\nmimicry, common to all children, was remarkable in me. An early\\n5 access to a neighbouring painter drew my attention from play; and\\nI was, at every possible opportunity, employed in making drawings.\\nI picked up an acquaintance of the same turn, and soon learnt to\\ndraw the alphabet with great correctness. My exercises, when at\\nschool, were more remarkable for the ornaments which adorned them,\\nXOthan for the exercise itself. In the former, I soon found that block-\\nheads with better memories could much surpass me; but for the\\nlatter I was particularly distinguished.\\nI thought it still more unlikely that by pursuing the common\\nmethod, and copying old drawings, I could ever attain the power\\n15 of making new designs, which was my first and greatest ambition.\\nI therefore endeavoured to habituate myself to the exercise of a sort\\nof technical memory; and by repeating in my own mind the parts\\nof which objects were composed, I could by degrees combine and\\nput them down with my pencil. Thus, with all the drawbacks which\\ni 20 resulted from the circumstances I have mentioned, I had one\\nmaterial advantage over my competitors, viz., the early habit I thus\\nacquired of retaining in my mind s eye, without coldly copying it on\\nthe spot, whatever I intended to imitate.\\nThe instant I became master of my own time, I determined to\\n25 qualify myself for engraving on copper. In this I readily got em-\\nployment; and frontispieces to books, such as prints to Hiidibras,\\nin twelves, c., soon brought me into the way. But the tribe of\\nbooksellers remained as my father had left them which put me\\nupon publishing on my own account. But here again I had to en-\\n30 counter a monopoly of printsellers, equally mean and destructive\\nto the ingenious; for the first plate I published, called The Taste\\nof the Town, in which the reigning follies were lashed, had no\\nsooner begun to take a run, than I found copies of it in the print-\\nshops, vending at half-price, while the original prints were returned\\n35 to me again, and I was thus obliged to sell the plate for whatever\\nthese pirates pleased to give me, as there was no place of sale but\\nat their shops. Owing to this, and other circumstances, by engrav-\\n1( ing, until I was near thirty, I could do little more than maintain\\nmyself; but even then I was a punctual paymaster.\\n40 I then married, and\\n[But William is going too fast here. He made a stolen union,\\non March 23, 1729, with Jane, daughter- of Sir James Thornhill,\\nserjeant-painter. For some time Sir James kept his heart and his\\npurse-strings close, but soon after became both reconciled and\\n45 generous to the young couple. Hogarth s Works, by Nichols and\\nSteevens, vol. i. p. 44.]\\ncommenced painter of small Conversation Pieces, from twelve", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "2l6 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfinished series of his comic paintings, and the por-\\ntrait of his own honest face, of which the bright\\nblue eyes shine out from the canvas and give you\\nto fifteen inches high. This, being a novelty, succeeded for a few\\nyears.\\n[About this time Hogarth had summer lodgings at South Lam-\\nbeth, and did all kinds of work, embellishing the Spring\\nGardens at V^auxhall, and the like. In 1731 he published a\\nsatirical plate against Pope, founded on the well-known imputation\\nagainst him of his having satirised the Duke of Chandos, under the jq\\nname of Timon, in his poem on Taste. The plate represented\\na view of Burlington House, with Pope whitewashing it, and be-\\nspattering the Duke of Cliandos s coach. Pope made no retort,\\nand has never mentioned Hogarth.]\\nBefore I had done anytiiing of much consequence in this walk, I 15\\nentertained some hopes of succeeding in what the puffers in books call\\nThe Great Style of History Painting; so that without having had a stroke\\nof this grand business before, I quitted small portraits and familiar\\nconversations, and with a smile at my own temerity, commenced\\nhistory-painter, and on a great staircase at St. Bartholomew s 20\\nHospital, painted two Scripture stories, the Pool of Bethesda and\\n.the Good Samaritan, with figures seven feet high. But as\\nreligion, the great promoter of this style in other countries, re-\\njected it in England, I was unwilling to sink into a portrait manu-\\nfacturer; and, still ambitious of being singular, dropped all expec- 25\\ntations of advantage from that source, and returned to the pursuit\\nof my former dealings with the public at large.\\nAs to portrait-painting, the chief branch of the art by which a\\npainter can procure himself a tolerable livelihood, and the only one\\nby which a lover of money can get a fortune, a man of very 30\\nmoderate talents may have great success in it, as the artifice and\\naddress of a mercer is infinitely more useful than the abilities of a\\npainter. By the manner in which the present race of professors in\\nEngland conduct it, that also becomes still life.\\nBy this inundation of folly and puff {he has been speaking of 35\\nthe success of VanJoo, who came over here in 1737), I must confess\\nI was much disgusted, and determined to try if by any means I\\ncould stem the torrent, and, by opposing, end it. I laughed at the\\npretensions of these quacks in colouring, ridiculed their productions\\nas feeble and contemptible, and asserted that it required neither taste 40\\nnor talents to excel their most popular performances. This interference\\nexcited much enmity, because, as my opponents told me, my studies\\nwere in another way. You talk, added they, with ineffable con-\\ntempt of portrait-painting; if it is so easy a task, why do not you\\nconvince the world by painting a portrait yourself Provoked 45\\nat this language, I, one day at the Academy in St. Martin s Lane,\\nput the following question Supposing any man, at this time, were\\ni", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 21/\\nan idea of that keen and brave look with which\\nWilHam Hogarth regarded the world. No man\\nwas ever less of a hero; you see him before you,\\nto paint a portrait as well as Vandyke, would it be seen or acknowl-\\n5 edged, and could the artist enjoy the benefit or acquire the reputation\\ndue to his performance\\nThey asked me in reply, if I could paint one as well; and I\\nfrankly answered, I believed I could.\\nOf the mighty talents said to be requisite for portrait paint-\\nlO ing I had not the most exalted opinion.\\nLet us now hear him on the question of the Academy:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nTo pester the three great estates of the empire, about twenty\\nor thirty students drawing after a man or a horse, appears, as must\\nbe acknowledged, foolish enough: but the real motive is, that a few\\nC 15 bustling characters, who have access to people of rank, think they\\ncan thus get a superiority over their brethren, be appointed to places,\\nand have salaries, as in France, for telling a lad when a leg or an\\narm is too long or too short.\\nFrance, ever aping the magnificence of other nations, has in its\\n20 turn assumed a foppish kind of splendour sufficient to dazzle the\\neyes of the neighbouring states, and draw vast sums of money from\\nthis country.\\nTo return to our Royal Academy: I am told that one of their\\nleading objects will be, sending yovmg men abroad to study the\\n25 antique statues, for such kind of studies may sometimes improve\\nan exalted genius, but they will not create it; and whatever has been\\nthe cause, this same travelling to Italy has, in several instances\\nthat I have seen, seduced the student from nature and led him to\\npaint marble figures, in which he has availed himself of the great\\n1 30 works of antiquity, as a coward does when he puts on the armour\\nof an Alexander; for, with similar pretensions and similar vanity,\\nthe painter supposes he shall be adored as a second Raphael\\nUrbino.\\nWe must now hear him on his Sigismunda\\n35 As the most violent and virulent abuse thrown on Sigismunda\\nwas from a set of miscreants, with whom I am proud of having been\\never at war I mean the expoimders of the mysteries of old pictures^I\\nhave been sometimes told they were beneath my notice. This is true\\nof them individually; but as they have access to people of rank,\\n40 who seem as happy in being cheated as these merchants are in cheat-\\ning them, they have a power of doing much mischief to a modern\\nartist. However mean the vendor of poisons, the mineral is destruc-\\ntive:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to me its operation was troublesome enough. Ill nature\\nspreads so fast that now was the time for every little dog in the\\n45 profession to bark\\nNext comes a characteristic account of his controversy with\\nWilkes and Churchill.\\nThe stagnation rendered it necessary that I should do some", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "2l8 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nand can fancy what he was a jovial, honest Lon-\\ndon citizen, stout and sturdy; a hearty, plain-\\nspoken man,* loving his laugh, his friend, his glass,\\nhis roast beef of Old England, and having a proper\\ntimed thing, to recover my lost time, and stop a gap in my income. 5\\nThis drew forth my print of The Times, a subject which tended to\\nthe restoration of peace and unanimity, and put the opposers of\\nthese humane objects in a light which gave great offence to those\\nwho were trying to foment disaffection in the minds of the populace.\\nOne of the most notorious of them, till now my friend and flatterer, lO\\nattacked me in the North Briton, in so infamous and malign a style,\\nthat he himself, when pushed even by his best friends, was driven\\nto so poor an excuse as to say he was drunk when he wrote it.\\nThis renowned patriot s portrait, drawn like as I could as to\\nfeatures, and marked with some indications of his mind, fully an- ^5 j\\nswered my purpose. The ridiculous was apparent to every eye\\nA Brutus A saviour of his country with such an aspect was so\\narrant a farce, that though it gave rise to much laughter in the\\nlookers-on, galled both him and his adherents to the bone.\\nChurchill, Wilkes s toad-echo, put the North Briton attack into 20\\nverse, in an Epistle to Hogarth; but as the abuse was precisely\\nthe same, except a little poetical heightening, which goes for nothing,\\nit made no impression. However, having an old plate by mc,\\nwith some parts ready, such as the background and a dog, I began\\nto consider how I could turn so much work laid aside to some 25\\naccount, and so patched up a print of Master Churchill in the\\ncharacter of a Bear. The pleasure and pecuniary advantage which I\\nderived from these two engravings, together with occasionally riding\\non horseback, restored me to as much health as can be expected at\\nmy time of life. 30\\nIt happened in the early part of Hogarth s life, that a noble-\\nman who was uncommonly ugly and deformed came to sit to him\\nfor his picture. It was executed with a skill that did honour to the\\nartist s abilities; but the likeness was rigidly observed, without even\\nthe necessary attention to compliment or flattery. The peer, dis- 35\\ngusted at this counterpart of himself, never once thought of paying\\nfor a reflection that would only disgust him with his deformities.\\nSome time was suffered to elapse before the artist applied for his\\nmoney; but afterwards many applications were made by him (who\\nhad then no need of a banker) for payment, without success. The 4\u00c2\u00b0\\npainter, however, at last hit upon an expedient. It was couched\\nin the following card\\nMr. Hogarth s dutiful respects to Lord Finding that he\\ndoes not mean to have the picture which was drawn for him, is\\ninformed again of Mr. Hogarth s necessity for the money. If, there- 45\\nfore, his Lordship does not send for it, in three days it will be\\ndisposed of, with the addition of a tail, and some other little appen-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 219\\nbourgeois scorn for French frogs, for mounseers,\\nand wooden shoes in general, for foreign fiddlers,\\nforeign singers, and, above all, for foreign painters,\\nwhom he held in the most amusing contempt.\\n5 It must have been great fun to hear him rage\\nagainst Correggio and the Caracci; to watch him\\nthump the table and snap his fingers, and say,\\nHistorical painters be hanged! here s the man\\nthat will paint against any of them for a hundred\\n10 pounds. Correggio s Sigismunda Look at\\nBill Hogarth s Sigismunda look at my altar-\\npiece at Saint Mary Redclifife, Bristol; look at my\\nPaul before Felix, and see whether Fm not as\\ngood as the best of them.\\n15 Posterity has not quite confirmed honest Ho-\\ngarth s opinion about his talents for the sublime.\\ndages, to Mr. Hare, the famous wild-beast man: Mr. Hogarth hav-\\ning given that gentleman a conditional promise of it, for an exhibi-\\ntion-picture, on his Lordship s refusal.\\n20 This intimation had the desired effect. Works, by Nichols\\nand Steevens, vol. i. p. 25.\\nGarrick himself was not more ductile to flattery. A word in\\nfavour of Sigismunda might have commanded a proof-print or\\nforced an original print out of our artist s hands.\\n25 The following authenticated story of our artist (furnished by the\\nlate Mr. Belchier, F.R.S., a surgeon of eminence) will also serve\\nto show how much more easy it is to detect ill-placed or hyperboli-\\ncal adulation respecting others, than when applied to ourselves.\\nHogarth, being at dinner with the great Cheselden and some other\\naccompany, was told that Mr. John Freke, surgeon of St. Bartholo-\\nmew s Hospital, a few evenings before at Dick s Coffee-house, had\\nasserted that Greene was as eminent in composition as Handel.\\nThat fellow Freke, replied Hogarth, is always shooting his bolt\\nabsurdly, one way or another. Handel is a giant in music; Greene\\n35 only a light Florimel kind of a composer. Ay, says our artist s\\ninformant, but at the same time Mr. Freke declared you were as\\ngood a portrait-painter as Vandyke. There he was right, adds\\nHogarth, and so, by G I am, give me my time and let me\\nchoose my subject. Works, by Nichols and Steevens, vol. i.\\n40 pp. 2z6, 237.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "220 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nAlthough Swift could not see the difference be-\\ntween tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, posterity has\\nnot shared the Dean s contempt for Handel; the\\nworld has discovered a difference between tweedle-\\ndee and tweedle-dum, and given a hearty applause 5\\nand admiration to Hogarth, too, but not exactly\\nas a painter of scriptural subjects, or as a rival of\\nCorreggio. It does not take away from one s lik-\\ning for the man, or from the moral of his story, or\\nthe humour of it from one s admiration for theio\\nprodigious merit of his performances, to remember\\nthat he persisted to the last in believing that the\\nworld was in a conspiracy against him with respect\\nto his talents as an historical painter, and that a set\\nof miscreants, as he called them, were employed i5\\nto run his genius down. They say it was Liston s\\nfirm belief, that he was a great and neglected tragic\\nactor; they say that every one of us believes in his\\nheart, or would like to have others believe, that he\\nis something which he is not. One of the most 20\\nnotorious of the miscreants, Hogarth says, was\\nWilkes, who assailed him in the North Briton; the\\nother was Churchill, who put the North Briton\\nattack into heroic verse, and published his Epistle\\nto Hogarth. Hogarth replied by that caricature 25\\nof Wilkes, in which the patriot still figures before\\nus, with his Satanic grin and squint, and by a cari-\\ncature of Churchill, in which he is represented as\\na bear with a staff, on which lie the first, lie the\\nsecond lie the tenth, are engraved in unmis- 30\\ntakable letters. There is very little mistake about\\nhonest Hogarth s satire: if he has to paifit a man", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 221\\nWith his throat cut, he draws him with his head\\nalmost off; and he tried to do the same for his\\nenemies in this httle controversy. Having an old\\nplate by me, says he, with some parts ready,\\n5 such as the background, and a dog, I began to con-\\nsider how I could turn so much work laid aside\\nto some account, and so patched up a print of Mas-\\nter Churchill, in the character of a bear; the pleas-\\nure and pecuniary advantage which I derived from\\nlo these two engravings, together with occasionally\\nriding on horseback, restored me to as much health\\nas I can expect at my time of life.\\nAnd so he concludes his queer little book of\\nAnecdotes I have gone through the circum-\\n15 stances of a life which till lately passed pretty much\\nto my own satisfaction, and I hope in no respect in-\\njurious to any other man. This I may safely assert,\\nthat I have done my best to make those about me\\ntolerably happy, and my greatest enemy cannot\\n20 say I ever did an intentional injury. What may fol-\\nlow, God knows.\\nA queer account still exists of a holiday jaunt\\ntaken by Hogarth and four friends of his, who set\\nout like the redoubted Mr. Pickwick and his com-\\n25 panions, but just a hundred years before those\\nheroes; and made an excursion to Gravesend,\\nRochester, Sheerness, and adjacent places. f One\\nOf Hogarth s kindliness of disposition, the story of his rescue of\\nthe drummer-girl from the ruffian at Southwark Fair is an illustra-\\n30tion; and in this case virtue was not its own reward, since her\\npretty face afterwards served him for a model in many a picture.\\nt He made this excursion in 1732, his companions being John\\nThornhill (son of Sir James), Scott the landscape-painter, Tothall,\\nand Forrest. [The account was first published in 1782, and is in the\\n35 third volume of the Genuine Works, 1817.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "222 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nof the gentlemen noted down the proceedings of the\\njourney, for which Hogarth and a brother artist\\nmade drawings. The book is chiefly curious at\\nthis moment from showing the citizen hfe of those\\ndays, and the rough jolly style of merriment, not 5\\nof the five companions merely, but of thousands\\nof jolly fellows of their time. Hogarth and his\\nfriends, quitting the Bedford Arms, Covent Gar-\\nden, with a song, took water to Billingsgate, ex-\\nchanging compliments with the bargemen as they lo\\nwent down the river. At Billingsgate Hogarth\\nmade a caracatura of a facetious porter, called\\nthe Duke of Puddledock, who agreeably enter-\\ntained the party with the humours of the place.\\nHence they took a Gravesend boat for themselves; 15\\nhad straw to lie upon, and a tilt over their heads,\\nthey say, and went down the river at night, sleep-\\ning and singing jolly choruses.\\nThey arrived at Gravesend at six, when they\\nwashed their faces and fiands, and had their wigs 20\\npowdered. Then they sallied forth for Rochester\\non foot, and drank by the way three pots of ale.\\nAt one o clock they went to dinner with excellent\\nport, and a quantity more beer, and afterwards Ho-\\ngarth and Scott played at hopscotch in the town 25\\nhall. It would appear that they slept most of them\\nin one room, and the chronicler of the party de-\\nscribes them all as waking at seven o clock, and\\ntelling each other their dreams. You have rough\\nsketches by Hogarth of the incidents of this holi-30\\nday excursion. The sturdy little painter is seen\\nsprawling over a plank to a boat at Gravesend; the", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 223\\nwhole company are represented in one design, in a\\nfisherman s room, where they had all passed the\\nnight. One gentleman in a nightcap is shaving\\nhimself; another is being shaved by the fisherman;\\n5 a third, with a handkerchief over his bald pate, is\\ntaking his breakfast; and Hogarth is sketching the\\nwhole scene.\\nThey describe at night how they returned to\\ntheir quarters, drank to their friends as usual,\\n10 emptied several cans of good flip, all singing mer-\\nrily.\\nIt is a jolly party of tradesmen engaged at high\\njinks. These were the manners and pleasures of\\nHogarth, of his time very likely, of men not very\\n15 refined, but honest and merry. It is a brave Lon-\\ndon citizen, with John Bull habits, prejudices, and\\npleasures.*\\nDoctor Johnson made four lines once, on the death of poor\\nHogarth, which were equally true and pleasing; I know not why\\n20Garrick s were preferred to them:\\nThe hand of him here torpid lies.\\nThat drew th essential forms of grace;\\nHere, closed in death, th attentive eyes,\\nThat saw the manners in the face.\\n25 [Johnson s lines were only a suggested emendation upon the first\\nform of the verses, submitted to him by Garrick for criticism.\\nlioswELL s Johnson (Birkbeck Hill), i. 187.]\\nMr. Hogarth, among the variety of kindnesses shown to me\\nwhen I was too young to have a proper sense of them, was used\\n30 to be very earnest that I should obtain the acquaintance, and if\\npossible the friendship, of Doctor Johnson; whose conversation\\nwas, to the talk of other men, like Titian s painting coffFpared to\\nHudson s, he said: but don t you tell people now that I say so,\\ncontinued he, for the connoisseurs and I are at war, you know;\\n35 and because I hate them, they think I hate Titian and let them\\nOf Dr. Johnson, when my father and he were talking about\\nhim one day, That man, says Hogarth, is not contented with\\nbelieving the Bible; but he fairly resolves, I think, to believe", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "224 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nOf Smollett s associates and manner of life the\\nauthor of the admirable Humphrey Clinker has\\ngiven us an interesting account in that most amus-\\ning of novels.*\\nnothing hni the Bible. Johnson, added he, though so wise a fellow, 5\\nis more like King David than King Solomon, for he says in his\\nhaste, AU men are liars Mrs. Piozzi.\\nHogarth died on the 26th of October 1764. The day before his\\ndeath, he was removed from his villa at Chiswick to Leicester Fields,\\nin a very weak condition, yet remarkably cheerful. He had just lO\\nreceived an agreeable letter from Franklin. He lies buried at\\nChiswick.\\nTo Sir Watkin Phillips, Bart., of Jesus College, Oxon.\\nDear Phillips, In my last, I mentioned my having spent an\\nevening with a society of authors, who seemed to be jealous and 15\\nafraid of one another. My uncle was not at all surprised to hear me\\nsay I was disappointed in their conversation. A man may be very\\nentertaining and instructive upon paper, said he, and exceedingly\\ndull in common discourse. I have observed, that those who shine\\nmost in private company are but secondary stars in the constella- 20\\ntion of genius. A small stock of ideas is more easily managed, and\\nsooner displayed, than a great quantity crowded together. There\\nis very seldom anything extraordinary in the appearance and address\\nof a good writer; whereas a dull author generally distinguishes him-\\nself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason I fancy that ^5\\nan. assembly of grubs must be very diverting.\\nMy curiosity being excited by this hint, I consulted my friend\\nDick Ivy, who undertook to gratify it the very next day, which was\\nSunday last. He carried me to dine with S whom you and I\\nhave long known by his writings. He lives in the skirts of the 3^\\ntown; and every Sunday his house is open to all unfortunate\\nbrothers of the quill, whom he treats with beef, pudding, and po-\\ntatoes, port, punch, and Calvert s entire butt beer. He has fixed\\nupon the first day of the week for the exercise of his hospitality,\\nbecause some of his guests could not enjoy it on any other, for 35\\nreasons that I need not explain. I was civilly received in a plain,\\nyet decent habitation, which opened backwards into a very pleasant\\ngarden, kept in excellent order; and, indeed, I saw none of the out-\\nward signs of authorship either in the house or the landlord, who is\\none of those few writers of the age that stand upon their own foun- 40\\ndation, without patronage, and above dependence. If there was\\nnothing characteristic in the entertainer, the company made ample\\namends for his want of singularity.\\nAt two in the afternoon, I found myself one of ten messmates\\nseated at table; and I question if the whole kingdom could produce 45", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 225\\nI have no doubt that this picture by Smollett is\\nas faithful a one as any from the pencil of his kin-\\ndred humourist, Hogarth.\\nWe have before us, and painted by his own hand,\\ne such another assemblage of originals. Among their peculiarities,\\nI do not mention those of dress, which may b2 purely accidetitaL\\nWhat struck me were oddities originally produced by affectation,\\nand afterwards confirmed by habit. One of them wore spectacles\\nat dinner, and another his hat flapped; though (as Ivy told me)\\nlO the first was noted for having a seaman s eye when a bailiff was in\\nthe wind; and the other was never known to labour under any\\nweakness or defect of vision, except about five years ago, when he\\nwas complimented with a couple of black eyes by a player, with\\nwhom he had quarrelled in his drink. A third wore a laced stock-\\n15 ing, and made use of crutches, because, once in his life, he had been\\nlaid up with a broken leg, though no man could leap over a stick\\nwith more agility. A fourth had contracted such an antipathy to the\\ncountry, that he insisted upon sitting with his back towards the\\nwindow that looked into the garden; and when a dish of cauli-\\n20 flower was set upon the table, he snuffed up volatile salts to keep\\nhim from fainting; yet this delicate person was the son of a cotta-\\nger, born under a hedge, and had many years run wild among asses\\non a common. A fifth affected distraction: when spoke to, he al-\\nways answered from the purpose. Sometimes he suddenly started\\n25 up, and rapped out a dreadful oath; sometimes he burst out a\\nlaughing; then he folded his arms, and sighed; and then he hissed\\nlike fifty serpents.\\nAt first, I really thought he was mad; and, as he sat near me,\\nbegan to be under some apprehensions for my own safety; when\\n30 our landlord, perceiving me alarmed, assured me aloud that I had\\nnothing to fear. The gentleman, said he, is trying to act a part\\nfor which he is by no means qualified; if he had all the inclination\\nin the world, it is not in his power to be mad; his spirits are too flat\\nto be kindled into phrenzy. Tis no bad p-p-puff, how-owever,\\n35 observed a person in a tarnished laced coat: aff-ifect^d m-madness\\nw-ill p-pass for w-wit w-with nine-nineteen out of t-twenty. And\\naffected stuttering for humour, replied our landlord; though,\\nGod knows there is no affinity between them. It seems this wag,\\nafter having made some abortive attempts in plain speaking, had\\n40 recourse to this defect, by means of which he frequently extorted\\nthe laugh of the company, without the least expense of genius; and\\nthat imperfection, which he had at first counterfeited, was now be-\\ncome so habitual, that he could not lay it aside.\\nA certain winking genius, who wore yellow gloves at dinner,\\n45 had, on his first introduction, taken such offence at S because\\nhe looked and talked, and ate and drank, like any other man, that\\nhe spoke contemptuously of his understanding ever after, and never", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "226 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nTobias Smollett, the manly, kindly, honest, and\\nirascible; worn and battered, but still brave and\\nfull of heart, after a long struggle against a hard\\nwould repeat his visit, until he had exhibited the following proof\\nof his caprice. Wat Wyvil, the poet, having made some unsuccess-\\nful advances towards an intimacy with S at last gave him to\\nunderstand, by a third person, that he had written a poem in his\\npraise, and a satire against his person: that if he would admit him\\nto his house, the first should be immediately sent to press; but\\nthat if he persisted in declining his friendship, he would publish lo\\nthe satire without delay. S replied, that he looked upon Wyvil s\\npanegyric as, in effect, a species of infamy, and would resent it\\naccordingly with a good cudgel; but if he published the satire, he\\nmight deserve his compassion, and had nothing to fear from his\\nrevenge. Wyvil having considered the alternative, resolved to 15\\nmortify S by printing the panegyric, for which he received a\\nsound drubbing. Then he swore the peace against the aggressor, who,\\nin order to avoid a prosecution at law, admitted him to his good\\ngraces. It was the singularity in S\u00e2\u0080\u0094 s conduct on this occasion,\\nthat reconciled him to the yellow-gloved philosopher, who owned 20\\nhe had some genius; and from that period cultivated his ac-\\nquaintance.\\nCurious to know upon what subjects the several talents of my\\nfellow-guests were employed, I applied to my communicative friend\\nDick Ivy, who gave me to understand that most of them were, or 25 j\\nhad been, understrappers, or journeymen, to more creditable l\\nauthors, for whom they translated, collated, and compiled, in the\\nbusiness of bookmak ing; and that all of them had, at different I\\ntimes, laboured in the service of our landlord, though they had now j\\nset up for themselves in various departments of literature. Not 30\\nonly their talents, but also their nations and dialects, were so vari-\\nous, that our conversation resembled the confusion of tongues at\\nBabel. We had the Irish brogue, the Scotch accent, and foreign\\nidiom, twanged off by the most discordant vociferation; for as they\\nall spoke together, no man had any chance to be heard, unless he 35\\ncould bawl Ipuder than his fellows. It must be owned, however,\\nthere was nothing pedantic in their discourse; they carefully avoided\\nall learned disquisitions, and endeavoured to be facetious: nor did\\ntheir endeavours always miscarry; some droll repartee passed, and\\nmuch laughter was excited; and if any individual lost his temper 40\\nso far as to transgress the bounds of decorum, he was effectually\\nchecked by the master of the feast, who exerted a sort of paternal\\nauthority over this irritable tribe.\\nThe most learned philosopher of the whole collection, who had\\nbeen expelled the university for atheism, has made great progress 45\\nin a refutation of Lord Bolingbroke s metaphysical works, which is\\nsaid to be equally ingenious and orthodox; but, in the meantime,\\nhe has been presented to the grand jury as a public nuisance for", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FLELDING 22/\\nfortune. His brain had been busied with a hun-\\ndred different schemes; he had been reviewer and\\nhistorian, critic, medical writer, poet, pamphleteer.\\nhaving blasphemed in an alehouse on the Lord s day. The Scotch-\\ne man gives lectures on the pronunciation of the English language,\\nwhich he is now publishing by subscription.\\nThe Irishman is a political writer, and goes by the name of My\\nLord Potatoe. He wrote a pamphlet in vindication of a Minister,\\nhoping his zeal would be rewarded with some place or pension;\\nlO but finding himself neglected in that quarter, he whispered about\\nI that the pamphlet was written by the Minister himself, and he pub-\\nlished an answer to his own production. In this he addressed the\\nauthor under the title of your Lordship, with such solemnity,\\nthat the public swallowed the deceit, and bought up the whole im-\\n15 pression. The wise politicians of the metropolis declared they were\\nboth masterly performances, and chuckled over the fiimsy reveries\\nof an ignorant garreteer, as the profound speculations of a veteran\\nstatesman, acquainted with all the secrets of the cabinet. The im-\\nposture was detected in the sequel, and our Hibernian pamphleteer\\n20 retains no part of his assumed importance but the bare title of my\\nLord, and the uppefr part of the table at the potatoe-ordinary in\\nShoe Lane.\\nOpposite to me sat a Piedmontese, who had obliged the public\\nwith a humorous satire, entitled The Balance of the English Poets;\\n25 a performance which evinced the great modesty and taste of the\\nauthor, and, in particular, his intimacy with the elegancies of the\\nEnglish language. The sage, who laboured under the aypo^o^ia,\\nor horror of green fields, had just finished a treatise on practical\\nagriculture, though, in fact, he had never seen corn growing in his\\n30 life, and was so ignorant of grain, that our entertainer, in the face\\nof the whole company, made him own that a plate of hominy was\\nthe best rice-pudding he had ever eat.\\nThe stutterer had almost finished his travels through Europe\\nand part of Asia, without ever budging beyond the liberties of the\\n35 King s Bench, except in term-time with a tipstaff for his companion;\\nand as for little Tim Cropdale, the most facetious member of the\\nwhole society, he had happily wound up the catastrophe of a virgin\\ntragedy, from the exhibition of which he promised himself a large\\nfund of profit and reputation. Tim had made shift to live many\\n40 J ears by writing novels, at the rate of five pounds a volume; but\\nthat branch of business is now engrossed by female authors, who\\npublish merely for the propagation of virtue, with so much ease,\\nand spirit, and delicacy, and knowledge of the human heart, and\\nall in the serene tranquillity of high life, that the reader is not only\\n45 enchanted by their genius, but reformed by their morality.\\nAfter dinner, we adjourned into the garden, where I observed\\n-Mr. S give a short separate audience to every individual in a", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "228 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nHe had fought endless hterary battles; and braved\\nand wielded for years the cudgels of controversy.\\nIt was a hard and savage fight in those days, and a\\nniggard pay. He was oppressed by illness, age,\\nnarrow fortune; but his spirit was still resolute, and 5\\nhis courage steady; the battle over, he could do\\njustice to the enemy with whom he had been so\\nfiercely engaged, and give a not unfriendly grasp\\nto the hand that had mauled him. He is like one\\nof those Scotch cadets, of whom history gives usio\\nso many examples, and whom, with a national\\nfidelity, the great Scotch novelist has painted so\\ncharmingly. Of gentle birth and narrow means,\\nsmall remote filbert-walk, from whence most of them dropped off\\none after another, without further ceremony. 1 5\\nSmollett s house was in Lawrence Lane, Chelsea, and is now\\ndestroyed. See Handbook of London, p. 115.\\nThe person of Smollett was eminently handsome, his features pre-\\npossessing, and, by the joint testimony of all his surviving friends, his\\nconversation, in the highest degree, instructive and amusing. Of his 20\\ndisposition, those who have read his works (and who has not may\\nform a very accurate estimate; for in each of them he has presented,\\nand sometimes under various points of view, the leading features of\\nhis own character without disguising the most unfavourable of\\nthem. When unseduced by his satirical propensities, he was 25\\nkind, generous, and humane to others; bold, upright, and inde-\\npendent in his own character; stooped to no patron, sued for no\\nfavour, but honestly, and honourably maintained himself on his\\nliterary labours. He was a doting father and an affectionate\\nhusband; and the warm zeal with which his memory was cherished 3^\\nby his surviving friends showed clearly the reliance which they\\nplaced upon his regard. Sir Walter Scoff.\\nSmollett of Bbnhill, in Dumbartonshire. Arms, azure, a bend, or,\\nbetween a lion rampant, ppr., holding in his paw a banner, argent,\\nand a bugle-horn, also ppr. Crest, an oak-tree, ppr. Motto, Vircsco. 35\\nSmollett s father, Archibald, was the fourth son of Sir James\\nSmollett of Bonhill, a Scotch Judge and Member of Parliament,\\nand one of the commissioners for framing the Union with England.\\nArchibald married, without the old gentleman s consent, and died\\nearly, leaving his children dependent on their grandfather. Tobias, 40\\nthe second son, was born in 1721, in the old house of Dalquharn in\\nthe valley of Leven; and all his life loved and admired that valley", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 229\\ngoing out from his northern home to win his for-\\ntune in the world, and to fight his way, armed with\\ncourage, hunger, and keen wits. His crest is a\\nshattered oak-tree, with green leaves yet spring-\\n5 ing from it. On his ancient coat-of-arms there is\\na lion and a horn; this shield of his was battered\\nand dinted in a hundred fights and brawls,*\\nthrough which the stout Scotchman bore it cour-\\nand Loch Lomond beyond all the valleys and lakes in Europe. He\\n10 learned the rudiments at Dumbarton Grammar School, and\\nstudied at Glasgow.\\nBut when he was only ten, his grandfather died, and left him\\nwithout provision (figuring as the old judge in Roderick Random in\\nconsequence, according to Sir Walter). Tobias, armed with the\\n15 Regicide, a Tragedy a provision precisely similar to that with which\\nDoctor Johnson had started, just before\u00e2\u0080\u0094 came up to London. The\\nRegicide came to no good, though at first patronised by Lord\\nLyttelton one of those little fellows who are sometimes called\\ngreat men, Smollett says); and Smollett embarked as surgeon s\\n2oniate on board a line-of-battle ship, and served in the Carthagena\\nexpedition, in 1741. He left the service in the West Indies, and,\\nafter residing some time in Jamaica, returned to England in 1746.\\nHe was now unsuccessful as a physician, to begin with; pub-\\nlished the satires, Advice and Reproof, without any luck; and\\n25 (1747) married the beautiful and accomplished Miss Lascelles.\\nIn 1748 he brought out his Roderick Random, which at once made a\\nhit. The subsequent events of his life may be presented, chrono-\\nlogically, in a bird s-eye view:\\n1750.\\nMade a tour to Paris, where he chieny wrote Peregrine Pickle.\\n30 1751- Published Peregrine Pickle.\\n753. Published Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom.\\n755. Published version of Don Quixote.\\n756. Began the Critical Review.\\n758. Published his History of England.\\n|J5 1763-1766. Travelling in France and Italy; published his Travels.\\n1769. Published Adventures of an Atom.\\n1770. Set out for Italy; died at Leghorn, 21st of October 1771,\\nin the fifty-first year of his age.\\nA good specimen of the old slashing style of writing is\\n\\\\0 presented by the paragraph on Admiral Knowles, which subjected\\nSmollett to prosecution and imprisonment. The admiral s defence\\non the occasion of the failure of the Rochefort expedition came to\\nbe examined before the tribunal of the Critical Review.\\ni He is, said our author, an admiral without conduct, an en-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "230 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nageously. You see somehow that he is a gentle-\\nman, through all his battling and struggling, his\\npoverty, his hard-fought successes, and his defeats.\\nHis novels are recollections of his own adventures;\\nhis characters drawn, as I should think, from per-\\nsonages with whom he became acquainted in his\\nown career of life. Strange companions he must\\ngineer without knowledge, an officer without resolution, and a man\\nwithout veracity\\nThree months imprisonment in the King s Bench avenged this jo j\\nstinging paragraph.\\nBut the Critical was to Smollett a perpetual fountain of hot\\nwater. Among less important controversies may be mentioned that\\nwith Grainger, the translator of Tibullus. Grainger replied in a\\npamphlet; and in the next number of the Review we find him Ig\\nthreatened with castigation, as an owl that has broken from his\\nmew\\nIn Doctor Moore s biography of him is a pleasant anecdote. After\\npublishing the Don Quixote, he returned to Scotland to pay a visit\\nto his mother:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 20\\nOn Smollett s arrival, he was introduced to his mother with the\\nconnivance of Mrs. Telfer (her daughter), as a gentleman from the\\nWest Indies, who was intimately acquainted with her son. The\\nbetter to support his assumed character, he endeavoured to preserve\\na serious countenance, approaching to a frown; but while his 25\\nmother s eyes were riveted on his countenance, he could not refrain\\nfrom smiling: she immediately sprung from her chair, and throw-\\ning her arms round his neck, exclaimed, Ah, my son my son\\nI have found you at last\\nShe afterwards told iiim, that if he had kept his austere looks 30\\nand continued to gloom, he might have escaped detection some time\\nlonger, but your old roguish smile, added she, betrayed you at\\nonce.\\nShortly after the publication of The Adventures of an Atom,\\ndisease again attacked Smollett with redoubled violence. Attempts 35\\nbeing vainly made to obtain for him the office of Consul in some\\npart of the Mediterranean, he was compelled to seek a warmer\\nclimate, without better means of provision than his own precarious\\nfinances could afford. The kindness of his distinguis hed friend and\\ncountryman, Dr. Armstrong (then abroad), procured for Dr. and 40\\nMrs. Smollett a house at Monte Nero, a village situated on the\\nside of a mountain overlooking the sea, in the neighbourhood of\\nLeghorn, a romantic and salutary abode, where he prepared for the\\npress the last, and, like music sweetest in the close, the most\\npleasing of his compositions. The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker. 46\\nThis delightful work was published in 1771. Sir Walter Scott.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 23 1\\nhave had; queer acquaintances He made in the Glas-\\ngow College in the country apothecary s shop; in\\nthe gun-room of the man-of-war where he served\\nas surgeon; and in the hard life on shore, where\\n5 the sturdy adventurer struggled for fortune. He\\ndid not invent much, as I fancy, but had the keenest\\nperceptive faculty, and described what he saw with\\nwonderful relish and delightful broad humour. I\\nthink Uncle Bowling, in Roderick Random, is\\n10 as good a character as Squire Western himself; and\\nMr. Morgan, the Welsh apothecary, is as pleasant\\nas Doctor Caius. What man who has made his\\ninestimable acquaintance what novel-reader who\\nloves Don Quixote and Major Dalgetty will re-\\n15 fuse his most cordial acknowledgments to the ad-\\nmirable Lieutenant Lismahago? The novel of\\nHumphrey Clinker is, I do think, the most\\nlaughable story that has ever been written since the\\ngoodly art of novel-writing began. Winifred Jenk-\\n20 ins and Tabitha Bramble must keep Englishmen\\non the grin for ages yet to come; and in their letters\\nand the story of their loves there is a perpetual\\nfount of sparkling laughter, as inexhaustible as\\nBladud s well.\\n25 Fielding, too, has described, though with a\\ngreater hand, the characters and scenes which he\\nknew and saw. He had more than ordinary op-\\nportunities for becoming acquainted with life. His\\nfamily and education, first his fortunes and mis-\\n30 fortunes afterwards, brought him into the society of\\nevery rank and condition of man. He is himself", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "232 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthe hero of his books he is wild Tom Jones, he is\\nwild Captain Booth; less wild, I am glad to think,\\nthan his predecessor: at least heartily conscious\\nof demerit, and anxious to amend.\\nWhen Fielding first came upon the town in 1727, 5\\nthe recollection of the great wits w^as still fresh in\\nthe coffee-houses and assemblies, and the judges\\nthere declared that young Harry Fielding had\\nmore spirits and wit than Congreve or any of his\\nbrilliant successors. His figure was tall and stal- 10\\nwart; his face handsome, manly, and noble-look-\\ning; to the very last days of his life he retained a\\ngrandeur of air, and although worn down by dis-\\nease, his aspect and presence imposed respect upon\\nthe people round about him. 15\\nA dispute took place between Mr. Fielding and\\nthe captain of the ship in which he was making\\nhis last voyage, and Fielding relates how the man\\nfinally went down on his knees, and begged his\\npassenger s pardon. He was living up to the last 20;\\ndays of his life, and his spirit never gave in. His\\nvital power must have been immensely strong.\\nLady Mary Wortley Montagu f prettily charac-\\nterises Fielding and this capacity for happiness\\nThe dispute with the captain arose from the wish of that func- 25\\ntionary to intrude on his right to his cabin, for which he had paid\\nthirty pounds. After recounting the circumstances of the apology,\\nhe characteristically adds:\\nAnd here, that I may not be thought the sly trumpeter of my\\nown praises, I do utterly disclaim all praise on the occasion. 30\\nNeither did the greatness of my mind dictate, nor the force of my\\nChristianity exact this forgiveness. To speak truth, I forgave him\\nfrom a motive which would make men much more forgiving, if they\\nwere much wiser than they are: because it was convenient for me\\nso to do. 35\\nt Lady Mary was his second cousin their respective grandfathers", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 233\\nwhich he possessed, in a little notice of his death\\nwhen she compares him to Steele, who was as im-\\nprovident and as happy as he was, and says that\\nboth should have gone on living for ever. One\\n5 can fancy the eagerness and gusto with which a\\nman of Fielding s frame, with his vast health and\\nrobust appetite, his ardent spirits, his joyful hu-\\nmour, and his keen and healthy relish for life, must\\nhave seized and drunk that cup of pleasure which\\n[o the town offered to him. Can any of my hearers\\nremember the youthful feats of a college breakfast\\nthe meats devoured and the cups quafifed in that\\nHomeric feast? I can call to mind some of the\\nheroes of those youthful banquets, and fancy young\\n5 Fielding from Leyden rushing upon the feast, with\\nhis great laugh, and immense healthy young appe-\\ntite, eager and vigorous to enjoy. The young\\nbeing sons of George Fielding, Earl of Desmond, son of William,\\nEarl of Denbigh.\\n;0 In a letter dated just a week before his death, she says:\\nH. Fielding has given a true picture of himself and his first\\nwife in the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Booth, some compliments to\\nhis own figure excepted; and I am persuaded, several of the in-\\ncidents he mentions are real matters of fact. I wonder he does not\\n5 perceive Tom Jones and Mr. Booth are sorry scoundrels. Fielding\\nhas really a fund of true humour, and was to be pitied at his first\\nentrance into the world, having no choice, as he said himself, but\\nto be a hackney writer or a hackney coachman. His genius deserved\\na better fate; but I cannot help blaming that continued indiscretion,\\nO to give it the softest name, that has run through his life, and I am\\nafraid still remains. Since I was born no original has appeared\\nexcepting Congreve, and Fielding, who would, I believe, have ap-\\nproached nearer to his excellences, if not forced by his necessities\\nto publish without correction, and throw many productions into the\\n5 world he would have thrown into the fire, if meat could have been\\ngot without money, or money without scribbling. I am sorry\\nnot to see any more of Peregrine Pickle s performances; I wish you\\nwould tell me his nzme. Letters and Works (Lord Wharncliffe s\\ned.), vol. iii. pp. 93, 94.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "234 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nman s wit and manners made him friends every-\\nwhere: he Hved with the grand Man s society of\\nthose days; he was courted by peers and men of\\nweaUh and fashion. As he had a paternal allow-\\nance from his father, General Fielding, which, to 5\\nuse Henry s own phrase, any man might pay who\\nwould; as he liked good wine, good clothes, and\\ngood company, which are all expensive articles to\\npurchase, Harry Fielding began to run into debt,\\nand borrow money in that easy manner in which lo;\\nCaptain Booth borrows money in the novel: was\\nin nowise particular in accepting a few pieces from\\nthe purses of his rich friends, and bore down upon\\nmore than one of them, as Walpole tells us only\\ntoo truly, for a dinner or a guinea. To supply him- \\\\i\\\\\\nself with the latter, he began to write theatrical\\npieces, having already, no doubt, a considerable\\nacquaintance amongst the Oldfields and Brace-\\ngirdles behind the scenes. He laughed at these\\npieces and scorned them. When the audience upon\\none occasion began to hiss a scene which he was\\ntoo lazy to correct, and regarding which, when\\nGarrick remonstrated with him, he said that the\\npublic was too stupid to find out the badness of his\\nwork: when the audience began to hiss, Fielding 25\\nsaid with characteristic coolness They have\\nfound it out, have they? He did not prepare his\\nnovels in this way, and with a very different care\\nand interest laid the foundations and built up the\\nedifices of his future fame.\\nTime and shower have very little damaged those.\\nThe fashion and ornaments are, perhaps, of the\\n20\\n30", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FLELDLNG 2^$\\narchitecture of that age, but the buildings remain\\nstrong and lofty, and of admirable proportions\\nmasterpieces of genius and monuments of work-\\nmanlike skill.\\n5 I cannot offer or hope to make a hero of Harry\\nFielding. Why hide his faults? Why conceal his\\nweaknesses in a cloud of periphrases? Why not\\nshow him, like him as he is, not robed in a marble\\ntoga, and draped and polished in an heroic atti-\\npio tude, but with inked rufifles, and claret stains on his\\ntarnished laced coat, and on his manly face the\\nmarks of good fellowship, of illness, of kindness,\\nI of care and wine? Stained as you see him, and\\nworn by care and dissipation, that man retains some\\n15 of the most precious and splendid human qualities\\nand endowments. He has an admirable natural love\\nof truth, the keenest instinctive antipathy to hypo-\\ncrisy, the happiest satirical gift of laughing it\\nto scorn. His wit is wonderfully wise and de-\\n,2otective; it flashes upon a rogue and lightens up a\\nrascal like a policeman s lantern. He is one of the\\nmanliest and kindliest of human beings: in the\\nmidst of all his imperfections, he respects female\\ninnocence and infantine tenderness as you would\\nJ25 suppose such a great-hearted, courageous soul\\nwould respect and care for them. He could not be\\nso brave, generous, truth-telling as he is, were he\\nnot infinitely merciful, pitiful, and tender. He will\\ngive any man his purse he can t help kindness and\\n30 profusion. He may have low tastes, but not a\\nmean mind; he admires with all his heart good and\\nvirtuous men, stoops to no flattery, bears no ran-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "236 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncour, disdains all disloyal arts, does his public duty\\nuprightly, is fondly loved by his family, and dies at\\nhis work.*\\nIf that theory be and I have no doubt it is\\nthe right and safe one, that human nature is always 5\\npleased with the spectacle of innocence rescued by\\nfidelity, purity, and courage, I suppose that of the\\nheroes of Fielding s three novels, we should like\\nhonest Joseph Andrews the best, and Captain\\nBooth the second, and Tom Jones the third. f\\nJoseph Andrews, though he wears Lady Booby s\\ncast-ofif livery, is, I think, to the full as polite as\\nTom Jones in his fustian suit, or Captain Booth\\nin regimentals. He has, like those heroes, large\\ncalves, broad shoulders, a high courage, and a 5\\nhandsome face. The accounts of Joseph s bravery\\nand good qualities; his voice, too musical to halloo\\nto the dogs; his bravery in riding races for the\\ngentlemen of the county, and his constancy in re-\\nfusing bribes and temptation, have something af- 20\\nfecting in their ndivcic and freshness, and pre-\\npossess one in favour of that handsome young hero.\\nThe rustic bloom of Fanny, and the delightful sim-\\nplicity of Parson Adams, are described with a\\nHe sailed for Lisbon, from Gravesend, on Sunday morning, 25\\nJune 30th, 1754; and began The Journal of a Voyage during the\\npassage. He died at Lisbon, in the beginning of October of the\\nsame year. He lies buried there, in the English Protestant church-\\nyard, near the Estrella Church, with this inscription over him:\\nHENRICUS FIELDING 30\\nLUGET BRITANNIA GREMIO NGN DARI\\nFOVERE NATUM.\\nt Fielding himself is said by Doctor Warton to have preferred\\nJoseph Andrews to his other writings.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FLELDLNG 237\\nfriendliness which wins the reader of their story;\\nwe part from them with more regret than from\\nBooth and Jones.\\nFielding, no doubt, began to write this novel in\\ni 5 ridicule of Pamela, for which work one can un-\\nderstand the hearty contempt and antipathy which\\nsuch an athletic and boisterous genius as Field-\\ning s must have entertained. He couldn t do other-\\nwise than laugh at the puny cockney bookseller,\\n,10 pouring out endless volumes of sentimental twad-\\ndle, and hold him up to scorn as a mollcoddle and\\na milksop. His genius had been nursed on sack\\nposset, and not on dishes of tea. His muse had sung\\nthe loudest in tavern choruses, had seen the day-\\n.15 light streaming in over thousands of emptied bowls,\\nand reeled home to chambers on the shoulders of\\nthe watchman. Richardson s goddess was attended\\nby old maids and dowagers, and fed on muffins and\\nbohea. Milksop! roars Harry Fielding, clat-\\n2otering at the timid shop-shutters. Wretch! Mon-\\nster! Mohock! shrieks the sentimental author of\\nPamela and all the ladies of his court cackle\\nout an affrighted chorus. Fielding proposes to\\nwrite a book in ridicule of the author, whom he\\n25 disliked and utterly scorned and laughed at; but\\nRichardson, says worthy Mrs. Barbauld, in her Memoir of\\nhim, prefixed to his Correspondence, was exceedingly hurt at this\\n(Joseph Andrexvs), the more so as they had been on good terms,\\nand he was very intimate with Fielding s two sisters. He never appears\\n.30 cordially to have forgiven it (perhaps it was not in human nature he\\nshould), and he always speaks in his letters with a great deal of\\nasperity of Tom Jones, more indeed than was quite graceful in a\\nrival author. No doubt he himself thought his indignation was\\nsolely excited by the loose morality of the work and of its author,\\nJ5 but he could tolerate Gibber.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "238 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nhe is himself of so generous, jovial, and kindly a\\nturn that he begins to like the characters which he\\ninvents, can t help making them manly and pleasant\\nas well as ridiculous, and before he has done with\\nthem all, loves them heartily every one. 5\\nRichardson s sickening antipathy for Harry\\nFielding is quite as natural as the other s laughter\\nand contempt at the sentimentalist. I have not\\nlearned that these likings and dislikings have\\nceased in the present day and every author must 10\\nlay his account not only to misrepresentation, but\\nto honest enmity among critics, and to being\\nhated and abused for good as well as for bad rea-\\nsons. Richardson disliked Fielding s works quite\\nhonestly: Walpole quite honestly spoke of them as i\\nvulgar and stupid. Their squeamish stomachs\\nsickened at the rough fare and the rough guests\\nassembled at Fielding s jolly revel. Indeed the\\ncloth might have been cleaner: and the dinner and\\nthe company were scarce such as suited a dandy. 20\\nThe kind and wise old Johnson would not sit down\\nwith him.* But a greater scholar than Johnson\\ncould afiford to admire that astonishing genius of\\nHarry Fielding; and we all know the lofty\\npanegyric which Gibbon wrote of him, and which 25\\nremains a towering monument to the great nov-\\nelist s memory. Our immortal Fielding, Gib-\\nbon writes, was of the younger branch of the\\nIt must always be borne in mind, that besides that the Doctor\\ncouldn t be expected to like Fielding s wild life (to say nothing of 3^\\nthe fact that they were of opposite sides in politics), Richardson\\nwas one of his earliest and kindest friends. Yet Johnson too (as\\nBoswell tells us) read Amelia through without stopping.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 239\\nEarls of Denbigh, who drew their origin from the\\nCounts of Hapsburgh. The successors of Charles\\nV. may disdain their brethren of England, but the\\nromance of Tom Jones, that exquisite picture of\\n5 humour and manners, will outlive the palace of the\\nEscurial and the Imperial Eagle of Austria.\\nThere can be no gainsaying the sentence of this\\ngreat judge. To have your name mentioned by\\nGibbon, is like having it written on the dome of\\n10 St. Peter s. Pilgrims from all the world admire\\nand behold it.\\nAs a picture of manners, the novel of Tom\\nJones is indeed exquisite as a work of construc-\\ntion, quite a wonder: the by-play of wisdom; the\\n15 power of observation; the multiplied felicitous\\nturns and thoughts; the varied character of the\\ngreat Comic Epic: keep the reader in a perpetual\\nadmiration and curiosity.* But against Mr.\\nThomas Jones himself we have a right to put in a\\n20 protest, and quarrel with the esteem the author\\nManners change from generation to generation, and with man-\\nners morals appear to change actually change with some, but appear\\nto change with all but the abandoned. A young man of the present\\nday who should act as Tom Jones is supposed to act at Upton, with\\n25 Lady Bellaston, c., would not be a Tom Jones; and a Tom Jones\\nof the present day, without perhaps being in the ground a better\\nman, would have perished rather than submit to be kept by a harri-\\ndan of fortune. Therefore, this novel is, and indeed pretends to be,\\nno example of conduct. But, notwithstanding all this, I do loathe\\n30 the cant which can recommend Pamela and Clarissa Harlozve as\\nstrictly moral, although they poison the imagination of the young\\nwith continued doses of tinct. lyttw, while Tom Jones is prohibited as\\nloose. I do not speak of young women; but a young man whose\\nheart or feelings can be injured, or even his passions excited by this\\n35 novel, is already thoroughly corrupt. There is a cheerful, sunshiny,\\nbreezy spirit, that prevails everywhere, strongly contrasted with the\\nclose, hot, day-dreamy continuity of Richardson. Coleridge.\\nLiterary Remains, vol. ii. p. 374.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "240 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nevidently has for that character. Charles Lamb\\nsays finely of Jones, that a single hearty laugh from\\nhim clears the air but then it is in a certain\\nstate of the atmosphere. It might clear the air\\nwhen such personages as Blifil or Lady Behaston 5\\npoison it. But I fear very much that (except until\\nthe very last scene of the story), when Mr. Jones\\nenters Sophia s drawing-room, the pure air there\\nis rather tainted with the young gentleman s to-\\nbacco-pipe and punch. I can t say that I think lo\\nMr. Jones a virtuous character; I can t say but\\nthat I think P^ielding s evident liking and admira-\\ntion for Mr. Jones shows that the great humourist s\\nmoral sense was blunted by his life, and that here,\\nin Art and Ethics, there is a great error. If it is 15\\nright to have a hero whom we may admire, let us\\nat least take care that he is admirable: if, as is the\\nplan of some authors (a plan decidedly against their\\ninterests, be it said), it is propounded that there\\nexists in life no such being, and therefore that in 20\\nnovels, the picture of life, there should appear no\\nsuch character; then Mr. Thomas Jones becomes\\nan admissible person, and we examine his defects\\nand good qualities, as we do those of Parson\\nThwackum, or Miss Seagrim. But a hero with a 25\\nflawed reputation; a hero spunging for a guinea;\\na hero who can t pay his landlady, and is obliged\\nto let his honour out to hire, is absurd, and his\\nclaim to heroic rank untenable. I protest against\\nMr. Thomas Jones holding such rank at all. I pro- 30\\ntest even against his being considered a more than\\nordinary young fellow, ruddy-cheeked, broad-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 24 1\\nshouldered, and fond of wine and pleasure. He\\nwould not rob a church, but that is all; and a\\npretty long argument may be debated, as to which\\nof these old types the spendthrift, the hypocrite,\\n5 Jones and Blifil, Charles and Joseph Surface is\\nthe worst member of society and the most deserv-\\ning of censure. The prodigal Captain Booth is a\\nbetter man than his predecessor Mr. Jones, in so\\nfar as he thinks much more humbly of himself than\\n10 Jones did: goes down on his knees, and owns his\\nweaknesses, and cries out, Not for my sake, but\\nfor the sake of my pure and sweet and beautiful\\nwife Amelia, I pray you, O critical reader, to for-\\ngive me. That stern moralist regards him from\\n15 the bench (the judge s practice out of court is not\\nhere the question), and says, Captain Booth, it\\nis perfectly true that your life has been dis-\\nreputable, and that on many occasions you have\\nshown yourself to be no better than a scamp you\\n20 have been tippling at the tavern, when the kindest\\nand sweetest lady in the world has cooked your\\nlittle supper of boiled mutton and awaited you all\\nthe night; you have spoilt the little dish of boiled\\nmutton thereby, and caused pangs and pains to\\n25 Amelia s tender heart.* You have got into debt\\nNor was she (Lady Mary Wortley Montagu) a stranger to that\\nbeloved first wife, whose picture he drew i his Amelia, when, as\\nshe said, even the glowing language he knew how to employ did\\nnot do more than justice to the amiable qualities of the original,\\n30 or to her beauty, although this had suffered a little from the accident\\nrelated in the novel\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a frightful overturn, which destroyed the gristle\\nof her nose. He loved her passionately, and she returned his affec-\\ntion.\\nHis biographers seem to have been shy of disclosing that, after\\n35 the death of this charming woman, he married her maid. And yet", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "242 ENGLISH [HUMOURISTS\\nwithout the means of paying it. You have gambled\\nthe money with which you ought to have paid your\\nrent. You have spent in drink or in worse amuse-\\nments the sums which your poor wife has raised\\nupon her httle home treasures, her own ornaments, 5\\nand the toys of her children. But, you rascal you\\nown humbly that you are no better than you should\\nbe you never for one moment pretend that you are\\nanything but a miserable weak-minded rogue. You\\ndo in your heart adore that angelic woman yourio\\nwife, and for her sake, sirrah, you shall have your\\ndischarge. Lucky for you, and for others like you,\\nthat in spite of your failings and imperfections, pure\\nhearts pity and love you. For your wife s sake you\\nare permitted to go hence without a remand; and 15\\nI beg you, by the way, to carry to that angelical\\nlady the expression of the cordial respect and ad-\\nthe act was not so discreditable to his character as it may sound.\\nThe maid had few personal charms, but was an excellent creature,\\ndevotedly attached to her mistress, and almost broken-hearted for her 20\\nloss. In the first agonies of his own grief, which approached to\\nfrenzy, he found no relief but from weeping along with her; nor\\nsolace when a degree calmer, but in talking to her of the angel they\\nmutually regretted. This made her his habitual confidential asso-\\nciate, and in process of time he began to think he could not give 25\\nhis children a tenderer mother, or secure for himself a more faithful\\nhousekeeper and nurse. At least, this was what he told his friends;\\nand it is certain that her conduct as his wife confirmed it, and fully\\njustified his good opinion. Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley\\nMontagu. Edited by Lord Wharncliffe. Introductory Anecdotes, vol. i. 3^\\npp. 80, 8r.\\nFielding s first wife was Miss Craddock, a young lady from Salis-\\nbury, with a fortune of ;\u00c2\u00a3i5oo, whom he married in 1736. About the\\nsame time he succeeded, himself, to an estate of \u00c2\u00a3200 per annum,\\nand on the joint amount he lived for some time as a splendid coun- 35\\ntry gentleman in Dorsetshire. Three years brought him to the end\\nof his fortune; when he returned to London, and became a theatri-\\ncal manager. [Recent researches have not confirmed the report as\\nto the estate of \u00c2\u00a3200 a year nor can he have spent three years*\\nin the country.] 4^", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 243\\nmiration of this court. Amelia pleads for her hus-\\nband, Will Booth: Amelia pleads for her reckless\\nkindly old father, Harry Fielding. To have invented\\nthat character is not only a triumph of art, but it is\\n5 a good action. They say it was in his own home\\nthat Fielding knew her and loved her: and from\\nhis own wife that he drew the most charming char-\\nacter in English fiction. Fiction! why fiction? why\\nnot history? I know Amelia just as well as Lady\\n10 Mary Wortley Montagu. I believe in Colonel\\nBath almost as much as in Colonel Gardiner or the\\nDuke of Cumberland. I admire the author of\\nAmelia, and thank the kind master who intro-\\nduced me to that sweet and delightful companion\\n15 and friend. Amelia perhaps is not a better\\nstory than Tom Jones, but it has the better\\nethics; the prodigal repents, at least, before for-\\ngiveness whereas that odious broad-backed Mr.\\nJones carries off his beauty with scarce an interval\\n20 of remorse for his manifold errors and short-\\ncomings; and is not half punished enough before\\nthe great prize of fortune and love falls to his share.\\nI am angry with Jones. Too much of the plum-\\ncake and rewards of life fall to that boisterous,\\n25 swaggering young scapegrace. Sophia actually\\nsurrenders without a proper sense of decorum the\\nfond, foolish palpitating little creature! Indeed,\\nMr. Jones, she says, it rests with you to ap-\\npoint the day. I suppose Sophia is drawn from\\n30 life as well as Amelia; and many a young fellow,\\nno better than Mr. Thomas Jones, has carried by a", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "244 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncoup dc main the heart of many a kind girl who was\\na great deal too good for him.\\nWhat a wonderful art! What an admirable gift\\nof nature was it by which the author of these tales\\nwas endowed, and which enabled him to fix our in- 5\\nterest, to waken our sympathy, to seize upon our\\ncredulity, so that we believe in his people specu-\\nlate gravely upon their faults or their excellences,\\nprefer this one or that, deplore Jones s fondness for\\nplay and drink, Booth s fondness for play and lo\\ndrink, and the unfortunate position of the wives of\\nboth gentlemen love and admire those ladies with\\nall our hearts, and talk about them as faithfully as\\nif we had breakfasted with them this moaning in\\ntheir actual drawing-rooms, or should meet them 15\\nthis afternoon in the Park! What a genius! what\\na vigour! what a bright-eyed intelligence and ob-\\nservation! what a wholesome hatred for meanness\\nand knavery what a vast sympathy what a cheer-\\nfulness! what a manly relish of life! what a love of 20\\nhuman kind! what a poet is here! watching,\\nmeditating, brooding, creating! What multitudes\\nof truths has that man left behind him What gen-\\nerations he has taught to laugh wisely and fairly!\\nWhat scholars he has formed and accustomed to 25\\nthe exercise of thoughtful humour and the manly\\nplay of wit! What a courage he had! What a\\ndauntless and constant cheerfulness of intellect,\\nthat burned bright and steady through all the\\nstorms of his life, and never deserted its last wreck! 30\\nIt is wonderful to think of the pains and misery\\nwhich the man suffered; the pressure of want, ill-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELD LNG 245\\nness, remorse which he endured! and that the writer\\nwas neit-^ier mahgnant nor melancholy, his view of\\ntruth never warped, and his generous human kind-\\nness never surrendered.*\\n5 In the Gentleman s Magazine for 1786, an anecdote is related of\\nHarry Fielding, in whom, says the correspondent, good-nature\\nand philanthropy in their extreme degree were known to be the promi-\\nnent features. It seems that some parochial taxes for his house\\nin Beaufort Buildings had long been demanded by the collector.\\n10 At last, Harry went off to Johnson, and obtained by a process\\nof literary mortgage the needful sum. He was returning with it,\\nwhen he met an old college chum whom he had not seen for many\\nyears. He asked the chum to dinner with him at a neighbouring\\ntavern; and learning that he was in difficulties, emptied the con-\\n15 tents of his pocket into his. On returning home he was informed\\nthat the collector had been twice for the money. Friendship has\\ncalled for the money and had it, said Fielding; Met the collector\\ncall again.\\nIt is elsewhere told of him, that being in company with the Earl\\n20 of Denbigh, his kinsman, and the conversation turning upon their\\nrelationship, the Earl asked him how it was that he spelled his\\nname Fielding, and not Feilding, like the head of the house\\nI cannot tell, my Lord, said he, except it be that my branch\\nof the family were the first that knew how to spell.\\n25 In 1748, he was made Justice of the Peace for Westminster and\\nMiddlesex, an office then paid by fees and very laborious, without\\nbeing particularly reputable. It may be seen from his own words,\\nin the Introduction to the Voyage, what kind of work devolved\\nupon him, and in what a state he was during these last years; and\\n30 still more clearly, how he comported himself through all.\\nWhilst I was preparing for my journey, and when I was almost\\nfatigued to death with several long examinations, relating to five\\ndifferent murders, all committed within the space of a week by\\ndifferent gangs of street-robbers, I received a message from his\\n35 Csrace the Duke of Newcastle, by Mr. Carrington, the King s mes-\\nsenger, to attend his Grace the next morning in Lincoln s Inn\\nI-ields, upon some business of importance: but I excused myself\\nfrom complying with the message, as, besides being lame, I was\\nvery ill with the great fatigues I had lately undergone, added to mv\\n40 distemper.\\nHis Grace, however, sent Mr. Carrington the very next morning\\nwith another summons, with which, though in the utmost distress I\\nimmediately complied; but the Duke happening, unfortunately for\\nme, to be then particularly engaged, after I had waited some time\\n4b sent a gentleman to discourse with me on the best plan which could\\nbe invented for these murders and robberies, which were every day\\ncommitted in the streets; upon which I promised to transmit my", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "246\\nENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nIn the quarrel mentioned before, which happened 1\\non Fielding s last voyage to Lisbon, and when the j\\nstout captain of the ship fell down on his knees,\\nand asked the sick man s pardon I did not suf-\\nfer, Fielding says, in his hearty, manly way, his 5 i\\neyes lighting up as it were with their old fire i\\nI did not suffer a brave man and an old man to\\nremain a moment in that posture, but immediately\\nforgave him. Indeed, I think, with his noble spirit\\nopinion in writing to his Grace, who, as the gentleman informed me, jq i\\nintended to lay it before the Privy Council.\\nThough this visit cost me a severe cold, I, notwithstanding, j\\nset myself down to work, and in about four days sent the Duke as j\\nregular a plan as I could form, with all the reasons and arguments\\nI could bring to support it, drawn out on several sheets of paper; 15 j\\nand soon received a message from the Duke, by Mr. Carrington, 1\\nacquainting me that my plan was highly approved of, and that all\\nthe terms of it would be complied with. I\\nThe principal and most material of these terms was the im-\\nmediately depositing \u00c2\u00a3600 in my hands; at which small charge I 20 j\\nundertook to demolish the then reigning gangs, and to put the\\ncivil policy into such order, that no such gangs should ever be able I\\nfor the future to form themselves into bodies, or at least to remain\\nany time formidable to the public.\\nI had delayed my Bath journey for some time, contrary to the 25\\nrepeated advice of my physical acquaintances and the ardent desire\\nof my warmest friends, though my distemper was now turned to a\\ndeep jaundice; in which case the Bath waters are generally reputed\\nto be almost infallible. But I had the most eager desire to demolish\\nthis gang of villains and cut-throats. 30\\nAfter some weeks the money was paid at the Treasury, and\\nwithin a few days after \u00c2\u00a3200 of it had come into my hands, the whole\\ngang of cut-throats was entirely dispersed.\\nFurther on, he says\\nI will confess that my private affairs at the beginning of the 35\\nwinter had but a gloomy aspect; for I had not plundered the public\\nor the poor of those sums which men, who are always ready to\\nplunder* both as much as they can, have been pleased to suspect me\\nof taking; on the contrary, by composing, instead of inflaming, the\\nquarrels of porters and beggars (which I blush when I say hatll 4\u00c2\u00b0\\nnot been universally practised), and by refusing to take a shilling\\nfrom a man who most undoubtedly would not have had another left,\\nI had reduced an income of about ;\u00c2\u00a35oo a year of the dirtiest money\\nupon earth to little more than ;\u00c2\u00a3300, a considerable portion of which\\nremained with my clerk. 45", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "HOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING 247\\nand unconquerable generosity, Fielding reminds\\none of those brave men of whom one reads in\\nstories of English shipwrecks and disasters\u00e2\u0080\u0094 of the\\nofficer on the African shore, when disease had\\n5 destroyed the crew, and he himself is seized by\\nfever, who throws the lead with a death-stricken\\nhand, takes the surroundings, carries the ship out\\nof the river or off the dangerous coast, and dies\\nin the manly endeavour\u00e2\u0080\u0094 of the wounded captain,\\n10 when the vessel founders, who never loses his heart,\\nwho eyes the danger steadily, and has a cheery\\nword for all, until the inevitable fate overwhelms\\nhim, and the gallant ship goes down. Such a brave\\nand gentle heart, such an intrepid and courageous\\n15 spirit, I love to recognise in the manly, the English\\nHarry Fielding.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "Sterne an^ (Bolbsmltb\\nRoger Sterne, Sterne s father, was the second\\nson of a numerous race, descendants of Richard\\nSterne, Archbishop of York, in the reign of Charles\\nII.;* and children of Simon Sterne and Mary 5\\nJaques, his wife, heiress of Elvington, near York.f\\nRoger was an ensign in Colonel Hans Hamilton s\\nregiment, and engaged in Flanders in Queen Anne s\\nwars.ij: He married the daughter of a noted sutler.\\nN.B., he was m debt to him, his son writes, lo\\npursuing the paternal biography and marched\\nthrough the world with his companion; she fol-\\nlowing the regiment and bringing many children to\\npoor Roger Sterne. The Captain was an irascible\\nbut kind and simple little man, Sterne says, and he 15\\ninforms us that his sire was run through the body\\nat Gibraltar, by a brother ofificer, in a duel which\\narose out of a dispute about a goose. Roger never\\nentirely recovered from the effects of this rencontre,\\n[1664 to 1683.] 20\\nt He came of a Suflfolk family one of whom settled in Not-\\ntinghamshire. The famous starling was actually the family\\ncrest.\\nt [He was appointed ensign about 1710. The regiment became\\nColonel Chudleigh s in 1711, and afterwards the 34th Foot- He 25\\ndid not become lieutenant till late in life.]\\n248", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 249\\nbut died presently at Jamaica,* whither he had fol-\\nlowed the drum.\\nLaurence, his second child, was born at Clonmel,\\nin Ireland, in 1713, and travelled for the first ten\\n5 years of his life, on hi-s father s march, from bar-\\nrack to transport, from Ireland to England.f\\nOne relative of his mother s took her and her\\nfamily under shelter for ten months at Mullingar;\\nanother collateral descendant of the Archbishop s\\n10 housed them for a year at his castle near Carrick-\\nfergus. Larry Sterne was put to school at Halifax\\nin England, finally was adopted by his kinsman\\nof Elvington, and parted company with his father,\\nthe Captain, who marched on his path of life till he\\n15 met the fatal goose which closed his career. The\\nmost picturesque and delightful parts of Laurence\\nSterne s writings we owe to his recollections of the\\nmilitary life. Trim s montero cap, and Le Fevre s\\nsword, and dear Uncle Toby s roquelaure are\\n20 doubtless reminiscences of the boy, who had lived\\nwith the followers of William and Marlborough,\\nand had beat time with his little feet to the fifes of\\nRamillies in Dublin barrack-yard, or played with\\nthe torn flags and halberds of Malplaquet on the\\n25 parade-ground at Clonmel.\\nLaurence remained at Halifax school till he was\\neighteen years old. His wit and cleverness appear\\nn to have acquired the respect of his master here;\\n[March 1731.]\\n30 t It was in this parish (of Animo, in Wicklow), during our stay\\nthat I had that wonderful escape in falling through a mill-race\\nwhilst the mill was going, and of being taken up unhurt: the story\\nIS incredible, but known for truth in all that part of Ireland, where\\nI hundreds of the common people flocked to see mitr\u00e2\u0080\u0094Sterm", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "250 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nfor when the usher whipped Laurence for writing\\nhis name on the newly whitewashed schoolroom\\nceiling, the pedagogue in chief rebuked the under-\\nstrapper, and said that the name should never be\\neffaced, for Sterne was a boy of genius, and would\\ncome to preferment.\\nHis cousin, the Squire of Elvington, sent Sterne*\\nto Jesus College, Cambridge, where he remained\\nsome years,* and, taking orders, got, through his\\nuncle s interest, the living of Sutton and a- pre-\\nbendal stall at York.f Through his wife s con-\\nnections he got the living of Stillington. He mar-\\nried her in 1741, having ardently courted the young\\nlady for some years previously. It was not until\\nthe young lady fancied herself dying, that she made ^5\\nSterne acquainted with the extent of her liking for\\nhim. One evening when he was sitting with her,\\nwith an almost broken heart to see her so ill (the\\nreverend Mr. Sterne s heart was a good deal broken\\nin the course of his life), she said My dear 20\\nLaurey, I never can be yours, for I verily believe\\nI have not long to live; but I have left you every\\nshilling of my fortune; a generosity which over-\\npowered Sterne. She recovered: and so they were\\nmarried, and grew heartily tired of each other be- 25\\nfore many years were over. Nescio quid est\\nmateria cum me, Sterne writes to one of his friends\\n[He was admitted sizar on 6th July 1733, became an exhibitioner\\nin 1734, graduated B.A. in 1736, and M.A. 1740.]\\nt [Sterne was presented to Sutton, where he generally lived till 3O\\n1760, in 1738. He became prebendary of York in January 1740-41.\\nin 1760 he moved to Coxwold, on being presented to the perpetual\\ncuracy. He held a stall at York, and the three livings, Sutton,\\nStillington, and Coxwold, till his death.]", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 2$ I\\n(in dog-Latin, and very sad dog-Latin too); sed\\nsum fatigatus et aegrotus de mea uxore plus quam\\nunquam which means, I am sorry to say, I\\ndon t know what is the matter with me; but I am\\n5 more tired and sick of my wife than ever.\\nThis to be sure was five-and-twenty years f after\\nLaurey had been overcome by her generosity, and\\nshe by Laurey s love. Then he wrote to her of the\\ndelights of marriage, saying, We will be as merry\\nloand as innocent as our first parents in Paradise,\\nbefore the arch-fiend entered that indescribable\\nscene. The kindest affections will have room to\\nexpand in our retirement: let the human tempest\\nand hurricane rage at a distance, the desolation is\\n15 beyond the liorizon of peace. My L. has seen a\\npolyanthus bl-ow in December?^ Some friendly\\nwall has sheltered it from the biting wind. No\\nplanetary influence shall reach us but that which\\npresides and cherishes the sweetest flowers. The\\n20 gloomy family of care and distrust shall be ban-\\nished from our dwelling, guarded by thy kind and\\ntutelar deity. We will sing our choral songs of\\ngratitude and rejoice to the end of our pilgrimage.\\nAdieu, my L. Return to one who languishes for\\n25 My wife returns to Toulouse, and proposes to pass the summer\\nat Eagneres. I, on the contrary, go and visit my wife, the church,\\nj in Yorkshire. We all live the longer at least the happier, for having\\nthings our own way; this is my conjugal maxim. I own tis not\\nthe best of maxims, but I maintain tis not the worst. Sterne s\\n30 Letters: 20th January 1764. [His wife was Elizabeth, only daughter\\nof Richard Lumley, formerly rector of Bedale. Both parents died\\nin her infancy.]\\nt [This is probably a mistake. The Latin letter addressed to John\\nHall Stevenson is now known to have been written in 1758. Mrs.\\n35 Sterne had a fit of insanity next year, and was for a time at a\\nprivate asylum in York.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "252 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthy society! As I take up my pen, my poor pulse\\nquickens, my pale face glows, and tears are trick-\\nling down on my paper as I trace the word L.\\nAnd it is about this woman, with whom he finds\\nno fault but that she bores him, that our philan- 5\\nthropist writes, Sum fatigatus et aegrotus Sum\\nmortaliter in amore with somebody else! That fine\\nflower of love, that polyanthus over which Sterne\\nsnivelled so many tears, could not last for a quar-\\nter of a century! lo\\nOr rather it could not be expected that a gentle-\\nman with such a fountain at command should keep\\nit to arroser one homely old lady, .when a score of\\nyounger and prettier people might be refreshed\\nfrom the same gushing source.* It was in Decem- 13\\nIn a collection of Seven Letters by Sterne and his Friends\\n(printed for private circulation in 1844), is a letter of M. Tollot,\\nwho was in France with Sterne and his family in 1764. Here is a\\nparagraph\\nNous arrivames le lendemain a Montpellier, oil nous trouvames 20\\nnotre ami Mr. Sterne, sa fern ne, sa fiUe, Mr. Huet, et quelques\\nautres Anglaises. J eus, je us I avoue, beaucoup de plaisir en\\nrevoyant le bon et agreable Tristram. II avait ete assez long-\\ntemps a Toulouse, ou il se serait amuse sans sa femme, qui le\\npoursuivit partout, et qui voulait etre de tout. Ces dispositions 25\\ndans cette bonne dame lui ont fait passer d assez mauvais momens;\\nil supporte tous ces desagremens avec une patience d ange.\\nAbout four months after this very characteristic letter, Sterne\\nwrote to the same gentleman to whom Tollot had written; and from\\nhis letter we may extract a companion paragraph: 30\\nAll which being premised, I have been for eight\\nweeks smitten with the tenderest passion that ever tender wight\\nunderwent. I wish, dear cousin, thou couldst conceive (perhaps\\nthou canst without my wishing it) how deliciously I cantered away\\nwith it the first month, two up, two down, always upon my handles, 35\\nalong the streets from my hotel to hers, at first once\u00e2\u0080\u0094 then twice,\\nthen three times a day, till at length I was within an ace of setting\\nup my hobby-horse in her stable for good and all. I might as well,\\nconsidering how the enemies of the Lord have blasphemed there-\\nupon. The last three weeks we were every hour upon the doleful 4^\\nditty of parting; and thou may st conceive, dear cousin, how it", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 253\\nber 1767, that the Reverend Laurence Sterne, the\\nfamous Shandean, the charming Yorick, the de-\\nHght of the fashionable world, the delicious divine\\nfor whose sermons the whole polite world was sub-\\n5 scribing, the occupier of Rabelais s easy-chair,\\nonly fresh stuffed and more elegant than when in\\npossession of the cynical old curate of Meudon,t\\naltered my gait and air: for I went and came like any louden d\\ncarl, and did nothing but iouer dcs sentimens with her from sun-\\n10 rising even to the setting of the same; and now she is gone to the\\nsouth of France: and to finish the comedic, I fell ill, and broke a\\nvessel in my lungs, and half bled to death. Voila mon histoire\\nWhether husband or wife had most of the patience d ange\\nmay be uncertain; but there can be no doubt which needed it\\n15 most\\nTristram Shandy is still a greater object of admiration, the\\nman as well as the book: one is invited to dinner, where he dines,\\na fortnight before. As to the volumes yet published, there is much\\ngood fun in them and humour sometimes hit and sometimes missed.\\n20 Have you read his Sermons, with his own comick figure, from a\\npainting by Reynolds, at the head of them They are in the style\\nI think most proper for the pulpit, and show a strong imagination\\nand a sensible heart; but you see him often tottering on the verge\\nof laughter, and ready to throw his periwig in the face of the\\n25 audience. Gray s Letters: June 22nd, 1760.\\nIt having been observed that there was little hospitality in\\nLondon Johnson: Nay, sir, any man who has a name, or who\\nhas the power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in London.\\nThe man, Sterne, I have been told, has had engagements for three\\n30 months. Goldsmith: And a very dull fellow. Johnson: Why,\\nno, sir. Boswell s Life of Johnson.\\nHer [Miss Monckton s] vivacity enchanted the sage, and they\\nused to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular instance\\nhappened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne s\\n35 writings were very pathetic. Johnson bluntly denied it. I am\\nsure, said she, they have affected me. Why, said Johnson,\\nsmiling, and rolling himself about^ that is because, dearest, you re\\na dunce. When she some time afterwards mentioned this to him,\\nhe said with equal truth and politeness, Madam, if I had thought\\n40 so, I certainly should not have said it. Ibid.\\nt A passage or two from Sterne s Sermons may not be without\\ninterest here. Is not the following, levelled against the cruelties of\\nthe Church of Rome, stamped with the autograph of the author of\\nthe Sentimental Journey\\n45 To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "254 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nthe more than rival of the Dean of Saint Pat-\\nrick s, wrote the above-quoted respectable letter to\\nhis friend in London: and it was in April of the\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2prisons of the Inquisition behold religion with mercy and justice\\nchained down under her feet\u00e2\u0080\u0094 there, sitting ghaf-tly upon a black r\\ntribunal, propped up with racks, and instruments of torment.\\nHark what a piteous groan See the melancholy wretch who\\nuttered it, just brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock-\\ntrial, and endure the utmost pain that a studied system of religious\\ncruelty has been able to invent. Behold this helpless victim delivered lo\\nup to his tormentors. His body so wasted with sorrow and long con-\\nfinement, you ll see every nerve and muscle as it suffers. Observe the\\nlast movement of that horrid engine. What convulsions it has\\nthrown him into Consider the nature of the posture in which he\\nnow lies stretched. What exquisite torture he endures by it Tis 15\\nall nature can bear. Good God see how it keeps his weary soul\\nhanging upon his trembling lips, willing to take its leave, but not\\nsuffered to depart. Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell\\ndragg d out of it again to meet the flames and the insults in his\\nlast agonies, which this principle this principle, that there can be 20\\nreligion without morality has prepared for him. Sermon 27th.\\nThe next extract is preached on a text to be found in Judges xix.\\nvv. I, 2, 3, concerning a certain Levite\\nSuch a one the Levite wanted to share his solitude and fill up\\nthat uncomfortable blank in the heart in such a situation: for, 25\\nnotwithstanding all we meet with in books, in many of which, no\\ndoubt, there are a good many handsome things said upon the sweets\\nof retirement, c. yet still it is not good for man to be alone;\\nnor can all which the cold-hearted pedant stuns our ears with upon\\nthe subject, ever give one answer of satisfaction to the mind; in 30\\nthe midst of the loudest vauntings of philosophy, nature will have\\nher yearnings for society and friendship; a good heart wants some\\nobject to be kind to\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and the best parts of our blood, and the purest\\nof our spirits, suffer most under the destitution.\\nLet the torpid monk seek Heaven comfortless and alone. God 35\\nspeed him For my own part, I fear I should never so find the\\nway: let me be wise and religious, but let me be Man; wherever thy\\nProvidence places me, or whatever be the road I take to Thee, give\\nme some companion in my journey, be it only to remark to, How\\nour shadows lengthen as our sun goes down to whom I may 40\\nsay, How fresh is the face of Nature how sweet the flowers of\\nthe field how delicious are these fruits Sermon iStli.\\nThe first of these passages gives us another drawing of the famous\\nCaptive. The second shows that the same reflection was sug-\\ngested to the Reverend Laurence by a text in Judges as by the 45\\nfille-de-chambre.\\nSterne s Sermons were published as those of Mr. Yorick.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 255\\nsame year that he was pouring out his fond heart\\nto Mrs. EHzabeth Draper, wife of Daniel Draper,\\nEsquire, Councillor of Bombay, and, in 1775, chief\\nof the factory of Surat\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a gentleman very much re-\\n5 spected in that quarter of the globe.\\nI got thy letter last night, Eliza, Sterne writes,\\non my return from Lord Bathurst s, where I\\ndined \u00e2\u0080\u0094(the letter has this merit in it, that it con-\\ntains a pleasant reminiscence of better men than\\nj 10 Sterne, and introduces us to a portrait of a kind\\nold gentleman)\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I got thy letter last night, Eliza,\\non my return from Lord Bathurst s; and where I\\nwas heard\u00e2\u0080\u0094 as I talked of thee an hour without\\nintermission\u00e2\u0080\u0094 with so much pleasure and attention,\\n^5 that the good old Lord toasted your health three\\ndifferent times; and now he is in his 85th year,\\nsays he hopes to live long enough to be introduced\\nas a friend to my fair Indian disciple, and to see her\\neclipse all other Nabobesses as much in wealth as\\n20 she^ does already in exterior and, what is far bet-\\nter (for Sterne is nothing without his morality),\\nin interior merit. This nobleman is an old friend\\nof mine. You know he was always the protector\\nof men of wit and genius, and has had those of the\\n25 last century, Addison, Steele, Pope, Swift, Prior,\\nc., always at his table. The manner in which his\\nnotice began of me was as singular as it was polite.\\nHe came up to me one day as I was at the Princess\\nan f \u00e2\u0080\u00a2i^ ^P^ S^^t^ of May Sclater, of a good west-country\\nern she fir f than four^^\\n1766.] England in December", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "2^6 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nof Wales s Court, and said, I want to know you,\\nMr. Sterne, but it is fit you also should know who\\nit is that wishes this pleasure. You have heard\\nof an old Lord Bathurst, of whom your Popes and\\nSwifts have sung and spoken so much? I have 5\\nlived my life with geniuses of that cast; but have\\nsurvived them; and, despairing ever to find their\\nequals, it is some years since I have shut up my\\nbooks and closed my accounts; but you have\\nkindled a desire in me of opening them once more lo\\nbefore I die: which I now do: so go home and\\ndine with me. This nobleman, I say, is a prodigy,\\nfor he has all the wit and promptness of a man of\\nthirty; a disposition to be pleased, and a power to\\nplease others, beyond whatever I knew: added to 15\\nwhich a man of learning, courtesy, and feeling.\\nHe heard me talk of thee, Eliza, with uncom-\\nmon satisfaction for there was only a third per-\\nson, and of sensibility, with us: and a most senti-\\nmental afternoon till nine o clock have we passed! 20\\nBut thou, Eliza, wert the star that conducted and\\nI am glad that you are in love: twill cure you at least of the\\nspleen, which has a liad effect on both man and woman. I myself\\nmust ever have some Dulcinea in my head; it harmonises the soul;\\nand in these cases I first endeavour to make the lady believe so, 25\\nor rather, I begin first to make myself believe that I am in love;\\nbut I carry on my affairs quite in the French way, sentimentally:\\nL amour, say they, n est rien sans sentiment. Now, notwith-\\nstanding they make such a pother about the word, they have no\\nprecise idea annexed to it. And so much for that same subject 30\\ncalled love. Sterne s Letters: May 23, 1765.\\nP.5 My Sentimental Journey will please Mrs. J(ames) and my\\nLydia [his daughter, afterwards Mrs. Medalle]\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I can answer\\nfor those two. It is a subject which works well, and suits the frame\\nof mind I have been in for some time past. I told you my design 35\\nin it was to teach us to love the world and our fellow-creatures better\\nthan we do so it runs most upon those gentler passions and affec-\\ntions which aid so much to it. Letters [1767].", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "S 7^ ERNE AND GOLDSMITH 257\\nenlivened the discourse! And when I talked not\\nof thee, still didst thou fill my mind, and warm\\nevery thought I uttered, for I am not ashamed to\\nacknowledge I greatly miss thee. Best of all good\\n5 girls! the sufferings I have sustained all night in\\nconsequence of thine, Eliza, are beyond the power\\nof words. And so thou hast fixed thy Bra-\\nmin s portrait over thy writing-desk, and wilt con-\\nsult it in all doubts and difficulties? Grateful and\\n10 good girl! Yorick smiles contentedly over all thou\\ndost: his picture does not do justice to his own\\ncomplacency. I am glad your shipmates are\\nfriendly beings (Eliza was at Deal, going back\\nto the Councillor at Bombay, and indeed it was\\n15 high time she should be of\u00c2\u00a5). You could least\\ndispense with what is contrary to your own nature,\\nwhich is soft and gentle, Eliza; it would civilise\\nsavages though pity were it thou shouldst be\\ntainted with the office. Write to me, my child,\\n20 thy delicious letters. Let them speak the easy care-\\nlessness of a heart that opens itself anyhow, every-\\nhow. Such, Eliza, I write to thee! (The artless\\nrogue, of course he did!) And so I should ever\\nlove thee, most artlessly, most affectionately, if\\n25 Providence permitted thy residence in the same sec-\\ntion of the globe: for I am all that honour and\\naffection can make me Thy Bramin.\\nThe Bramin continues addressing Mrs. Draper\\nuntil the departure of the Earl of Chatham India-\\n30 man from Deal, on the 3rd of April 1767. He is\\namiably anxious about the fresh paint for Eliza s", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "258 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ncabin; he is uncommonly solicitous about her com-\\npanions on board:\\nI fear the best of your shipmates are only gen-\\nteel by comparison with the contrasted crew with\\nwhich thou beholdest them. So was you know 5\\nwho from the same fallacy which was put upon\\nyour judgment when but I will not mortify you!\\nYou know who was, of course, Daniel Dra-\\nper, Esquire, of Bombay a gentleman very much\\nrespected in that quarter of the globe, and about 10\\nwhose probable health our worthy Bramin writes\\nwith delightful candour:\\nI honour you, Eliza, for keeping secret some\\nthings which, if explained, had been a panegyric\\non yourself. There is a dignity in venerable afiflic- ^5\\ntion which will not allow it to appeal to the world\\nfor pity or redress. Well have you supported that\\ncharacter, my amiable, my philosophic friend!\\nAnd, indeed, I begin to think you have as many\\nvirtues as my Uncle Toby s widow. Talking of 2c\\nwidows pray, Eliza, if ever you are such, do not\\nthink of giving yourself to some wealthy Nabob,\\nbecause I design to marry you myself. My wife 5\\ncannot live long, and I know not the woman I\\nshould like so well for her substitute as yourself. 2-\\nTis true I am ninety-five in constitution, and you\\nbut twenty- five; but what I want in youth, I will\\nmake up in wit and good-humour. Not Swift so\\nloved his Stella, Scarron his Maintenon, or Waller\\nhis Saccharissa. Tell me, in answer to this, that 30\\nyou approve and honour the proposal.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0306.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 259\\nApprove and honour the proposal! The coward\\nwas writing gay letters to his friends this while,\\nwith sneering allusions to this poor foolish Brainine.\\nHer ship was not out of the Downs and the charm-\\n5 ing Sterne was at the Mount Coffee-house, with\\na sheet of gilt-edged paper before him, offering\\nthat precious treasure his heart to Lady P\\nasking whether it gave her pleasure to see him un-\\nhappy? whether it added to her triumph that her\\n10 eyes and lips had turned a man into a fool? quot-\\ning the Lord s Prayer, with a horrible baseness of\\nblasphemy, as a proof that he had desired not to be\\nled into temptation, and swearing himself the most\\ntender and sincere fool in the world. It was from\\n15 his home at Coxwold that he wrote the Latin Let-\\nter, which, I suppose, he was ashamed to put into\\nEnglish. I find in my copy of the Letters that\\nthere is a note of, I can t call it admiration, at\\nLetter 112, which seems to announce that there\\ni2owas a No. 3 to whom the wretched worn-out old\\nscamp was paying his addresses f and the year\\nafter, having come back to his lodgings in Bond\\nStreet, with his Sentimental Journey to launch\\nupon the town, eager as ever for praise and pleasure\\n^25 as vain, as wicked, as witty, as false as he had ever\\nbeen, death at length seized the feeble wretch, and\\nii.e. Lady Percy, dautg-hter of Lord Bute.]\\nt To Mrs. H\\nj Coxwould: Nov. 15, 1767.\\n30 Now be a good dear woman, my H\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and execute those com-\\nmissions well, and when I see you I will give you a kiss there s\\nfor you But I have something else for you which I am fabricating\\nat a great rate, and that is my Sentimental Journey, which shall", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0307.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "26o ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\non the i8th of March 1768, that bale of cadaver-\\nous goods, as he calls his body, was consigned to\\nPluto.* In his last letter there is one sign of grace\\nmake you cry as much as it has affected me, or I will give up the\\nbusiness of sentimental writing. 5\\nI am yours, c. \u00c2\u00abS:c.,\\nT. Shandy.\\nTo the Earl of\\nCoxwould: Nov. 28, 1767.\\nMy Lord, Tis with the greatest pleasure I take my pen to 10\\nthank your lordship for your letter of inquiry about Yorick: he\\nwas worn out, both his spirits and body, with the Sentimental\\nJourney. Tis true, then, an author must feel himself, or his reader\\nwill not; but I have torn my whole frame into pieces by my feel-\\nings: I believe the brain stands as much in need of recruiting as 1 5\\nthe body. Therefore I shall set out for town the twentieth of next\\nmonth, after having recruited myself a week at York. I might\\nindeed solace myself with my wife (who is come from France)\\nbut, in fact, I have long been a sentimental being, whatever your\\nlordship may think to the contrary. 20\\n[From April to August 1767, Sterne wrote a Journal to Eliza,\\nwhich he called the Bramine s Journal, and described as a\\ndiary of the miserable feelings of a person separated from a lady\\nfor whose society he languished. It has never been printed. It\\nwas bequeathed to the British Museum by Mr. Thomas VVashbourne 25\\nGibbs, of Bath, who, in 1851, showed it to Thackeray with a view to\\nthis lecture. Thackeray returned it without using it, and told the\\nowner that it made him think worse of Sterne than any of the pub-\\nlished writings.]\\nIn February 1768, Laurence Sterne, his frame exhausted by 30\\nlong debilitating illness, expired at his lodgings in Bond Street,\\nLondon. There was something in the manner of his death singularly\\nresembling the particulars detailed by Mrs. Quickly as attending that\\nof Falstaff, the compeer of Yorick, for infinite jest, however unlike\\nin other particulars. As he lay on his bed totally exhausted, he 35\\ncomplained that his feet were cold, and requested the female at-\\ntendant to chafe them. She did so, and it seemed to relieve him.\\nHe complained that the cold came up higher; and whilst the\\nassistant was in the act of chafing his ankles and legs, he expired\\nwithout a groan. It was also remarkable that his death took place 40\\nmuch in the manner which he himself had wished; and that\\nthe last offices were rendered to him, not in his own house, or by\\nthe hand of kindred affection, but in an inn, and by strangers.\\nWe are well acquainted with Sterne s features and personal\\nappearance, to which he himself frequently alludes. He was tal! 45", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0308.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 26 1\\nthe real afifection with which he entreats a friend\\nto be a guardian to his daughter Lydia. All his\\nletters to her are artless, kind, affectionate, and not\\nsentimental; as a hundred pages in his writings\\n5 are beautiful, and full, not of surprising humour\\nmerely, but of genuine love and kindness. A\\nperilous trade, indeed, is that of a man who has\\nto bring his tears and laughter, his recollections,\\nhis personal griefs and joys, his private thoughts\\n10 and feelings to market, to write them on paper,\\nand sell them for money. Does he exaggerate his\\ngrief, so as to get his reader s pity for a false sen-\\nsibility? feign indignation, so as to establish a\\ncharacter for virtue? elaborate repartees, so that\\n15 he may pass for a wit? steal from other authors,\\nand put down the theft to the credit side of his\\nown reputation for ingenuity and learning? feign\\noriginality? affect benevolence or misanthropy?\\nappeal to the gallery gods with claptraps and vulgar\\n20 baits to catch applause?\\nHow much of the paint and emphasis is neces-\\nsary for the fair business of the stage, and how much\\nand thin, with a hectic and consumptive appearance. Sir Walter\\nScott.\\n25 It is known that Sterne died in hired lodgings, and I have been\\ntold that his attendants robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons\\nwhile he was expiring. Dr. Fcrriar.\\nHe died at No. 41 (now a cheesemonger s), on the west side\\nof Old Bond Street. Handbook of London. [At Sterne s death it is\\n30 said to have been a sill:-bag shop it is now Agnew s Picture\\nGallery. At his death, John Crawford of Erroll, who was entertain-\\ning some of Sterne s friends, sent a footman to James Macdonald\\nto inquire after his health. Macdonald, who published memoirs,\\nwas sent to Sterne s bedside, and heard the dying man say, Now\\n.35 it has come. A few minutes later he was dead. He was buried in\\nSt. George s burial-ground in the Bayswater Road, which has re-\\ncently been put in order.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0309.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "262 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nof the rant and rouge is put on for the vanity of the\\nactors? His audience trusts him: can he trust him-\\nself? How much was deliberate calculation and\\nimposture how much was false sensibility and\\nhow much true feeling? Where did the lie begin, 5\\nand did he know where? and where did the truth\\nend in the art and scheme of this man of genius,\\nthis actor, this quack? Some time since, I was in\\nthe company of a French actor who began after\\ndinner, and at his own request, to sing French lo\\nsongs of the sort called das chansons grivoises, and\\nwhich he performed admirably, and to the dissatis-\\nfaction of most persons present. Having finished\\nthese, he commenced a sentimental ballad it was\\nso charmingly sung that it touched aU persons i5\\npresent, and especially the singer himself, whose\\nvoice trembled, whose eyes filled with emotion,\\nand who was snivelling and weeping quite genuine\\ntears by the time his own ditty was over. I sup-\\npose Sterne had this artistical sensibility; he used 20\\nto blubber perpetually in his study, and finding his\\ntears infectious, and that they brought him a great\\npopularity, he exercised the lucrative gift of weep-\\ning: he utilised it, and cried on every occasion. I\\nown that I don t value or respect much the cheap 25\\ndribble of those fountains. He fatigues me with\\nhis perpetual disquiet and his uneasy appeals to\\nmy risible or sentimental faculties. He is always\\nlooking in my face, watching his effect, uncertain\\nwhether I think him an impostor or not; posture- 30\\nmaking, coaxing, and imploring me. See what\\nsensibility I have own now that I m very clever", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0310.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 263\\ndo cry now, you can t resist this. The humour of\\nSwift and Rabelais, whom he pretended to suc-\\nceed, poured from them as naturally as song does\\nfrom a bird; they lose no manly dignity with it,\\n5 but laugh their hearty great laugh out of their\\nbroad chests as nature bade them. But this man\\nwho can make you laugh, who can make you\\ncry too never lets his reader alone, or will permit\\nhis audience repose: when you are quiet, he fancies\\n10 he must rouse you, and turns over head and heels,\\nor sidles up and whispers a n^tSty story. The man\\nis a great jester, not a great humourist. He goes\\nto work systematically and of cold blood; paints\\nhis face, puts on his rufif and motley clothes, and\\n15 lays down his carpet and tumbles on it.\\nFor instance, take the Sentimental Journey,\\nand see in the writer the deliberate propensity to\\nmake points and seek applause. He gets to Des-\\nsein s Hotel, he wants a carriage to travel to Paris,\\n20 he goes to the inn-yard, and begins what the actors\\ncall business at once. There is that little car-\\nriage (the dcsobligeanfc).\\nFour months had elapsed since it had finished\\nits career of Europe in the corner of Monsieur Des-\\n25 sein s coach-yard, and having sallied out thence\\nbut a vamped-up business at first, though it had\\nbeen twice taken to pieces on Mont Cenis, it had\\nnot profited much by its adventures, but by none\\nso little, as the standing so many months unpitied\\n;oin the corner of Monsieur Dessein s coach-yard.\\nMuch, indeed, was not to be said for it but some-\\nthing might and when a few words will rescue", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0311.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "264 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmisery out of her distress, I hate the man who can\\nbe a churl of them.\\nLc tour est fait! Paillasse has tumbled! Paillasse\\nhas jumped over the dcsohligcantc, cleared it, hood\\nand all, and bows to the noble company. Does 5\\nanybody believe that this is a real Sentiment? that\\nthi s luxury of generosity, this gallant rescue of\\nMisery\u00e2\u0080\u0094 out of an old cab, is genuine feeling? It\\nis as genuine as the virtuous oratory of Joseph Sur-\\nface when he begins, The man who, c. c., 10\\nand wishes to pass of\u00c2\u00a5 for a saint with his credulous,\\ngood-humoured dupes.\\nOur friend purchases the carriage: after turn-\\ning that notorious old monk to good account, and\\nefifecting (like a soft and good-natured Paillasse 5\\nas he was, and very free with his money when he\\nhad it) an exchange of snuffboxes with the old\\nFranciscan, jogs out of Calais; sets down in im-\\nmense figures on the credit side of his account the\\nsous he gives away to the Montreuil beggars; and, 20\\nat Nampont, gets out of the chaise and whimpers\\nover that famous dead donkey, for which any sen-\\ntimentalist may cry who will. It is agreeably and\\nskilfully done\u00e2\u0080\u0094 that dead jackass: like Monsieur\\nde Soubise s cook on the campaign, Sterne dresses 25\\nit, and serves it up quite tender and with a very\\npiquant sauce. But tears and fine feelings, and a\\nwhite pocket-handkerchief, and funeral sermon,\\nand horses and feathers, and a procession o! mutes,\\nand a hearse with a dead donkey inside! Psha, 30\\nmountebank! I ll not give thee one penny more\\nfor that trick, donkey and all", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0312.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 265\\nThis donkey had appeared once before with sig-\\nnal effect. In 1765, three years before the pub-\\nHcation of the Sentimental Journey, the seventh\\nand eighth volumes of Tristram Shandy were\\n5 given to the world, and the famous Lyons\\ndonkey makes his entry in those volumes (pp. 315,\\n316):-\\nTwas by a poor ass, with a couple of large\\npanniers at his back, who had just turned in to\\n10 collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and cabbage-\\nleaves, and stood dubious, with his two forefeet at\\nthe inside of the threshold, and with his two hinder\\nfeet towards the street, as not knowing very well\\nwhether he was to go in or no.\\n15 Now tis an animal (be in what hurry I may)\\nI cannot bear to strike: there is a patient endur-\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2ance of suft ering wrote so unaffectedly in his looks\\nand carriage which pleads so mightily for him, that\\nit always disarms me, and to that degree that I do\\n20 not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary,\\nmeet him where I will, whether in town or country,\\nin cart or under panniers, whether in liberty or\\nbondage, I have ever something civil to say to him\\non my part; and, as one word begets another (if\\n25 he has as little to do as I), I generally fall into con-\\nversation with him; and surely never is my imagi-\\nnation so busy as in framing responses from the\\netchings of his countenance; :.nd where those carry\\nme not deep enough, in fiying from my own heart\\n30 into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to\\nthink as well as a man, upon the occasion. In\\ntruth, it is the only creature of all the classes of", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0313.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "266 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nbeings below me with whom I can do this.\\nWith an ass I can commune for ever.\\nCome, Honesty, said I, seeing it was imprac-\\nticable to pass betwixt him and the gate, art thou\\nfor coming in or going out? 5\\nThe ass twisted his head round to look up the\\nstreet.\\nWell! replied I, we ll wait a minute for thy\\ndriver.\\nHe turned his head thoughtfully^ about, and lo\\nlooked wistfully the opposite way.\\nI understand thee perfectly, answered I if\\nthou takest a wrong step in this afifair, he will\\ncudgel thee to death. Well a minute is but a min-\\nute; and if it saves a fellow-creature a drubbing, 15\\nit shall not be set down as ill spent.\\nHe was eating the stem of an artichoke as this*\\ndiscourse went on, and, in the little peevish con-\\ntentions between hunger and unsavouriness, had\\ndropped it out of his mouth half-a-dozen times, and 20\\nhad picked it up again. God help thee, Jack!\\nsaid I, thou hast a bitter breakfast on t and many\\na bitter day s labour, and many a bitter blow, I\\nfear, for its wages! Tis all, all bitterness to thee\\nwhatever life is to others! And now thy mouth, 25\\nif one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say,\\nas soot (for he had cast aside the stem), and thou\\nhast not a friend perhaps in all this world that will\\ngive thee a macaroon. In saying this, I pulled out\\na paper of em, which I had just bought, and gave 30\\nhim one; and at this moment that I am telling it,\\nmy heart smites me that there was more of pleas-\\nJ", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0314.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 267\\nantry in the conceit of seeing how an ass would eat\\na macaroon than of benevolence in giving him one,\\nwhich presided in the act.\\nWhen the ass had eaten his macaroon, I\\n5 pressed him to come in. The poor beast was heavy\\nloaded his legs seemed to tremble under him\\nhe hung rather backwards, and, as I pulled at his\\nhalter, it broke in my hand. He looked up pensive\\nin my face: Don t thrash me with it; but if you\\n10 will you may. If I do, said I, I ll be d\\nA critic who refuses to see in this charming de-\\nscription wit, humour, pathos, a kind nature speak-\\ning, and a real sentiment, must be hard indeed to\\nmove and to please. A page or two farther we\\n15 come to a description not less beautiful a land-\\nscape and figures, deliciously painted by one who\\nhad the keenest enjoyment and the most tremulous\\nsensibility:\\nTwas in the road between Nismes and Lunel,\\n20 where is the best Muscatto wine in all France the\\nsun was set, they had done their work the nymphs\\nhad tied up their hair afresh, and the swains were\\npreparing for a carousal. My mule made a dead\\npoint. Tis the pipe and tambourine, said I I\\n25 never will argue a point with one of your family as\\nlong as I live; so leaping oiY his back, and\\nkicking ofif one boot into this ditch and t other\\ninto that, I ll take a dance, said I, so stay you\\nhere.\\n30 A sunburnt daughter of labour rose up from\\nthe group to meet me as I advanced towards them;\\nher hair, which was of a dark chestnut approach-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0315.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "26S JVC LIS// HUMOURISTS\\ning to a black, was tied up in a knot, all but a\\nsingle tress.\\nWe want a cavalier, said she, holding out\\nboth her hands, as if to offer them. And a\\ncavalier you shall have, said I, taking hold of both 5\\nof them. We could not have done without you,\\nsaid she, letting go one hand, with self-taught po-\\nliteness, and leading me up with the other.\\nA lame youth, whom Apollo had recompensed\\nwith a pipe, and to which he had added a tam- lo\\nbourine of his own accord, ran sweetly over the pre-\\nlude, as he sat upon the bank. Tie me up this\\ntress instantly, said Nannette, putting a piece of\\nstring into my hand. It taught me to forget I was\\na stranger. The whole knot fell down we had i5\\nbeen seven years acquainted. The youth struck\\nthe note upon the tambourine, his pipe followed,\\nand off we bounded.\\nThe sister of the youth who had stolen her\\nvoice from heaven sang alternately with her 20\\nbrother. Twas a Gascoigne roundelay: Viva la\\njoia, adon la tristcssa The nymphs joined in\\nunison, and their swains an octave below them.\\nViva la joia was in Nannette s lips, viva la joia\\nin her eyes. A transient spark of amity shot across 25\\nthe space betwixt us. She looked amiable. Why\\ncould I not live and end my days thus? Just\\nDisposer of our joys and sorrows! cried I, why\\ncould not a man sit down in the lap of content here,\\nand dance, and sing, and say his prayers, and go 30\\nto heaven with this nut-brown maid? Capri-\\nciously did she bend her head on one side, and", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0316.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 269\\ndance up insidious. Then tis time to dance off,\\nquoth I.\\nAnd with this pretty dance aJid chorus, the vol-\\nume artfully concludes. Even here one can t give\\n5 the whole description. There is not a page in\\nSterne s writing but has something that were bet-\\nter away, a latent corruption a hint, as of an im-\\npure presence.*\\nSome of that dreary double entendre may be at-\\n10 tributed to freer times and manners than ours, but\\nWith regard to Sterne, and the charge of licentiousness which\\npresses so seriously upon his character as a writer, I would remark\\nthat there is a sort of knowingness, the wit of which depends, ist,\\non the modesty it gives pain to; or, 2ndly, on the innocence and\\n15 innocent ignorance over which it triumphs; or, srdly, on a certain\\noscillation in the individual s own mind between the remaining\\ngood and the encroaching evil of his nature\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a sort of dallying with\\nthe devil\u00e2\u0080\u0094 a fluxionary art of combining courage and cowardice, as\\nwhen a man snuffs a candle with his fingers for the first time, or\\n20 better still, perhaps, like that trembling daring with which a child\\ntouches a hot tea-urn, because it has been forbidden; so that the\\nmind has its own white and black angel; the same or similar\\namusement as may be supposed to take place between an old\\ndebauchee and a prude the feeling resentment, on the one hand,\\n25 from a prudential anxiety to preserve appearances and have a char-\\nacter; and, on the other, an inward sympathy with the enemy. We\\nhave only to suppose society innocent, and then nine-tenths of this\\nsort of wit would be like a stone that falls in snow, making no sound,\\nbecause exciting no resistance; the remainder rests on its being an\\n30 offence against the good manners of human nature itself.\\nThis source, unworthy as it is, may doubtless be combined with\\nwit, drollery, fancy, and even humour; and we have only to regret\\nthe misalliance; but that the latter are quite distinct from the\\nformer, may be made evident by abstracting in our imagination the\\n35 morality of the characters of Mr. Shandy, my Uncle Toby, and Trim,\\nwhich are all antagonists to this spurious sort of wit, from the rest\\nof Tristram Shandy, and by supposing, instead of them, the\\npresence of two or three callous debauchees. The result will be\\npure disgust. Sterne cannot be too severely censured for thus\\n40 using the best dispositions of our nature as the panders and con-\\ndiments for the basest. Coleridge. Literary Remains, vol. i. pp.\\n141, 142.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0317.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "270 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nnot all. The foul satyr s eyes leer out of the leaves\\nconstantly the last words the famous author wrote\\nwere bad and wicked the last lines the poor\\nstricken wretch penned were for pity and pardon.\\nI think of these past writers and of one who lives\\namongst us now, and am grateful for the innocent\\nlaughter and the sweet and unsullied page which\\nthe author of David Copperfield gives to my\\nchildren.\\nJete sur cette boule, 10\\nLaid, chetif et souffrant;\\nEtouffe dans la foule,\\nFaute d etre assez grand:\\nUne plainte touchante\\nDe ma bouche sortit. 15\\nLe bon Dieu me dit: Chante,\\nChante, pauvre petit\\nChanter ou je m abuse,\\nEst ma tache ici-bas.\\nTous ceux qu ainsi j amuse 20\\nNe m aimeront-ils pas\\nIn those charming lines of Beianger, one may\\nfancy described the career, the sufferings, the\\ngenius, the gentle nature of Goldsmith, and the\\nesteem in which we hold him. Who, of the mil- 23\\nlions whom he has amused, doesn t love him? To\\nbe the most beloved of English writers, what a\\ntitle that is for a man A wild youth, wayward,\\nHe was a friend to virtue, and in his most playful pages never\\nforgets what is due to it. A gentleness, delicacy, and purity of feel- 30\\ning distinguishes whatever he wrote, and bears a correspondence\\nto the generosity of a disposition which knew no bounds but his\\nlast guinea.\\nThe admirable ease and grace of the narrative, as well as the", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0318.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 2; I\\nbut full of tenderness and affection, quits the\\ncountry village, where his boyhood has been\\npassed in happy musing, in idle shelter, in fond\\nlonging to see the great world out of doors, and\\n5 achieve name and fortune: and after years of dire\\nstruggle, and neglect and poverty, his heart turn-\\ning back as fondly to his native place as it had\\nlonged eagerly for change when sheltered there, he\\nwrites a book and a poem, full of the recollections\\nloand feelings of home: he paints the friends and\\nscenes of his youth, and peoples Auburn and Wake-\\nfield with remembrances of Lissoy. Wander he\\nmust, but he carries away a home-relic with him,\\nand dies with it on his breast. His nature is truant i\\n15 m repose it longs for change: as on the journey\\nit looks back for friends and quiet. He passes to-\\nday in building an air-castle for to-morrow, or in\\nwriting yesterday s elegy; and he would fly away\\nthis hour, but that a cage and necessity keep him.\\n2o What is the charm of his verse, of his style, and\\nhumour? His sweet regrets, his delicate compas-\\nsion, his soft smile, his tremulous sympathy, the\\nweakness which he owns? Your love for him is\\nhalf pity. You come hot and tired from the day s\\nr.5 battle, and this sweet minstrel sings to you. Who\\ncould harm the kind vagrant harper? Whom did\\nS!? Vi.l7 ^w r^i principal characters are designed, make\\nthe Vicar of Wakefield one of the most delicious morsels of\\nlo ed P\u00c2\u00b0 t^^ h ^an n^ d was ever em-\\nWe read the Vicar of Wakefield in youth and in age-\\nwe return to it again and again, and bless the memory of an author\\nwho contrives so well to reconcile us to human nature.\u00c2\u00bb-5tV Wahl", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0319.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "^72 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nhe ever hurt? He carries no weapon, save the harp\\non which he plays to you; and with which he de-\\nHghts great and humble, young and old, the cap-\\ntains in the tents, or the soldiers round the fire, or\\nthe women and children in the villages, at whose 5\\nporches he stops and sings his simple songs of love\\nand beauty. With that sweet story of the Vicar\\nof Wakefield he has found entry into every\\nNow Herder came, says Goethe in his Autobiography, relat-\\ning his first acquaintance with Goldsmith s masterpiece, and to- lo\\ngether with his great knowledge brought many other aids, and the\\nlater publications besides. Among these he announced to us the\\nVicar of Wakefield as an excellent work, with the German trans-\\nlation of which he would make us acquainted by reading it aloud\\nto us himself. 15\\nA Protestant country clergyman is perhaps the most beautiful\\nsubject for a modern idyl; he appears like Melchizedeck, as priest\\nand king in one person. To the most innocent situation which can\\nbe imagined on earth, to that of a husbandman, he is, for the most\\npart, united by similarity of occupation as well as by equality in 20\\nfamily relationships; he is a father, a master of a family, an agri-\\nculturist, and thus perfectly a member of the community. On this\\npure, beautiful earthly foundation rests his higher calling; to him\\nis it given to guide men through life, to take care of their spiritual\\neducation, to bless them at all the leading epochs of their existence, 25\\nto instruct, to strengthen, to console them, and, if consolation is not\\nsufficient for the present, to call up and guarantee the hope of a hap-\\npier future. Imagine such a man with pure human sentiments,\\nstrong enough not to deviate from them under any circumstances,\\nand by this already elevated above the multitude of whom one can- .30\\nnot expect purity and firmness; give him the learning necessary\\nfor his office, as well as a cheerful, equable activity, which is even\\npassionate, as it neglects no moment to do good and you will have\\nhim well endowed. But at the same time add the necessary limi-\\ntation, so that he must not only pause in a small circle, but may also, 35\\nperchance, pass over to a smaller; grant him good-nature, placa-\\nbility, resolution, and everything else praiseworthy that springs from\\na decided character, and over all this a cheerful spirit of compliance,\\nand a smiling toleration of his own failings and those of others,\\nthen you will have put together pretty well the image of our excel- 40\\nlent Wakefield.\\nThe delineation of this character on his course of life through\\n-joys and sorrows, the ever-increasing interest of the story, by the\\ncombination of the entirely natural with the strange and the sin-\\ngular, make this novel one of the best which have ever been written; 45", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0320.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 273\\ncastle and every hamlet in Europe. Not one of us,\\nhowever busy or hard, but once or twice in our\\nlives has passed an evening with him, and under-\\ngone the charm of his delightful music.\\n5 besides this, it has the great advantage that it is quite moral, nay,\\nin a pure sense, Christian represents the reward erf a good-will and\\nperseverance in the right, strengthens an unconditional confidence\\nin God, and attests the final triumph of good over evil; and all\\nthis without a trace of cant or pedantry. The author was preserved\\n10 from both of these by an elevation of mind that shows itself\\nthroughout in the form of irony, by. which this little work must ap-\\npear to us as wise as it is amiable. The author, Dr. Goldsmith,\\nhas, without question, a great insight into the moral world, into\\nits strength and its infirmities; but at the same time he can thank-\\n15 fully acknowledge that he is an Englishman, and reckon hirhly\\nthe advantages which his country and his nation afford him.\\nThe family, with the delineation of which he occupies himself, stands\\nupon one of the last steps of citizen comfort, and yet comes in\\ncontact with the highest; its narrow circle, which becomes still\\n20 more contracted, touches upon the great world through the natural\\nand civil course of things; this little skiff floats on the agitated\\nwaves of English life, and in weal or woe it has to expect injury\\nor help from the vast fleet which sails around it.\\nI may suppose that my readers know this work, and have it in\\n25 memory; whoever hears it named for the first time here, as well\\nas he who is induced to read it again, will thank me. Goethe.\\nTruth and Poetry; from my own Life. (English Translation, vol. i.\\nPP- 378, 379-)\\nHe seems from infancy to have been compounded of two natures,\\n.30 one bright, the other blundering; or to have had fairy gifts laid\\nin his cradle by the good people who haunted his birthplace, the\\nold goblin mansion on the banks of the Inny. He carries with\\nhim the wayward elfin spirit, if we may so term it, throughout his\\ncareer. His fairy gifts are of no avail at school, academy, or college:\\n35 they unfit him for close study and practical science, and render\\nhim heedless of everything that does not address itself to his poeti-\\ncal imagination and genial and festive feelings; they dispose him to\\nbreak away from restraint, to stroll about hedges, green lanes, and\\nhaunted streams, to revel with jovial companions, or to rove the\\n40 country like a gipsy in quest of odd adventures. Though his\\ncircumstances often compelled him to associate with the poor, they\\nnever could betray him into companionship with the depraved. His\\nrelish for humour, and for the study of character, as we have before\\nobserved, brought him often into convivial company of a vulgar\\n\\\\4S kind; but he discriminated between their vulgarity and their amus-\\nj ing qualities, or rather wrought from the whole store familiar features", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0321.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "274 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nGoldsmith s father was no doubt the good Doc-\\ntor Primrose, whom we all of us know.* Swift\\nwas yet alive, when the little Oliver was born at j\\nPallas, or Pallasmore, in the county of Longford, i\\nin Ireland. In 1730, two years after the child s 5\\nbirth, Charles Goldsmith removed his family to\\nLissoy, in the county Westmeath, that sweet Au- I\\nburn which every person who hears me has seen\\nin fancy. Here the kind parson brought up his\\neight children; and loving all the world, as his 10\\nson says, fancied all the world loved him. He had\\na crowd of poor dependants besides those hungry\\nchildren. He kept an open table; round which sat\\nflatterers and poor friends, who laughed at the\\nhonest rector s many jokes, and ate the produce of 15\\nof life which form the staple of his most popular writings.\\nWashington Irving.\\nThe family of Goldsmith, Goldsmyth, or, as it was occasionally\\nwritten, Gouldsmith, is of considerable standing in Ireland, and\\nseems always to have held a respectable station in society. Its\\norigin is English, supposed to be derived from that which was long\\nsettled at Crayford in Kent. Prior s Life of Goldsmith.\\nOliver s father, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather were\\nclergymen; and two of them married clergymen s daughters.\\nAt church, with meek and unaffected grace, 25\\nHis looks adorn d the venerable place;\\nTruth from his lips prevail d with double sway,\\nAnd fools who came to scoff remain d to pray.\\nThe service past, around the pious man.\\nWith steady zeal each honest rustic ran; 30\\nE en children follow d with endearing wile,\\nAnd pluck d his gown to share the good man s smile.\\nHis ready smile a parent s warmth exprest,\\nTheir welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest;\\nTo them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 35 I\\nBut all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.\\nAs some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,\\nSwells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,\\nThough round its breast the rolling clouds are spread.\\nEternal sunshine settles on its head. TA^ Deserted Village. 40", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0322.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "SrEI^NE AND GOLDSMITH 275\\nhis seventy acres of farm. Those vvho have seen an\\nIrish house in the present day can fancy that one\\nof Lissoy. The old beggar still has his allotted\\ncorner by the kitchen turf; the maimed old soldier\\n5 still gets his potatoes and buttermilk; the poor\\ncottier still asks his honour s charity, and prays\\nGod bless his reverence for the sixpence; the\\nragged pensioner still takes his place by right and\\nsufferance. There s still a crowd in the kitchen,\\n10 and a crowd round the parlour table, profusion^\\nconfusion, kindness, poverty. If an Irishman comes\\nto London to make his fortune, he has a half-dozen\\nof Irish dependants who take a percentage of his\\nearnings. The good Charles Goldsmith left but\\n15 httle provision for his hungry race when death sum-\\nmoned him; and one of his daughters being en-\\ngaged to a Squire of rather superior dignity,\\nCharles Goldsmith impoverished the rest of his\\nfamily to provide the girl with a dowry.\\n^\u00c2\u00b0r^*,!, }^^Y y^^* 768), he lost his brother, the Rev. Henry\\nthe Chli rch P^ ^fe^ ^ent in\\n.To the curacy of Kilkenny West, the moderate stipend of\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0a i wf ^y P\u00c2\u00b0\\\\ ds a year, is sufficiently celebrated by his brother s\\nwW; I I t*^ Goldsmith added a school,\\nwhich after having been held at more than one place in the\\nvicimty, was finally fixed at Lissoy. Here his talents and industry\\ngave It celebrity, and under his care the sons of many of the neigh-\\nSO.rnn^^.rT r^^ education. A fever breaking out\\n30 among the boys about 1765, they dispersed for a time, but re-\\nTnrwv, 5 T continued his scholastic labours there\\nuntil the time of his death, which happened, like that of his brother,\\nhea7t Ih }\\\\r-J. \u00c2\u00b0f age. He was a man of an excellen\\nheart and an amiable disposition. -Prior s Goldsmith.\\nV Where er I roam, whatever realms to see,\\n1 JNiy heart, untravell d, fondly turns to thee:\\nStill to my brother turns with ceaseless pain\\nAnd drags at each remove a lengthening chain.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094The Traveller.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0323.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "276 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nThe smallpox, which scourged all Europe at that\\ntime, and ravaged the roses off the cheeks of half\\nthe world, fell foul of poor little Oliver s face, when\\nthe child was eight years old, and left him scarred\\nand disfigured for his life. An old woman in his 5\\nfather s village taught him his letters, and pro-\\nnounced him a dunce: Paddy Byrne, the hedge-\\nschoolmaster, took him in hand: and from Paddy\\nByrne he was transmitted to a clergyman at Elphin.\\nWhen a child was sent to school in those days, the 10\\nclassic phrase was that he was pleaced under Mr.\\nSo-and-so s ferule. Poor little ancestors! It is\\nhard to think how ruthlessly you were birched; and\\nhow much of needless whipping and tears our small\\nforefathers had to undergo! A relative kind uncle J 5\\nContarine took the main charge of little Noll;\\nwho went through his schooldays righteously do-\\ning as little work as he could: robbing orchards,\\nplaying at ball, and making his pocket-money fly\\nabout whenever fortune sent it to him. Everybody 20\\nknows the story of that famous Mistake of a\\nNight, when the young schoolboy, provided with\\na guinea and a nag, rode up to the best house\\nin Ardagh, called for the landlord s company over\\na bottle of wine at supper, and for a hot cake for 25\\nbreakfast in the morning; and found, when he\\nasked for the bill, that the best house was Squire\\nFeatherstone s, and not the inn for which he mis-\\ntook it. Who does not know every story about\\nGoldsmith? That is a deliehtful and fantastic\\n30\\npicture of the child dancing and capering about\\nin the kitchen at home, when the old fiddler gibed", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0324.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 2^/\\nat him for his ughness, and called him ^sop; and\\nlittle Noll made his repartee of Heralds proclaim\\naloud this saying See ^sop dancing and his\\nmonkey playing. One can fancy a queer pitiful\\n5 look of humour and appeal upon that little scarred\\nface the funny little dancing figure, the funny lit-\\ntle brogue. In his life, and his writings, which are\\nthe honest expression of it, he is constantly be-\\nwailing that homely face and person; anon he sur-\\nloveys them in the glass ruefully; and presently\\nassumes the most comical dignity. He likes to\\ndeck out his little person in splendour and fine\\ncolours. He presented himself to be examined for\\nordination in a pair of scarlet breeches, and said\\n15 honestly that he did not like to go into the Church,\\nbecause he was fond of coloured clothes. When he\\ntried to practise as a doctor, he got by hook or\\nby crook a black velvet suit, and looked as big and\\ngrand as he could, and kept his hat over a patch\\n20 on the old coat: in better days he bloomed out in\\nplum-colour, in blue silk, and in new velvet. For\\nsome of those splendours the heirs and assignees\\nof Mr. Filby, the tailor, have never been paid to\\nthis day: perhaps the kind tailor and his creditor\\n25 have met and settled their little account in Hades.*\\nThey showed until lately a window at Trinity\\nCollege,t Dublin, on which the name of O. Gold-\\nWhen Goldsmith died, half the unpaid bill he owed to Mr.\\nWilliam Filby (amounting in all to \u00c2\u00a37^) was for clothes supplied to\\n30 this nephew Hodson. Forster s Goldsmith, p. 520.\\nAs this nephew Hodson ended his days (see the same page)\\n3 prosperous Irish gentleman, it is not unreasonable to wish\\nthat he had cleared off Mr. Filby s bill.\\nt [The pane is still preserved in the library of Trinity College.]", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0325.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "2/8 {ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nsmith was engraved with a diamond. Whose dia-\\nmond was it? Not the young sizar s, who made\\nbut a poor figure in that place of learning. He was\\nidle, penniless, and fond of pleasure:* he learned\\nhis way early to the pawnbroker s shop. He wrote 5\\nballads, they say, for the street-singers, who paid\\nhim a crown for a poem: and his pleasure was to\\nsteal out at night and hear his verses sung. He\\nwas chastised by his tutor for giving a dance in his\\nrooms, and took the box on the ear so much to lo\\nheart, that he packed up his all, pawned his books\\nand little property, and disappeared from college\\nand family. He said he intended to go to America,\\nbut when liis money was spent, the young prodigal\\ncame home ruefully, and the good folks there 15\\nkilled their calf\u00e2\u0080\u0094 it was but a lean one\u00e2\u0080\u0094 and wel-\\ncomed him back.\\nAfter college he hung about his mother s house,\\nand lived for some years the life of a buckeen\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\npassed a month with this relation and that, a year 20\\nwith one patron, a great deal of time at the public-\\nhouse.t Tired of this life, it was resolved that he\\nshould go to London, and study at the Temple;\\nbut he got no farther on the road to London and\\nPoor fellow He hardly knew an ass from a mule, nor a 25\\nturkey from a goose, but when he saw it on the table. -Cumber-\\nland s Memoirs.\\nt These youthful follies, like the fermentation of liquors, often\\ndisturb the mind only in order to its future refinement: a life spent\\nin phlegmatic apathy resembles those liquors which never ferment 30\\nand are consequently always muddy. -GoLDSMiTH. Mcmoit of\\nh7 [Johnson] said Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late.\\nThere appeared nothing remarkable about him when he was\\nyoung. ^Boswell.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0326.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 2 J(^\\nthe woolsack than DiibHn, where he gambled away\\nthe fifty pounds given to him for his outfit, and\\nwhence he returned to the indefatigable forgive-\\nness of home. Then he determined to be a doctor,\\n5 and uncle Contarine helped him to a couple of years\\nat Edinburgh, Then from Edinburgh he felt that\\nhe ought to hear the famous professors of Leyden\\nand Paris, and wrote most amusing pompous let-\\nters to his uncle about the great Farheim, Du\\nlo Petit, and Duhamel du Monceau, whose lectures\\nhe proposed to follow. If uncle Contarine believed\\nthose letters if Oliver s mother believed that story\\nwhich the youth related of his going to Cork, wath\\nthe purpose of embarking for America, of his\\n15 having paid his passage-money, and having sent\\nhis kit on board; of the anonymous captain sail-\\ning away with Oliver s valuable luggage in a name-\\nless ship, never to return; if uncle Contarine and\\nthe mother at Ballymahon believed his stories, they\\n20 must have been a very simple pair; as it was a very\\nsimple rogue indeed who cheated them. When the\\nlad. after failing in his clerical examination, after\\nfailing in his plan for studying the law, took leave\\nof these projects and of his parents, and set out for\\n25 Edinburgh, he saw mother, and uncle, and lazy\\nBallymahon, and green native turf, and sparkling\\nriver for the last time. He was never to look on\\nold Ireland more, and only in fancy revisit her.\\nBut me not destined such delights to share,\\nMy prime of life in wandering spent and care,\\nImpelled, with steps unceasing to pursue\\nSome fleeting good that mocks me with the view;", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0327.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "28o ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nThat like the circle bounding earth and skies\\nAllures from far, yet, as I follow, flies:\\nMy fortune leads to traverse realms alone,\\nAnd find no spot of all the world my own.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2I spoke in a former lecture of that high courage 5\\nwhich enabled Fielding, in spite of disease, remorse,\\nand poverty, always to retain a cheerful spirit and\\nto keep his manly benevolence and love of truth\\nintact, as if these treasures had been confided to\\nhim for the public benefit, and he was accountable lo\\nto posterity for their honourable employ; and a\\nconstancy equally happy and admirable I think was\\nshown by Goldsmith, whose sweet and friendly na-\\nture bloomed kindly always in the midst of a life s\\nstorm, and rain, and bitter weather.* The poor 15\\nfellow was never so friendless but he could befriend\\nsome one; never so pinched and wretched but he\\ncould give of his crust, and speak his word of com-\\npassion. If he had but his flute left, he could give\\nthat, and make the children happy in the dreary 20\\nLondon court. He could give the coals in that\\nqueer coal-scuttle we read of to his poor neigh-\\nbour: he could give away his blankets in college\\nto the poor widow, and warm himself as he best\\nmight in the feathers: he could pawn his coat to 25\\nsave his landlord from gaol when he was a scHool-\\nusher he spent his earnings in treats for the boys,\\nAn inspired idiot, Goldsmith, hangs strangely about him\\n[Johnson]. Yet, on the whole, there is no evil in the goose-\\nberry fool, but rather much good; of a finer, if of a weaker sort 30\\nthan Johnson s; and all the more genuine that he himself could\\nnever become conscious of it, though unhappily never cease attempt-\\ning to become so the author of the genuine Vicar of Wakefield,*\\nnill he will he, must needs fly towards such a mass of genuine\\nmanhood. Carlyle s Essays (2nd ed.), vol. iv. p. 91. 35", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0328.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLD SMITH 28 1\\nand the good-natured schoolmaster s wife said\\njustly that she ought to keep Mr. Goldsmith s\\nV money as well as the young gentleman s. When he\\nmet liis pupils in later life, nothing would satisfy\\n5 the Doctor but he must treat them still. Have\\nyou seen the print of me after Sir Joshua Rey-\\nnolds? he asked of one of his old pupils. Not seen\\nit? not bought it? Sure, Jack, if your picture had\\nbeen published, I d not have been without it half-\\n10 an-hour. His purse and his heart were every-\\nbody s, and his friends as much as his own. When\\nhe was at the height of his reputation, and the Earl\\nof Northumberland, going as Lord Lieutenant to\\nIreland, asked if he could be of any service to\\n15 Doctor Goldsmith, Goldsmith recommended his\\nbrother, and not himself, to the great man. My\\npatrons, he gallantly said, are the booksellers,\\nand I want no others. Hard patrons they were,\\nand hard work he did; but he did not complain\\n20 At present, the few poets of England no longer depend on the\\ngreat for subsistence; they have now no other patrons but the public,\\nand the public, collectively considered, is a good and generous\\nmaster. It is indeed too frequently mistaken as to the merits of\\nevery candidate for favour; but to make amends it is never mis-\\n25 taken long. A performance indeed may be forced for a time into\\nreputation, but, destitute of real merit, it soon sinks; time, the\\ntouchstone of what is truly valuable, will soon discover the fraud,\\nand an author should never arrogat-e to himself any share of success\\ntill his works have been read at least ten j^ears with satisfaction.\\n30 A man of letters at present, whose works are valuable, is per-\\nfectly sensible of their value. Every polite member of the com-\\nmunity, by buying what he writes, contributes to reward him. The\\nridicule, therefore, of living in a garret might have been wit in the\\nlast age, but continues such no longer, because no longer true. A\\n35 writer of real merit now may easily be rich, if his heart be set only\\non fortune; and for those who have no merit,, it is but fit that such\\nshould remain in merited obscurity. Goldsmith. Citizen of the\\nWorld, Let. 84.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0329.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "282 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nmuch: if in his early writings some bitter words\\nescaped him, some allusions to neglect and poverty,\\nhe withdrew these expressions when his works\\nwere republished, and better days seemed to open\\nfor him; and he did not care to complain that 5\\nprinter or publisher had overlooked his merit, or left\\nhim poor. The Court face was turned from honest\\nOliver, the Court patronised Beattie; the fashion\\ndid not shine on him fashion adored Sterne.*\\nFashion pronounced Kelly to be the great writer lo\\nof comedy of his day. A little not ill-humour,\\nbut plaintiveness a little betrayal of wounded\\npride which he showed render him not the less\\namiable. The author of the V icar of Wakefield\\nhad a right to protest when Newbery kept back 15\\nthe manuscript for two years; had a right to be\\na little peevish with Sterne; a little angry when\\nGoldsmith attacked Sterne obviously enough, censuring his in-\\ndecency, and slighting his wit, and ridiculing his mahner, in the\\n53rd letter in the Citizen of the World. 20\\nAs in common conversation, says he, the best way to make\\nthe audience laugh is by first laughing yourself; so in writing,\\nthe properest manner is to show an attempt at humour, which will\\npass upon most for humour in reality. To effect this, readers must\\nbe treated with the most perfect familiarity; in one page the author 25\\nis to make them a low bow, and in the next to pull them by the\\nnose; he must talk in riddles, and then send them to bed in order\\nto dream for the solution, c.\\nSterne s humourous mot on the subject of the gravest part of the\\ncharges, then, as now, made against him, may perhaps be quoted 30\\nhere, from the excellent, the respectable Sir Walter Scott:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nSoon after Tristram had appeared, Sterne asked a Yorkshire\\nlady of fortune and condition, whether she had read his book. I\\nhave not, Mr. Sterne, was the answer; and to be plain with you,\\nI am informed it is not proper for female perusal. My dear good 35\\nlady, replied the author, do not be gulled by such stories; the\\nbook is like your young heir there (pointing to a child of three\\nyears old, who was rolling on the carpet in his white tunic) he\\nshows at times a good deal that is usually concealed, but it is all in\\nperfect innocence. 40", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0330.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 283\\nColman s actors declined their parts in his deUght-\\nful comedy, when the manager refused to have a\\nscene painted for it, and pronounced its damnation\\nbefore hearing. He had not the great pubHc with\\n5 him; but he had the noble Johnson, and the ad-\\nmirable Reynolds, and the great Gibbon, and the\\ngreat Burke, and the great Fox friends and ad-\\nmirers illustrious indeed, as famous as those who,\\nfifty years before, sat round Pope s table.\\no Nobody knows, and I dare say Goldsmith s\\nbuoyant temper kept no account of, all the pains\\nwhich he endured during the early period of his\\nliterary career. Should any man of letters in our\\nday have to bear up against such, Heaven grant\\n15 he may come out of the period of misfortune with\\nsuch a pure kind heart as that which Goldsmith\\nobstinately bore in his breast. The insults to which\\nhe had to submit are shocking to read of slander,\\ncontumely, vulgar satire, brutal malignity pervert-\\n:;o ing his commonest motives and actions; he had\\nhis share of these, and one s anger is roused at\\nreading of them, as it is at seeing a woman insulted\\nor a child assaulted, at the notion that a creature\\nso very gentle and weak, and full of love, should\\n25 have had to suffer so. And he had worse than in-\\nsult to undergo to own to fault and deprecate the\\nanger of rufhans. There is a letter of his extant\\nto one Griffiths, a bookseller, in which poor Gold-\\nsmith is forced to confess that certain books sent\\n30 by GrifBths are in the hands of a friend from whom\\nGoldsmith had been forced to borrow money. He\\nwas wild, sir, Johnson said, speaking of Goldsmith", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0331.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "284 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nto Boswell, with his great, wise benevolence and\\nnoble mercifulness of heart Dr. Goldsmith was\\nwild, sir; but he is so no more. Ah! if we pity\\nthe good and weak man who suffers undeservedly,\\nlet us deal very gently with him from whom misery\\nextorts not only tears, but shame; let us think\\nhumbly and charitably of the human nature that\\nsuffers so sadly and falls so low. Whose turn may\\nit be to-morrow? What weak heart, confident be-\\nfore trial, may not succumb under temptation in-\\nvincible? Cover the good man who has been van-\\nquished cover his face and pass on.\\nFor the last half-dozen years of his life. Gold-\\nsmith was far removed from the pressure of any\\nignoble necessity: and in the receipt, indeed, of a ^5\\npretty large income from the booksellers his pa-\\ntrons. Had he lived but a few years more, his\\npublic fame would have been as great as his pri-\\nvate reputation, and he might have enjoyed alive\\na part of that esteem which his country has ever 20\\nsince paid to the vivid and versatile genius who has\\ntouched on almost every subject of literature, and\\ntouched nothing that he did not adorn. Except in\\nrare instances, a man is known in our profession,\\nand esteemed as a skilful workman, years before the 25\\nlucky hit which trebles his usual gains, and stamps\\nhim a popular author. In the strength of his age,\\nand the dawn of his reputation, having for backers\\nand friends the most illustrious literary men of his\\ntime,* fame and prosperity might have been in 30\\nGoldsmith told us that he was now busy in writing a Natural\\nHistory; and that he might have full leisure for it, he had taken\\nlodgings at a farmer s house, near to the six-mile stone in the", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0332.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "STEKJ^E AND GOLDSMITH 28$\\nstore for Goldsmith, had fate so willed it, and, at\\nforty-six, had not sudden disease carried him off.\\nI say prosperity rather than competence, for it is\\nprobable that no sum could have put order into\\n5 his affairs, or sufficed for his irreclaimable habits\\nof dissipation. It must be remembered that he\\nowed i2ooo when he died. Was ever poet,\\nJohnson asked, so trusted before? As has been\\nthe case with many another good fellow of his na-\\n10 tion, his life was tracked and his substance wasted\\nby crowds of hungry beggars and lazy dependants.\\nIf they came at a lucky time (and be sure they knew\\nhis affairs better than he did himself, and watched\\nhis pay-day), he gave them of his money: if they\\n15 begged on empty-purse days, he gave them his\\npromissory bills: or he treated them to a tavern\\nwhere he had credit; or he obliged them with an\\norder upon honest Mr. Filby for coats, for which\\nhe paid as long as he could earn, and until the\\n20 shears of Filby were to cut for him no more.\\nStaggering under a load of debt and labour,\\ntracked by bailiffs and reproachful creditors, run-\\nning from a hundred poor dependants, whose ap-\\npealing looks were perhaps the hardest of all pains\\n25 for him to bear, devising fevered plans for the mor-\\nrow, new histories, new comedies, all sorts of new\\nEdgware Road, and had carried down his books in two returned\\npost-chaises. He said he believed the farmer s family thought him\\nan odd character, similar to that in which the Spectator appeared\\n30 to his landlady and her children; he was The Gentleman. Mr.\\nMickle, the translator of the Lusiad, and I, went to visit him at\\nthis place a few days afterwards. He was not at horrte; but having\\na curiosity to see his apartment, we went in, and found curious\\nj scraps of descriptions of animals scrawled upon the wall with a\\n35 blacklead pencil. Boswell.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0333.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "286 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nliterary schemes, flying from all these into seclu-\\nsion, and out of seclusion into pleasure at last, at\\nfive-and-forty, death seized him and closed his\\ncareer. I have been many a time in the cham-\\nbers in the Temple which were his, and passed up 5\\nthe staircase, which Johnson and Burke and Rey-\\nnolds trod to see their friend, their poet, their kind\\nGoldsmith the stair on which the poor women\\nsat weeping bitterly when they heard that the\\ngreatest and most generous of all men was dead lo\\nwithin the black oak door.f Ah! it was a different\\nlot from that for which the poor fellow sighed,\\nwhen he wrote with heart yearning for home those\\nmost charming of all fond verses, in which he\\nfancies he revisits Auburn: 15\\nWhen Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him, Your\\npulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of\\nfever which you have; is your mind at ease Goldsmith an-\\nswered it was not. Dr. Johnson {in Boswell).\\nChambers, you find, is gone far, and poor Goldsmith is gone 20\\nmuch further. He died of a fever, exasperated, as I believe, by the\\nfear of distress. He had raised money and squandered it, by every\\nartifice of acquisition and folly of expense. But let not his failings\\nbe remembered; he was a very great man. Dr. Johnson to Boswell,\\nJuly 5th, 1774. 23\\nt When Burke was told [of Goldsmith s death] he burst into\\ntears. Reynolds was in his painting-room when the messenger\\nwent to him; but at once he laid his pencil aside, which in times\\nof great family distress he had not been known to do, left his\\npainting-room, and did not re-enter it that day. 50\\nThe staircase of Brick Court is said to have been filled with\\nmourners, the reverse of domestic; women without a home, without\\ndomesticity of any kind, with no friend but him they had come to\\nweep for; outcasts of that great, solitary, wicked city, to whom\\nhe had never forgotten to be kind and charitable. And he had 35\\ndomestic mourners, too. His cofifin was reopened at the request of\\nMiss Horneck and her sister (such was the regard he was known to\\nhave for them that a lock might be cut from his hair. It was in\\nMrs. Gwyn s possession when she died, after nearly seventy years.\\nForster s Goldsmith. 40", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0334.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 28^\\nHere, as I take my solitary rounds,\\nAmidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,\\nAnd, many a year elapsed, return to view\\nWhere once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,\\nRemembrance wakes, with all her busy train.\\nSwells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.\\nIn all my wanderings round this world of care,\\nIn all my griefs and God has given my share\\nI still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,\\nAmidst these humble bowers to lay me down;\\nTo husband out life s taper at the close.\\nAnd keep the flame from wasting by repose;\\nI still had hopes for pride attends us still\\nAmidst the swains to show my book-learned skill.\\nAround my fire an evening group to draw.\\nAnd tell of all I felt and all I saw;\\nAnd, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,\\nPants to the place from whence at first he flew\\nI still had hopes, my long vexations past.\\nHere to return, and die at home at last.\\nO blest retirement, friend to life s decline\\nRetreats from care that never must be mine\\nHow blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,\\nA youth of labour with an age of ease;\\nWho quits a world where strong temptations try.\\nAnd, since tis hard to combat, learns to fly\\nFor him no wretches born to work and weep\\nExplore the mine or tempt the dangerous deep;\\nNo surly porter stands in guilty state\\nTo spurn imploring famine from the gate:\\nBut on he moves to meet his latter end,\\nAngels around befriending virtue s friend;\\nSinks to the grave with unperceived decay,\\nWhilst resignation gently slopes the way;\\nAnd all his prospects brightening to the last.\\nHis heaven commences ere the world be past.\\nIn these verses, I need not say with what melody,\\nwith what touching truth, with what exquisite\\nbeauty of comparison as indeed in hundreds more", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0335.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "288 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\npages of the writings of this honest sotfl the whole\\ncharacter of the man is told his humble confes-\\nsion of faults and weakness; his pleasant little\\nvanity, and desire that his village should admire\\nhim; his simple scheme of good in which every-\\nbody was to be happy no beggar was to be re-\\nfused his dinner nobody in fact was to work\\nmuch, and he to be the harmless chief of the\\nUtopia, and the monarch of the Irish Yvetot. He\\nwould have told again, and without fear of their lo;\\nfailing, those famous jokes which had hung fire\\nGoldsmith s incessant desire of being conspicuous in com-\\npany was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such dis-\\nadvantage, as one should hardly have supposed possible in a man\\nof his genius. When his literary reputation had risen deservedly ^5\\nhigh, and his society was much courted, he became very jealous\\nof the extraordinary attention which was everywhere paid to John-\\nson. One evening, in a circle of wits, he found fault with me for\\ntalking of Johnson as entitled to the honour of unquestionable su-\\nperiority. Sir, said he, you are for making a monarchy of what 20\\nshould be a republic\\nHe was still more mortified, when, talking in a company with\\nfluent vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the admiration of all\\npresent, a German who sat next him, and perceived Johnson rolling\\nhimself as if about to speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, Stay, 25\\nstay Toctor Shonson is going to zay zomething. This was no\\ndoubt very provoking, especially to one so irritable as Goldsmith,\\nwho frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indigna-\\ntion.\\nIt may also be observed that Goldsmith was sometimes content 3^\\nto be treated with an easy familiarity, but upon occasions would be\\nconsequential and important. An instance of this occurred in a small j\\nparticular. Johnson had a way of contracting the names of his\\nfriends, as Beauclerk, Beau; Boswell, Bozzy. I remember one\\nday, when Tom Davies was telling that Doctor Johnson said\u00e2\u0080\u0094 We 35\\nare all in labour for a name to Goldy s play, Goldsmith seemed dis- I\\npleased that such a liberty should be taken with his name, and said,\\nI have often desired him not to call me Goldy.\\nThis is one of several of Boswell s depreciatory mentions of\\nGoldsmith which may well irritate biographers and admirers, and 40 1\\nalso those who take that more kindly and more profound view of\\nBoswell s own character, which was opened up by Mr. Carlyle s\\nfamous article on his book. No wonder that Mr. Irving calls Bos-\\ni", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0336.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 289\\nin London; he would have talked of his great\\nfriends of the Club\u00e2\u0080\u0094 of my Lord Clare and my\\nLord Bishop, my Lord Nugent\u00e2\u0080\u0094 sure he knew\\nthem intimately, and was hand and glove with some\\n5 of the best men in town and he would have\\nspoken of Johnson and of Burke, and of Sir Joshua\\nwho had painted him and he would have told\\nwonderful sly stories of Ranelagh and the Pan-\\ntheon, and the masquerades at Madame Cornelys;\\nro and he would have toasted, with a sigh, the Jes-\\nsamy Bride the lovely Mary Horneck.\\nThe figure of that charming young lady forms\\none of the prettiest recollections of Goldsmith s\\nlife. She and her beautiful sister, who married\\n[5 Bunbury, the graceful and humorous amateur\\nartist of those days, when Gilray had but just begun\\nto try his powers, were among the kindest and\\nwell an incarnation of toadyism. And the worst of dt is, that\\nJohnson himself has suffered from this habit of the Laird of\\n!0 Auchinleck s. People are apt to forget under what Boswellian\\nstimulus the great Doctor uttered many hasty things:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 things no\\nmore indicative of the nature of the depths of his character than the\\nphosphoric gleaming of the sea, when struck at night, is indicative\\nof radical corruption of nature In truth, it is clear enough on the\\n;5 whole that both Johnson and Goldsmith appreciated each other,\\nand that they mutually knew it. They were, as it were, tripped up\\nand flung against each other, occasionally, by the blundering and\\nsilly gambolling of people in company.\\nSomething must be allowed for Boswell s rivalry for Johnson s\\n,0 good graces with Oliver (as Sir Walter Scott has remarked), for\\nOliver was intimate with the Doctor before his biographer was,\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nand, as we all remember, marched off with him to take tea with\\nMrs. Williams before Boswell had advanced to that honourable\\ndegree of intimacy. But, in truth, Boswell\u00e2\u0080\u0094 though he perhaps\\n5 showed more talent in his delineation of the Doctor than is gener-\\nally ascribed to him\u00e2\u0080\u0094 had not faculty to take a fair view of two\\ngreat men at a time. Besides, as Mr. Forster justly remarks, he\\nwas impatient of Goldsmith from the first hour of their acquaint-\\nance. Life and Adventures, p. 292.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0337.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "^9\u00c2\u00b0 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\ndearest of Goldsmith s many friends, cheered and\\npitied him, travelled abroad with him, made him\\nwelcome at their home, and gave him many a\\npleasant holiday. He bought his finest clothes to\\nfigure at their country-house at Barton he wrote 5\\nthem droll verses. They loved him, laughed at\\nhim, played him tricks and made him happy. He\\nasked for a loan from Garrick, and Garrick kindly\\nsupplied him, to enable him to go to Barton: but\\nthere were to be no more holidays and only one lo\\nbrief struggle more for poor Goldsmith. A lock\\nof his hair was taken from the coffin and given to\\nthe Jessamy Bride. She lived quite into our time.\\nHazlitt saw her an old lady, but beautiful still, in\\nNorthcote s painting-room, who told the eager 15\\ncritic how proud she always was that Goldsmith\\nhad admired her. The younger Colman has left\\na touching reminiscence of him (vol. i. 63, 64)\\nI was only five ye^rs old, he says, when\\nGoldsmith took me on his knee one evening whilst 20\\nhe was drinking coffee with my father, and began\\nto play with me, which amiable act I returned,\\nwith the ingratitude of a peevish brat, by giving\\nhim a very smart slap on the face: it must have\\nbeen a tingler, for it left the marks of my spiteful 25\\npaw on his cheek. This infantile outrage was fol-\\nlowed by summary justice, and I was locked up\\nby my indignant father in an adjoining room to\\nundergo solitary imprisonment in the dark. Here\\nI began to howl and scream most abominably, 30\\nNvhich was no bad step towards my liberation, since\\nthose who were not inclined to pity me mi^ht be\\ni", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0338.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 29 1\\nlikely to set me free for the purpose of abating a\\nnuisance.\\nAt length a generous friend appeared to ex-\\ntricate me from jeopardy, and that generous friend\\n5 was no other than the man I had so wantonly mo-\\nlested by assault and battery it was the tender-\\nhearted Doctor himself, with a lighted candle in\\nhis hand and a smile upon his countenance, which\\nwas still partially red from the effects of my petu-\\n10 lance. I sulked and sobbed as he fondled and\\nsoothed, till I began to brighten. Goldsmith seized\\nthe propitious moment of returning good-humour,\\nwhen he put down the candle and began to conjure.\\nHe placed three hats, which happened to be m the\\n15 room, and a shilling under each. The shillings,\\nhe told me, were England, France, and Spain.\\nHey presto cockalorum! cried the Doctor, and\\nlo, on uncovering the shillings, which had been\\ndispersed each beneath a separate hat, they were\\n20 all found congregated under one. I was no poli-\\ntician at five years old, and therefore might not\\nhave wondered at the sudden revolution which\\nbrought England, France, and Spain all under one\\ncrown; but as also I was no conjurer, it amazed\\ni 25 nie beyond measure. From that time, when-\\never the Doctor came to visit my father, I plucked\\nhis gown to share the good man s smile; a game\\nat romps constantly ensued, and we were always\\ncordial friends and merry playfellows. Our un-\\n30 equal companionship varied somewhat as to sports\\nas I grew older; but it did not last long: my senior\\nplaymate died in his forty-fifth year, when I had", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0339.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "292 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nattained my eleventh. In all the numerous ac-\\ncounts of his virtues and foibles, his genius and\\nabsurdities, his knowledge of nature and ignorance\\nof the world, his compassion for another s woe\\nwas always predominant; and my trivial story of 5\\nhis humouring a froward child weighs but as a\\nfeather in the recorded scal e of his benevolence.\\nThink of him reckless, thriftless, vain, if you\\nlike but merciful, gentle, generous, full of love\\nand pity. He passes out of our life, and goes to\\nrender his account beyond it. Think of the poor j\\npensioners weeping at his grave; think of the I\\nnoble spirits that admired and deplored him think I\\nof the righteous pen that wrote his epitaph and\\nof the wonderful and unanimous response of af- 5\\nfection with which the world has paid back the\\nlove he gave it. His humour delighting us still:\\nhis song fresh and beautiful as when first he\\ncharmed with it: his words in all our mouths: his\\nvery weaknesses beloved and familiar his benevo- 20\\nlent spirit seems still to smile upon us; to do gen-\\ntle kindnesses: to succour with sweet charity: to\\nsoothe, caress, and forgive: to plead with the for-\\ntunate for the unhappy and the poor.\\nHis name is the last in the list of those men of 25\\nhumour who have formed the themes of the dis-\\ncourses which you have heard so kindly.\\nLong before I had ever hoped for such an audi-\\nence, or dreamed of the possibility of the good for-\\ntune which has brought me so many friends, I was 30\\nat issue with some of my literary brethren upon a", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0340.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 293\\npoint which they held from tradition I think\\nrather than experience that our profession was\\nneglected in this country; and that men of letters\\nwere ill received and held in slight esteem. It\\n5 would hardly be grateful of me now to alter my old\\nopinion that we do meet with good-will and kind-\\nness, with generous helping hands in the time of\\nour necessity, with cordial and friendly recognition.\\nWhat claim had any one of these of whom I have\\n10 been speaking, but genius? What return of grati-\\ntude, fame, afifection, did it not bring to all?\\nWhat punishment befell those who were unfor-\\ntunate among them, but that which follows reck-\\nless habits and careless lives? For these faults a\\n15 wit must sufifer like the dullest prodigal that ever\\nran in debt. He must pay the tailor if he wears\\nthe coat; his children must go in rags if he spends\\nhis money at the tavern; he can t come to London\\nand be made Lord Chancellor if he stops on the\\n20 road and gambles away his last shilling at Dublin.\\nAnd he must pay the social penalty of these follies\\ntoo, and expect that the world will shun the man\\nof bad habits, that women will avoid the man of\\nloose life, that prudent folks will close their doors\\n25 as a precaution, and before a demand should be\\nmade on their pockets by the needy prodigal.\\nWith what difficulty had any one of these men to\\ncontend, save that eternal and mechanical one of\\nwant of means, and lack of capital, and of which\\n30 thousands of young lawyers, young doctors, young\\nsoldiers and sailors, of inventors, manufacturers,\\nshopkeepers, have to complain? Hearts as brave", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0341.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "294 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nand resolute as ever beat in the breast of any wit\\nor poet, sicken and break daily in the vain en-\\ndeavour and unavailing struggle against life s dif-\\nficulty. Don t we see daily ruined inventors, grey-\\nhaired midshipmen, balked heroes, blighted 5\\ncurates, barristers pining a hungry life out in\\nchambers, the attorneys never mounting to their\\ngarrets, whilst scores of them are rapping at the\\ndoor of the successful quack below? If these suf-\\nfer, who is the author that he should be exempt? lo\\nLet us bear our ills with the same constancy with\\nwhich others endure them, accept our manly part\\nin life, hold our own, and ask no more. I can\\nconceive of no kings or laws causing or curing\\nGoldsmith s improvidence, or Fielding s fatal love i5\\nof pleasure, or Dick Steele s mania for running\\nraces with the constable. You never can outrun\\nthat sure-footed officer not by any swiftness or by\\ndodges devised by any genius, however great; and\\nhe carries ofif the Tatler to the spunging-house, or 20\\ntaps the Citizen of the World on the shoulder as he\\nwould any other mortal.\\nDoes society look down on a man because he\\nis an author? I suppose if people want a buffoon\\nthey tolerate him only in so far as he is amusing; 25\\nit can hardly be expected that they should respect\\nhim as an equal. Is there to be a guard of honour\\nprovided for the author of the last new novel or\\npoem? how long is he to reign, and keep other\\npotentates out of possession? He retires, grum- 30\\nbles, and prints a lamentation that literature is\\ndespised. If Captain A. is left out of Lady B. s", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0342.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "STERNE AND GOLDSMITH 295\\nparties, he does not state that the army Is despised:\\nif Lord C. no longer asks Counsellor D. to dinner,\\nCounsellor D. does not announce that the bar is\\ninsulted. He is not fair to society if he enters it\\n5 with this suspicion hankering about him; if he is\\ndoubtful about his reception, how hold up his head\\nhonestly, and look frankly in the face that world\\nabout which he is full of suspicion? Is he place-\\nhunting, and thinking in his mind that he ought\\n10 to be made an Ambassador like Prior, or a Secre-\\ntary of State like Addison? his pretence of equality\\nfalls to the ground at once; he is scheming for a\\npatron, not shaking the hand of a friend, when he\\nmeets the world. Treat such a man as he deserves;\\n15 laugh at his buffoonery, and give him a dinner and\\na hon jour; laugh at his self-sufficiency and absurd\\nassumptions of superiority, and his equally ludi-\\ncrous airs of martyrdom: laugh at his flattery and\\nhis scheming, and buy it, if it s worth the having.\\n20 Let the wkg have his dinner and the hireling his\\npay, if you want him, and make a profound bow to\\nthe grand homme incompris, and the boisterous\\nmartyr, and show him the door. The great world,\\nthe great aggregate experience, has its good sense,\\n25 as it has its good humour. It detects a pretender,\\nas it trusts a loyal heart. It is kind in the main:\\nhow should it be otherwise than kind, when it is so\\nwise and clear-headed? To any literary man who\\nsays, It despises my profession, I say, with all\\n30 my might no, no, no. It may pass over your\\nindividual case how many a brave fellow has\\nfailed in the race and perished unknown in the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0343.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "296 ENGLISH HUMOURISTS\\nstruggle! but it treats you as you merit in the\\nmain. If you serve it, it is not unthankful if you\\nplease it, it is pleased; if you cringe to it, it de-\\ntects you, and scorns you if you are mean; it re-\\nturns your cheerfulness with its good humour; it 5\\ndeals not ungenerously with your weaknesses; it\\nrecognises most kindly your merits; it gives you\\na fair place and fair play. To any one of those\\nmen of whom we have spoken was it in the main\\nungrateful? A king might refuse Goldsmith a pen- 10\\nsion, as a publisher might keep his masterpiece and\\nthe delight of all the world in his desk for two\\nyears; but it was mistake, and not ill-will. Noble\\nand illustrious names of Swift, and Pope, and Ad-\\ndison! dear and honoured memories of Goldsmith 15\\nand Fielding! kind friends, teachers, benefactors!\\nwho shall say that our country, which continues\\nto bring you such an unceasing tribute of applause,\\nadmiration, love, sympathy, does not do honour to\\nthe literary calling in the honour which it bestows 20\\nupon you?\\nTHE END.\\nII", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0344.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "NOTES.\\nSWIFT.\\n1. 6. Harlequin. A popular character in the Italian comedy.\\nHe was a buffoon, dressed in party-colored clothes, who amused\\nthe audience by horse play.\\n2. 12. The humourous writer, etc. Thackeray is here doubt-\\nless referring to a famous humourist of the nineteenth century\\nhimself.\\n2. i6. To the best of his means, etc. This sentence is an\\nexample of Thackeray s occasional carelessness in style. Note\\nthe extreme awkwardness of the constructioji.\\n3. 3. Kilkenny. Town in the county of Kilkenny, in the\\nsouthern part of Ireland. Congreve, Farquhar, and Berkeley also\\nattended this grammar school. In view of Swift s quarrelsome\\ndisposition, it seems not inappropriate that his early life should\\nhave had associations in a place made famous by the legend of the\\nKilkenny cats.\\n3. 5. Was wild. It does not appear that Swift was dissipated.\\nHe was morose and rebellious. Extreme poverty is not apt to\\nlessen the pride and sensitiveness of an undergraduate like Swift.\\nHe did well in Greek and Latin, was poor in philosophy, and,\\ncuriously enough, the future Dean was marked negligenter in\\ntheology.\\n4. 8. He was appointed Dean of St. Patrick s Cathedral, in\\nDublin, in April, 17 13, and was installed on June 13.\\n6. I7\u00c2\u00ab Wotild you have liked to be a friend of the great Dean\\nThe majority of Swift s readers would to-day undoubtedly answer\\nin the affirmative.\\n8. II. His servility. This is surely unfair. Swift was not a\\n297", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0345.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "298 NOTES.\\ncringing toady, nor a boot-licker. Manliness was an essential\\nfeature of his character; and it is well known that in dealing out\\npatronage he always served himself last, especially when there\\nwas not enough to go around.\\np. 14. Macheath. A highwayman who is the hero of Gay s\\nBeggars Opera (1728).\\nII. 7. Condottieri. Italian for soldiers of fortune.\\n11. 8. The Boyne. Battle fought July i, 1690, in Ireland, in\\nwhich King William III decisively defeated the deposed Stuart\\nKing James II. The Boyne is the most important river in eastern\\nIreland, being 65 miles long. An obelisk, 150 feet high, now com-\\nmemorates the great battle.\\n12. 6. South Sea Bubble. The South Sea Company was\\nestablished by Lord Treasurer Harley in 171 1 with the design of\\nproviding for the extinction of the public debt, then about\\n^10,000,000. The debt was assumed by a number of merchants,\\nthe Government agre ;ing to pay 6 per cent, interest for a certain\\nperiod, securing the sum by making permanent certain impost\\nduties. The Government granted to purchasers of the fund a\\nmonopoly of the trade to the South Sea (the coast of Spanish\\nAmerica), and the Company was organised under the name\\nSouth Sea Company. The prevailing opinion was that enor-\\nmous riches awaited all stockholders the Company flourished it\\nvied with the Bank of England in controlling English finapces.\\nIn 1720 the Company assumed the entire debt of over ^^30, 000, 000,\\nbearing interest at 5 per cent. The stock was in great demand.\\nA rage for speculation followed. The sum of ;^iooo was paid for\\na single share of \u00c2\u00a3100. Other bubbles followed suit to make oil\\nfrom sunflowers, to extract silver from lead, etc. The streets near\\nChange Alley were lined with desks. As the year 1720 drew to\\na close, the bubble burst. Thousands of families were ruined.\\n12. 24. Coup. A political stroke, usually called roup d e tat.\\n13. I. Copenhagen. The city was bombarded in 1807.\\nShortly after the trca of Tilsit Canning learnt that Napoleon\\nmeant to seize the fleet of Denmark, which was at that time neutral,\\nand to employ it against Great Britain. A British fleet and army\\nWere sent to Copenhagen, and the Crown Prince of Denmark was\\nasked to deliver up the Danish fleet on a promise that it should be", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0346.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 299\\nrestored at the end of the war. On his refusal, Copenhagen was\\nbombarded till at last the Danes gave way. The fleet was sur-\\nrendered, and the British Government, on the plea that it had\\nbeen driven to use force, refused to be bound by its offer to restore\\nthe ships ultimately to their owners. There were many in Eng-\\nland who found fault with the whole proceeding, and even George\\nIII seems to have been very much of their opinion. Speaking to\\nthe gentleman who had carried to the Crown Prince the message\\nasking him to give up the fleet, the old King asked whether he\\nfound the Prince upstairs or downstairs. He was on the ground\\nfloor, please your Majesty, was the reply. I am glad of it for\\nyour sake, said the King for if he had half my spirit, he would\\nhave kicked you downstairs. (Gardiner s Student s History of\\nEngland^ p. 860.)\\n15. I. Poetical pozver. Although Swift wrote many clever\\nrimes and witty verses, his poetical powers were very slight, and\\nthe real reason why he was afraid to use them was because he did\\nnot possess them. No great writer ever made more clearly a false\\nstart in literature than did Swift. As the most convincing proof\\nof Bacon s lack of poetic genius lies in his own verse-writing, so\\nno one can read Swill s early poems without mentally saying\\nAmen to Dryden s famous remark, Cousin Swift, you will never\\nbe a poet. It was not the brutality of Dryden s statement that\\ngalled Swift it was its truth. Let readers examine Swift s early\\nPindaric Odes, and judge for themselves.\\n15. 10. Sir Williain Temple. The elegant essayist, /fV/Zra/^/zr\\nand dilettante, born 1628, died 1698.\\n15. 23. Manttia va, etc. From Vergil, Ed. ix. 28. Alas,\\nMantua, too near the wretched Cremona An excellent quip.\\n19. 10. Moxa. A soft woolly mass prepared from the young\\nleaves of Artemisia Ckinensis, and used as a cautery by burning\\nit on the skin hence, any substance used in a like manner,\\nas cotton impregnated with niter, amadou. {Webster s Diet.)\\nAmadou is a spongy substance growing on trees.\\n20. 25. Plates-bandes. Flower-beds.\\n20. 26. Epicurus. The founder of the Epicurean philosophy\\n(see W. Wallace s admirable exposition of this system). He was\\nborn on the island of Samos in 337, or, as some say, in 341 B.C.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0347.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "300 NOTES.\\nHe removed to Athens about 307. His personal character was\\namiable and virtuous, and the real nature of his philosophical\\nteaching has been commonly misrepresented. He died 270 B.C.\\n20. 26. Diogenes Laertius. This name was ascribed to a kind\\nof scrap-book, labeled Lives and Doctrines of Famous Philo-\\nsophers. Of Laertius himself we know nothing.\\n20. 27. Semiramis [Legendary and Mythical]. The wife of\\nNinus, founder of the Assyrian kingdom a woman of great\\nbeauty, passion, and power. She is supposed to have flourished\\nabout 2200 B.C.\\n20. 27. Hesperides. These were the daughters of the Night,\\nwho guarded the golden apples belonging to Here or Juno. [See\\nany Classical Dictionary, or Professor Gayley s excellent book,\\nClassic Myths in English Literature, published by Ginn Co.]\\n21. I. Mcccenas. Gaius Cilnius Maecenas, born between 74\\nand 64 B.C., died 8 B.C. He was a statesman, but chiefly famous as\\na patron of literary men. He was a friend of young Octavian and\\nhis most trusted counsellor. He created and formed the center of a\\nliterary circle at Rome, which included Vergil, Horace, and others.\\n21. I. Strabo. A Greek geographer, born 63 B.C., died after\\n21 A.D. He traveled extensively, wrote histories, and particularly\\na geography in seventeen books.\\n21. 3. Pythagoras. A Greek philosopher, supposed to have\\nbeen born at Samos about 582 B.C. He is chiefly known on account\\nof the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. He laid the greatest\\nstress on simplicity and self-restraint in living.\\n23. I. Bishop Kennet. White Kennett, D.D., bishop of\\nPeterborough (1660-1728). Sir Walter Scott published this de-\\nscription of Swift from a MS. in the British Museum. Scott says\\nThe picture is powerfully drawn, though with a coarse and in-\\nvidious pencil. Swift s Works, ed. Scott, I. 125.\\n26. 4. Bolingbroke. Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke\\n(1678-175 1). His philosophical views exerted a powerful influence\\non contemporary men of letters shown most prominently perhaps\\nin Pope s Essay on Man. He was titled in 17 12, and was Prime\\nMinister in 17 14. A brilliant and rather shallow man.\\n26. \\\\1. Gay. The well-known poet (1688-1732).\\n28, 5. Peccavi. I am a sinner.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0348.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 301\\n29. 8. Consciousness of his oxun scepticism. We shall probably\\nnever know the exact attitude of Swift toward religious dogmas\\nperhaps he did not know himself. His mind was apparently-\\nskeptical by nature, but he abhorred and despised free-thinkers,\\nand belaboured them soundly. He was the most powerful cham-\\npion of Christianity the age of Anne produced, but he certainly\\nderived little peace and consolation from it for his own suffering\\nsoul. He may have thought that the Church was a necessary\\nsocial institution, and hence regarded its assailers as little better\\nthan anarchists. At times we are inclined to class him as a skeptic,\\nas Thackeray does but when we read his beautiful and passionate\\nPrayers for Mrs. Johnson, we have to make many reservations.\\n29. 22. Abiidah. He was a wealthy merchant of Bagdad, who\\nfigures in Tales of the Genii, by James Ridley (1736-65). Abudah\\nmeets with strange adventures in his quest for a talisman which he\\nis driven to seek by the threats of a little old hag who haunts him by\\nnight and makes his life miserable. At last he finds that the inesti-\\nmable talisman is to obey God and to keep his commandments and\\nhe also discovers that all his wonderful adventures have been only\\na dream. And there too was Abudah, the merchant, with the ter-\\nrible old woman hobbling out of the box in his bedroom. Dickens.\\n30. 8. Sarja indignatio. According to the precise instructions\\nof his Will, Swift was buried privately, on the 22nd of October, at\\ntwelve o clock at night: and, likewise by his own instructions, on\\na tablet of black marble over his grave in the Cathedral, in\\nlarge letters, deeply cut, and strongly gilded, there were in-\\nscribed the words\\nHIC DEPOSITUM EST CORPUS\\nJONATHAN SW^IFT, S. T. P.\\nHUJUS ECCLESI^ CATHEDRALIS\\nDECANI:\\nUBI S^VA INDIGNATIO\\nULTERIUS COR LACERARE NEQUIT.\\nABI VIATOR\\nET IMITARE, SI POTERIS,\\nSTRENUUM PRO VIRILI LIBERTATIS VINDICEM.\\nOBIIT ANNO (1745)\\nMENSIS (OCTOBRIS) DIE (19)\\n-iETATIS ANNO (78).\\nCraik s Life of Swift, II. 258.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0349.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "302 NOTES,\\nPossibly no greater contrast in tombstone inscriptions can be\\nfound than that exhibited by the graves of Swift and of his\\nbeloved friend and contemporary humourist, Gay, and it well\\nillustrates the difference in temper of their comic genius. Swift,\\nin his final and terrible indictment against the sufferings of life,\\nis a strange contrast to Gay, who laughs from his tomb as he\\nlaughed through life,\\nLife is a jest, and all things show it.\\nI thought so once, and now I know it.\\nThere never lived a more consistent pessimist than Swift, and it\\nis hardly just for Thackeray to hint that Swift rages at life\\nbecause of his personal disappointments. His pessimism went\\nfar deeper than that.\\n30. 17. Drapier s Letters. The first of these letters, signed\\n**M. B. Drapier, appeared in 1724; they were addressed to the\\nIrish people, and immediately exerted a powerful influence. He\\nadvised them not to touch the copper money coined by one William\\nWood Wood s half-pence who received a Government patent,\\nJuly 12, 1722. This business was a political job of the most\\nperfidious kind, and was killed by Swift s fiery letters. Whether\\nSwift s motive was pure and disinterested patriotism or not, we do\\nnot know. He raged at seeing another example of human base-\\nness and treachery, and fought it as \u00e2\u0080\u00a2only Swift could fight when\\naroused. At any rate he succeeded, and became the idol of the\\nIrish, who rightly looked upon him as their champion. For a\\ngood discussion of this whole matter, see Craik s Life of S^viftj\\nChapter XIII, Swift as Irish Patriot.\\n30. 24. Samson. See the book of Judges, Chapter XV.\\n31. II. Modest Proposal. This famous satire was published in\\n1729, and ranks as one of Swift s best pieces. Underneath the\\nlaughably extravagant proposal, one sees the moral indignation\\nand the moral power of the author. The object of this satire was\\nnot to rage against children it was to show that many Irish\\nchildren were destined to a worse fate even than being eaten.\\nFor mock gravity, sustained tone, and underlying tragic earnest-\\nness, this essay is unsurpassed in English. Nor does Swift always\\nrage against marriage. In his Letter to a Very Young Lady", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0350.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 303\\non her Marriage, he brutally attacks the kind of marriages that\\nhe often witnessed; but he holds up a high ideal of what marriage\\nshould really be, and emphasises the virtues of true companion-\\nship. Swift s brutality and contemptuous manner in this notable\\nletter does not wholly conceal from the judicious its solid wisdom.\\n32. 16. -^Roasting. This slang word has enjoyed unusual\\nvitality and long life.\\n32. 19. On nait rotisseur. One is born a cook cooks are\\nborn, not made,\\n33. 27. Mr. Macaulay has quoted the charming lines of the poet.\\nIn Macaulay s Essay on Addison, he says, About thirty years\\nbefore Gulliver s Travels appeared, Addison wrote these lines:\\nJamque acies inter meriias sese arduus infert\\nPygmeadum ductor, qui, majestate verendus,\\nIncessuque gravis, reliquos supereminet omnes\\nMole gigantea, mediamque exsurgit in ulnam,\\nAnd now towering he rushes forward into the midst of their\\nlines this awful leader of the Pygmies, who, heavy in his gait,\\novertops all others with his giant-like bulk and rises above them\\nhalf an ell.\\n34. I. The mast of some great ammiral. Paradise Lost, 2 ^2\\n294.\\n34. 17. Unpronounceable country. The country of the Hou-\\nyhnhnms. Perhaps we should pronounce the word Whinnems,\\nas it is doubtless meant to suggest the whinny of a horse.\\n35. 35. Decisio7t of meers. Meer, or mere, is a boundary.\\n38. 29. Drapier Bicker staff Gulliver. Bickerstaff was the\\nname assumed by Swift in his famous Predictions in ridicule\\nof Partridge, the almanac-maker.\\n41. 24. A sentimental Champolliott. Jean Francois Cham-\\npollion (1 790-1832), a famous linguist, discovered a key to hier-\\noglyphics of ancient Egypt.\\n44, I. Harley s and Peterborough s. Robert Harley was the\\nfirst Earl of Oxford and Lord High Treasurer, receiving both title\\nand place from Queen Anne in 171 1. He died in 1724. Charles\\nMordaunt, Earl of Peterborough, was born in 1658, and died in\\n1735-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0351.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "304 NOTES.\\n45. 15. Cadenus. Of course an anagram for Decanus Dean.\\n46. 14. Ariadne. The daughter of Minos, king of Crete, and\\nthe lover of Theseus. She gave him the famous clew of thread\\nfor the labyrinth. See Gay ley,\\n49. 19. Sheridan. Thomas Sheridan (1687-1738), a school-\\nmaster and close friend of Swift. The latter made his acquaintance\\nin 17 13, upon arriving in Dublin to take the Deanery. He became\\nSwift s constant companion, and the Dean took his place in the\\nschool when Sheridan was ill. Swift got him a living in 1725.\\nHe had a deserved reputation for wit in conversation. He wrote\\nof himself, I am famous for giving the best advice and following\\nthe worst. Swift asked Sheridan to let him know when he\\n(Swift) showed any sign of avarice. Sheridan accordingly wrote\\nfull data on a paper, and gave it to Swift. This alienated the two\\nfriends.\\n49. 29. The extract from Voltaire s letter may be thus trans-\\nlated Mr. Swift is Rabelais in his good senses and in good\\ncompany. He has not, to be sure, Rabelais mirth, but he has all\\nthe keenness, the reasonableness, the discretion in choosing, the\\ngood taste which our cure of Meudon has not. His verses have a\\nqueer savour, and are all but inimitable tasteful jesting falls to\\nhis share in verse and in prose but to understand him well one\\nshould take a trip into his country.\\nFor other criticism of Swift by Thackeray, see Esfnond, Book\\nni. Chapter V. Esmond says, I have always thought of him\\nand of Marlborough as the two greatest men of that age.\\nCONGREVE AND ADDISON.\\n51. 2. Reform Bill. The Reform Bill was passed in i232.\\nIn its final shape the Reform Act absolutely disfranchised forty-\\none boroughs and took away one member from thirty others.\\nThereby, and by its alteration of the franchise, it accomplished a\\ngreat transference of power, in favour of the middle classes in the\\ntowns. Though it did not establish a democracy, it took a long\\nstep in that direction. {GdiTdinQv s Student s History of Eng-\\nland p. 905.)", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0352.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "i\\nNOTES. 305\\n51. 15. Pitt. William Pitt the Younger, a great parliamen-\\ntary orator and statesman (1759 -1806).\\n51. 15. Mirabeau. Honore Gabriel Riquetti, Count born\\n1749, died 1791. A great orator of the French Revolution.\\n51. 21. Old Saruin. This place returned two members to\\nParliament. It was only a green mound, without a habitation\\nupon it. {Gardiner.\\n52. 10. Prince Eugene. Francois Eugene de Savoie (1663-\\n1736), A great general, and ally with Marlborough against Louis\\nin the battle of Blenheim in 1704. He was originally offended\\nbecause Louis refused to give him a commission in the army\\nlater Louis offered to make him a marshal, but he declined.\\n52. 16. Busby. Richard Busby (1606-1695), tl^e famous\\nhead-master of Westminster school. A very large number of his\\npupils reached places of distinction. Thackeray s pun is on the\\nrod of Aaron, which budded and bore almonds. See the book of\\nNumbers, xvii. 8.\\n52. 19. Tickell. Thomas Tickell, the poet, was born at\\nBridekirk, Cumberland, in 1686, and died at Bath, in 1740. He\\nwas a fellow of Oxford and a contributor to the Spectator.\\n52. 19. John Dennis. A dramatic scribbler and satirist. He\\nfigured in many literary squabbles. Pope put him in the Dunciad.\\nHe was born in London in 1657, and died 1734.\\n23. 12. Accoiirez^ ^tz. Hasten hither, chaste nymphs of\\nPermessus Sounds spring from my lyre, and the trees are re-\\njoiced. Mark well their rise and fall and you, winds, be still\\nI shall speak of Louis\\n53. 13. Boileati. Nicholas Boileau-Despreaux (1636-1711).\\nA famous man of letters, who exercised an enormous influence\\non French literature, and powerfully affected English literature\\nduring the age of Anne. His L Art Poetique (1674) was his most\\ninfluential work.\\n^3, 34. In England literature is more honoured than here.\\n54. lO. Poets -corner. Did this suggest to Lowell his phrase\\nfor similar volumes, the cemetery of the British poets\\n^4, 17. Charles Montague (1661-1715). He wrote verses and\\nsatirised poets and artists. He was made First Lord of the\\nTreasury in 1698.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0353.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "3^6 NOTES.\\n55- T-\u00e2\u0080\u0094L hetireitx temps. O the happy time when these\\nfables were\\n57. 12. Wiirs. The well-known coffee-house where Dryden\\nruled literary London. See also note to 180, 28.\\n58. 5. The beautiful Br acegirdle. Anne Bracegirdle (1663\\n1748), a famous actress. In 1693 she made her appearance in\\nCongreve s Old Bachelor, and from that time her chief suc-\\ncesses were attained in his plays. His personal relations with her\\nwere the talk of the town, but her high reputation for virtue has\\nnever been successfully assailed, though she had enemies in her\\nown time and unfavourable critics since. She was equally notable\\nfor her beauty and for her great benevolence. Some young\\ngentlemen of the town, with whom Esmond had made acquaint-\\nance, had promised to present him to that most charming of\\nactresses, and lively and agreeable of women, Mrs. Bracegirdle,\\nabout whom Harry s old adversary Mohun had drawn swords, a\\nfew years before my poor Lord and he fell out. The famous Mr.\\nCongreve had stamped with his high approval, to the which there\\nwas no gainsaying, this delightful person and she was acting in\\nDick Steele s comedies and finally, and for twenty -four hours after\\nbeholding her, Mr. Esmond felt himself, or thought himself, to be\\nas violently enamoured of this lovely brunette, as were a thousand\\nother young fellows about the city. To have once seen her was\\nto long to behold her again. Thackeray s Esmond, Book 11,\\nChapter V.\\n59. Comic Muse. The English Comic Drama of the Restora-\\ntion, from i66o to 1700, is famous for its brilliant dialogue, and\\nfor its audacious immorality being in the latter respect worse\\nthan England has had to endure either before or since the time of\\nCharles IL\\n59. 5. Nell Gwynn. Eleanor Gwyn was born in abject\\npoverty about 1650 though the exact year of her birth is not\\ndefinitely known. She originally frequented the theatres as an\\norange-girl. When fifteen years old she went on the stage, and\\nmade a decided hit in song and dance. Later she took leading\\nparts. Pepys admired her greatly; pretty witty Nell, he\\nwrites under date of April 3, 1665. On January 23, 1667, he\\nwrites, Knipp took us all in, and brought to us Nelly, a most", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0354.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "NOTES, 307\\npretty woman, who acted the great part of Coelia to-day very fine,\\nand did it pretty well: I kissed her, and so did my wife and a\\nmighty pretty soul she is. She became the mistress of Lord\\nBuckhurst, and in 1669 the mistress of Charles 11. In 1671 she\\nwas made a lady of the privy chamber to Queen Catharine, where\\nher beauty, wit, imperturbable good-nature, and generosity made\\nher popular. She assisted her old friends among the poor actors\\nand actresses. She bore two sons to the king the surviving one\\nwas made Duke of St. Albans. In 1687 she died. Her funeral\\nsermon was preached by Dr. Tenison, afterwards Archbishop of\\nCanterbury. The best memoir of her is by Peter Cunningham\\n(1850). In spite of her well-known character, she had hosts of\\nfriends during her life, and not a few panegyrists since. Anthony\\nHope s novel, Simon Dale, gives a good account of her life,\\ncharacter, and of the times in which she lived.\\n59 \u00e2\u0080\u0094Jeremy Collier (1650-1726). His Short View of the\\nIt?wiorality and Frofaneness of the English Stage (1698) had an\\nimmense influence in the direction of the long-needed moral\\nreform though unfortunately the drama that followed in Queen\\nAnne s time was as flat as it was harmless.\\n60. 7. Lais. A celebrated Greek courtesan, born at Corinth\\nabout 180 B.C. She was both greedy and beautiful. She placed\\nher favours at such a figure that this proverb became current\\nNot everybody can go to Corinth. The satirists chided her\\nwith taking to drink in her old age. There was another person\\nof the same name and occupation born at Sicily.\\n61. ^.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Cicerone. Italian from Cicero, so called because of\\nthe officious talkativeness of the ordinary guide.\\n61. 21.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Cavalier seuL Gentleman forward.\\n62. 2T,.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Poet bids his mistress. The allusion is to Herrick s\\nfamous lyric, beginning\\nGather ye rosebuds while ye may,\\nOld time is still a-flying.\\n62. 25. Treillage. Arbour.\\n62. 10.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Pas. Step.\\n62. ^2.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Chdlet. A little Swiss house in the gingerbread style,\\nlike a cuckoo clock.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0355.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "308 NOTES,\\n63. 25. Segreto, ^iz. How to be happy.\\n52. 26. Falei uian. The most celebrated wine of the ancient\\nRomans. There were three varieties light, sweet, and dry. It\\nwas something like sherry.\\n64. 10. Mirabel or BeJ moit} Mirabell is a character in The\\nWay of the World, and Bellmour figures in the Old Bachelor.\\n(^A 12. Scapm and Frontin. Scapin is a rascally valet in\\nMoliere s comedy, Les Fourlieries de Scapin. Frontin is a person-\\nage of the old comedy; a bold valet, a saucy, witty intriguer, as\\nhis name indicates, meaning cheeky. He gets control of his\\nmaster, whom he is good enough to protect in the pranks where\\neffrontery is the trump-card.\\n64. 14. Chivalry story. For a good account of this species\\nof the English novel, see Professor Cross s excellent book, The\\nDevelopment of the English Novel, Chapter I.\\n65. 2. Millamant. Mrs. Millamant appears in The Way of\\nthe World.\\n69. 5. Richelieu at eighty. Richelieu was born in 1585, and\\ndied in 1642, but Thackeray is merely using a strong figure.\\n69. 9. Grammonf s French dandies. Philibert, Count de\\nGrammont (1621-1707). He served in the French armies, and\\nwas famous for his intrigues. His Memoires (1713) were published\\nby his brother-in-law. He took part in the siege of Lerida in\\n1647. Lerida is the capital of the province of Lerida, Spain, and\\nis the key of Aragon and Catalonia hence a strategic point in\\nmilitary manoeuvres. Grammont, or Gramont, as the French\\nspell the name, dictated his famous Memoires at the age of eighty.\\n72. 34. Celui, etc. Of all the English the man who has\\ncarried the glory of the comic drama furthest is the late Mr. Con-\\ngreve. He wrote only a few pieces, but they are all excellent\\nspecimens of their class. You see everywhere the language of\\nhonest men who act like scoundrels which proves that he thor-\\noughly understood the people with whom he lived, and that he\\nmoved in what is called good society.\\n74- 32. Shadwell. Thomas Shadwell (1642 7-92), the poet-\\nlaureate, and dramatist contemporary with Dryden. He is\\nscarcely read at all to-day, and is remembered only because Dryden\\nattacked him so wittily in MacFlecknoe, and in Absalom and", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0356.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "NOTES, 309\\nAchitophel. In the latter poem Shadwell appears under the name\\nof Og, and is unmercifully belaboured.\\n74. 32. Higgons. Bevil Higgons (1670-1735), a verse-writer\\nand historian who is all but forgotten to-day. He prefixed some\\nlines to Congreve s Old Bachelor, pointing to Congreve as the\\nrightful heir to Dryden s position. He also wrote one or two\\nplays himself.\\n74- Zl- Love each other better. Thackeray s quarrel with\\nDickens began in 1858.\\n75. II. Lonely ones of the zuorld. Hardly a felicitous criticism\\nto apply to the author of the Spectator nor should he be classed\\namong the lords of intellect.\\n76. 17. Goethe. On April 28, 1855, Thackeray wrote a letter\\nto G. H. Lewes, describing a personal interview he had enjoyed\\nas a young man with the great Goethe, and how he went away\\ncharmed from the great king s audience. See the Biographical\\nedition of Thackeray, XIII. 640.\\n77. I. The ingenious Mr. Pinkethman. In the Spectator oi\\nMay 5, 1712, No. 370, we read: The Petulancy of a peevish\\nold Fellow, who loves and hates he knows not why, is very excel,\\nlently performed by the Ingenious Mr. William Penkethman in the\\nFop s Fortune where, in the Character of D071 Cholerick Snap\\nShorto de Testy, he answers no Questions but to those whom he\\nlikes, and wants no account of anything from those he approves.\\nIf it be, as I have heard it sometimes mentioned, a great\\nQualification for the World to follow Business and Pleasure too,\\nwhat is it in the Ingenious Mr. Penkethman to represent a Sense\\nof Pleasure and Pain at the same time as you may see him do\\nthis Evening? {Spectator, H. Morley s edition, II. 595.) This\\nnumber of the Spectator was, however, written by Steele.\\n77. 3. Mr. Doggett, the actor. The comic actor, Thomas\\nDoggett, is several times alluded to in the Spectator he was an\\nactor, playwright, and manager, but gained his chief reputation\\non the stage. His especial part was Hob in his own solitary\\nplay, The Country Wake. He died in 1 72 1.\\n77, 4. Don Salter o. This is merely a name for a mounte-\\nbank, but here Addison may be alluding to Don Saltero s coffee-\\nhouse in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0357.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "3IO NOTES.\\ny8. 5. The Charterhouse. One of the most famous schools in\\nEngland. Men so different as John Wesley and the historian Grote\\nhave been numbered among its pupils, as well as Thackeray him-\\nself.\\nyg, g. The Pigmies and the Cranes See note to page 33.\\nThe Pygmies were a nation of dwarfs, who, according to Greek\\nand Roman mythology, dwelt on the banks of the Upper Nile.\\nThey were attacked and defeated every spring by the Cranes.\\nAddison s own title of his poem is, nTTMAlOTEFANO-\\nMAXIA, sive, Prselium (so in Tickell s edition) inter Pygmaeos\\nGrues commissum.\\nyg. 14. Ly(\u00e2\u0082\u00acus. A Greek adjective applied to Bacchus.\\n79 25. Congees. Formal leave-takings,\\n83. 2. Statins. Publius Papinius Statius was born about 45\\nA.D. and died about 96. His most famous work was Thebaidos\\nLibri XII. The first book was translated by Pope.\\n83. 9. Blenheim. For the great Duke and his victories, see\\nEsmond, where his military campaigns are most graphically de-\\nscribed.\\n83. 10. Mr. Boyle. Henry Boyle, Lord Carleton, died in\\n1725-\\n83. 12, Lord Treasurer Godolphin. Sidney Godolphin, first\\nEarl of Godolphin (1645-1712). Few statesmen in so conspicu-\\nous a position have left so feeble a personal impression upon\\npolitics. {^Dict. Nat. Biog.)\\n84. II. Commissioner of Appeals. Thackeray also describes\\nthis episode in Esmond, Book II, Chapter XI. The student should\\ncertainly read in connection with the lecture on Addison, this\\nchapter in Esmond, called The Famous Mr. Joseph Addison.\\n88. 15. Jeffreys. George Jeffreys, First Baron Jeffreys (1648\\n-89). He was made Lord Chief Justice of England in 1683. His\\npitiless brutality on the bench in condemning prisoners to execu-\\ntion has made his name a synonym for cruelty. Personally he\\nwas scurrilous, violent, dissipated, and time-serving.\\n90. 1. Frisciatis head. A celebrated Latin grammarian, who\\nflourished about 500 A.D.\\n92. 12. Grecian. A famous coffee-house of Queen Anne s\\ntime. The Devil Tavern was not far from the Mitre.\\nI", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0358.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 311\\n94. 6. A propos de hottes. Literally casks (of wine). Any-\\nthing irrelevant.\\n94. 8. Doll Tear sheet. A character in Shakspere s King\\nHenry IV, Part II.\\n95. 21. Soon as the evening shades prez ail. These sixteen lines\\nform the second and third stanzas of a poem by Addison, that\\nappeared in the Spectator for August 23, 1712 (No. 465). The\\nlast line should be in quotation-marks, and in H. Morley s edition\\nof the Spectator, the 31st line of our text reads, What tho\\nnor real voice nor sound. The two stanzas should of course be\\nseparated, and not printed as they are in our text, w^hich follows\\nthe Biographical Edition, which in turn shows some differences in\\nthis quotation from the first edition of the Humourists. The poem\\nbegins with the well-known words, The spacious firmament on\\nhigh.\\n96. 17. Note the fine literary and dramatic contrast between\\nthe conclusion of the lecture on Addison and of that on Swift.\\nIt beautifully illustrates Thackeray s conception of the character\\nof each man.\\nSTEELE.\\n97. 24. Swift s History of the times. The History of the Fottr\\nLast Years of the Queen was not published till 1758. Swift took\\ngreat pains in its composition, but never printed it.\\n98. 5 Walpole. Sir Robert Walpole (1676-1745), created\\nEarl of Orford in 1742. As Whig Prime Minister, from 172 1 to\\n1742, he practically ruled England. He kept his power partly\\nby the free use of bribes, but he used it for the best interests of\\nthe country, devoting all his energies to maintaining peace and\\nbuilding up a sound financial system two of the highest aims of\\nstatesmanship.\\n98. 9. Copious archdeacon. The best life of Marlborough\\nis still the tii ?some but exhaustive Memoirs by Archdeacon Coxe\\n(3 vols., 1818-19). {Did. Nat. Biog.) William Coxe (1747-1828)\\npublished a series of memoirs that are careful, industrious, and\\nuninspired.\\n98. 30. Tnrpin. Dick Turpin was born in Essex, and was\\noriginally a butcher. Afterwards he became a noted highway-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0359.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "312 NOTES.\\nman, and was finally executed for horse-stealing, April lo, 1739.\\nHe and his steed Black Bess are well described in W. H. Ains-\\nworth s Rookwood, and in his Ballads.\\n99- 13* Doctor Smollett. Tobias Smollett, the famous novelist,\\nwhom Thackeray discusses in a lecture to follow, studied medicine\\nand was a surgeon s mate in the navy.\\n100. I- IVill Wivible. A famous character in the Sir Roger de\\nCoverley papers in the Spectator.\\n100. 21. Ramillies a7id Malplaqnet. Two battles in Flanders,\\nwhere the French were beaten by the English and Dutch under\\nMarlborough. See Book II of Esmond. The battle of Ramillies\\nwas fought in May 1706, and Malplaquet on September 11, 1709.\\nlOi. 18. Coram latronibus. In the presence of robbers.\\n102. 30. My Lord Mohim. One of the fastest men of his day.\\nHe is a prominent character in Esmond., where his character is\\nfully anatomised. See particularly Book I, chapters XII, XIII,\\nand XIV, where Thackeray shows wonderful dramatic power in\\nnarrative composition.\\n106. 23. Waverley novels appeared. The first of these,\\nWaverlPy, came out in 1814.\\n106. 25. The Miss Porters, the Anne of SwanseaSy and worthy\\nMrs. Radcliffe herself. Jane Porter (1776-1850) pviblished her two\\nmost famous books, Thaddetis of Warsaiv and The Scottish\\nChiefs, in 1803 and 18 10 respectively.\\nAnne of Swansea was Anne Hatton, sister of Mrs. Siddons\\nshe published eleven novels during the years 1815-31. These\\nnovels fill fifty-two volumes, showing their vogue in the early part\\nof the century; but so totally is their author forgotten to-day, that\\nher name does not appear in any of the well-known works of\\nreference, and she even enjoys the rare distinction of receiving no\\nmention in the Dictionary of National Biography. To escape\\nnotice in that work is fair proof of oblivion. The title of one of\\nher stories is a sample of all Cesario Rosalba or, the Oath of\\nVengeance (5 vols., London, 1819). Thackeray has apparently\\nmade a slip in speaking of her as one of the predecessors of Scott\\nshe was really one of his followers, both in time and in manner.\\nIn N otes and Queries, Fourth Series, VI. 408, November 12, 1870,\\nthere is the following account of Anne of Swansea, which, as", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0360.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "NO TES. 3 1 3\\ninformation about her is now so scarce, is certainly worth quoting\\nin full: Mrs. Hatton, the sister of J. P. Kemble, and Mrs.\\nSiddons, resided for many years and died in Swansea. For a\\nconsiderable period of her later life she had been confined to her\\nhouse by an accident which disabled her from the future exercise\\nof her profession on the stage, and she received an annuity jointly\\ncontributed by her brother and sister, Mr. John Kemble and Mrs.\\nSiddons. This annuity was at one period withdrawn under the\\nfollowing circumstances Mrs. Hatton wrote a work in three\\nvolumes entitled Chronicles of Gooselake, in other words, Annals\\nof Swansea also some brochures, in which several of the leading\\nresidents of that day, believing themselves, whether justly or not.\\nto be the objects of satirical allusion, addressed to Mr. Kemble a\\nrequest that he would use his influence to induce his sister to\\ndesist from further proceedings of this kind. His letter of ex-\\npostulation had the effect of arousing the Kemble blood in this\\nhigh spirited lady, eliciting from her the reply that she would not\\ncontinue to accept the annuity subject to any conditions or inter-\\nference with her free action the correspondence resulting, as\\nstated before, in the annuity being withdrawn. During its\\nsuspension Mrs. Hatton was reduced to considerable straits,\\nearning an inadequate livelihood from the precarious results of\\nauthorship. On one occasion, being so occupied while confined\\nto her bed by illness, an acquaintance called, and was so affected\\nby the scene presented that he at once and unknown to Mrs.\\nHatton represented her case to Mr. Kemble, who, to his honour,\\nimmediately and unconditionally caused the annuity to be restored.\\nFor many years she was in the habit of periodically receiving a\\ncircle of friends, whom she entertained by readings of uncommon\\npower and pathos from various dramatic and other works,\\ntogether with an almost endless repertoire of anecdotes, principally\\nderived from her own acquaintance and observation of scenes and\\npersons eminent and interesting in their day. I was often one of\\nher guests on these occasions. The only memento in Swansea of\\nthis lady that I am aware of is contained in the collection of the\\nSwansea Museum a cast of her head.\\nAnn Radcliffe (1764-1823) wrote romances of mystery, follow-\\ning in the wake of Horace Walpole s Castle of Otranto (1764).", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0361.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "5^14 NOTES.\\nHer most famous book, which is still readable, was i\\\\\\\\e Mysteries\\nof Udolpho (1794). This style of composition, which once enjoyed\\nwide popularity, was cleverly ridiculed by the great realist Jane\\nAusten, in Northanger Abbey (1818). For further information\\nabout Mrs. Radcliffe, see Professor Cross s book, previously men-\\ntioned.\\n106. 31. Mrs. Mauley. Mrs. Mary de la Riviere Manley\\n(i652?-i724), was a playwright, novelist, and scandal-monger,\\nwhose own reputation was not far in advance of that of many of\\nher characters. Her most famous book was Secret Memoirs and\\nManners of Several Persons of Quality, of both Sexes. Frotn the\\nNetv Atalantrs. Seven editions were published. On account of\\nthe slanders in this book she was arrested. Although Swift had\\nattacked her in the Tatler (No. 63), he afterwards became her\\nfriend, and helped her in some of her compositions. This explains\\nThackeray s expression, Swift s coadjutrix. Notice that the\\nname of the book mentioned above is not Atlantis, as given in\\nthe text, but Atalantis. Perhaps the most commonly misspelled\\nname in the language, next to Jacques for Shakspere s\\nJaques, is Atlanta for Atalanta. It seems as though\\nAtalantis needed only more currency to enjoy the same bad\\neminence.\\n107. I. Tom Durfey. Thomas D Urfey (1653-1723), affec-\\ntionately known as Tom, was a playwright, verse-writer, and\\neditor of ballad miscellanies. His best-known production is Pills\\nto Purge Melancholy^ six volumes of merry and very licentious\\nballads, published in 1719-20. Though D Urfey was a good deal\\nof a buffoon, and often wrote obscenely, there was in his nature\\nsomething that attracted the very best men to him, for so pure-\\nminded a man as Addison spoke of him in terms of the warmest\\naffection, and he was a general favourite wherever he went.\\n107. I. Tom Brown. Thomas Brown (1663-1704) was a\\nschool-teacher, journalist, and hand-to-mouth writer. He was a\\ndissipated man, and wrote very coarse satires. His humourous\\nsketches of low life are, however, valuable. He was buried in\\nthe cloisters of Westminster Abbey, near his friend Mrs. Aphra\\nBehn.\\n107. I. Ned Ward, Edward Ward, born about 1660, was for\\nA", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0362.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 315\\nmany years a noted tavern-keeper and poet in London. He died\\nin 1 73 1. The London Spy appeared 1698- 1700, and was published\\ncomplete in eighteen parts in 1753. Its chief distinction was its\\ncoarse humour.\\n113, 12. \u00e2\u0096\u00a0Christian Hero. This was published in 1701,\\nthe title reading as follows The Christian Hero an Argument\\nproving that no Principles but those of Religion are sufficient to\\n?nake a great Man. For Steele s career as a soldier, see\\nEsmond.\\n122. 17. Advice to a very Young Alar ried Lady. See our\\nnote, on this letter, to page 31. Thackeray looks at the matter\\nfrom only one point of view, and that not the right one.\\n127. 16. Jonson. Query-Tonson It is Jonson in the first\\nedition.\\n128. 2. Artless as a child s prattle. They are probably more\\namusing to us than they were to the recipient.\\n130. 10. Addison sold the house and furniture. See P.rof. G.\\nR. Carpenter s Lntroduction to his edition of Steele (Athenaeum Press\\nSeries), page 37. This story circulated freely in Dr. Johnson s\\ntime, and was given added currency by Macaulay but it lacks\\nproof, and is very likely apocryphal. Steele wrote to his wife\\nunder date of August 20, 1708: I have paid M Addison His\\nwhole thousand pound and have settled every man s payment\\nexcept one which I hope to perfect tomorrow. This letter\\napparently refers to a previous loan for a fuller discussion of the\\nstory of the sale than is found in Carpenter, see Aitken s Life of\\nSteele, II, 342-344-\\n131. 12. Doctor John Hoadly. He was the youngest son of the\\nwell-known Bishop, Benjamin Hoadly, and was born in London\\non October 8, 17 11, and died March 16, 1776. He became a\\nclergyman so as to avail himself of the fine livings he could\\nobtain through his father s influence. Nor was he disappointed\\nin this for after a good push by the Bishop, he rose from one\\npreferment to another, holding on to all of them till his death.\\nHis real interest, however, was in the drama he wrote several\\nplays, and hobnobbed with theatrical people. The passage quoted\\nby Thackeray may be found in John Nichols s Epistolary Corre-\\nspondence of Sir Richard Steele^ London, 1809, II. 508, note.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0363.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "3l6 NOTES.\\nwhere it is given as extracted from a letter written by Dr. John\\nHoadly.\\n131- 19-^ 4^^^ November. William was born at The Hague\\non November 4, 1650, and was married to Princess Mary of York\\non November 4, 1677.\\n132. 7. Mr. Joseph Aliller. An actor, commonly called Joe\\nMiller bom 1684, died 1738. His reputation really came after\\nhis death. John Mottley, in 1739, compiled a book called Joe\\nMiller s Jests. It was very popular, but not authentic.\\n135. 7. Terrible lines of S^inft. From Swift s short poem 77;^\\nDay of Judgment. In the standard edition of Swift, edited by Scott,\\nthese lines are given in Volume XIV, page 259, and they differ\\nin a number of minor details from the version in Thackeray s text.\\nSwift never published them they were found among his MSS.,\\nand appeared in a letter from Lord Chesterfield to Voltaire, dated\\nAugust 27, 1752.\\n137. 8. The first sense of sorrow. Dick Steele himself nar-\\nrates this episode, in almost exactly the same words, to Harry\\nEsmond. See Esmond, Book I, Chapter VI.\\n140. 20. The Barmecide s. From the Arabian Nights. A\\nprince of the Barmecide family set an imaginary meal before a\\nhungry man, who pretended to eat. Thus to share in a Barme-\\ncide meal is like dining with Duke Humphry one eats only in\\nimagination. Dickens uses the expression, a Barmecide feast.\\n143. 25. Beignets d abricot. Apricot fritters. Dii vionde\\nmeans in good society.\\nAlthough no one could speak more appreciatively or affection-\\nately of Steele than Thackeray does in this lecture, he has\\ncertainly made him out to be much less respectable than he really\\nwas. Steele was not nearly so reckless nor so dissipated as\\nThackeray represents him. Perhaps for this very reason, the\\nactual Steele was less interesting and picturesque.\\nPRIOR, GAY, AND POPE.\\n149. 6. Spielhatis. Gaming-house.\\n149. 6. Bobbing for perch. The bob is the floater.\\n149. 10. Batavian Chloe. When Holland was conquered by\\nI", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0364.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "NOTES. ^1/\\nthe French in 1795, a new government was set up, called the\\nBatavian Republic.\\n150. g. Alcaics. Perhaps the best English verses in this metre\\nare Tennyson s lines to Milton, beginning\\nO mighty-mouth d inventor of harmonies,\\nO skilTd to sing of Time or Eternity,\\nGod-gifted organ-voice of England,\\nMilton, a name to resound for ages/\\nA-lcseus was a lyric poet of Mytilene, who flourished about 600\\nB.C. One variety of this classic metre consists of verses of five\\nfeet, the first a spondee, or sometimes an iambic, the second an\\niambic, the third a long syllable, and the fourth and fifth dactyls.\\nIt is an exceedingly difficult metre to handle successfully in\\nEnglish.\\n151. 13. Mahomet s coffin. Mahomet s coffin was supposed to\\nbe suspended in mid-air without support. Some accounted for\\nthis by a theory of an iron coffin with magnets and there were\\nvarious hypotheses, until one man decided to visit it and see for\\nhimself; then the mystery was explained it was n t suspended at\\nall.\\n152. 4. Spence. Joseph Spence (1699-1768), His Anecdotes\\nwere published in 1820, and are at once delightful reading and\\nan invaluable source of reference for all students of eighteenth\\ncentury literature.\\n152. II. Long Acre. A street in the western part of London,\\nbetween Hyde Park and Lincoln s Inn Fields. It was celebrated\\nfor its coach-makers, and also for its low resorts. See Pepys, ed.\\nWheatley, IV. 41.\\n152. II. Johnson. See note to page 155, line 2.\\n153. 5. Their modern air. Prior s songs have had a consider-\\nable influence on the minor verse of our own day. The lighter\\npieces of Frederick Locker, Andrew Lang, Edmund Gosse, and\\nothers, show plainly the manner of Prior.\\n153. 7. Owner of the Sabine farm. Horace, who owned a\\nfine country seat in the Sabine mountains.\\n153. 8, 31. Verses addressed to Halifax. Not only has\\nThackeray ingeniously transposed the order of these verses,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0365.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "3l8 NOTES.\\nbut the first stanza does not occur in the original at all, and the\\nsecond is not correctly quoted. In the original it reads,\\nOur Hopes, like tow ring Falcons, aim\\nAt Objects in an airy height\\nThe little Pleasure of the Game\\nIs from afar to view the Flight.\\nTo the Honourable Charles Montague. Poems\\non Several Occasions. London, 1718, folio.\\nThe stanza that Thackeray quotes first is not in this poem, and I\\nhave not succeeded in finding it anywhere in the poems of Prior.\\nIn the first edition of the Humourists^ the w^hilst in the first\\nline reads w^hen.\\n153. 20. Verses of Chloe. The stanzas quoted are the last\\nthree of Prior s poem, A Better Answer. Prior spelled Cloe,\\nnot Chloe. And it is spelled Cloe in the first edition of\\nthe Humourists.\\n153. 32. In the metre made familiar. Alluding, of course, to\\nTennyson s In Memoriam (1850), then in the first flush of its\\nfame.\\n154. 14. She sighed, she smiled.^^ These are the last four\\nstanzas of Prior s poem, The Garland.\\n154. 31. Deus sit etc. May God be good to this\\ndrinker.\\n155. I. Walter de Mapes. Map, Mapes, or Mapus, Walter, a\\nrenowned churchman, politician, and wit of the twelfth century.\\nHe was of Welsh descent, Map being Welsh for son. He\\nwas probably a native of Herefordshire, and during his life was\\nlargely associated with the city of Hereford, though he wrote in\\nFrench and Latin. He was born about 1140, and as a youth\\nwent to study at Paris, returning to England before 1 162. He\\nwas a close friend of Henry II., employed by him at court, and\\ngiven important positions in the Church. He died about 1209.\\nMap is the correct spelling of his name, for he spells it that\\nway himself. We learn most of the facts of his life from his work,\\nDe Nugis Curialium (Courtiers Triflings). He has always en-\\njoyed a great reputation for his supposed share in the creation of\\nthe legends of the Round Table M. Paulin Paris believes him to\\nhave been the authpr of the prose Lancelot, including the S. Graal,", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0366.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 319\\nand Morte Arthur. M. Gaston Paris, however, ascribes none of\\nit to Map. For a discussion of this question, see Diet. A at. Biog.,\\nart. A/ap. He seems to have written a number of satirical poems\\nagainst ecclesiastical abuses, though many were formerly ascribed\\nto him which are not now believed to be his. In fact, just what he\\ndid and did not write are favourite matters of discussion among\\nscholars. In Tennyson s play, Becket, Walter Map appears as a\\ncharacter who strenuously endeavors to furnish a comic element.\\n155. 2. yo/mson, who spoke slightingly of Prior s verses.\\nMrs. Thrale disputed with him on the merit of Prior. Heat-\\ntacked him powerfully; said he wrote of love like a man who had\\nnever felt it his love verses were college verses; and he repeated\\nthe song Alexis shunn d his fellow swains, c., in so ludicrous\\na manner, as to make us all wonder how any one could have\\nbeen pleased with such fantastical stuff. Mrs. Thrale stood to\\nher gun with great courage, in defence of amourous ditties, which\\nJohnson despised, till he at last silenced her by saying, My dear\\nLady, talk no more of this. Nonsense can be defended but by\\nnonsense. Boswell s Johnson, ed. Hill, II. 89.\\n158. 4. Craggs. James Craggs the Younger 1686-172 1),\\nSecretary of State. He was mixed up in the South Sea Company.\\nHe died of the smallpox, and his colifin rests on that of his friend\\nAddison in Henry VII s chapel. Addison wrote a letter on his\\ndeath-bed, dedicating his works to Craggs.\\n163. 4. Mr. Gay s Fables. The first series of Gay s Fables\\nwas published in 1727. The Dedication ran as follows To his\\nHighness William, Duke of Cumberland, these new Fables, in-\\nvented for his amusement, are humbly dedicated by his High-\\nness s most faithful and most obedient servant, John Gay. Wil-\\nliam Augustus (1721-1765), the Duke of Cumberland, the third\\nson of George II., was of course a mere child when the Fables\\nwere dedicated to him.\\n163. 6. Dettingen. A Bavarian village on the Main. On\\nJune 27, 1743, the Austrians, Hanoverians, and English under\\nGeorge II. defeated a larger French force there. This was the\\nlast time that an English king took personal command of an army\\nin battle.\\n163. 7. Ctilloden is in Scotland, six miles E.N.E. of Inverness.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0367.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "320 NOTES.\\nHere the royal army, commanded by the Duke of Cumberland,\\ntotally defeated the young Pretender, on the i6th of April 1746.\\nCumberland was censured for cruelty in this battle. Thackeray s\\nuse of the word amiable is characteristic.\\n163. 14. Shepherd s rveek. Published in 1714. The Tri-\\nvia appeared in 17 15.\\n163. 19. Minikin. Thackeray apparently uses this word in\\nthe sense in which Schmidt says it is used in Shakspere. See\\nLear, III. vi, 45\\nAnd for one blast of thy minikin mouth,\\nThy sheep shall take no harm.\\nSchmidt defines the word as small and pretty. It is somewhat\\ndoubtful, however, if this is an exact definition. The word occurs\\nonly once in Shakspere; but in Lovelace s poem, Ellindas Glove,\\nwe find\\nFor though the lute s too high for me,\\nYet servants, knowing minikin nor base.\\nAre still allow d to fiddle with the case.\\nThe minikin was a little pin, for high notes, used only by very\\nclever musicians. It would seem that this might explain the\\nShaksperian use of the word better than Schmidt s interpretation.\\n163. 24. Bird-organ. A small barrel-organ used in teach-\\ning birds to whistle tunes. Century Dictionary\\n163. 31. Bergamot. A perfume from a fruit tree.\\n164. I. Philips. Ambrose Philips (1671-1749). He was\\ncalled by his contemporaries namby-pamby Philips, which\\ndistinguished him from the poetaster John Philips, who wrote at\\nthe same time. His Pastorals^ which Thackeray here has in\\nmind, were published in 1709.\\n164. 25. Rubini. Giovanni Battista Rubini, a great Italian\\ntenor, was born at Romano, province of Bergamo, in 1795, and\\ndied near there in 1854. He was therefore still living when\\nThackeray wrote this passage about him. His fame began early\\nand was soon enormous. He went to Paris in 1825, where he\\nplayed the part of Romiro in Cenerentola. Later he traveled\\nover much of Europe with uniform tremendous success. He be-\\ncame the master singer of the continent. The harsh climate of", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0368.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 321\\nRussia injured his voice; he resolved to retire, and finally ended\\nhis days on the magnificent estate which his voice had enabled\\nhim to buy.\\n164. 25. quil avail, etc. That he had tears in his voice.\\n165. 2. In the Beggar s Opera and in its wearisotne con-\\ntinuation. J. Underhill, in the introduction to his edition of Gay\\n(Muses Library edition, p. li), remarks, it may with perfect\\ntruth be said that it is the first popular success known to the\\nhistory of the English stage. The wearisome continuation\\nwas the sequel which Gay wrote, called Polly. The satire in this\\nwas so evident that the authorities prohibited its performance; but\\nso great was the interest taken in any continuation of the Beggar s\\nOpera, that Polly had an enormous sale.\\n168. 17. The greatest natne on our list. It will be remembered\\nthat at the conclusion of the lecture on Swift., Thackeray re-\\nmarked, We have other great names to mention none I think,\\nhowever, so great or so gloomy. Lecturers are sometimes care-\\nless in the use of adjectives.\\n168. 26. llie greatest literacy artist. In the sense of polish\\nand absolute finish, Pope was, no doubt, a great artist; but apart\\nfrom genius and inspiration, and judging only from the standpoint\\nof skill in handling verse forms, Milton was a far greater artist\\nthan Pope. We sometimes make the mistake of assuming that\\nthe highest genius is necessarily unaccompanied by lack of\\ntechnical skill Shakspere and Milton- are conspicuous instances\\nto the contrary.\\n170. 24. Ariosto. His great poem, the Orlando Furioso,\\nwhich has exercised so profound an influence on the literature of\\nthe world, was published in 15 16.\\n170. 24. Battling with the Cidfor the love of Chi?7iene. The\\nCid was and is a Spanish hero. The original Cid was one Ruy\\n(Rodrigo) Diaz de Bivar, a great baron. He was born about\\n1040, and died in 1099 at Valencia, which he rescued from the\\nMoors. Five Moorish kings are said to have named him Cid\\n(derived from the Arabic Sid-y) for being their lord and conqueror.\\nHe became the chief figure of Spanish ballad literature and\\nwas made the leading character of two plays by Guillem de\\nCastro, a Spanish poet (1569-1631). From these plays Corneille,", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0369.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "322 NOTES.\\nthe famous French dramatist, obtained his inspiration and much\\nof his material for Le Cid, a tragi-comedy that appeared in 1636.\\nThe substance of the plot of this play is as follows Don Gomes,\\nstung to jealousy because Don Diegue has been made tutor of the\\nking s son (the Infant) provokes Don Diegue to great anger a\\nquarrel ensues, and Gomes smites the feeble Don Diegue. Unable\\nto avenge his injury, the old man appeals to his son, Don Rodri-\\ngue, who challenges and slays Don Gomes. Now Don Rodrigue\\nis in love with Chimene, the daughter of Don Gomes, who,\\ndespite her tender passion for the young warrior, demands\\nvengeance of Ferdinand the king for her father s death. The\\nwhole play turns upon the struggle between her loyalty to her\\nslain father and her love for the man who has slain him. Her\\nanguish is great, but she is after all a woman. She offers a\\ncondition to Don Rodrigue, which he fulfills by winning great\\nvictories. Even then Chimene does not immediately yield the\\nCid again departs in pursuit of glory, after which he may return\\nand possess her.\\n170. 26. Armida s gardeu- Armida is one of the most\\nprominent characters in Tasso s Jerusalem Delivered. Her story\\nis founded on a tradition related by Pierre Delancre. The\\npoet tells us, that, when the Crusaders arrived at the Holy City,\\nSatan held a council to devise some means of disturbing the plans\\nof the Christian warriors, and Armida, a very beautiful sorceress,\\nwas employed to seduce Rinaldo and other crusaders. Rinaldo\\nwas conducted by Armida to a remote island, where, in her\\nsplendid palace, surrounded by delightful gardens and pleasure-\\ngrounds, he utterly forgot his vows and the great object to which\\nhe had devoted his life. To liberate him from his voluptuous\\nbondage, two messengers from the Christian army. Carlo and\\nUbaldo, came to the island, bringing a talisman so powerful that\\nthe witchery of Armida was destroyed. Rinaldo escaped [not a\\nvery accurate expression] but was followed by the sorceress, who,\\nin battle, incited several warriors to attack the hero, and at last\\nherself rushed into the fight. She was defeated by Rinaldo\\n[because after all she was only a weak woman] who then con-\\nfessed his love to her, persuaded her to become a Christian, and", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0370.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 32 S\\nvowed to be her faithful knight. The story of Armida has been\\nmade the subject of an opera by both Gluck and Rossini.\\nTwas but a doubt; but ne er magician s wand\\nWrought change with all Armtda s fairy art\\nLike what this light touch left on Juan s heart.\\nByron.\\nThe stage (even as it then was), after the recluseness and\\nausterity of a college life, must have appeared like Armida s\\nenchanted palace. Hazlitt.\\nThe grand mansions you arrive at in this waste, howling\\nsolitude prove sometimes essentially robber-towers; and there\\nmay be Armida palaces and divine-looking Armidas, where your\\nultimate fate is still worse. Carlyle.\\nThe above quotation with the illustrations is taken from\\nWheeler s Dictionary of the Noted Names of Fiction. The Geru-\\nsalemme Liberata of Torquato Tasso (1544-1595) appeared in\\n1581.\\n172. 10. A deitx fins. With two endings. Rechauffe va d,ii%\\nwarmed up.\\n173. 2. Appret/. Cooked up.\\n177. 3. Cachet. Literally seal. An air of distinction,\\n179. I. More illustrious. Possibly the Mermaid Tavern, a\\ncentury earlier, with Shakspere and Jonson and the other dra-\\nmatists, might compare favorably with this.\\n179. 5. White s. In the first number of the Tatler, April 12,\\n1709, Steele says, All accounts of gallantry, pleasure, and enter-\\ntainment shall be under the article of White s Chocolate-house.\\nThis famous resort stood in St. James s Street, and in the early\\ndays of the eighteenth century it had a v.dde reputation as a\\ngambling place for men of fashion. Note Hogarth s Rake s\\nProgress, Part iv.\\n179. 6. The Patriot A ing. This was written by Boling-\\nbroke in December, 1738, in a highly rhetorical style. Chester-\\nfield said that until he read this piece he did not know the\\nextent and power of the English language. {IVorhs, 1845, i.\\n376), quoted in Diet. Nat. Biog., art. St. John. Without the\\nauthor s consent, and against his will. Pope, who did so many\\nunderhand and disgraceful things, secretly printed 1500 copies of\\nI-", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0371.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "324 NOTES.\\nThe Patriot King. In 1844, very soon after Pope s death, which\\noccurred that year, Bolingbroke discovered that Pope had done\\nthis he was very indignant, and had a correct edition published\\nthat contained a preface said to be by David Mallet, which\\nattacked Pope. This brought on a fierce literary controversy.\\nThese facts form an interesting comment on Thackeray s state-\\nment (p. 178), I know nothing in any story more gallant and\\ncheering than the love and friendship which this company of\\nfamous men bore towards one another. Furthermore, while\\na pretty fellow from White s doubtless could not have\\nwritten The Patriot King, it is altogether probable that he\\nwould not have published it in so underhand a manner, and\\nwould very likely have despised little Mr. Pope for doing it.\\n179. 10. Have 7uon Barcelona. Barcelona was taken by the\\nEarl of Peterborough in the autumn of 1705. The circumstances\\nunder which the town was assailed, and by which Peterborough\\ngot the sole credit for the victory, form an interesting chapter in\\nmilitary annals. For a good account, see Diet. Nat. Biog. art.\\nCharles Mordaunt.\\n180. 28. Wiifs. In the Tatler Steele dated his accounts\\nof poetry from this coffee-house. Pepys visited the famous resort\\nfor the first time on February 3, 1664. In Covent Garden to-night,\\ngoing to fetch home my wife, I stopped at the great Coffee-house\\nthere, where I never was before; where Dry den the poet (I knew\\nat Cambridge), and all the wits of the town, and Harris the\\nplayer, and Mr. Hoole of our College. And had I had time then,\\nor could at other times, it will be good coming thither, for there,\\nI perceive, is very witty and pleasant discourse. But I could nox.\\ntarry, and as it was late, they were all ready to go away. Diary\\ned. Wheatley, IV. 30. This tavern was originally called the\\nRose, but the name was changed to Will s after William\\nUrwin, the landlord.\\n181. 15- Budgell. Eustace Budgell (1686-1737), was one of\\nthe contributors to the Spectator^ and shared Addison s lodgings\\nfor a time.\\n181. 15. Carey. Henry Carey, a poet and musician. Pope\\nsaid he was one of Addison s little senate. His best-known\\npoem is Sally in our Alley. He was said to have been an ille-", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0372.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 325\\ngitimate son of the Marquis of Halifax. Hawkins says he killed\\nhimself. His death occurred in 1743.\\n181. 17- Duroc. Gerard Christophe Michel Duroc, Duke of\\nFriuli (1772-1813). A favourite officer of Napoleon.\\n181. 17- Hardy. Sir Thomas Masterman Hardy, Vice Ad-\\nmiral (1769-1839). He entered the navy in 1781, and \\\\vas con-\\nspicuous for gallantry in action. He was captain of the Victory\\nat the great battle of Trafalgar (1805), and attended Nelson in his\\ndying hours.\\n181. 23. Spadille and Manille. Spadille is the ace of spades\\nin the Spanish game called Iwnibre, or, as the English Augustans\\nspelled it, ombre. The leading features of this game are well\\nbrought out in Pope s Rape of the Lock. Manille is also a term\\nin ombre, quadrille, and tri. In black it is the deuce,\\nand in red the seven of the colour on which one is playing.\\nThere is another game of cards in which the nine of diamonds\\n(which is called manille takes the value chosen by him who\\nhas the nine spot. Quadrille refers to the fact that four\\npersons are playing ombre: tri to the fact that three are\\nplaying.\\n183. Thai doting old wit. We know now that Pope s\\naccount of how he assisted Wycherley is false the correspondence\\nthat was published as having passed between them was doctored\\nby Pope, making it practically a forgery. By the way, one of\\nPope s most famous phrases damn with faint praise (given\\non page 186 of our text) was stolen from Wycherley. In the\\nprologue to Wycherley s play. The Plain Dealer (1677), we find\\nthe line, And with faint praises one another damn.\\n183. 7- Addisoji s triumph of Cato. For a good account of\\nthe success of this play, and the causes of it, see Mr. Thomas\\nSergeant Perry s admirable work, English Literature in the\\nEighteenth Century, chapter v.\\n184. 14. The best satire. Thackeray quotes it on page 186.\\n185. 3. Bernadotte. His original name was Jean Baptiste\\nJules Bernadotte. He was born in 1764, and died in 1844. He\\nruled as Charles XIV of Sweden. Napoleon made him a marshal\\nof France in 1804, but he afterwards quarreled with his master\\nbecause the latter censured his conduct at the battle of Wagram", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0373.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "326 NOTES.\\n(1809). In 1810 the Swedish Diet elected Bernadotte heir to the\\nthrone, as old Charles XIII had no son. His reign began in\\n1818, though he had exercised great power long before.\\n185. 18. Did Mr. Addison^ etc. For a full account of the\\nquarrel between Addison and Pope, see the Diet. A^at. Biog.\\n186. 17. And zvere there one^ etc. These lines are taken\\nfrom Pope s Epistle to Dr. Arbtitknot, and are perhaps from the\\npurely artistic point of view the most skilful work Pope ever did,\\nand must rank among the masterpieces of English satire. Curi-\\nously enough, while Pope intended in this passage to draw a\\npicture of Addison, he not only totally failed to do that, but uncon-\\nsciously drew the best portrait of himself that the world has ever\\nseen. Curses and chickens are not the only things that come\\nhome to roost. Nearly all the leading features of Pope s character\\nare most accurately set forth in this attack upon Addison.\\nThe punctuation of this famous passage as given in the Bio-\\ngraphical Edition of Thackeray s English Humourists, page 546,\\nis very bad, though it differs in a few details from the first edition.\\nThere are two errors also, which occur in the first edition and are\\ncopied in the Biographical: the and in line 17 should be but,\\nand the as in line 29 should be or. Pope also wrote\\nev n for even in line 31. Our text follows the Biographical\\nexcept in obvious typographical errors; I have therefore printed\\nthis passage exactly as it appears there; but any reader can easily\\nmake the necessary improvement in punctuation,\\n188. 13. Thomson. James Thomson, familiarly called\\nJemmy, the well-known poet, and author of the Seasons (i j26-\\n1730). He was born in 1700, and died in 1748. His dissipated\\nhabits were a matter of common gossip.\\n189. 8. Atterbury. Francis Atterbury, the famous bishop\\n(1662-1732). His correspondence is interesting. He is one of\\nthe characters in Esmond, and hears Lord Castlewood s dying\\nconfession. See Esmond, Book I, chapter xiv.\\n189. 20. With the exception of Swift. Why except Swift Up\\nto the time of his leaving London, he was certainly one of the orna-\\nments of polished society, and few men were more sought after\\nthan he.\\nJ89. 22. Garth. Sir Samuel Garth was born in 1661, and", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0374.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "NO TES. 327\\ndied on January 18, 1719, not 1718, as the foot-note in the text\\ngives it. His poem, the Dispensary appeared in 1699, and by\\n1741 had reached its tenth edition. It ridiculed the apothecaries.\\n190. I. Steele has described. Steele dedicated his periodical,\\nThe Lover, to Garth in the most affectionate language, saying\\nthat he did not know whether his love or admiration for Garth\\nwas the greater, and the dedication began as follows As soon\\nas I thought of making the Lover a Present to one of my Friends,\\nI resolved, without further distracting my Choice, to send it To\\nthe Best-natiired Man. You are so universally known for this\\nCharacter, that an Epistle so directed would find its Way to You\\nwithout your Name, and I believe no Body but You yourself\\nwould deliver such a Superscription to any other Person.\\n190. 2. Codrington. Christopher Codrington (1668-1710), is\\nidentified with All Souls College, Oxford, to which he left an\\nendowment that founded and maintained a splendid library. He\\nwas a prominent general under King William. His allusion to\\nGarth, quoted in the text, is taken from lines that Tie sent to Garth\\nabout the Dispensary, which include the following\\nThou hast no faults, or I no faults can spy,\\nThou art all beauty, or all blindness I.\\n190. 3. The best of Christians. In Pope s Farewell to London\\n(1715) we find\\nFarewell, Arbuthnot s raillery\\nOn every learned sot;\\nAnd Garth, the best good Christian he,\\nAlthough he knows it not. (Stanza 4.)\\n191. 10. Jervas. Charles Jervas or Jarvis (1675 7-1739), was\\nborn in Ireland. He lived with Sir Godfrey Kneller for a year,\\nand was a famous portrait painter. He was especially fond of\\nthe society of literary men. Although he does not seem to have\\nknown much Spanish, he made a translation of Don Quixote, the\\nchief interest of which lies in the discussion it caused as to how\\nmuch Spanish its maker really knew, a question that has never\\nbeen settled to the complete satisfaction of everyone. Jervas, like\\nso many other persons mentioned in the ILuinourists, figures in\\nEsmond. She must have his picture taken; and accordingly\\nhe was painted by Mr. Jervas, in his red coat, and smiling upon", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0375.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "328 NOTES,\\na bombshell, which was bursting at the corner of the piece.\\nEsmond^ Book II, chapter xv.\\n191. II. Richardson. Jonathan Richardson (1665-1745), a\\npainter who made honest and trustworthy likenesses, but whose\\nwork shows no genius. He was an intimate friend of Pope.\\n192, 4. Kneller. Sir Godfrey Kneller, whose original name\\nwas Gottfried Kniller, was born at Ltibeck in North Ger-\\nmany in 1646. About 1675 he went to London, and painted\\nportraits for Charles II and others. King Louis XIV also sat\\nfor him. He was the principal court painter for William III,\\none of his most famous pictures being the equestrian portrait of\\nWilliam, now at Hampton Court. He painted Queen Anne,\\nGeorge I and his son, and in 17 15 was made a baronet. He\\ndid an enormous amount of work, and amassed great wealth.\\nTen reigning sovereigns sat to him, which makes his prodigious\\nvanity somewhat excusable. He died in 1723.\\n194. 22. His faithful dog.\\nBut thinks, admitted to that equal sky,\\nHis faithful dog shall bear him company.\\nEssay on Man, i. in, 112.\\nind, 3. The famous Greek picture. This refers to the cele-\\nbrated painting of the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, by Timanthes, a\\nGreek painter who flourished about 400 B.C. We know nothing\\nof his life, but Pliny said that he possessed the art of expressing\\nhuman passion more than any other artist. He suggests more\\nthan he shows. In the picture alluded to, the grief of Calchas,\\nUlysses, and Menelaus is shown in their faces. Agamemnon\\nhas his face covered.\\n197. 22. Gibber s pamphlets. Colley Cibber (1671-1757), one\\nof the most notable if not notorious figures connected with litera-\\nture and the stage in the eighteenth century. He was a play-\\nwright, an actor, a vigorous controversial writer, and a rake. In\\n1730 he was appointed poet-laureate. In the quarrel that took\\nplace between him and Pope, posterity has decided that justice is\\non the side of Cibber, though unfortunately he was no match for\\nPope in a wit combat. Pope finally made him the hero of the\\nDunciad in place of Theobald. Cibber had a hand in the compo-\\nsition of some thirty plays; he was an excellent comedy actor, one\\nne I", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0376.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 329\\nof the best theatrical managers the English stage has known, and\\nmust rank in the very first class as a dramatic critic. His Apol-\\nogy for the Life of Air. Colley Cibber (1740), an important and\\nvaluable book, is written with great skill, and is essential to those\\nwho would understand tlie history of the stage in the eighteenth\\ncentury. In spite of Gibber s many strong and (some) great\\nqualities, he was often regarded by his contemporaries, especially\\nby his enemies, as a mere fool. He had weaknesses and affectations.\\n198. 15. Tibbald. Lewis Theobald (pronounced and some-\\ntimes spelled Tibbald), was born in 1688, and died in 1744, the\\nsame years as his bitter antagonist, Pope. He was slow, rather\\npedantic, and as a poet dull and worthless. But it was not for\\nhis bad, but for his good qualities, that Pope hated him. In 1725\\nPope published an edition of Shakspere, a work for which he was\\nby no means fitted. Theobald shortly pointed out many errors in\\nthis edition, at the same time making most valuable comments and\\nwonderfully felicitous emendations of the text. Many of these\\nPope adopted in his second edition, with unblushing falsehoods\\nabout the amount of his debt. Then he proceeded to make poor\\nTheobald the hero of the Dunciad, thus holding him up to the\\nridicule of the whole town, which did not spare him. Theobald\\nwas no match for Pope in controversy, but he answered him in a\\nmuch more effectual way by bringing out in 1734 his own edition\\nof Shakspere, which in scholarship and value completely eclipsed\\nPope s. In the long list of Shaksperean editors and commentators\\nTheobald s is to-day one of the most honored names. His famous\\nemendation of the folio reading, *a Table of green fields\\n(Henry V, II, iii. 17) by a babbled of green fields is a stroke\\nof genius, and whether Shakspere wrote it or not, it is certainly\\nworthy of the great dramatist at his best. In the union of\\nlearning, critical acumen, tact, and good sense he has perhaps\\nno equal among Shakespearean commentators. Churton Collins,\\nBid. Nat. Biog., art. Theobald.\\n198. 16. Welsted. Leonard Welsted 1 689-1 747) also figured\\nin the Dunciad.\\nFlow, Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer, beer;\\nThough stale, not ripe; though thin, yet never clear", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0377.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "330 NOTES.\\nSo sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull;\\nHeady, not strong; overflowing, though not full.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094(Book III. vs. 170.)\\nPope is, of course, parodying the well-known lines in Cooper s\\nHill by the poet Denham. Welsted had incurred the enmity of\\nPope by satirising the play Three Hours after Marriage^ written\\nby Gay, Arbuthnot, and Pope.\\n198. 18. Grub Street. This was near Moor Fields. It was\\nwell known in Pope s day as the headquarters of poor literary\\nhacks. The name was used as an uncomplimentary epithet,\\nhowever, by the enemies of Foxe, the writer on martyrs, who\\nlived there in the early days of Elizabeth. Hare calls attention\\nto the curious fact that the present name of this thoroughfare,\\nMilton Street, was named after a builder, and not after the\\ngreat poet, though the place is full of memories of him. In\\nthe Dicnciady we find\\nNot with less glory mighty Dulness crown d,\\nShall take through Grub Street her triumphant round.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094(Book III., vs. 135, 6.)\\n198. 31. Curie s authors. Edmund Curll (1675-1747), an ener-\\ngetic, clever, and utterly unscrupulous book-seller and publisher.\\nHe quarrelled with Pope for twenty years. For Pope s transactions\\nwith him, which form one of the dirtiest chapters in the history\\nof letters, and now that the truth is known, have completely ruined\\nPope s reputation for personal honor, see the Elwin-Courthope\\nedition of Pope s works, where the whole business is given in\\ndetail. Curll was unmercifully ridiculed in the Dunciad.\\n199. I. Petty France. This was a street which took its name\\nfrom the number of French Protestants that came for refuge\\nthither in 1635. It was afterward called York Street, from the\\nDuke of York, the son of George III. Milton s house, where he\\nlived with Andrew Marvell as private secretary, stood on this\\nstreet. It was destroyed in 1877, and according to Hare with-\\nout a voice being raised to save it. Walks in London^ II. 402.\\n199. 2. Budge Roiv. This was in the very heart of London,\\nnear Watling Street. It was so called from the sellers of Budge\\n(lamb-skin) fur. (Hare, I. 328.)", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0378.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 331\\n200. 17. She comes, she conies! Four lines are omitted in\\nthis quotation. After line 32, Shrinks to her second cause and\\nis no more, there should appear\\nPhysic of Metaphysic begs defence,\\nAnd Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense\\nSee Mystery to Mathematics fly\\nIn vain they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.\\nThese four lines are also omitted in the first edition of the\\nHumourists. The Biographical edition corrects one error in the\\nfirst edition, which read Faith for Truth in line 29. But\\nboth editions have the false reading fell in line 27, v^^here the\\nDiinciad reads felt. Our text, of course, follows the Bio-\\ngraphical edition.\\n201. 9. The equal of all poets of all times. This is of course\\nmere hyperbole.\\n201. 28. Pope s admirable career. Had Thackeray known as\\nmuch about this career as we do to-day, he would doubtless have\\nrevised this statement. In fact, all of this glowing peroration\\nwould be excellent, if we could only take it ironically. As a sober\\nestimate, it fits Pope about as well as it would Judas Iscariot.\\nHOGARTH, SMOLLETT, AND FIELDING.\\n203. 4. A virtuous and gallant hero. Compare this and what\\nfollows with the title of Thackeray s great novel, Vanity Fair:\\na Novel without a Hero, which certainly was and is a greatly\\npopular story.\\n203. 15. I fa7icy very few ladies. Just what books women,\\nor ladies as they were called in 1850, do and do not like would\\nbe a difficult matter to settle, to explain, or to analyse. Thacke-\\nray is probably right in suggesting that Swift and Fielding are\\nnot favourite writers with women. Mrs. Oliphant, in confessing\\nher inability to agree with Carlyle s high estimate of Burns s\\nyolly Beggars, says that perhaps it is impossible for a refined\\nwoman to appreciate properly productions, no matter how power-\\nful, that contain passages so coarse. Yet to-day we see thousands\\nof women go into ecstasies over the stories of Rudyard Kipling,\\nwhile conversely it is not improbable that the delicate art of Jane", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0379.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "332 NOTES.\\nAusten finds more admirers among men than among women.\\nThomas Hardy has many bitter enemies among his feminine\\nreaders one of them wrote on the margin of one of his novels\\nthat belonged to a circulating library, Oh, how I hate Thomas\\nHardy One thing, at any rate, is certain. Women form the\\nchief constituency of the modern successful novelist. They are as\\nnecessary to the success of the novel as they are to foreign missions.\\n206. 2. Jack Sheppard. John Sheppard, the criminal, was\\nborn in 1702. His mistress, who led him astray, incited him to\\nmost of his crimes. He astonished England with his wonderful\\nescapes from prison and his final execution in 1724 was wit-\\nnessed by 200,000 people. Defoe s interesting novel. Colonel\\nyacque, gives a good account of a career of robbery similar to\\nthat of Jack Sheppard.\\n206. 3. Jonathati Wild. See Fielding s famous novel of\\nthat name, which deals with a historical personage. Wild was a\\ndetective, who brought 35 highway robbers, 22 house-breakers,\\nand 10 returned convicts to the gallows. He was born in 1682,\\nand was himself executed for house-breaking in 1725.\\n206. 12. Draco. Draco, or Dracon, was an Athenian legis-\\nlator, who ruled as Archon in 621 B.C. He is commonly said to\\nhave made death a penalty for every offense, no matter how triv-\\nial, but his cruelty is doubtless exaggerated by tradition.\\n206. 29. Sconces. Elaborate fixed candlesticks.\\n206. 31. Baldaquin. Usually spelled baldachin. An\\nornamental canopy generally placed over an altar.\\nFor see, for see, the rapturous moment\\nApproaches, and earth s best endowment\\nBlends with heaven s; the taper-fires\\nPant up, the winding brazen spires\\nHeave loftier yet the baldachin.\\nBrowning s Christmas Eve.\\nThe baldachin Browning refers to is the canopy over the altar\\nof St. Peter s in Rome. It is elevated on superb columns, and\\nstands 95 feet high.\\n207. 26. Andromeda. (Classic mythology.) Andromeda is\\nchained to the beach, and the horrid sea-monster approaches to\\ndevour her, secure of his prey but the hero Perseus slays him in\\nthe very nick of time, and marries the lovely maid as his reward.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0380.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 333\\nSee Charles Kingsley s poem Andromeda. For a splendid de-\\nscription of a painting of Andromeda, see Browning s Pauiine, vs.\\n656 et seq. Though written when Browning was only twenty\\nyears old, it is in liis best vein.\\n207. 27. Judith. For the dramatic story of Judith and\\nHolofernes, see the book Judith in the Apocrypha. The igno-\\nrance of the books in the Apocrypha that prevails among school\\nand college students is even more dense and profound than that\\nof the Bible proper.\\n208. 24. Tyburn. This was at the northeast corner of Hyde\\nPark, London. At this corner of Hyde Park, where the angle\\nof Connaught Place now stands, was the famous Tyburn Tree,\\nsometimes called the Three-Legged Mare, being a triangle on\\nthree legs, where the public executions took place till they were\\ntransferred to Newgate in 1783. The manor of Tyburn took its\\nname from the Tye Bourne or brook, which rose under Primrose\\nHill, and the place was originally chosen for executions because,\\nthough on the high road to Oxford, it was remote from London.\\nThe condemned were brought hither in a cart from Newgate\\nthief and parson in a Tyburn cart,\\nthe prisoner usually carrying the immense nosegay which, by old\\ncustom, was presented to him on the steps of St. Sepulchre s\\nChurch, and having been refreshed with a bowl of ale at St.\\nGiles s. The cart was driven underneath the gallows, and, after\\nthe noose was adjusted, was driven quickly away by Jack Ketch\\nthe jiangman, so that the prisoner was left suspended.\\nAround the place of execution were raised galleries which were\\nlet to spectators they were destroyed by the disappointed mob\\nwho had engaged them when Dr. Henesey was reprieved in\\n1758. The bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw were\\nburied under the Tyburn tree, after hanging there for a day.\\nHare, Walks in London^ II, loi.\\nOn October 23, 1668, Pepys writes: And so away with Mr.\\nPierce, the surgeon, towards Tyburne, to see the people executed\\nbut come too late, it being done two men and a woman hanged,\\nand so back again and to my coachmaker s. Diary, ed. Wheat-\\nley, VIII, 120. On April 19, 1662, he had written: This\\nmorning, before we sat, I went to Aldgate and at the corner", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0381.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "334 NOTES.\\nshop, a draper s, I stood, and did see Barkestead, Okey, and\\nCorbet drawn towards the gallows at Tiburne and there they\\nwere hanged and quartered. They all looked very cheerful; but\\nI hear they all die defending what they did to the King to be\\njust; which is very strange. II, 208.\\n209. 3. Bogey. This word, which is spelled in a variety of\\nways, is derived from the Welsh bwg, a hobgoblin. The same\\nroot is seen in bugbear.\\n209. l^. lVhittington. Sir Richard Whittington was born\\nabout 1350, and from a humble origin succeeded in becoming\\nLord Mayor of London. His typically edifying career made him\\na fit subject for didactic ballads, such as are mentioned here.\\nThere is a broadside in the Roxburghe Collection, called Lon-\\ndon s Glory and Whittington s Renown, beginning\\nBrave London Prentices, come listen to my Song.\\nRoxburghe Ballads^ Ballad Society s ed., VII, 582-4.\\nSee also An Old Ballad of Whittington and his Cat {Roxb. and\\nDouce Coll.), Ibid., VII, 585-6.\\nThe ballad of the London Prentice alluded to in the text\\nmay be the once popular broadside ballad called The Honour of\\na London Prentice Being an Account of his tnatchless Manhood\\nand brave Adventures done in Turkey, and by ivhat means he mar-\\nried the King s Daughter. {^Roxb., Pepys, and other Colls.) It is\\nprinted in Roxb. Ballads, as above, VII, 589-91.\\n209. 16. Moll Flanders. Defoe s story with this title is one\\nof the first strictly realistic novels in English. It was published\\nin 1722.\\n209. 19. Halfpenny-iinder-the-hat. This is defined in\\nMurray s New English Dictionary as a low game of chance,\\nwithout any particulars and the only reference given is the one\\nin our text.\\n210. 4. Chuck-farthing. A game in which a farthing is\\npitched into a hole played for keeps. Compare the game of\\npitch-penny.\\n210. 30. Bandolier. A broad leather belt worn by soldiers.\\nIt used to be worn across the breast, passing from the right\\nshoulder under the left arm. Nowadays it is simply the car-\\ntridge-belt.\\ni", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0382.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 335\\n211. 4. A splendid marble arch. There are permissible\\ndoubts as to the real splendour of this arch. Hare says it is\\none of our national follies a despicable caricature of the Arch\\nof Constantine. Walks in London, II, 100. It was, like most\\nfollies, expensive; for its original cost was 75,000 pounds, and it\\nlater took a goodly sum to move it to its present position at Hyde\\nPark. The polite Tyburnia, from its situation in the West\\nEnd of London, is naturally a much more respectable district\\nthan it was in the good old Tyburn times.\\n211. 22. Dick Turpin. See note to page 98, line 30.\\n211. 23. Squire Western. The famous squire in Tom Jones.\\n212. 23. Bridewell. This was originally a hospital for the\\npoor later it became a penitentiary for loose and disorderly\\ncharacters. It often appears in this connection in the Eliza-\\nbethan drama.\\n213. 3. Who ran away with Johnny Cope. Sir John Cope\\nwas commander-in-chief in Scotland in 1745. At daybreak on\\nthe morning of September 21 Prince Charles and the Highlanders\\nmade a fierce attack, which took Cope completely by surprise.\\nThere was only one thing to do to run away as fast as possible.\\nThis Cope succeeded in doing and the flight never ceased to\\nappeal to the Scots sense of humour. A song became popular\\nHey, Johnie Cope 1 are ye waukin yet?\\nIt is only fair to add that an official inquiry completely exonerated\\nCope from all censure. He died in 1760. The date of his birth\\nis not known.\\n213. 8. Parson Ada??is. A great character in Fielding s\\nJoseph Andrews. There has never been any reason to doubt the\\nfirst judgment of Thomas Gray on this personage, who, shortly\\nafter the appearance of the story, wrote in a letter, Parson\\nAdams is perfectly well. Works, ed. Gosse, 11, 107. The book\\nwas published in February, 1742 young Richard West, then in\\nhis last illness, read it, and was delighted; on his earnest recom-\\nmendation Gray took up the novel, and in April wrote to West the\\nletter from which the above is an extract.\\n213. 20. Jack Hatchway. A character in Smollett s Fere-\\ngrine Fickle. Lismahago appears in Humphry Clinker.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0383.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "33^ NOTES.\\n214. 7. Roderick Random. The hero of Smollett s novel of\\nthat name.\\n214. 13. Bronghton the boxer. John Broughton was born in\\n1705, and lived until 1789, a longer space than is allotted to\\nmost modern pugilists. He was the father of British prize-fight-\\ning. Before he appeared fights were not generally settled by fists.\\nOriginally a waterman, he discovered a lucrative career in fight-\\ning, and amassed 7,000 pounds. He was patronised by aristo-\\ncratic society, and on the whole was an excellent specimen of his\\nprofession.\\n214. 13. Sarah Malcobn. She was executed in 1733, when\\nshe was about twenty-three years old. Hogarth painted a strik-\\ning likeness of her, while she was in prison during her trial for\\nmurder.\\n214. 14. Sifnon Lovat. Simon Fraser, sometime Master of\\nLovat (1726-1782). He headed his Highland clan against the\\nEnglish forces; but he was afterwards pardoned, and served bril-\\nliantly in the British army in America and elsewhere,\\n214. 14. John Wilkes. The famous agitator, born in 1727.\\nHe figured in many libel suits, and was a great mob leader, A\\nclever and unscrupulous demagogue, he was the idol of his numer-\\nous followers. He was Lord Mayor of London and a member of\\nParliament. His meeting Dr. Johnson at dinner is most humour-\\nously described by Boswell. (See Boswell s Johnson., ed. Hill,\\nIII, 74.) The references to Wilkes in Boswell s Johnson take up\\ntwo columns of Hill s admirable index. Wilkes died in 1797.\\n219, 6, Correggio. Antonio Allegri Correggio (1494-1534), a\\ngreat Italian painter.\\n219. 6. The Caracci. Agostino Caracci (1558-1602) and\\nAnnibal Caracci (1560-1609) were brothers. The latter was a\\npupil of his cousin, Ludovico Caracci (1555-1619). All three\\nwere famous Italian artists.\\n220. 16. Listons firm belief. John Liston (1776 ?-i846) was\\nan exceedingly successful comic actor, but subject to fits of de-\\npression. The gravity of his countenance had not a little to do\\nwith his great success in comedy.\\n220. 2-^.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Churchill. Charles Churchill (1731-1764). His\\nEpistle to Hogarth appeared in 1763, and Churchill, Wilkes, and", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0384.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 337\\nHogarth mingled in various literary and political controversies.\\nThe Epistle is said to have shortened Hogarth s days; but it seems\\nmore apparent that it shortened those of Churchill, as he died the\\nnext year.\\n222. 25. Hopscotch. This game does not seem to be now so\\npopular (in New England at any rate) as it was some fifteen or\\ntwenty years ago, and it may before long join the ranks of the\\nextinct games. A chalk figure is marked out on the pavement,\\nand a child, hopping on one foot, kicks a stone into the various\\ncompartments of the figure.\\n231. 12. Doctor Cams. A French physician in Shakspere s\\nMerry Wives of Windsor.\\n231. 14. Dalgetty. A character in Sir Walter Scott s novel,\\nA Legend of Montrose.\\n221 24. Bladua s well. Bladud was a mythical king of\\nEngland, supposed to be the father of King Lear. He built the\\ncity of Bath, and dedicated the medicinal springs to Minerva.\\n234. 18. The Oldfelds and Bracegirdles. For Mrs. Brace-\\ngirdle see note to page 58, line 5. Anne Oldfield (1683-1730)\\nwas a favourite actress of her day. When very young she lived\\nwith her mother at the Mitre Tavern. Farquhar overheard her\\nreciting passages from Beaumont and Fletcher, and was immedi-\\nately impressed. Her mother told the dramatist Vanbrugh about\\nit, the result being that Anne went on the stage. Her progress\\nwas slow, but eventually she became one of England s greatest\\nactresses in both tragedy and comedy. She was the original\\nBiddy Tipkin in Steele s Tender Husband (^I jo^). Personally she\\nwas sensible, agreeable, and an exceedingly attractive woman.\\nHer body lies buried beneath the monument of Congreve in West-\\nminster Abbey. She lives again on the stage to-day in Miss Ellen\\nTerry s admirable impersonation, in Charles Reade s comedy,\\nNa?2ce Oldfield.\\nIt was Oldfield who practically drove Bracegirdle off the stage;\\nthey came into competition in 1706-7, with the result that the\\nformer was so successful that the latter retired.\\n237. 4. In ridicule of Pamela. This novel, the first of the\\nthree great works of Richardson, was published in 1740. Its\\ndidacticism and sentimentality made it a natural target for the", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0385.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "338 NOTES.\\npowerful satirical wit of Fielding; but it is easy, especially if one\\nhas never read him, to ridicule Richardson, and meanwhile to for-\\nget his great genius and extraordinary power of analysis. Pamela,\\nwith all its obvious faults, is a great book, and Clarissa Harlowe\\nis greater. And though Joseph Andreius made everybody laugh\\nat the weak spots in Pamela, there has seldom been a more clever\\ncriticism passed on a great novel than when Richardson said that\\nthe virtues of Tom Jones were good men s vices.\\nRichardson never could endure Fielding. In a letter that he\\nwrote to Mrs. Donnellan on February 22, 1752, he says You\\nguess that I have not read Amelia. Indeed I have read but the\\nfirst volume. I had intended to go through with it; but I found\\nthe characters and situations so wretchedly low and dirty, that I\\nimagined I could not be interested for any one of them; and to\\nread and not to care what became of the hero and heroine, is a\\ntask that I thought I would leave to those who had more leisure\\nthan I am blessed with.\\nParson Young sat for Fielding s parson Adams, a man he\\nknew, and only made a little more absurd than he is known to be.\\nThe best story in the piece, is of himself and his first wife. In his\\nTom Jones, his hero is made a natural child, because his own first\\nwife was such. Tom Jones is Fielding himself, hardened in some\\nplaces, softened in others. His Lady Bellaston is an infamous\\nwoman of his former acquaintance. His Sophia is again his first\\nwife. Booth, in his last piece, again himself; Amelia, even to her\\nnoselessness, is again his first wife. His brawls, his jarrs, his\\ngaols, his spunging-houses, are all drawn from what he has seen\\nand known. As I said (witness also his hamper plot) he has lit-\\ntle or no invention and admirably do you observe, that by seve-\\nral strokes in his Amelia he designed to be good, but knew not\\nhow, and lost his genius, low humour, in the attempt. Richard-\\nson s Correspondence, ed. Barbauld, IV, 60.\\nRichardson s criticising Fielding for having little or no inven-\\ntion, and attempting to prove the charge by showing that Fielding\\ndrew his characters from the life, is rather interesting. Richard-\\nson s friend and correspondent, the worthy sonnetteer Thomas\\nEdwards, had as low an opinion ot Fielding as Richardson ex-\\npressed. In a letter to Richardson on May 28, 1755, ^^ys", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0386.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 339\\nI have lately read over with much indignation P ielding s last\\npiece, called his Voyage to Lisbon. That a man, who had led\\nsuch a life as he had, should trifle in that manner when immediate\\ndeath was before his eyes, is amazing. From this book I am con-\\nfirmed in what his other works had fully persuaded me of, that\\nwith all his parade of pretences to virtuous and humane affections,\\nthe fellow had no heart. And so his knell is knolled. Rich-\\nardson s Correspondeftce, III, 125.\\n238. 15. Walpole quite honestly spoke of them. This was\\npractically the language that Walpole used in speaking of the\\nnovels of Richardson. He said, Richardson wrote those de-\\nplorably tedious lamentations, Clarissa and Sir Charles\\nGrandison, which are pictures of high life as conceived by a\\nbookseller, and romances as they would be spiritualised by a\\nMethodist teacher. Letters^ IV, 305.\\n238. 21. The kind and jvise old Johnson. Fielding being\\nmentioned, Johnson exclaimed, he was a blockhead and\\nupon my expressing my astonishment at so strange an assertion,\\nhe said, What I mean by his being a blockhead is that he was\\na barren rascal. Boswell. Will you not allow. Sir, that he\\ndraws very natural pictures of human life Johnson. Why, Sir,\\nit is of very low life. Sir, there is more knowledge of the\\nheart in one letter of Richardson s, than in all Tom Jones.\\nBoswell s Johnson^ ed. Hill, II, 199.\\n238. 25. Gibbon wrote of him. This passage appears in Gib-\\nbon s Miscellaneous IVorks, I, 4. Thackeray s quotation is not\\nstrictly accurate. Humour and manners should read Human\\nmanners, and there are other minor mistakes which do not, how-\\never, change the import of the passage.\\nIn view of Gibbon s correct estimate of the immortality of Tom\\nJones, it is amusing to read in Richardson s Correspondence, five\\nyears after the publication of the novel, Its run is over, even\\nwith us. Correspondence, V, 275.\\n240. 5. Blifil. Blifil, Lady Bellaston, Parson Thwackum,\\nand Miss Seagrim are all characters in Tom Jones.\\n241. 5. Charles and Joseph Surface. These are famous char-\\nacters in Sheridan s comedy. The School for Scandal. The latter\\nhas become a synonym for a hypocrite.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0387.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "340 NOTES.\\n243. 8. Fiction why Jictio7i? This is just what Richardson\\nobjected to, as showing that Fielding had no invention. See note\\nto page 237, line 4.\\n243. 9. Lady Mary Worthy Alontagu. This distinguished\\npersonage, mentioned so often in books dealing with life and lit-\\nerature in the eighteenth century, was one of the most brilliant,\\nattractive, accomplished, and worldly-minded women of her age.\\nPope had a sickening sentimental feeling toward her, as his let-\\nters show. His Eloisa was written under her inspiration. She\\nwas born in 1689, and died in 1762.\\n243. 10. Colonel Bath. A character in ^w ?//a.\\n243. II. Colonel Gardiner. James Gardiner, colonel of dra-\\ngoons, was born in 1688, and died in 1745. He became an en-\\nsign at the age of fourteen, and in 1702 entered the service of\\nAnne. He exhibited the greatest gallantry at the battle of Ra-\\nmillies in 1706, where he was wounded in the face. Although as\\na youth he indulged in dissipation, he happened to pick up a\\nreligious book one day while waiting for an assignation, and was\\ninstantly converted. He declared and always stoutly maintained\\nthat at that time he saw a vision of Jesus Christ. In battle after\\nbattle he showed astonishing personal courage, performing with\\ndelight the most dare-devil deeds. At last, in the rebellion of\\n1745, while fighting the Pretender s forces in a battle that was\\nfrom the start hopelessly against him, he refused to quit the field,\\nalthough literally covered with dangerous and painful wounds.\\nFinally a Highlander came behind him while he was engaged in\\na personal struggle with an opposing officer, and gave him a\\nmortal blow in the back of the head with an axe. He died on\\nthe next day.\\n243. 12. Duke of Cumberland. See note to page 163.\\n244. I. Coup de main. A deft stroke.\\nThackeray s treatment of Fielding is particularly sympathetic,\\nbut at the same time discriminating. His praise of the more manly\\nelements in Fielding s character is thoroughly merited, and he\\ndoes not go any further than hundreds and thousands of readers\\nand admirers of Fielding would go to-day. The difference be-\\ntween Thackeray s estimate of Fielding and his estimate of Pope", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0388.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 341\\nis simply this he praises the former for qualities he actually pos-\\nsessed; while Pope he lauds highly for virtues conspicuous by\\ntheir absence. Furthermore, apart from the manliness and open-\\nhearted generosity of Fielding s character, which would especially\\nappeal to a man of Thackeray s temperament, the great novelist\\nof the nineteenth century recognised the great novelist of the\\neighteenth century as his master, from whom he chiefly learned\\nthe art of fiction; as indeed is evident to any intelligent reader\\nof Thackeray s books. Perhaps the highest compliment we can\\npay Fielding, is to say, as many of us do, after reading and re-\\nreading Tom Jones This man was worthy to be the master of\\nThackeray.\\nSTERNE AND GOLDSMITH.\\n248. 4 Reign of Charles 11. The note at the bottom of the\\npage refers to the years in which he held the Archbishopric, not\\nto the length of the king s reign, which extended from 1660 to\\n1685.\\n248. 14. Poor Roger Sterne. His son described him in an\\nautobiographic fragment as a little smart man, active to the last\\ndegree in all exercises most patient of fatigue and disappoint-\\nments, of which it pleased God to give him full measure; he was\\nin his temper somewhat rapid and hasty, but of kindly disposition,\\nvoid of all design, and so innocent in his own intentions that he\\nsuspected no one. {Diet. Nat. Biog., art. Sterne, Laurence.)\\nThis description would hardly apply to the more famous and yet\\ndespicable son.\\n249. 4. Ireland. Note that Sterne, like Swift, was born in\\nIreland, though their fathers were English; while Goldsmith was\\nIrish through and through. Clonmel is near the extreme southern\\nboundary of the county of Tipperary.\\n249. 8. Mullingar. This town is in the county of West Meath,\\nand is about fifty miles northwest of Dublin.\\n249. 10. Carrickfergus. This is a seaport-town on the north-\\neast coast of Ireland, about ten miles from Belfast, It is in the\\ncounty of Antrim, but is also a separate county all by itself.\\nKing William III landed there in June, 1690, just before the great\\nbattle of the Boyne. The town is famous for its beautiful old", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0389.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "342 NOTES.\\ncastle, which stands on a lofty cliff by the sea, and is thought to\\nbe about seven hundred years old.\\n249, II. Halifax. This is in the county of York, England,\\nsituated about 194 miles northwest of London. It is now a great\\nmanufacturing center.\\n249- 13- Elvington. This village is about six miles southeast\\nof the city of York.\\nIn any study of literature, the student should always have at\\nhand good maps, and should look up the location of all places that\\nare mentioned, in order to familarise himself particularly with the\\nliterary geography of Great Britain, a subject on which most\\nAmerican school and college students are densely ignorant an\\nignorance which they share in common with many persons who\\nhave had no education at all.\\n249. 18. Trim s viontero cap, and Le Fevre s sivord, and dear\\nUncle Toby s roquelatire. These men are all characters in Tris-\\ntram Shandy. Montero cap is really tautological: the word\\nmontero means a hunting cap. Roquelaure is a cloak\\nthat reaches about to the knees: it was commonly worn in the\\neighteenth century, and took its name from the Due de Roque-\\nlaure, in the reign of Louis XIV.\\n249. 23. Ramillies. Malplaquet. For these, see notes to\\npage 100, line 21.\\n250. 10. Sutton. This was a village, seven or eight miles\\nnorth of York.\\n250. 12. Stillington. This parish was situated next to Sut-\\nton. Sterne never lived in this parsonage: he doubtless regarded\\nit merely as an additional source of revenue, which indeed it was.\\n250. 32. Coxuwld. This village was pleasantly situated on\\nhigh ground, about twenty-two miles north of York. Sterne had\\nnever liked the climate of Sutton, and moved to Coxwold with the\\ngreatest pleasure. Here he lived in a large cottage, which he\\ncalled Shandy Hall. The house now has a tablet in memory\\nof its distinguished occupant, who continued the composition of\\nTristram while living there.\\n251. 16. Polyanthus. The oxlip.\\n252. 6. Sum mortaliter in amore. I am hopelessly in\\nlove.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0390.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 343\\n252. 13. Arroser. To water.\\n252. 20. The French of this letter may be thus translated:\\nWe arrived on the morrow at Montpellier, where we found our\\nfriend Mr. Sterne, his wife, his daughter, Mr. Huet, and some\\nother English ladies. I got, I own, much pleasure, in seeing again\\nthe good and charming Tristram. He had been long enough\\nat Toulouse, where he would have amused himself save for his\\nwife, who followed him up everywhere, and who wished to have\\na hand in everything. This lady s little ways made him undergo\\nsome decidedly unpleasant moments; but he bears up under all\\nthese trials with the patience of an angel.\\n253. 2. The charmittg Yorick. The easy-going parson in\\nTristram Shandy. See note at bottom of page 254. The Sejtti-\\nmental Jotirney also purported to come from the pen of Mr.\\nYorick.\\n253. 5. Rabelais. Frangois Rabelais, one of the first great\\nnames in French literature, was born toward the end of the\\nfifteenth century, and died about the year 1553. Although a\\nchurchman, the tone of his writings is not too ecclesiastic. Swift\\nis sometimes called the English Rabelais.\\n253. 7. Meudon. A small town in the immediate neighborhood\\nof Paris, about five miles to the southwest. It stands on rising\\nground, and commands a particularly good view of the city and\\nof the course of the Seine. The church was built in the sixteenth\\ncentury, and is interesting only for the association with the name\\nof Rabelais, who was made cure of Meudon in 1550. Many\\nFrench poets and writers have frequented this beautiful retreat:\\nVictor Hugo has spoken of it affectionately, and Daudet, Flaubert,\\nand others used to meet th^re.\\n253. 25. Grafs Letters. The quotation given in this foot-\\nnote is really from two letters of Gray. The first part up to the\\nwords As to the volumes, is from a letter to Thomas Wharton,\\nApril 22, 1760; the second is garbled, and may be found in\\nGray s letter to Wharton, July, 1760. See Gray s Works, ed.\\nGosse, II, 36, 53. The quotation, however, was probably taken\\ndirectly from Mason s Life of Gray, where it stands as in the note\\nto our text. Mason was the literary executor of Gray, and in\\n1775 published the Life^ containing the correspondence, and other", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0391.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "344 NOTES.\\ndocuments. His honesty and editorial accuracy may be justly\\nestimated by the footnote to our text, which gives under the wrong\\ndate an extract from a letter, which is really hashed up and\\ngarbled from two letters, and contains some words not to be\\nfound in Gray s correspondence at all.\\n253. 26. having been observed etc. This quotation\\nmay be found in Boswell s Johnson^ ed. Hill, II, 254. Dr. Hill\\nadds a footnote, by which Johnson would not appear after all to\\nhave differed so much from the drastic opinion expressed by\\nGoldsmith. I was but once, said Johnson, in Sterne s com-\\npany, and then his only attempt at merriment consisted in his\\ndisplay of a drawing too indecently gross to have delighted even\\nin a brothel.\\n253. 32. /r^; etc. Boswell s y(?//\u00c2\u00abJt7\u00c2\u00ab, IV, 126. See also\\nthe footnote on the same page of Boswell, where Johnson con-\\ndemned the sermons of Sterne, saying that he once read them in\\na stage-coach, but that he should not have deigned to have looked\\nat them had he been at large.\\n254. I. The more than rival. It is rather singular that the\\nwritings of Sterne, Rabelais, and Swift, when all three were\\nchurchmen, should have a reputation and a circulation on account\\nof their coarseness wholly distinct from their literary importance.\\n256. 28. V amour. Love is nothing without sentiment.\\n257. 13. Deal. Deal is on the coast of the English Channel,\\nnine miles north of Dover.\\n257. 23. And so /should ever love thee. This passage\\nreally reads, And so I should ever live with thee. Thackeray\\nalso garbles this letter, but not in a way to alter its significance\\nat all. See Letters, etc., of Sterne, ed. Saintsbury, I, 140.\\n258. 3. \u00e2\u0096\u00a0^Ifear etc. Saintsbury s edition, II, 5. There\\nare several minor changes in Thackeray s version, as your\\njudgment for the judgment, and others.\\n258. 13. I honour you, Eliza.^^ See Saintsbury s edition,\\nII, 9. After the words Waller his Saccharissa, Sterne wrote\\nthe still more significant phrase, as I will love and sing thee,\\nmy wife elect\\n258. 29. Scarron his Afaitttenon. Paul Scarron (1610-1660),\\na burlesque writer. As a youth he was extremely dissipated in", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0392.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 345\\n1637 paralysis seized him, and he became unable to walk. Then\\nhe took to literature and by his writings of burlesques and simi-\\nlar compositions he obtained a wide reputation. In 1652 he was\\nmarried to Fran^oise D Aubigne, afterward Madame de Mainte-\\nnon. Their house was a great rendezvous for the wits of the\\nday. The famous Madame de Maintenon was born in prison in\\n1635, being of Protestant parents. Later she went to a convent,\\nand after a long struggle became a Roman Catholic. In 1669\\nshe became governess to some of the children of Louis XIV, and\\nsoon obtained almost a complete ascendancy over him. It was,\\nof course, generally believed that she was his mistress; but there\\nis really good ground for believing not only that she refused to\\nyield to him, but that she endeavoured to exercise a moral influ-\\nence upon his conduct. In 1683 Louis privately married her,\\nthough the marriage was never publicly recognised. He never\\nceased to love her; but she left him on his deathbed. She insti-\\ngated his persecutions of the Protestants, and caused him to issue\\nthe famous revocation of the edict of Nantes (1685). She sur-\\nvived the king four years, dying April 15, 1719.\\nG. W. Cooke, in his Browning Guide-Book^ intimates that the\\npoet alludes to the marriage of Paul Scarron with Fran9oise\\nD Aubigne in the poem In a Balcony, vs. 521, 522\\nWho was a queen and loved a poet once\\nHumpbacked, a dwarf ah, women can do that\\nBut she was not a queen either before or after her marriage with\\nScarron.\\n258. 29. Waller his Saccharissa. Edmund Waller (1605-\\n1687) had an enormous reputation as an English poet in his time,\\nbut is very little read to-day except by students of the develop-\\nment of English literature, where he holds a place out of all pro-\\nportion to his intrinsic merit a-s a poet. He marks the transition\\nfrom the powerful but rugged verse of the early part of the sev-\\nenteenth century to the smooth rimed couplets which were the\\nuniversal style at its close. Dryden regarded his genius with\\nreverence, and the prefaces to his plays contain many allusions\\nto Waller s skill in versification, and the resulting good effect on\\nEnglish letters. Pope said, Waller was smooth {^First Epistle", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0393.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "34^ NOTES.\\nI\\nof the Second Book of Horace, vs. 267), to which Lowell assents,\\nbut adds: Unhappily he was also flat. {Essay on Dry den.)\\nFor a good though somewhat overdrawn account of Waller s in-\\nfluence on literary style, see Mr. Gosse s book, Erom Shakespeare\\nto Pope, of which Waller is the hero. Saccharissa was Lady\\nDorothy Sidney, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Leicester, and\\ndescended from Sir Philip Sidney. Waller loved, or thought he\\nloved, this lady he wrote a number of poems addressed to her,\\nand gave her the sugary appellation by which she is now chiefly\\nknown. But she was obdurate, and cared not at all for the poet.\\n259. 6. Offering that precious treasure his heart to Lady\\nP The portion of this letter to which Thackeray alludes\\nis worth printing, as it proves Sterne s utter baseness of soul in a\\nway that would be thought incredible, did we not have the neces-\\nsary documentary evidence. The only truth in the letter is\\nthe remark, I am a fool, and his description of his soul as a\\ndishclout. It makes one almost blush for human nature when\\none reads the following words It is but an hour ago that I\\nkneeled down and swore I never would come near you an after\\nsaying my Lord s Prayer for the sake of the close, of not being led\\ninto temptation out I sallied like any Christian hero, ready to\\ntake the field against the world, the flesh, and the devil; not doubt-\\ning but I should finally trample them all down under my feet\\nand now am I got so near you within this vile stone s cast of your\\nhouse I feel myself drawn into a vortex, that has turned my\\nbrain upside downwards, and though I had purchased a box\\nticket to carry me to Miss s benefit, yet I know very well,\\nthat was a single line directed to me to let me know Lady\\nwould be alone at seven, and suffer me to spend the evening with\\nher, she would infallibly see every thing verified I have told her.\\nI dine at Mr. C r s in Wigmore-street, in this neigh-\\nbourhood, where I shall stay till seven, in hopes you purpose to\\nput me to this proof. If I hear nothing by that time, I shall con-\\nclude you are better disposed of and shall take a sorry hack, and\\nsorrily jog on to the play Curse on the word. I know nothing\\nbut sorrow except this one thing, that I love you (perhaps fool-\\nishly, but) most sincerely. L. Sterne.\\n{Letters, etc., ed. Saintsbury, II, 16.)", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0394.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 347\\n260. 8. To Uie Earl of The letter here printed may-\\nbe found in Saintsbury s edition, II, 44. It differs slightly from\\nthe one in our text.\\n260. 32. The manner of his death. See King Henry V^ Act\\nII, Scene 3. It is curious that Sterne s monument gives the date\\nof his death erroneously as September 13. See Saintsbury s\\nedition of the Letters^ etc. I, 9.\\n261. 27. Dr. Ferriar. John Ferriar (1761-1815), a well-\\nknown physician. He was born in Scotland, but his whole career\\nwas associated with Manchester. He wrote papers for the literary\\nand philosophical society of that town, and was an influential and\\nvaluable reformer of the sanitary conditions there. He made a\\nlarge number of miscellaneous literary efforts, his best-known work\\nbeing Illustratiotis of Sterne, which appeared at Manchester in\\n1798. Ferriar showed up Sterne s wholesale borrowings from\\nFrench novelists, and especially from Burton s immortal work,\\nThe Anatomy of Melancholy, though his attitude was not un-\\nfriendly.\\n261. 32. fames Macdonald. An error for John Macdonald.\\nThe dates of his birth and death are not known. He was the son\\nof a Scotch cattle-dealer, who was killed at Culloden. Alter\\nwandering for years as a vagabond, Macdonald became a gentle-\\nman s servant, and from his cleverness and variety of attractions,\\nwas known as Beau Macdonald. He traveled extensively, and in\\n1790 his book, Travels in Various Parts, was published. Ac-\\ncording to this racy narrative, Macdonald, while in London with\\nhis master, Mr. Crawford of Errol, was sent to inquire after the\\nhealth of Laurence Sterne, and found the novelist on his death-\\nbed. He claims to have been among the first to walk in London\\nwith an umbrella. Diet. Nat. Biog., art. Macdonald. The tes-\\ntimony of Macdonald should probably be taken with a grain of\\nsalt.\\n262. II. Des chansons grivoises. Songs that are off colour.\\nAn exceedingly good illustration of Sterne s attitude toward life.\\n263. 7. Who can make you cry. His ability to make us cry is\\nnot particularly remarkable. We are not more callous than were\\nthe readers of Sterne in the eighteenth century; but what drew\\ntears from them often makes us smile or yawn.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0395.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "34^ NOTES.\\n263. 22. (the de sobligeante). Sterne spelled the word without\\nthe final e, and it so appears in the first edition of the Humour-\\nists. Nor does the word end the paragraph in the first edition.\\nThe carriage was so calhed because it held only one person.\\nThe quoted passage that follows is from the chapter headed\\nCalais. It may be found in Saintsbury s edition of the Senti-\\nmental Journey., page 15.\\n264. 3. Le tour est fait. The trick is done.\\n264. 3. Paillasse. The word means literally, straw mat-\\ntress. Hence a clown with stuffed or padded clothea\\n264. 24. Monsieur de Soubises cook. Charles de Rohan,\\nPrince de Soubise (17 15-1787), peer and marshal of Franco, was\\na grandson of one of the mistresses of Louis XIV. He was a\\nclever courtier, and favourite of Louis XV, and for that reason,\\nalthough utterly deficient in military genius, was created a mar-\\nshal of France. In the Seven Years War, through the influence\\nof Madame de Pompadour, he was placed at the head of an army,\\nand on November 4, 1757, he was completely defeated at Ross-\\nbach. This battle, according to the Encyclopedia B^ itannica,\\nwas one of the decisive battles of the world, though no one\\nthought so at the time. Everyone laughed at the luxuries in the\\ncamp of Soubise, who regarded a good cook as more essential to a\\ngeneral than any other official. After 1763 Soubise lived merely\\nthe ordinary frivolous, time-serving, and dissipated life of a\\nFrench courtier.\\n268. 21. Viva laJoia,Jidon la tristessa. Long live mirth\\ndo away with sadness.\\nI 269. 9. Double entendre. A double meaning, immorally sug-\\ngestive. Not even the French show more skill than Sterne does\\nin this kind of thing.\\n270. 8. David Copper-field. This great novel had appeared\\nonly a year before Thackeray delivered his lectures. He was thus\\nalluding to a contemporary book, very much as a lecturer to-day\\nwould refer to Richard Carvel or to David Harum. Nothing\\ncould better illustrate the difference in greatness between the\\nnovels of to-day and those of fifty years ago than a comparison of\\nthe big sellers of 1900 with the popular novels of 1850. In\\nhis lecture on Charity and Humour which appeared in the first", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0396.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "NOTES, 349\\nAmerican, though not in the first English edition of the Hlwiotir-\\nisis, Thackeray alludes to the books of his great rival in the most\\naffectionate and enthusiastic manner. Wholly apart from his\\nutter baseness, Sterne as a humourist sinks into insignificance\\nwhen compared with Dickens and Thackeray.\\n270. 10. Jete stir cette bouie. This may be roughly trans-\\nlated as follows\\nThrown upon this world,\\nUgly, puny, and miserable\\nSmothered in the crowd\\nFor lack of size,\\nA touching complaint\\nCame from my mouth.\\nThe good God says Sing,\\nSing, poor child\\nTo sing, unless I mistake,\\nIs my task here below\\nWon t all those I amuse\\nLove me dearly\\n270. 22. Beranger. Beranger was born at Paris in 1780, and\\ndied in 1857. He published his first collection of songs in 1815.\\nHe passed three months in prison and paid a fine of three hun-\\ndred francs. In 1828 he was imprisoned for nine months and\\npaid a fine of ten thousand francs. These punishments were in-\\nflicted upon him for political reasons, on account of the satirical\\ntendency of some of his verses; but as may -easily be imagined,\\nthey did not injure the popularity of his poetry. Beranger is one\\nof the most natural, graceful, and tuneful lyrical poets that France\\nhas ever produced. And the stirring effect of his poems and\\nsongs on his countrymen was very great.\\n271. II. Auburn and IVakeJic^ld. See page 274, line 7. Wake-\\nfield is in Yorkshire, England.\\n275. 38. And drc\\\\gs, etc. Although this famous line is orig-\\ninal with Goldsmith, he wrote it first in prose, and then trans-\\nferred it to his poetry. In the Citizen of the Worlds Letter III, he\\nsays By every remove I only drag a greater length of chain.\\n276. 9. Elphin. This is in the county of Roscommon, in\\nabout the center of Ireland.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0397.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "350 NOTES.\\n276. 15. Kind uncle Contarinc. Mr. Contarine was the\\nonly member of the Goldsmith family of whom we have solid evi-\\ndence that he at any time took pains with Oliver, or felt anything\\nlike a real pride in him. He bore the greater part of his school\\nexpenses and was wont to receive him with delight in holidays.\\nForster s Life of Goldsmith, page 17.\\n276. 20. Everybody knozvs the story. The story, of course,\\non which the great play. She Stoops to Conquer was founded.\\nAt the close of his last holidays, then a lad of nearly seven-\\nteen, he left home for Edgeworthstown, mounted on^ borrowed\\nhack which a friend was to restore to Lissoy, and with store of\\nunaccustomed wealth, a guinea, iii his pocket. The delicious taste\\nof independence beguiled him to a loitering, lingering, pleasant\\nenjoyment of the journey; and, instead of finding himself under\\nMr. Hughes s roof at nightfall, night fell upon him some two or\\nthree miles out of the direct road, in the middle of the streets of\\nArdagh. But nothing could disconcert the owner of the guinea,\\nwho, with a lofty, confident air, inquired of a person passing the\\nway to the town s best house of entertainment. The man ad-\\ndressed was the wag of Ardagh, a humorous fencing-master, Mr.\\nCornelius Kelly, and the schoolboy swagger was irresistible pro-\\nvocation to a jest. Submissively he turned back with horse and\\nrider till they came within a pace or two of the great Squire\\nFeatherston s, to which he respectfully pointed as the best house\\nof Ardagh. Oliver rang at the gate, gave his beast in charge\\nwith authoritative rigour, and was shown, as a supposed expected\\nguest, into the comfortable parlour of the squire. Those were\\ndays when Irish inn-keepers and Irish squires more nearly ap-\\nproximated than now and Mr. Featherston, unlike the excellent\\nbut explosive Mr. Hardcastle, is said to have seen the mistake\\nand humoured it. Oliver had a supper which gave him so much\\nsatisfaction, that he ordered a bottle of wine to follow; and the\\nattentive landlord was not only forced to drink with him, but with\\na like familiar condescension, the wife and pretty daughter were\\ninvited to the supper-room. Going to bed, he stopped to give\\nspecial instructions for a hot cake to breakfast and it was not\\ntill he had despatched this latter meal, and was looking at his\\nguinea with pathetic aspect of farewell, that the truth was told", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0398.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 351\\nhim by the good-natured squire. Forster s Zz/^ of Goldstnith,\\npage 14. Ardagh and Edgeworthstown are in the county of Long-\\nford, in the central part of Ireland.\\n279. Wrote most anmsing pompous letter s. After having\\nspent two winters in Edinburgh, I now prepare to go to France\\nthe loth of next February. I have seen all that this country can\\nexhibit in the medical way, and therefore intend to visit Paris,\\nwhere the great Mr. Farhein, Petit, and Du Hammel de Monceau\\ninstruct their pupil? in all the branches of medicine. They speak\\nFrench, and consequently I shall have much the advantage of most\\nof my countrymen, as I am perfectly acquainted with that lan-\\nguage, and few who leave Ireland are so. Prior s Life of Gold-\\nsmith, I, 155. Neither Goldsmith nor Thackeray knew how to\\nspell the name of the great Farheim correctly. The person in\\nquestion was Antoine Ferrein (1692-1769), a distinguished man in\\nhis day. In 1742 he was made Professor of Medicine and Sur-\\ngery at the Royal College in Paris. Petit, or, as Thackeray er-\\nroneously calls himZ Petit, was born at Orleans in 17 18, and was\\na famous and excellent lecturer at Paris. After the death of Fer-\\nrein, he held the chair of Anatomy at the Jardin du Roi. The\\nJardin du Roi is the same as what is now called the Jardin des\\nPlantes, and has a Museum of Natural History. The Professorial\\nchairs in this great institution go back to the seventeenth century.\\nPetit died in 1794. In Biographisches Lexicon der Hervor-\\nragenden Aerzte aller Zeiten und Volker, ed. Hirsch, Wien und\\nLeipzig, 1885, the third doctor that Goldsmith mentions does not\\nappear, either in Goldsmith s or Thackeray s orthography. The\\nman in question, however, is probably Henri Louis Duhamel-\\nDumonceau (1700-1782), a great French botanist. He produced\\nmany works on plants and agriculture, and was a thoroughly\\nscientific writer.\\n279. 12.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 If Oliver s mother believed. This highly interesting\\nletter may be read in Prior s Life of Goldsmith, I, 119. It is well\\nworth reading, though it is too long to quote here.\\n279. i^.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Ballymahon. This is in the county of Longford,\\nsouth ot Ardagh.\\nZ jg. 2C). But me not destined, iiic. From the Trave//er.\\n280. 5. I spoke in a former le ctiire. See page 244, et seq.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0399.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "352 NOTES.\\n282. 8. The Court patronized Beattie. James Beattie (1735-\\n1803), famous chiefly as the author of the long Spenserian poem,\\nThe Minstrel.\\n282. 10. Fashion pronounced Kelly. Hugh Kelly (1739-\\n1777), a dramatist. His play, False Delicacy^ a sentimental and\\nweak comedy, was produced at Drury Lane on January 23, 1768,\\nsix days before Goldsmith s Good-Natured-Man. It was very suc-\\ncessful on the stage, and on the day it was printed three thousand\\ncopies were sold before two o clock. It was translated into Ger-\\nman, French, and Portuguese. Goldsmith and Kelly quarrelled\\nover this matter and never spoke again. But Kelly attended\\nGoldsmith s funeral and stood weeping at the grave.\\n282. 15. Newbery kept back the manuso ipt. There were\\nseveral publishers contemporary with Goldsmith of the name of\\nNewbery John, his son Francis, and Francis, the first cousin of\\nthe latter. This cousin was closely allied with his uncle in the\\npublishing business, and it was he who published the Vicar of\\nWakefield. It appeared on March 27, 1766 and it had been\\nheld by Newbery until the success of The Traveller had fully\\nestablished Goldsmith s reputation. The book was partly written\\nas early as 1762 and had Goldsmith shown any care in money\\nmatters, its publication need not have been delayed.\\nGoldsmith s four most famous works, The Traveller, The Vicar\\nof Wakefield, The Deserted Village, and She Stoops to Conquer,\\nappeared in 1764, 1766, 1770, and 1773, respectively. He died\\nin 1774.\\n283. I. Cobnan s actors. George Colman the elder (1732-\\n1794) was a prominent dramatist and manager of the times, and\\nshould not be confused with his more famous son. Goldsmith\\nhad written She Stoops to Conquer in 177 1. It was offered to\\nColman the next year. He hesitated about accepting it until\\nJanuary, 1773, when he succumbed to the entreaties of Dr. John-\\nson. Colman s doubts and fears were increased by his actors,\\nsome of whom threw up their parts in disgust, believing the play\\nwould fail utterly. Finally it was performed at Covent Garden\\nMarch 15, 1773. Dr. Johnson led a party of friends to the per-\\nformance on the opening night, where he had the gratification of\\nseeing the play make a tremendous hit. The success of this", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0400.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 353\\ndrama did much to destroy the prevailing sentimental comedy,\\nwhich at that time was in great vogue. The chief mistake of\\nthe sentimental comedy was that it did not make the spectators\\nlaugh and when Englishmen go to see a comedy they want to\\nlaugh without trying to. In this respect Goldsmith s play has\\nnever been found wanting, and, when well acted, it is to-day one\\nof the most laughable pieces on the stage. Its wholesome laugh-\\nter is needed now to clear the air, as it did in the eighteenth\\ncentury.\\n283. 5. The admirable /Reynolds. Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-\\n1792), the great portrait painter, and favourite companion of\\nJohnson and of all the wits of the day. The charm of his person-\\nality affects everyone who is familiar with the men and manners\\nof the age of Johnson. No wonder that Goldsmith was cheerful\\nunder misfortunes when he had such a circle of friends as John-\\nson, Reynolds, Gibbon, and Burke. The conversation of such\\nmen would atone for many sorrows.\\n283. 7. The great Fox. Charles James Fox (1749-1806), the\\ngreat Parliamentary orator and statesman. He was unselfish,\\ngood-tempered, dissipated, and a warm popular favourite. He\\nlies buried in Westminster Abbey close by the grave of Pitt. In\\nthe novel Richard Carvel there is a highly-coloured portrait of\\nFox, showing his dissipation and his personal magnetism.\\n283. 28, TtJ one Griffiths, a bookseller. This extraordinary\\nletter, together with further information on Griffiths, may be\\nfound in Forster s Life of Goldsmith, page 102. The letter is too\\nlong to quote here but the student of Goldsmith should certainly\\nlook it up in F orster.\\n285. 27. Edgware Road. The Biographical edition follows\\nthe first edition of the Humourists in this misprint for Edge-\\nware. The quotation may be found in Boswell s Life of John-\\nson, ed. Hill, II, 209.\\n285. 31. Mickle, the translator of the Lusiad. William Julius\\nMickle (1735-1788) was a poet who enjoyed considerable popu-\\nlarity in his time, some of which he deserved. He belongs to\\nthe eighteenth century group of Spenserian imitators by virtue of\\nhis poem, The Concubine {i j6 j), the title of which he afterward\\nchanged to Syr Martyti. See Professor H. A. Beers s History of", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0401.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "354 NOTES,\\nEnglish Romanticis7?i in the Eighteenth Century, page 95. The\\nLusiad was a translation of the great Portuguese poem by Ca-\\nmoens, Os Lusiadas. Mickle s translation was published in\\n1775, and was very successful. Camoens (1524-1580) is the\\nforemost epic and lyric poet of Portugal. His great work was\\npublished in 1572, and although it brought him immense fame\\nand popularity, he continued to live in unrelieved poverty. The\\nLusiad, or, more properly, the Lusiads, is the great national\\npoem of Portuguese literature and its representative epic. Be-\\nsides this translation, Mickle wrote some short ballads which\\nhave great charm.\\n287. I. Here, as I take. From the Deserted Village.\\n288. 9. The Irish Yvetot. The idea suggested by the word\\nYvetot here is miniature kingdom. Yvetot is a small\\ntown in Normandy near Le Havre. The lords of Yvetot got the\\ntitle of King in the fifteenth century. Thackeray probably had\\nin mind Beranger s beautiful ballad Le Roi d Yvetot, composed\\nin 1813, where, of course, the reference is to Napoleon. This\\nlyric is so charming that it is worth while to quote it here\\nII dtait un roi d Yvetot\\nPeu connu dans Thistoire,\\nSe levant tard, se couchant tot,\\nDormant fort bien sans gloire,\\nEt couronn^ par Jeanneton\\nD un simple bonnet de coton,\\nDit-on.\\nOh oh oh oh ah ah ah 1 ah\\nQuel bon petit roi c ^tait 1^\\nLa, la.\\nII faisait ses quatre repas\\nDans son palais de chaume,\\nEt sur un ane, pas k pas,\\nParcourait son royaume.\\nJoyeux, simple et croyant le bien,\\nPour toute garde il n avait rien\\nQu un chien.\\nOh oh oh oh etc.\\nII n avait de goiit ondreux\\nQu une soif un peu vive\\nMais, en rendant son peuple heureux,\\nII faut bien qu un roi vive.\\n1", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0402.jp2"}, "403": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 355\\nLui-meme, k table, et sans suppot,\\nSur chaque muid-levrit un pot\\nDMmpot.\\nOh oh oh oh etc.\\nAux filles de bonnes maisons\\nComme il avait su plaire,\\nSes sujets avaient cent raisons\\nDe le nommer leur pere.\\nD ailleurs, il ne levait de ban\\nj^ue pour tirer, quatre fois Tan,\\nAu blanc.\\nOh oh 1 oh oh etc.\\nII n agrandit point ses Etats\\nFut un voisin commode,\\nEt, modele des potentats,\\nPrit ie piaisir pour code,\\nCe n est que orsqu il expira\\nQue le peuple, qui Penterra,\\nPleura.\\nOh oh oh oh etc.\\nOn conserve encor le portrait\\nDe ce digne et bon prince\\nC est Tenseigne d un cabaret\\nFameux dans la province,\\nLes jours de fete, bien souvent,\\nLa foule s ecrie en buvant\\nDevant:\\nOh oh oh oh etc.\\nThackeray s own imitation of this ballad is interesting (see\\nWorks, Biographical edition, XIII, 137).\\nThere was a king of Yvetot,\\nOf whom renown hath little said,\\nWho let all thoughts of glory go,\\nAnd dawdled half his days abed\\nAnd every night, as night came roun\\nBy Jenny with a nightcap crowned.\\nSlept very sound:\\nSing ho, ho, ho and he, he, he I\\nThat s the kind of king for me.\\nAnd every day it came to pass.\\nThat four lusty meals made he\\nAnd, step by step, upon an ass,\\nRode abroad, his realms to see", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0403.jp2"}, "404": {"fulltext": "356 NOTES.\\nAnd wherever he did stir,\\nWhat think you was his escort, sir\\nWhy, an old cur.\\nSing ho, ho, ho c.\\nIf e er he went into excess,\\nTwas from a somewhat lively thirst\\nBut he who would his subjects bless.\\nOdd s fish must wet his whistle first\\nAnd so from every cask they got.\\nOur king did to himself allot\\nAt least a pot.\\nSing ho, ho c.\\nTo all the ladies of the land,\\nA courteous king, and kind, was he\\nThe reason why, you ll understand.\\nThey named him Pater Patriae.\\nEach year he called his fighting men.\\nAnd marched a league from home, and then\\nMarched back again.\\nSing ho, ho c.\\nNeither by force nor false pretence,\\nHe sought to make his kingdom great.\\nAnd made (O princes, learn from hence)\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nLive and let live, his rule of state.\\nTwas only when he came to die,\\nThat his people who stood by,\\nWere known to cry.\\nSing ho, ho c.\\nThe portrait of this best of kings\\nIs extant still, upon a sign\\nThat on a village tavern swings,\\nFamed in the country for good wine.\\nThe people in their Sunday trim.\\nFilling their glasses to the brim.\\nLook up to him,\\nSinging ha, ha, ha and he, he, he\\nThat s the sort of king for me.\\n288. 12. Goldsmith s incessant desire. This passage may be\\nfound in Hill s edition of Boswell s Johnson, II, 295.\\n288. 34. Beaiiderk. Topham Beauclerk (1739-1780), one of\\nJohnson s famous circle of friends. He was a cultivated man of\\nthe world, and had a library of thirty thousand volumes. He\\nwas greatly beloved by the Doctor.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0404.jp2"}, "405": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 357\\n288. 35. Tom Davies. Thomas Davies (i 712 P-I785), was a\\nbook-seller. For some time he was a strolling actor. According\\nto Johnson, he was driven from the stage by a line of Churchill s:\\nHe mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.\\nThe best thing Davies ever did was to introduce Boswell to\\nJohnson, which introduction is graphically described by the\\nformer in his great Life. See Hill s edition, I, 453.\\n289. 8. Ranelagh. This vied with Vauxhall Gardens in\\nbeing the great pleasure resort of Londoners in the eighteenth\\ncentury. It stood on the south side of Hans Place, Chelsea.\\nToward the end of the reign of William III, Viscount Ranelagh\\nhad a villa built at Chelsea, and gardens laid out there. He died\\nin 1 7 12. Later the estate was leased by two partners, and a\\ncompany of shareholders formed, who converted it into a place of\\namusement. In May, 1742, Ranelagh was opened with a big\\ncelebration. It was frequented by dandies, high livers, and\\nwomen whose reputation could not be doubted. There is a good\\ndescription of Ranelagh in Smollett s Humphry Clinker.\\n289. 8. The Pantheon. The Pantheon was a splendid build-\\ning, meant chiefly for a fashionable resort in winter. It was\\nfinished in January, 1772, at a cost of sixty thousand pounds.\\nMasquerade balls were generally given in the Pantheon, and\\nGeorge III and the nobility freely patronised the place. Its\\nreputation, however, became a little shady. On a fearfully cold\\nnight in 1792 it was destroyed by fire.\\n289. 9- Madame Cornelys. Theresa Cornelys (1723-1797),\\nwas born at Venice, and was the daughter of an actor. At the\\nage of seventeen she became the mistress of an Italian senator,\\nand later was famous as a sirger. She took the name of Cornelys\\nfrom a gentleman at Amsterdam. In 1760 she bought Carlisle\\nHouse in Soho Square, London, and became a manager of public\\nAssemblies. She advertised on a large scale, and the leading\\nmen and women in society subscribed to her balls. But the\\nopening of the Pantheon ruined her business, and in that year\\n(1772) she was a bankrupt. After this misfortune she had a\\nvaried career, and finally died in the Fleet Prison, on the 19th of\\nAugust, 1797. Sir John Hawkins, when writing his Life of", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0405.jp2"}, "406": {"fulltext": "358 NOTES.\\nDr. Johnson, about ten years before she died, paid the following\\ntribute to her memory, evidently in ignorance of the fact that she\\nwas then alive For most of the refinements in our public diver-\\nsions we are indebted to the late Mrs. Cornelys, to whose elegant\\ntaste for pleasure the magistrates of Turin and Brussels were so\\nblind, and of her worth so insensible, that they severally\\ndrove her out of both those cities. This hospitable country, how-\\never, afforded her an asylum, and in Westminster she was per-\\nmitted to improve our manners. Sydney s England and the\\nEnglish in the Eighteenth Century, I, 148.\\n289. 10. The Jessamy Bride. Mary Horneck, an intimate\\nfriend of Goldsmith, at whose mother s house he was a frequent\\nvisitor. There were two daughters in the family, Catherine and\\nMary, who were nineteen and seventeen years of age respectively,\\nwhen Goldsmith became intimately acquainted with them. They\\nw .re exceedingly beautiful girls, and Goldsmith called them by\\nthe pet names Little Comedy and The Jessamy Bride.\\nThe friendship of the poet for Mary was commented on in his\\nown day, and one of his enemies pretended that Goldsmith was\\nhopelessly in love with her, which led to a fierce quarrel and\\nsome of his later biographers who delight in romantic adventures\\nhave maintained that there was much more than mere friendship\\nbut in the absence of evidence, it seems best to believe that the\\nmature and impossible Goldsmith and the lovely and affectionate\\ngirl were the best of comrades and nothing more. She would\\ndoubtless be amused and delighted with Goldsmith s conversation,\\nand their frank camaraderie was probably better understood by\\nthem than by their biographers. She afterwards became Mrs.\\nGwyn, and died in 1840. She gave her recollections of Gold-\\nsmith to Prior, who wrote the Life of Goldsmith, and these\\nrecollections contain some of the best-known anecdotes of the\\npoet s later life. If one wishes to view the relations between\\nMary Horneck and Goldsmith from the extreme romantic point of\\nview, and at the same time to get an anti-Boswellian conception\\nof the poet s personal character, one cannot do better than read\\nthe pleasantly written novel. The yessamy Bride (1897), by\\nFrankfort Moore.\\n289. 15. Riinbioy. Henry William Bunbury (1750-1811),", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0406.jp2"}, "407": {"fulltext": "NOTES. 359\\nwas an artist and caricaturist. He was married to Catherine\\nHorneck, the beautiful older sister of the Jessamy Bride, in\\n177 1. He published a series of buriesque illustrations to Tris-\\ntram Shandy. Personally he was very attractive, and was on the\\nbest terms with the most famous men of his day.\\n289. i6.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Gi/ray. Thackeray misspells the name. James\\nGillray (1757-T815), a famous caricaturist. His satirical powers,\\nwhich, unlike Bunbury, he chose to cultivate, were very great;\\nand his skill in ridicule, together with his daring freedom in using\\nit, became the terror of his victims. He was enormously popular;\\nbut unfortunately he took to drink, and finally lost his mind.\\n289. 2g.~^ Something must be allowed. Boswell s portrait of\\nGoldsmith, though exceedingly irritating to the passionate lovers\\nof the poet, is probably in the main correct. The peculiarities\\nthat Boswell describes so graphically were Goldsmith s own and\\nbecause a picture is unsympathetic, it does not follow that it is\\nuntrue. The word talent applied to Boswell in line 35 is not\\nthe right word. Boswell was a genius, and one of the great Eng-\\nlish writers.\\n290. T.\u00e2\u0080\u0094He asked for a loan from Garrick. For a begging\\nletter to the great actor, and the acknowledgment of the money\\nreceived, see Forster s Life of Goldsmith, pages 447, 448.\\n290. ^.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Barton. Great Barton, in the county of Suffolk,\\nEngland, was Bunbury s house, where Goldsmith frequently saw\\nhi3 friends.\\n290. i\\\\.\u00e2\u0080\u0094Hazlitt. William Hazlitt (1778-1830), the famous\\nessayist.\\n290. 1 5 \u00e2\u0080\u0094Northcotes paittting-room. James Northcote 1 746-\\n183 1), a well-known painter and member of the Royal Academy.\\nHe excelled principally in the painting of portraits. He had lit-\\nerary aspirations as well, and in 1813 published a memoir of\\nReynolds, which is the source of the later biographies of that art-\\nist. Hazlitt knew Northcote intimately, and delighted in his con-\\nversation, of which he kept full notes.\\n290. IT .\u00e2\u0080\u0094The Younger Colman. George Colman the Younger\\n(1762-1836) was the son of the dramatist of the same name. See\\nnote to page 283, Ime i. His best play, the Heir at Law, still\\nholds the boards. The quotation given here is from Colman s", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0407.jp2"}, "408": {"fulltext": "360 NOTES.\\nRandom Records, published in 1 831; and in that edition the pas-\\nsage occurs in Vol. I, pages 1 10-12, and not where Thackeray\\ngives it. Furthermore, Thackeray has garbled and inaccurately\\nquoted the passage, though not to change its significance.\\n295. 22. Grand homme incoinpris. The great man not\\nunderstood.\\n296. 17. WJw shall say that our country. Thackeray had\\nno sympathy with writers who turned sour because their books\\nwould not sell, and blamed the public for not appreciating their\\ngenius. He saw clearly enough that a writer who really has\\ngenius will sooner or later take his proper place in the annals of\\nliterature. A high place and a permanent one is occupied by the\\nlecturer himself, and if some one were to write a book on the Eng~\\nlish Humourists of the Nineteenth Century, the name of Thack-\\neray would be found among the foremost, as well as the most\\nhonoured and respected, which cannot be said of all the men\\nwhom he discussed in his lectures.", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0408.jp2"}, "409": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0409.jp2"}, "410": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0410.jp2"}, "411": {"fulltext": "Bnglisb IReabiuGB tor Students.\\nEnglish masterpieces in editions at once competently edited and\\ninexpensive. The aim is to Jill vacancies now existing because of\\nsubject, treatment, or price. Prices given below are HET. i6mo. Cloth.\\nArnold (Matthew) Prose Selections. Edited by Prof. Lewis\\nE. Gates of Harvard, xci+348 pp. 90c.\\nIncludes The Function of Criticism, First Lecture on Translating\\nHomer, Literature and Science, Culture and Anarchy, Sweetness and\\nLight, Compulsory Education, Life a Dream, Emerson, and\\ntwelve shorter selections, including America.\\nProf. Bliss Perry 0/ Princeton The selections seem to me most happy,\\nand the introduction is even better, if possible, than his introduction to the New-\\nman volume. Indeed, I have read no criticism of Arnold s prose which appears\\nto me as luminous and just, and expressed with such literary charm.\\nBrowning Selected Lyrical and Dramatic Poems. With the\\nessay on Browning from E. C. Stedman s Victorian Poets.\\nEdited by Edward T. Mason. 275 pp. 60c.\\nBurke Selections. Edited by Bliss Perry, sometime Professor\\nin Princeton, xxvi 298 pp. 60c.\\nContents Speeches at Arrival at Bristol, at Conclusion of the\\nPoll Letters to the Marquis of Rockingham, to the Sheriffs of\\nBristol, and to a Noble Lord Address to the King Selections\\nfrom the Sublime and the Beautiful, from Thoughts on the Present\\nDiscontents, from Speech on the Nabob of Arcot s Debts, from\\nImpeachment of Hastings (2), from Reflections on the Revolution in\\nFrance (7, including Fiat Money).\\nEdward Dowden, the author and critic They seem to me admirably\\nchosen and arranged, and the introduction brings various aspects of Burke s mind\\ntruly and vividly before the reader.\\nColeridge Prose Extracts. Edited by Prof. Henry A. Beers\\nof Yale. xixH-i48pp. 50c.\\nThe selections, varying in length from a paragraph to ten or\\ntwenty pages, are mainly from Table Talk and Biographia Literaria,\\nbut also from Notes on Shakespeare, etc.\\nvii, 1900", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0411.jp2"}, "412": {"fulltext": "English %eadmgs for Students.\\nDe Quincey Joan of Arc The Mail Coach. Edited by Prof.\\nJames MorCxAN Hart of Cornell, xxvi-l-138 pp. 50c.\\nThe introduction sketches De Quincey s life and style. Allusions\\nand other difificult points are explained in the notes. This volume\\nand the Essays on BoswelPs Johnson (see under Macaulay) are used\\nat Cornell for elementary rhetorical study.\\nDryden Essays on the Drama. Edited by Dr. Wm. Strunk,\\nJr., of Cornell, xxxviii+180 pp. 50c.\\nThis volume contains The Essay of Dramatic Poesy and, among\\nthe critical prefaces, Of Heroic Flays and The Grounds of Criticism\\nin Tragedy. These are not only excellent specimens of Classical\\nEnglish, but also have a high reputation for the value of their literary\\nopinions. The introduction, besides treating of Dryden s life and\\nprose style, sets forth clearly how he used the theories of the drama\\nwhich he found in Aristotle, Horace, and Corneille.\\nFord: The Broken Heart. A Spartan Tragedy in verse.\\nEdited by Prof. Clinton Scollard of Hamilton College.\\nxvi4-i32 pp. 50c. (Buckram, 70c.)\\nA play notable for its repressed emotion and psychological interest.\\nCharles Lamb wrote I do not know where to find in any play a\\ncatastrophe so grand, so solemn, and so surprising as this [of The\\nBroken Heart].\\nJohnson Rasselas. Edited by Prof. Oliver Farrar Emerson\\nof Adelbert. Ivi+I79 PP- 50c. (Buckram, 70c.)\\nThe introduction treats of Johnson s style, the circumstances under\\nwhich Rasselas was written, and its place in the history of fiction.\\nThe notes explain allusions and trace the sources of some of\\nJohnson s materials.\\nLandor: Selections from the Imaginary Conversations.\\nEdited by Prof. A. G. Newcomer of Stanford University\\nlix--|-i66 pp. 50c.\\nSixteen of the Conversations, which have been chosen especially\\nbecause of their vital and stimulating character, which appeals\\nstrongly to the young student,\\nvii, 1900 2 I", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0412.jp2"}, "413": {"fulltext": "English fadings for Students.\\nLyly Endimion. Edited by Prof. Geo. P. Baker of Harvard.\\ncxcvi-(-i09 pp. 85c.\\nThe Academy, London: It is refreshing to come upon such a piece of\\nsterling work the most complete and satisfactory account of Lyly that\\nhas yet appeared.\\nMacaulay and Carlyle Essays on Samuel Johnson. Edited\\nby Dr. William Strunk of Cornell, xl-f-191 pp. 50c.\\nThese two essays present a constant contrast in intellectual and\\nmoral methods of criticism, and offer an excellent introduction to the\\nstudy of the literary history of Johnson s times.\\nMarlowe Edward II. With the best passages from Tamburlaine\\nthe Great, and from his Poems. Edited by the late Prof.\\nEdward T. McLaughlin of Yale. xxi-j-iSo pp. 50c.\\nEdward II. is not only a remarkable play, but is of great interest\\nin connection with Shakespere s Richard II. A comparison of the\\ntwo plays is sketched in the introduction.\\nNewman Prose Selections. Edited by Prof. Lewis E. Gates\\nof Harvard. lxii-|-228 pp. 50c.\\nProf. R. G. Moulton oJ Ufiiiiersity of Chicago I am generally suspicious\\nof books of selections, but 1 think Newman makes an exceptional case. The\\nselection seems excellent, and the introduction is well balanced between points of\\nform and matter. The whole has one special merit it is interesting in a high\\ndegree.\\nTennyson The Princess. Edited, with introduction, notes, and\\nanalytic questions, by Prof. L. A. Sherman of the University\\nof Nebraska. Ixi-j-iSs pp. 6oc.\\nN. E. Journal of Education The pupil will gain materially from such\\na thorough and discerning study of the poem as this edition presents.\\nThackeray English Humorists. Edited, with an introduction\\nand notes, by Prof, Wm. Lyon Phelps of Yale.\\nThe features of this new edition are a brief biographical and\\ncritical introduction, together with explanatory and critical notes.\\nThe notes explain all literary and other allusions.\\nHFNRY HOI T Rl TO 29 W. 23d St., New York.\\nIILIMVI nWLl ex \\\\^\\\\J.^ 378 Wabash Ave, Chicago.", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0413.jp2"}, "414": {"fulltext": "English fadings for Students.\\n1\\nSpecimens of prose Composition*\\nForms of Discourse. Edited by Prof. E. H. Lewis of Lewis\\nInstitute, Chicago, 367 pp. i6mo. 60c., net.\\nA compact manual, illustrated by 58 selections, chiefly from our\\ncontemporary authors, and designed to cover the field of the four\\nvolumes below, where there is not time for such extended work.\\nProse Narration. Edited by Dr. W. T. Brewster of Columbia.\\nxxxviii-|-209 pp. i6mo. 50c., net.\\nIncludes Selections from Scott, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Jane\\nAusten, George Eliot, Stevenson, and Henry James. Part I. Ele-\\nments Plot, Character, Setting, and Purpose. II. Combination\\nof the Elements. III. Various Kinds. IV. Technique of Good\\nNarrative.\\nProse Description. Edited by Dr. Chas. Sears Baldwin,\\nof Yale. xlviii-|-i45 pp. i6mo. ^oc, net.\\nIncludes Ancient Athens (Newman); Paris before the Second\\nEmpire (du Maurier); Byzantium (Gibbon); Geneva (Ruskin); The\\nStorming of the Bastille (Carlyle); La Gioconda, etc. (Pater); Blois\\n(Henry James); Spring in a Side Street (Brander Matthews).\\nExposition. Edited by Prof. Hammond Lamont of Brown.\\nxxiv-|-i8o pp. i6mo. s^c, net.\\nIncludes: Development of a Brief G. C. V. Holmes on the Steam-\\nengine Huxley on the Physical Basis of Life Bryce on the U. S.\\nConstitution The Nation on the Unemployed Matthew Arnold\\non Wordsworth etc.\\nArgumentation. Modern, Edited by Prof. Geo, P. Baker of\\nHarvard. 186 pp. i6mo. 50c., tiet.\\nChatham on the withdrawal of troops from Boston, Lord Mans-\\nfield s argument in the Evans case, the first letter of Junius, the first\\nof Huxley s American addresses on evolution, Erskine s defence of\\nLord George Gordon, etc., and specimen brief,\\nHhNrvY HULl ex CU., 378 Wabash Xve., Chicago.\\nvii, 1900 4", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0414.jp2"}, "415": {"fulltext": "One of the most unportant books on Music that hii: eveY\\nbeen published. W. J. Henderson, Musical Critic of ^.H^\\nTimes.\\nLAVIGNAC\u00c2\u00bbS MUSIC AND MUSICIANS\\nTranslated by William Marchant. Edited by H. E. Krkhbiel.\\nWith 94 illustrations and 510 examples in musical notation. 2d\\nEdition. 504 pp. 8vo. $3.00.\\nDial If one had to restrict his musical library to a single volume, we\\ndoubt whether he could do better than select the work called Music and\\nMusicians We find in this new volume the same lucidity of exposi-\\ntion, the same economy of arrangement, and the same comprehensiveness,\\nin fact, although not in form, a veritable encyclopaedia of music,\\nand will be found equally satisfactory as a work of reference and as a\\ntext-book for the actual study of counterpoint, the structure of instru-\\nments, the history of music, and the physical basis of musical production.\\nA few supplementary pages, by Mr. H. E. Krehbiel, add American com-\\nposers to M. Lavignac s list, and put the finishing touch of usefulness\\nupon a work which we cordially recommend to both students and general\\nreaders.\\nIt is impossible to speak too highly of this volume {Literary\\nReview, Boston). The most comprehensive reference-work on music\\npublished in a single volume and accessible to readers of English\\n{Review of Reviews). An encyclopaedia from which all manner of\\ncurious facts may be drawn {Literary World). A musical library\\nin W^eXi {Chicago Tribune). A cyclopaedia of knowledge concern-\\ning his art {Christian Register). It adds a great deal that the\\nstudent of music is not likely to get elsewhere {Sprjvgfield Re-\\npublican). The most complete and perfect work of its kind {The\\nHome Journal, New York). For the musical student and music teacher\\ninvaluable if not indispensable (Bujfalo Cojnmercial). He has ap-\\nportioned his pages with rare good judgment {Churchtnan). It is of\\nall things thorough {Brooklyn Eagle). There is nothing superfi-\\ncial about it {Hartford Courant). it has a reliability and authority\\nwhich give it the highest value {Chicago Tribune^. Distinctly scien-\\ntific {Providence Journal). It seems to have been his desire to let no\\ninteresting topic escape. The wonder is that those parts of the book\\nwhich ought to be dry are so readable. A style which can fairly\\nbe described as fascinating (JV. Y. Titnes). Free from superfluous\\ntechnicalities {Providence Jozimal). He has covered the field with\\nFrench clarity and German thoronghness {Springf eld Republican).\\nNot too technical to be exceedingly useful and enjoyable to every\\nintelligent rc Aer {Hartford Couratit) Lightened with interesting\\nanecdotes {Brooklyn Eagle). He writes brilliantly even the laziest\\nor most indifferent will find that he chains the attention and makes a\\nperusal of the history of music a delightful recreation {N. Y. Home\\nJournal).\\nCapitally indexed. Mr. Marchant has done his hard task of trans-\\nlating exceedingly well {Transcripf). The pictures of the instru-\\nments are clear and helpful (iV. Y. Times). An unusually handsome\\nbook {Musical Record). This superb volume the IVatchman).\\nThis handsome volume, elegantly printed on the best of p^per,\\nand the illustrations are numerous {Christian Register). An excellent\\ntranslator {Providence Journal). Well translated {School and Home\\nEducation) The translation is excellent; .handsomely bound\\n{JLonie Journal)^\\nHENRY HOLT CO., fr^^^^^^lif:^^,^,\\nxn 99", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0415.jp2"}, "416": {"fulltext": "LUCAS THE OPEN ROAD\\nA little book for wayfarers, bicycle-wise and otherwise. Compiled by E. V.\\nLucas. With illustrated cover-linings. Green and gold flexible covers.\\ni2mo. $1.50, retail.\\nSome 125 poems (mostly complete) and 25 prose passages, representing over\\n60 authors, including Fitzgerald, Shelley, Shakespeare, Kenneth Grahame,\\nStevenson, Whitman, Bliss Carman, Browning, William Watson, Alice\\nMeynel, Keats, Wordsworth, Matthew Arnold, Tennyson, William Morris,\\nMaurice Hewlett, Isaak Walton, William Barnes, Herrick, Gervase Markham,\\nDobson, Lamb, Milton, Whittier, etc.\\nCritic The selections tell of farewells to winter and the town, of spring\\nand the beauty of the earth, of lovers, of sun and cloud and the windy hills,\\nof birds, blossoms, and trees\u00e2\u0080\u0094 in fact of everything that makes work well-nigh\\nimpossible when the world of nature begins to wake from its long sleep.\\nDial: Avery charming book from cover to cover. some things are\\nlacking, but all that there is is good.\\nNew York Tribune It has been made with good taste, and is altogether\\na capital publication.\\nLondon Times The only thing a poetry-loving cyclist could allege against\\nthe book is that its fascinations would make him rest too long.\\nLUCAS A BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN\\nOver 200 poems, representing some 80 authors. With title-page and cover-\\nlining pictures n color, and cover in colors and gilt.\\nRevised Edition. i2mo. $2.00, retail.\\nCritic: We know of no other anthology for children so complete and well\\narranged.\\nPoet Lore A child could scarcely get a choicer range of verse to roll over\\nin his mind, or be coaxed to it by a prettier volume. A book to take note\\nof against Christmas and all the birthday gift times of the whole year round.\\nBEERS ENGLISH ROMANTICISM -xvm. century\\nGilt top. 455 pp. i2mo. $2.00, retail.\\nNew York Commercial Advertiser The individuality of his style, its\\nhumor, its color, its delicacy. will do quite as much to continue its\\nauthor s reputation as his scholarship. The work of a man who has\\nstudied hard, but who has also lived.\\nOutlook: One of the most important contributions yet made to literary\\nhistory by an American scholar.\\nNew York Tribune No less instructive than readable.\\nNation Always interesting. On the whole may be commended as an\\nexcellent popular treatment of the special subject of the literary revival of\\nmediaevalism in the eighteenth century in England.\\nLiterature His analyses are clear and profound. A notable example\\nof the best type of unpedantic literary scholarship.\\nHANCOCK S THE FRENCH REVOLUTION\\nAND THE ENGLISH POETS\\nWith an introduction, on Historical Criticism as an aid to appreciation, by\\nProfessor Lewis E. Gates of Harvard, xvi 197 PP- i2mo. $1.25, retail.\\nReview of Revieivs A very interesting study. He takes up the\\nthread of English romanticism where Professor Beers drops it.\\nOutlook It has a scholar s orderliness, clearness of method, and contin-\\nuity. Students will be quick to recognize the conscientious work-\\nmanship of his volume, and its insight into the spiritual development of a\\ngroup of the foremost English poets of the century.\\nHENRY HOLT CO., New York", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0416.jp2"}, "417": {"fulltext": "WORKS ON ENGLISH HISTORY.\\nHENDERSON S SIDE-LIGHTS ON ENGLISH HISTORY\\nEdited by Ernest F. Henderson, author of The History\\nof Germany in the Middle Ages, etc., with 80 full-page\\nillustrations. 300 pp. Quarto. $5.00 net, special.\\nAn elaborate effort towards vitalizing the study of English\\nhistory. Such topics as the personality of Queen Elizabeth\\nthe execution of Mary Stuart characteristic traits of Crom-\\nwell the return of Charles H.; the Stuarts in exile; Queen\\nAnne and the Marlboroughs, etc., are illustrated by a wealth\\nof extracts from contemporary records, all arranged to give\\nthe effect of a continuous histor} These, with the illustra-\\ntions (portraits, facsimiles, caricatures, etc.), reproduced\\nfrom the rarest originals, form perhaps one of the most\\nnotable bodies of illustrative material ever placed before the\\nAmerican student of history.\\nNeiv York l^ribiitie It is not unlikely that he who has\\ndipped into .this book in the early afternoon will find himself\\nstill reading when night comes a better book to put in\\nthe hands of the lover of history, whether he be a beginner or\\nan old student, we do not know.\\nLEE S SOURCE BOOK OF ENGLISH HISTORY\\nEdited by Dr. Guy Carleton Lee of Johns Hopkins. 600\\npp. Large i2mo.\\nThe texts of the most important legal and constitutional\\ndocuments from the earliest Saxon code to the last treaty\\nbetween the British and the Boers. Besides copious illustra-\\ntive material from Herodotus to date, and a working bibli-\\nography, that furnishes a clew to every important MS. and\\nprinted document upon English history. The selections are\\nfull of human interest, and equally valuable for the general\\nreader, the student, the library, and the classroom.\\nGRAHAM S ENGLISH POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY\\nFrom Hobbes to Maine. By Prof. William Graham, of\\nQueen s College, Belfast, author of The Creed of Science,\\nSocialism New and Old, etc. xxx -f 415 pp. 8vo. $3.00\\nftet, special.\\nA brilliant epitome and criticism of the chief works of the\\nperiod on the subject. In this work the author endeavors\\nfirst to give a compact but connected account of the political\\ntheories of the greater English political thinkers from the\\ndays of Hobbes, and secondly to distinguish what is perma-\\nnently true from what is doubtful or erroneous, with the end\\nof finally producing something like an Introduction to Politi-\\ncal Science, resting on authority and reason combined.\\nProf. John W. Burgess of Columbia: I consider it the best\\nwork on the subject ever published in the English language.\\nI have no doubt it will be extensively used in all the universi-\\nties of this country.\\nHENRY HOLT CO. ^^^^i^ofi", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0417.jp2"}, "418": {"fulltext": "RINGWALTS AMERICAN ORATORY\\nSelections, with introduction and notes, by Ralph C. Ring-\\nWALT, formerly Instructor in Columbia University. 334 pp.\\ni2mo. $1.00, net.\\nContains Schurz s General Amnesty, Jeremiah S. Black s\\nTrial by Jury Phillips s Daniel O Connell, Depew s Inaugura-\\ntion of Washington; Curtis s The Leadership of Educated Men,\\nHenry W. Grady s The New South, and Beecher s The Sepul-\\nchre in the Garden.\\nF. N. Scott, Professor in the University of Michigan An\\nextremely sensible book.\\nD. L. Maulsby, Professor in Tufts College, Mass. The\\nopening essay is the best on its subject that I have seen of re-\\ncent years. It shows grasp on both the early and later litera-\\nture of the subject, and is thoroughly alive to modern\\nconditions.\\nA. G. Newcomer, Professor in Le land Stanford University\\nThe essay on the theory of oratory is one of the most sensible\\nand at the same time stimulating essays of the kind I have\\never seen.\\nRalph W. Thomas, Professor in Colgate University: It is\\na work that the individual student should have constantly at\\nhand.\\nWAGNER S MODERN POLITICAL ORATIONS (British)\\nEdited by Leopold Wagner, xv 344 pp. i2mo. %i. 00, net.\\nA collection of some of the most notable examples of the po-\\nlitical oratory of the present reign. Includes Brougham on Ne-\\ngro Emancipation; Fox and Cobden on the Corn Laws; Bright\\non the Suspension of Habeas Corpus Act; Butt and Morley on\\nHome Rule; Gladstone on the Beaconsfield Ministry; Parnell\\non the Coercion Bill; and others by Beaconsfield, Russell, Ran-\\ndolph Churchill, Chamberlain, Macaulay, Bulwer-Lytton,\\nCowen, Bradlaugh, McCarthy, etc., etc.\\nHENRY HOLT CO. ^W^SrS^^", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0418.jp2"}, "419": {"fulltext": "I do not know where else, within the limits, to find so delightful\\na selection of noble poems. Prof Thomas R. Price of Columbia.\\nPANCOAST S STANDARD ENGLISH POEMS\\nFrom Spenser to Tennyson. Selected and edited by HENRY\\nS. Pancoast, author of An Introduction to English Litera-\\nture., etc. 749 pp. i6mo. $1.50, net.\\nSome 250 complete poems, besides selections from such long\\npoems as The Faerie Queene, Childe Harold s Pilgrim-\\nage, etc.\\nThere are 19 pages of Ballads, 33 of Spenser, 22 of Elizabethan\\nSongs and Lyrics, 16 of Elizabethan Sonnets, 51 of Seven-\\nteenth Century Songs, 51 of verse from Dryden to Thomson,\\n277 of verse from Thomson to Tennyson, and 100 of Victorian\\nverse, 164 of Notes (chiefly biographical and appreciative),\\nand an index of titles.\\nNew York Tribune We believe it will be received cordially\\nby all lovers of poetry, whether elementary students or not. Basing\\nhis selections on the individual excellence and historic importance\\nof the poems, the editor has not allowed his fidelity to the latter test\\nto overrule his taste, and there is very little matter in the book\\nwhich is historically significant alone. First and last, this is an\\nanthology of the best poetry.\\nProf. Henry A. Beers of Yale, author of English Romanticism in\\nthe Eighteenth Century, etc.: The collection seems to me in gen-\\neral made with excellent judgment, and the notes are sensible, help-\\nful, and not too weitldufig.\\nProf. Albert S. Cook of Yale A thoroughly good selection, and\\nthe notes are judicious, so far as I have examined.\\nProf. William Hand Browne of Johns Hopkins: The scope is\\namply wide, and the selections as judicious as was possible under the\\nlimitations. The notes, judging from a hasty glance, seem full and\\nclear.\\nProf. Charles W. Kent of the University of Virginia Contains\\nnearly all the poems I would wish in such a volume and very few\\nthat I would readily dispense with.\\nProf. James M. Dixon of Washington University: It is just\\nsuch a handy volume as can be made, by a sympathetic teacher, a\\ncompanion to the scholar for life.\\nHENRY HOLT- CO., /;lwaSth^iVe !.ThL\u00c2\u00b0i^,\\ni Z900", "height": "3111", "width": "1841", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0419.jp2"}, "420": {"fulltext": "PANCOASTVS mXRODUCTIO N TO ENGLISH\\nLITERATURE\\nBy Henry S. Pancoast. 556 pp. i2mo. $1.25 net.\\nIt asumes a study of and not about English literature;\\nit assumes that one author differeth from another in glory\\nand influence, and that in an introductory course only\\nthose of predominant, influence can be studied. Frof.\\nE. E. Wentivorth, Vassar College.\\nIt treats of movements is not merely a catalogue of\\nnames and a record of critical ratings. Not even the\\ndullest pupil can study it without feeling the historical\\nand logical continuity of English literature. Nation.\\nIt describes the political and social conditions of the\\nsuccessive periods notes foreign as well as domestic in-\\nfluences emphasizes the relations of literature to history,.\\nIts criticism is of a kind to stimulate investigation\\nrather than to supplant it. A. J. George, Newton\\n{Mass.) High School.\\nThe nineteenth centii/y, for the first time in such a\\nbook, receives its fair share of attention.\\nIn style it is interesting, says Prof. Winchester of\\nWesleyan Uinversity {Conn?), readable and stimulating,\\nsays Prof. Hart of Cornell^ interesting and sensible,\\nsays Prof. Sampson of Indiana University, attractive,\\nsays Prof. Gilmore of Rochester University, well writ-\\nten, says Prof. Czarnomska of Smith College.\\nIt is fully equipped with teaching apparatus. The\\nStudy Lists give references for collateral reading, and,\\nin the case of the most suitable works, hints and sugges-\\ntive questions. Comparative chronological tables, a\\nliterary map of England, and a plan of Shakespeare s\\nLondon are included.\\nHFlSlRY HOI T rO 29 W, 23d St., NEW YORK\\n1 1 C IN I\\\\ I n L 1 d \\\\J J.- 3Y8 Wabasli Ave-, CEICAQO\\nII, 1900", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0420.jp2"}, "421": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00baPancoast s Introduction to American Literature.\\nBy Henry S. Pancoast, author of Representative English Literature.\\n3fiH-393pp. i6mo. $i.oo.\\nThe primary aim is to help the pupil to approach certain\\ntypical works in the right spirit, and to understand and enjoy\\nthem. He is led to observe the origin and history of the\\nliterature and the forces which have helped to shape and\\ndevelop it he is taught to regard literature as a part of\\nnational history, and to relate it to contemporaneous events\\nand social conditions. He is made to take up the works\\nsuggested for study in their chronological sequence, and to\\nnote their relations to each other and to their time.\\nIn the sketches of the few leading writers selected for com-\\nparatively extended treatment the effort is to avoid dry\\nbiographical details, and to present each author as a distinct\\nliving person. In the critical portion the object is rather to\\nstimulate appreciation and lead the student to judge for him-\\nself than to force opinions on him in a purely dogmatic spirit.\\nJ. M. Hart. Professor in Cornell\\nUniversity Seen:is to me to ac-\\ncomplish exactly what it attempts;\\nit introduces the reader carefully\\nand systematically to the subject.\\nThe several chapters are well\\nproportioned, and the tone of the\\nentire work is one of kindly and\\nenlightened sympathy.\\nEdwin M. Hopkins, Professo^\\nin the University of Kansas It\\nseems to me fully entitled to take\\nrank w^ith his English Literature\\nas a text-book, and I shall at once\\nplace it on my list recommended\\nfor high-school work.\\nThe Nation Quite the best\\nbrief manual of its subject that\\nwe know. National traits are\\nwell brought out without neglect-\\nling organic connections with the\\n1 mother country. Forces and\\ni movements are as well handled\\nas personalities, the influence of\\nwriters hardly less than their in-\\ndividuality,\\nA. G. Newcomer, Professor in\\nLeland Stanford University He\\nsucceeds in saying the just and\\nneedful thing without beingtempt-\\ned beyond, and students of the\\nwork can hardly fail to obtain the\\nright profit from our literature\\nand the right attitude toward it.\\nH. Humphrey Neill, Professor\\nin Amherst College \u00e2\u0080\u0094Having used\\nMr. Pancoast s book on English\\nLiterature for three years with my\\nclass, I know about what to ex-\\npect from the present volume, and\\nam sure it will fill the place de-\\nmanded in the teaching of Amer-\\nican Literature which his other\\nbook so well fills in the teaching\\nof English Literature.\\nThe Dial:\u00e2\u0080\u0094 We find in the vol-\\nume now before us the same well-\\nchosen diction, sobriety of judg-\\nment, and sense of perspective\\nthat characterized its predecessor.\\nWe should say that no better book\\nhad yet been produced for use in\\nour secondary schools.", "height": "3106", "width": "1903", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0421.jp2"}, "422": {"fulltext": "EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY\\nLETTERS\\nEDITED BY R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON\\nSWIFT, ADDISON, AND STEELE\\nWith an introduction by Stanley Lane Poole, and Lemercier-\\ngravures of the three letter-writers. Laid paper, gilt top, half\\nvelluin. i2mo. fi.75, ^tet.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2*Mr. Britnley Johnson deserves the gratitude of all lovers of\\ngood literature, as of all lovers of the eighteenth century, for\\npublishing so judicious and agreeable a volume as Eighteenth-\\nCentury Letters. The letters are selected, he tells us, chiefly\\non literary grounds and, as Mr. Lane Poole says in his intro-\\nduction to Vol. L, the correspondence collected in this volume\\ncentres on the incomparable influence of Swift. These are of fas-\\ncinating style, and if ever it was right the many-headed beast\\nshould know a man s private life and thoughts, such curiosity is\\njustified in the case of the satirist. Satire requires a certain detach-\\nment of intellect from moral and personal consideration; but in\\nreading Swift s letters we see to what an extreme pitch intellectual\\nabstraction may be carried. The cynic misanthrope in public, he\\nshows in private a childlike humanity and kindness. Here is the\\nauthor of Gulliver reeling of? two or three pages of words ending in\\n-ling to Dr. Sheridan, joking with Patty Blount on their ages, de-\\nscribing to Vanessa his days and his nights with all the charm of in-\\ntimate triviality now rallying a correspondent on bad spelling, and\\nnow penning to a fallen Minister a letter which has all the beauties\\nof an elegant and dignified pamphlet without any loss of epistolary\\nease and familiarity. And no less pleasing are the letters addressed\\nto Swift\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the philosophy of Bolingbroke, the humorous gossip of\\nGay, the wit of Arbuthnot. Then we have specimens of the elabo-\\nrate finish of Addison, as judicious, balanced, and polished in his\\nletters as his essays proper. But more wecome still are the notes\\nthat Steele scribbled ofT to Prue. Dear Prue,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 I enclose you a\\nguinea for your pockett or, Dear Prue,\u00e2\u0080\u0094 1 send you seven pen orth\\nof wall nutts at five a penny, which is the greatest proof I can give\\nyou at present of my being, with my whole heart. Yours Richd.\\nSteele. The book is further adorned by admirable Lemercier-grav-\\nures of the three letter -writers, and in every way so turned out as\\nto attract. Mr. Johnson promises fresh volumes to cover, by a\\nsystem of selected groups, the whole range of the eighteenth\\ncentury. We look forward with pleasure to more of the same kind\\nas this foretaste. Literature.\\nJUST PUBLISHED.\\nJOHNSON AND LORD CHESTERFIELD\\nWith an introduction by George Birbeck Hill, and Lemercier-\\ngrauvres of both letter-writers. Laid paper, gilt top, half vellum.\\ni2mo. $1.75, net.\\nHENRY HOLT CO., ^ov?^^o?r\\n^1 H*", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0422.jp2"}, "423": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3106", "width": "1903", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0423.jp2"}, "424": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3116", "width": "1711", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0424.jp2"}, "425": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3101", "width": "1726", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0425.jp2"}, "426": {"fulltext": ",A^^\\ni", "height": "3126", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0426.jp2"}, "427": {"fulltext": ".H\\nH", "height": "3106", "width": "1903", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0427.jp2"}, "428": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3261", "width": "2023", "jp2-path": "englishhumourist00thac2_0428.jp2"}}