The Tatler (Vol 4)

I was infinitely pleased to find among the works of this extraordinary man a prayer of his own composing, which, for the elevation of thought, and greatness of expression, seems rather the devotion of an angel than a man. His principal fault seems to have been the excess of that virtue which covers a multitude of faults. This betrayed him to so great an indulgence towards his servants, who made a corrupt use of it, that it stripped him of all those riches and honours which a long series of merits had heaped upon him. But in this prayer, at the same time that we find him prostrating himself before the great mercy-seat, and humbled under afflictions which at that time lay heavy upon him, we see him supported by the sense of his integrity, his zeal, his devotion, and his love to mankind, which give him a much higher figure in the minds of thinking men, than that greatness had done from which he was fallen. I shall beg leave to write down the prayer itself, with the title to it, as it was found among his lordship's papers, written in his own hand; not being able to furnish my reader with an entertainment more suitable to this solemn time.[270 - Christmas.]

A Prayer or Psalm made by my Lord Bacon, Chancellor of England

"Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father; from my youth up my Creator, my Redeemer, my Comforter. Thou, O Lord, soundest and searchest the depths and secrets of all hearts; Thou acknowledgest the upright of heart; Thou judgest the hypocrite; Thou ponderest men's thoughts and doings as in a balance; Thou measurest their intentions as with a line; vanity and crooked ways cannot be hid from Thee.

"Remember, O Lord! how Thy servant hath walked before Thee; remember what I have first sought, and what hath been principal in my intentions. I have loved Thy assemblies, I have mourned for the divisions of Thy Church, I have delighted in the brightness of Thy sanctuary. This vine which Thy right hand hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed unto Thee, that it might have the first and the latter rain, and that it might stretch her branches to the seas, and to the floods. The state and bread of the poor and oppressed have been precious in mine eyes; I have hated all cruelty and hardness of heart; I have (though in a despised weed) procured the good of all men. If any have been my enemies, I thought not of them, neither hath the sun almost set upon my displeasure; but I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of maliciousness. Thy creatures have been my books, but Thy Scriptures much more. I have sought Thee in the courts, fields, and gardens, but I have found Thee in Thy temples.

"Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousands my transgressions, but Thy sanctifications have remained with me, and my heart (through Thy grace) hath been an unquenched coal upon Thine altar.

"O Lord, my strength! I have since my youth met with Thee in all my ways, by Thy fatherly compassions, by Thy comfortable chastisements, and by Thy most visible providence. As Thy favours have increased upon me, so have Thy corrections; so as Thou hast been always near me, O Lord! And ever as my worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from Thee have pierced me; and when I have ascended before men, I have descended in humiliation before Thee. And now when I thought most of peace and honour, Thy hand is heavy upon me, and hath humbled me according to Thy former loving-kindness, keeping me still in Thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as a child. Just are Thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no proportion to Thy mercies; for what are the sands of the sea? Earth, heavens, and all these are nothing to Thy mercies. Besides my innumerable sins, I confess before Thee, that I am debtor to Thee for the gracious talent of Thy gifts and graces, which I have neither put into a napkin, nor put it (as I ought) to exchangers, where it might have made best profit, but misspent it in things for which I was least fit: so I may truly say, my soul hath been a stranger in the course of my pilgrimage. Be merciful unto me, O Lord, for my Saviour's sake, and receive me unto Thy bosom, or guide me in Thy ways."

No. 268. [Steele.

From Saturday, Dec. 23, to Tuesday, Dec. 26, 1710

– "O te, Bolane, cerebri
Felicem!" Aiebam tacitus; quum quidlibet ille
Garriret. —

    Hor., 1 Sat. ix. 11.

From my own Apartment

At my coming home last night, I found upon my table the following petition or project, sent me from Lloyd's Coffee-house[271 - Edward Lloyd's Coffee-house in Tower Street is first heard of in 1688; in 1692 Lloyd moved to Lombard Street, at the corner of Abchurch Lane. Periodical sales were held at his house, which was the resort of merchants and shipowners. The Society of Lloyd's was established in 1770.] in the city, with a present of port wine, which had been bought at a late auction held in that place:

"To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Censor of Great Britain

Lloyd's Coffee-house, Lombard Street, Dec. 23

"We the customers of this coffee-house, observing that you have taken into your consideration the great mischiefs daily done in this city by coffee-house orators, do humbly beg leave to represent to you, that this coffee-house being provided with a pulpit for the benefit of such auctions that are frequently made in this place, it is our custom, upon the first coming in of the news, to order a youth, who officiates as the Kidney[272 - The waiter (See No. 1).] of the coffee-house, to get into the pulpit, and read every paper with a loud and distinct voice, while the whole audience are sipping their respective liquors. We do therefore, sir, humbly propose, that there be a pulpit erected within every coffee-house of this city and the adjacent parts; that one of the waiters of the coffee-house be nominated as reader to the said pulpit; that after the news of the day has been published by the said lecturer, some politician of good note do ascend into the said pulpit; and after having chosen for his text any article of the said news, that he do establish the authority of such article, clear the doubts that may arise thereupon, compare it with parallel texts in other papers, advance upon it wholesome points of doctrine, and draw from it salutary conclusions for the benefit and edification of all that hear him. We do likewise humbly propose, that upon any such politician's quitting the pulpit, he shall be succeeded by any other orator that finds himself moved by the same public spirit, who shall be at full liberty either to enforce or overthrow what the other has said before him, and may in the same manner be succeeded by any other politician, who shall with the same liberty confirm or impugn his reasons, strengthen or invalidate his conjectures, enlarge upon his schemes, or erect new ones of his own. We do likewise further propose, that if any person, of what age or rank soever, do presume to cavil at any paper that has been read, or to hold forth upon it longer than the space of one minute, that he be immediately ordered up into the pulpit, there to make good anything that he has suggested upon the floor. We do likewise further propose, that if any one plays the orator in the ordinary coffee-house conversation, whether it be upon peace or war, on plays or sermons, business or poetry, that he be forthwith desired to take his place in the pulpit.

"This, sir, we humbly presume may in a great measure put a stop to those superficial statesmen who would not dare to stand up in this manner before a whole congregation of politicians, notwithstanding the long and tedious harangues and dissertations which they daily utter in private circles, to the breaking of many honest tradesmen, the seducing of several eminent citizens, the making of numberless malcontents, and to the great detriment and disquiet of her Majesty's subjects."

I do heartily concur with my ingenious friends of the above-mentioned coffee-house in these their proposals; and because I apprehend there may be reasons to put an immediate stop to the grievance complained of, it is my intention that, till such time as the aforesaid pulpits can be erected, every orator do place himself within the bar, and from thence dictate whatsoever he shall think necessary for the public good.

And further, because I am very desirous that proper ways and means should be found out for the suppressing of story-tellers and fine talkers[273 - See No. 264.] in all ordinary conversation whatsoever, I do insist, that in every private club, company, or meeting over a bottle, there be always an elbow-chair placed at the table, and that as soon as any one begins a long story, or extends his discourse beyond the space of one minute, he be forthwith thrust into the said elbow-chair, unless upon any of the company's calling out to the chair, he breaks off abruptly, and holds his tongue.

There are two species of men, notwithstanding anything that has been here said, whom I would exempt from the disgrace of the elbow-chair. The first are those buffoons that have a talent of mimicking the speech and behaviour of other persons, and turning all their patrons, friends and acquaintance, into ridicule. I look upon your pantomime as a legion in a man, or at least to be like Virgil's monster, with a hundred mouths and as many tongues:

-Linguæ centum sunt, oraque centum—

and therefore would give him as much time to talk in, as would be allowed to the whole body of persons he represents, were they actually in the company which they divert by proxy. Provided however, that the said pantomime do not, upon any pretence whatsoever, utter anything in his own particular opinion, language, or character.

I would likewise in the second place grant an exemption from the elbow-chair to any person who treats the company, and by that means may be supposed to pay for his audience. A guest cannot take it ill if he be not allowed to talk in his turn by a person who puts his mouth to a better employment, and stops it with good beef and mutton. In this case the guest is very agreeably silenced, and seems to hold his tongue under that kind of bribery which the ancients called bos in lingua.[274 - An image of a bull or cow was often stamped on a coin, which was thence called "bos."]

If I can once extirpate the race of solid and substantial humdrums, I hope, by my wholesome and repeated advices, quickly to reduce the insignificant tittle-tattles and matter-of-fact men that abound in every quarter of this great city.

Epictetus, in his little system of morality, prescribes the following rule with that beautiful simplicity which shines through all his precepts: "Beware that thou never tell thy dreams in company; for notwithstanding thou mayest take a pleasure in telling thy dreams, the company will take no pleasure in hearing them."

This rule is conformable to a maxim which I have laid down in a late paper,[275 - No. 264.] and must always inculcate into those of my readers who find in themselves an inclination to be very talkative and impertinent, that they should not speak to please themselves, but those that hear them.

It has been often observed by witty essay writers, that the deepest waters are always the most silent; that empty vessels make the greatest sound, and tinkling cymbals the worst music. The Marquis of Halifax, in his admirable "Advice to a Daughter,"[276 - Several passages from the "Advice to a Daughter," by George Savile, Marquis of Halifax, were used in Steele's "Ladies' Library" (1714).] tells her, that good sense has always something sullen in it: but as sullenness does not only imply silence, but an ill-natured silence, I wish his lordship had given a softer name to it. Since I am engaged unawares in quotations, I must not omit the satire which Horace has written against this impertinent talkative companion, and which, I think, is fuller of humour than any other satire he has written. This great author, who had the nicest taste of conversation, and was himself a most agreeable companion, had so strong an antipathy to a great talker, that he was afraid some time or other it would be mortal to him, as he has very humorously described it in his conversation with an impertinent fellow who had liked to have been the death of him:

Interpellandi locus hic erat: "Est tibi mater;
Cognati, quis te salvo est opus?" "Haud mihi quisquam.
Omnes composui." "Felices, nunc ego resto.
Confice, namque instat fatum mihi triste, Sabella
Quod puero cecinit divinâ mota anus urnâ:
'Hunc neque dira venena, nec hosticus auseret ensis,
Nec laterum dolor, aut tussis, nec tarda podagra.
Garrulus hunc quando consumet cunque: loquaces,
Si sapiat, vitet, simul atque adoleverit ætas.'"[277 - Horace, I Sat. ix. 26.]

Thus translated by Mr. Oldham:

Here I got room to interrupt: "Have you
A mother, sir, or kindred living now?"
"Not one, they all are dead." "Troth, so I guessed;
The happier they," said I, "who are at rest.
Poor I am only left unmurdered yet:
Haste, I beseech you, and despatch me quite,
For I am well convinced my time is come;
When I was young, a gipsy told my doom.
'This lad,' said she, and looked upon my hand,
'Shall not by sword or poison come to's end,
Nor by the fever, dropsy, gout, or stone;
But he shall die by an eternal tongue:
Therefore, when he's grown up, if he be wise,
Let him avoid great talkers, I advise.'"

No. 269. [Steele.

From Tuesday, Dec. 26, to Thursday, Dec. 28, 1710

-Hæ nugæ seria ducent
In mala. —

    Hor., Ars Poet. 451.

From my own Apartment, Dec. 27

I find my correspondents are universally offended at me for taking notice so seldom of their letters, and fear people have taken the advantage of my silence to go on in their errors; for which reason I shall hereafter be more careful to answer all lawful questions and just complaints as soon as they come to my hands. The two following epistles relate to very great mischiefs in the most important articles of life, love, and friendship:

    Dorsetshire, Dec. 20.

"Mr. Bickerstaff,

"'Tis my misfortune to be enamoured of a lady that is neither very beautiful, very witty, nor at all well-natured; but has the vanity to think she excels in all these qualifications, and therefore is cruel, insolent, and scornful. When I study to please her, she treats me with the utmost rudeness and ill manners: if I approach her person, she fights, she scratches me: if I offer a civil salute, she bites me; insomuch, that very lately, before a whole assembly of ladies and gentlemen, she ripped out a considerable part of my left cheek. This is no sooner done, but she begs my pardon in the most handsome and becoming terms imaginable, gives herself worse language than I could find in my heart to do, lets me embrace her to pacify her while she is railing at herself, protests she deserves the esteem of no one living, says I am too good to contradict her when she thus accuses herself. This atones for all, tempts me to renew my addresses, which are ever returned in the same obliging manner. Thus, without some speedy relief, I am in danger of losing my whole face. Notwithstanding all this, I dote upon her, and am satisfied she loves me, because she takes me for a man of sense, which I have been generally thought, except in this one instance. Your reflections upon this strange amour would be very useful in these parts, where we are overrun with wild beauties and romps. I earnestly beg your assistance, either to deliver me from the power of this unaccountable enchantment, or, by some proper animadversions, civilise the behaviour of this agreeable rustic. I am,