The Tatler, Volume 1, 1899 by George A. Aitken (best e reader for android txt) π
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He there has a digression concerning a possibility, that in some circumstances a man may receive an injury, and yet be conscious to himself that he deserves it. There are abundance of fine things said on the subject; but the whole wrapped up in so much jingle and pun (which was the wit of those times) that it is scarce intelligible; but I thought the design was well enough in the following sketch of the old gentleman's poetry: for in this case, where two are rivals for the same thing, and propose to attain it by presents, he that attempts the judge's honesty, by making him offers of reward, ought not to complain when he loses his cause for a better bidder. But the good old doggerel runs thus:[405]
A poor man once a judge besought,
To judge aright his cause,
And with a pot of oil salutes
This judger of the laws.
"My friend" quoth he, "thy cause is good":
He glad away did trudge;
Anon his wealthy foe did come
Before this partial judge.
An hog well fed this churl presents,
And craves a strain of law;
The hog received, the poor man's right
Was judged not worth a straw.
Therewith he cried, "O! partial judge,
Thy doom has me undone;
When oil I gave, my cause was good,
But now to ruin run."
"Poor man" quoth he, "I thee forgot,
And see thy cause of foil;
An hog came since into my house,
And broke thy pot of oil."
Will's Coffee-house, July 15.
The discourse happened this evening to fall upon characters drawn in plays, and a gentleman remarked, that there was no method in the world of knowing the taste of an age, or period of time so good, as by the observations of the persons represented in their comedies. There were several instances produced, as Ben Jonson's bringing in a fellow smoking as a piece of foppery;[406] "But," said the gentleman who entertained us on this subject, "this matter is nowhere so observable as in the difference of the characters of women on the stage in the last age, and in this. It is not to be supposed that it was a poverty of genius in Shakespeare, that his women made so small a figure in his dialogues; but it certainly is, that he drew women as they then were in life; for that sex had not in those days that freedom in conversation; and their characters were only, that they were mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives. There were not then among the ladies, shining wits, politicians, virtuosas, free-thinkers, and disputants; nay, there was then hardly such a creature even as a coquette: but vanity had quite another turn, and the most conspicuous woman at that time of day was only the best housewife. Were it possible to bring into life an assembly of matrons of that age, and introduce the learned Lady Woodby into their company, they would not believe the same nation could produce a creature so unlike anything they ever saw in it. But these ancients would be as much astonished to see in the same age so illustrious a pattern to all who love things praiseworthy, as the divine Aspasia.[407] Methinks, I now see her walking in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected charms, before beauty had spectators, and bearing celestial conscious virtue in her aspect. Her countenance is the lively picture of her mind, which is the seat of honour, truth, compassion, knowledge, and innocence.
There dwells the scorn of vice and pity too.
In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all that behold and know her, without the least affectation, she consults retirement, the contemplation of her own being, and that supreme power which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or knowledge of a long course of arguments, she goes on in a steady course of uninterrupted piety and virtue, and adds to the severity and privacy of the last age all the freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of a Court she is possessed of in the highest degree; but the simplicity and humble thoughts of a cottage, are her more welcome entertainments. Aspasia is a female philosopher, who does not only live up to the resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, but also to the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful, though inimitable. This lady is the most exact economist, without appearing busy; the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise of it; and shuns applause with as much industry, as others do reproach. This character is so particular, that it will very easily be fixed on her only, by all that know her: but I daresay, she will be the last that finds it out. But, alas! if we have one or two such ladies, how many dozens are there like the restless Poluglossa, who is acquainted with all the world but herself; who has the appearance of all, and possession of no one virtue: she has indeed in her practice the absence of vice; but her discourse is the continual history of it; and it is apparent, when she speaks of the criminal gratifications of others, that her innocence is only a restraint, with a certain mixture of envy. She is so perfectly opposite to the character of Aspasia, that as vice is terrible to her only as it is the object of reproach, so virtue is agreeable only as it is attended with applause.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 15.
It is now twelve o'clock at noon, and no mail come in; therefore I am not without hopes, that the town will allow me the liberty which my brother news-writers take, in giving them what may be for their information in another kind, and indulge me in doing an act of friendship, by publishing the following account of goods and movables.[408]
This is to give notice, that a magnificent palace, with great variety of gardens, statues, and waterworks, may be bought cheap in Drury Lane; where there are likewise several castles to be disposed of, very delightfully situated; as also groves, woods, forests, fountains, and country seats, with very pleasant prospects on all sides of them; being the movables of Ch----r R----ch,[409] Esq.; who is breaking up housekeeping, and has many curious pieces of furniture to dispose of, which may be seen between the hours of six and ten in the evening.
#The INVENTORY.#
Spirits of right Nantes brandy, for lambent flames and apparitions.
Three bottles and a half of lightning.
One shower of snow in the whitest French paper.
Two showers of a browner sort.
A sea, consisting of a dozen large waves; the tenth bigger than
ordinary, and a little damaged.
A dozen and a half of clouds, trimmed with black, and well
conditioned.
A rainbow a little faded.
A set of clouds after the French mode, streaked with lightning, and
furbelowed.
A new-moon, something decayed.
A pint of the finest Spanish wash, being all that is left of two
hogsheads sent over last winter.
A coach very finely gilt, and little used, with a pair of dragons,
to be sold cheap.
A setting sun, a pennyworth.[410]
An imperial mantle, made for Cyrus the Great, and worn by Julius
Cæsar, Bajazet, King Harry the Eighth, and Signior Valentin.[411]
A basket-hilt sword, very convenient to carry milk in.
Roxana's night-gown.
Othello's handkerchief.
The imperial robes of Xerxes, never worn but once.
A wild-boar, killed by Mrs. Tofts[412] and Dioclesian.
A serpent to sting Cleopatra.
A mustard-bowl to make thunder with.
Another of a bigger sort, by Mr. D----is's directions, little
used.[413]
Six elbow-chairs, very expert in country-dances, with six
flower-pots for their partners.
The whiskers of a Turkish bassa.
The complexion of a murderer in a band-box; consisting of a large
piece of burnt cork, and a coal-black peruke.
A suit of clothes for a ghost, viz., a bloody shirt, a doublet
curiously pinked, and a coat with three great eyelet-holes upon the
breast.
A bale of red Spanish wool.
Modern plots, commonly known by the name of trapdoors, ladders of
ropes, vizard-masks, and tables with broad carpets over them.
Three oak cudgels, with one of crab-tree; all bought for the use of
Mr. Pinkethman.
Materials for dancing; as masks, castanets, and a ladder of ten
rounds.
Aurengezebe's scimitar, made by Will Brown in Piccadilly.
A plume of feathers, never used but by Oedipus and the Earl of
Essex.
There are also swords, halberts, sheep-hooks, cardinals' hats, turbans, drums, gallipots, a gibbet, a cradle, a rack, a cart-wheel, an altar, a helmet, a back-piece, a breast-plate, a bell, a tub, and a jointed baby.[414]
These are the hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to; therefore our readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind blowing for a fortnight together, generally fills every paper with an order of battle; when we show our martial skill in each line, and, according to the space we have to fill, we range our men in squadrons and battalions, or draw out company by company, and troop by troop; ever observing, that no muster is to be made, but when the wind is in a cross point, which often happens at the end of a campaign, when half the men are deserted or killed. The Courant is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close: the
Postboy [415] is generally in files, for greater exactness; and the
Postman comes down upon you rather after the Turkish way, sword in hand, pell-mell, without form or discipline; but sure to bring men enough into the field; and wherever they are raised, never to lose a battle for want of numbers.
[Footnote 405: From George Whetstone's "English Mirror," 1586.]
[Footnote 406: See "Every Man out of his Humour," act ii. sc. 1.]
[Footnote 407: Lady Elizabeth Hastings, unquestionably one of the
A poor man once a judge besought,
To judge aright his cause,
And with a pot of oil salutes
This judger of the laws.
"My friend" quoth he, "thy cause is good":
He glad away did trudge;
Anon his wealthy foe did come
Before this partial judge.
An hog well fed this churl presents,
And craves a strain of law;
The hog received, the poor man's right
Was judged not worth a straw.
Therewith he cried, "O! partial judge,
Thy doom has me undone;
When oil I gave, my cause was good,
But now to ruin run."
"Poor man" quoth he, "I thee forgot,
And see thy cause of foil;
An hog came since into my house,
And broke thy pot of oil."
Will's Coffee-house, July 15.
The discourse happened this evening to fall upon characters drawn in plays, and a gentleman remarked, that there was no method in the world of knowing the taste of an age, or period of time so good, as by the observations of the persons represented in their comedies. There were several instances produced, as Ben Jonson's bringing in a fellow smoking as a piece of foppery;[406] "But," said the gentleman who entertained us on this subject, "this matter is nowhere so observable as in the difference of the characters of women on the stage in the last age, and in this. It is not to be supposed that it was a poverty of genius in Shakespeare, that his women made so small a figure in his dialogues; but it certainly is, that he drew women as they then were in life; for that sex had not in those days that freedom in conversation; and their characters were only, that they were mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives. There were not then among the ladies, shining wits, politicians, virtuosas, free-thinkers, and disputants; nay, there was then hardly such a creature even as a coquette: but vanity had quite another turn, and the most conspicuous woman at that time of day was only the best housewife. Were it possible to bring into life an assembly of matrons of that age, and introduce the learned Lady Woodby into their company, they would not believe the same nation could produce a creature so unlike anything they ever saw in it. But these ancients would be as much astonished to see in the same age so illustrious a pattern to all who love things praiseworthy, as the divine Aspasia.[407] Methinks, I now see her walking in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected charms, before beauty had spectators, and bearing celestial conscious virtue in her aspect. Her countenance is the lively picture of her mind, which is the seat of honour, truth, compassion, knowledge, and innocence.
There dwells the scorn of vice and pity too.
In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all that behold and know her, without the least affectation, she consults retirement, the contemplation of her own being, and that supreme power which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or knowledge of a long course of arguments, she goes on in a steady course of uninterrupted piety and virtue, and adds to the severity and privacy of the last age all the freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of a Court she is possessed of in the highest degree; but the simplicity and humble thoughts of a cottage, are her more welcome entertainments. Aspasia is a female philosopher, who does not only live up to the resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, but also to the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful, though inimitable. This lady is the most exact economist, without appearing busy; the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise of it; and shuns applause with as much industry, as others do reproach. This character is so particular, that it will very easily be fixed on her only, by all that know her: but I daresay, she will be the last that finds it out. But, alas! if we have one or two such ladies, how many dozens are there like the restless Poluglossa, who is acquainted with all the world but herself; who has the appearance of all, and possession of no one virtue: she has indeed in her practice the absence of vice; but her discourse is the continual history of it; and it is apparent, when she speaks of the criminal gratifications of others, that her innocence is only a restraint, with a certain mixture of envy. She is so perfectly opposite to the character of Aspasia, that as vice is terrible to her only as it is the object of reproach, so virtue is agreeable only as it is attended with applause.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 15.
It is now twelve o'clock at noon, and no mail come in; therefore I am not without hopes, that the town will allow me the liberty which my brother news-writers take, in giving them what may be for their information in another kind, and indulge me in doing an act of friendship, by publishing the following account of goods and movables.[408]
This is to give notice, that a magnificent palace, with great variety of gardens, statues, and waterworks, may be bought cheap in Drury Lane; where there are likewise several castles to be disposed of, very delightfully situated; as also groves, woods, forests, fountains, and country seats, with very pleasant prospects on all sides of them; being the movables of Ch----r R----ch,[409] Esq.; who is breaking up housekeeping, and has many curious pieces of furniture to dispose of, which may be seen between the hours of six and ten in the evening.
#The INVENTORY.#
Spirits of right Nantes brandy, for lambent flames and apparitions.
Three bottles and a half of lightning.
One shower of snow in the whitest French paper.
Two showers of a browner sort.
A sea, consisting of a dozen large waves; the tenth bigger than
ordinary, and a little damaged.
A dozen and a half of clouds, trimmed with black, and well
conditioned.
A rainbow a little faded.
A set of clouds after the French mode, streaked with lightning, and
furbelowed.
A new-moon, something decayed.
A pint of the finest Spanish wash, being all that is left of two
hogsheads sent over last winter.
A coach very finely gilt, and little used, with a pair of dragons,
to be sold cheap.
A setting sun, a pennyworth.[410]
An imperial mantle, made for Cyrus the Great, and worn by Julius
Cæsar, Bajazet, King Harry the Eighth, and Signior Valentin.[411]
A basket-hilt sword, very convenient to carry milk in.
Roxana's night-gown.
Othello's handkerchief.
The imperial robes of Xerxes, never worn but once.
A wild-boar, killed by Mrs. Tofts[412] and Dioclesian.
A serpent to sting Cleopatra.
A mustard-bowl to make thunder with.
Another of a bigger sort, by Mr. D----is's directions, little
used.[413]
Six elbow-chairs, very expert in country-dances, with six
flower-pots for their partners.
The whiskers of a Turkish bassa.
The complexion of a murderer in a band-box; consisting of a large
piece of burnt cork, and a coal-black peruke.
A suit of clothes for a ghost, viz., a bloody shirt, a doublet
curiously pinked, and a coat with three great eyelet-holes upon the
breast.
A bale of red Spanish wool.
Modern plots, commonly known by the name of trapdoors, ladders of
ropes, vizard-masks, and tables with broad carpets over them.
Three oak cudgels, with one of crab-tree; all bought for the use of
Mr. Pinkethman.
Materials for dancing; as masks, castanets, and a ladder of ten
rounds.
Aurengezebe's scimitar, made by Will Brown in Piccadilly.
A plume of feathers, never used but by Oedipus and the Earl of
Essex.
There are also swords, halberts, sheep-hooks, cardinals' hats, turbans, drums, gallipots, a gibbet, a cradle, a rack, a cart-wheel, an altar, a helmet, a back-piece, a breast-plate, a bell, a tub, and a jointed baby.[414]
These are the hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to; therefore our readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind blowing for a fortnight together, generally fills every paper with an order of battle; when we show our martial skill in each line, and, according to the space we have to fill, we range our men in squadrons and battalions, or draw out company by company, and troop by troop; ever observing, that no muster is to be made, but when the wind is in a cross point, which often happens at the end of a campaign, when half the men are deserted or killed. The Courant is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close: the
Postboy [415] is generally in files, for greater exactness; and the
Postman comes down upon you rather after the Turkish way, sword in hand, pell-mell, without form or discipline; but sure to bring men enough into the field; and wherever they are raised, never to lose a battle for want of numbers.
[Footnote 405: From George Whetstone's "English Mirror," 1586.]
[Footnote 406: See "Every Man out of his Humour," act ii. sc. 1.]
[Footnote 407: Lady Elizabeth Hastings, unquestionably one of the
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