N° CXIV. THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1756. VESANUM TETIGISSE TIMENT, FUGIUNTQUE POETAM. HOR. FLY! NEIGHBOURS, FLY! HE RAVES; HIS VERSES SHOW IT; Remember, when I was very young, life, no better than any other common a relation me to a gentleman who had wrote fome pieces that had been very well received, and made me very happy by promifing to introduce me to an Author. As foon as I came I furveyed his whole perfon from top to toe with the strictest attention; fat open-mouthed to catch every syllable that he uttered; and noticed his voice, manner, and every word and gefture, with the minuteft obfervation. I could not help whispering to myfelf the whole evening, I am in company with an 'Author,' and waited with the mot anxious impatience to hear him deliver fomething that might diftinguish him from the rest of mankind. The gentleman behaved with great chearfulness and politeness: but he did not at all anfwer the idea which I had conceived of an Author; and I went away exceedingly disappointed, because I could not find any ftriking difference between him and the rest of my acquaintance. There is no character in human life, which is the fubject of more frequent fpeculation among the vulgar, than an Author. Some look on him with contempt, and others with admiration; but they all agree in believing him to be fomething different from all other people; and it is remarkable with what greedinefs they attend to any little anecdotes, which they can pick up concerning his life and converfation. He is, indeed, a kind of an ideal being, of which people conceive very different notions. By fome he is fuppofed never to ftir out of a garret, to wear a rusty black coat, dirty fhirt, and darned stockings, and to want all the neceffaries, as well as conveniences of life: while others regard him as a creature fuperior to the rest of mortals, and endued with fomething more than reafon. One part, therefore, is furprised to fee him walk abroad, and appear as well dreffed as other people; and another is disappointed, when they find him talk and act, and fill the offices of man. Nor is it lefs curious to confider the different ideas they conceive of the manner in which the bufinefs of writing is executed. The novice in literature, finie with the love of facred fong,' but not yet dipt in ink, fuppofes it all rapture and enthufiafin, and in imagination fees the Author running wildly about his room, talking poetry to the chairs and tables: while the mechanic confiders him as working at his trade, and thinks he can fit down to write whenever he pleafes, as readily as the fmith can labour at his forge, or a carpenter plane a board. Indeed, he regards the Author with fome veneration as a fcholar: but writing ap-. pears to him a mighty eafy bufinefs, and he fmilles whenever he hears any body mention the labour of it; nor has he the leaft conception of the mind's being fatigued with thinking, and the fancy harraffed with pursuing a long train of ideas. As people are frequently led to judge of a man from his ordinary convertation, fo it is common for them to form an idea of the Author's difpofition from the peculiar turn and colour of his writings: they expect a gloom to be spread over the face of a mathematician; a controverfial writer must be given to wrangling and difpute; and they ima gine, that a fatirist must be made up of fpleen, envy, and ill nature. But this criterion is by no means certain and determinate: I know an author of a tragedy who is the merrieft man living; and one who has written a very witty comedy, though he will fit an hour in company without fpeaking a word. Lord Buckhurst is celebrated for being the belt good man with the worft-natured mufe; and Addifon was remarkably fhy and reserved in converfation. I remember I once fell into company with a painter, a poet, a divine, and a phy cian, who were no less famous for their wit and humour, than for their excel, lence lence in their feveral profeffions. After fone minutes of general converfation, the phyfician and the poet fell into a difpute concerning predeftination; the divine finoked his pipe quietly, without putting in a word; while the painter and myself formed a privy council for the good of the nation. Thus, were it poffible to conjure up the fpirits of the most eniment wits in former ages, and put them together, they would perhaps appear to be very dull company. Virgil and Addifon would probably fit ftaring at each other without opening their mouths; Horace and Steele would perhaps join in the commendation of the liquor; and Swift would in all likeli hood divert himself with fucking his cheeks, drawing figures in the wine fpilt upon the table, or twirling the cork-fcrew round his finger. The ftrange prejudices which fome perfons conceive against Authors, deter many a youth from drawing his pen in the fervice of literature; or, if he ventures to commit a favourite work to the prefs, he fteals to the printer's with as much caution and privacy, as he would perhaps, on another occafion, to a furgeon. He is afraid that he fhall injure his character by being known to have written any thing, and that the genteel part of his acquaintance will defpife him as a low wretch, as foon as they difco. ver him to be an Author: as if merely the appearing in print was a difgrace to a gentleman, and the imprimatur to his works was no more than a flamp of fhame and ignominy. Thefe are the terrors which at first disturb the peace of almost every Author, and have often put me in mind of the exclamation of that writer, who cried out, O that mine enemy had written a book!" Thefe fearful apprehenfions are perhaps no unlucky drawback on the vanity natural to all Authors, which undoubtedly they often conceal or fupprefs out of deference to the world: but, if this falfe modeity is too much cherished, it muft of course damp all genius, and fcourage every literary undertaking. Why should it be difgraceful to exert the nobleft faculties given us by nature? and why should any man blush at acquitting himself well in a work, which there is scarce one in five hundred has a capacity to perform? Even fuppofing an Author to fupport himself by the profit arifing by his works, there is no thing more difhoneft, fcandalous, of mean in it, than an officer in the army (the politelt of all profeffions) living on his commiflion. Senfe and genius are as proper commodities to traffic in as courage; and an Author is no more to to be condemned as an hackney fcribbler, though he writes at the rate of so much per theet, than a Colonel fhould be defpifed as a mercenary and a bravo, for expofing himself to be flashed, stuck, and hot at for fo much per day. The truth is, that Authors themselves often create the evils they complain of, and bring a difgrace on the fervice of literature, by being afhamed to wear the badge of it. Voltaire, in his Letters on the English, relates a remarkable inftance of this kind of falfe pride in our own Congreve. Voltaire, when he was in England, waited on Congreve, and told him, that he was glad of an oppor tunity of paying his refpects to a writer fo much celebrated for his wit and humour. Congreve received him politely enough, but replied, that he should be glad to fee him as a common gentleman, but would not be confidered or converfed with as an Author. The French writer was a good deal surprised at such a ridiculous piece of delicacy, and could not help telling him, that, if he had been no more than a common gentleman, he fhould never have had any defire of feeing him. I have often pleafed myself with reflecting on the different opinions which my readers must have formed of me, fince my first appearance as an Author. As poverty is one of the general characteristics of our brotherhood, thofe, who indulge themfelves in a contempt of writers, have, I doubt not, often painted me to their imagination in a very grotefque tafte. Their ideal caricatures have perhaps often reprefented me lodg ed at least three ftories from the ground, compofing differtations on the modern talte in architecture; at another time I may have been delineated fitting in a tattered night gown and the breeches of an heathen philofopher, writing fatires on the prefent modes of drefs: and fometimes perhaps they have figured me halfftarved for want of an hearty meal, penning invectives against luxury and debauchery. But while these have reduced me to this low condition, and steeped me in poverty to the very lips,' I flatter my-^, Lelf, felf, that fome few have beftowed on me an extraordinary share of virtue and underfanding. After fo many grave leffons against the vices and luxury of the prefent age, they will naturally fuppofe, that I never rifked a farthing at the gaming-table, never kept a mistress, would decline an invitation to a turtlefeaft, and, rather than be provoked to fight a duel, would take a kick on the breech, or tweak by the nose, with all the calmness and refignation imaginable. As to my wit and humour, I fhould blush to fet down the many compliments I have had from feveral unknown corre. fpondents on that head: and I once received a note from a very honeft gentle man, who defired to spend an evening with me, promifing himself great diverfion in cracking a bottle with the facetious Mr. Town. Thefe various opinions of me as an Author I fhall never labour to reconcile: but fhall be equally contented with inftructing and amufing the gentle reader, whether he confiders my papers as favours fhowered down upon him from a book feller's garret, or iffuing from my own apartment. However this may be, I fhall never think it a difgrace to have written, or be afhamed to be confidered as an Author; and if ever Mr. Voltaire fhould think proper to visit England again, I fhall be very glad of a literary chat with him, and will give him a most gracious reception. No CXV. THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1756. T COELEBS QUID AGAM? HOR. $18, WITH AN OLD BACHELOR HOW THINGS MISCARRY! TO MR. TOWN. APRIL 5, 1756. O man is a fincerer friend to inno of promoting it, than myfelf. Raillery of every kind, provided it be confined within due bounds, is, in my opinion, an excellent ingredient in converfation; and I am never difpleafed, if I can contribute to the harmless mirth of the company, by being myself the fubject of it: but, in good truth, I have neither a fortune, a conftitution, nor a temper, that will enable me to chuckle and fhake my fides, while I fuffer more from the feftivity of my friends, than the fpleen or malice of my enemies could poffibly inflict upon me; nor do I fee any reafon why I fhould fo far move the mirthful indignation of the ladies, as to be teazed and worried to death in mere fport, for no earthly reafon, but that I am what the world calls an Old Bachelor. The female part of my acquaintance entertain an odd opinion, that a Bachelor is not in fact a rational creature; at least, that he has not the fenfe of feeling in common with the reft of mankind; that a Bachelor may be beaten like a Rock-fish; that you may thruft pins into his legs, and wring him by the nofe; in fhort, that you cannot take too many liberties with a Bachelor. I am at a lofs to conceive on what foundation ed their hypothefis, though at the fame time I am a melancholy proof of it's exiftence, as well as of it's abfurdity. A friend of mine, whom I frequently vifit, has a wife and three daughters, the youngest of which has perfecuted me thefe ten years. Thefe ingenious young ladies have not only found out the fole end and purpose of my being themfelves, but have likewife communicated their difcovery to all the girls in the neighbourhood; fo that, if they happen at any time to be apprized of my coming, (which I take all poffible care to prevent) they immediately difpatch half a dozen cars to their faithful allies, to beg the favour of their company to drink coffee, help teaze Mr. Ironfide. Upon thefe occafions, my entry into the room is fometimes obftructed by a cord, fattened across the bottom of the door-cafe; which, as I am a little near-fighted, I feldom difcover, till it has brought me upon my knees before them. While I am employed in brufhing the duft from my black rollers, or chafing my broken fhins, my wig is 2 K Ludden fuddenly conveyed away, and either ftuffed behind the looking-glafs, or toffed from one to the other fo dextroufly and with fuch velocity, that, after many a fruitless attempt to recover it, I am obliged to fit down bare-headed, to the great diverfion of the fpectators. The Jaft time I found myself in these diftrefsful circumstances, the eldeft girl, a fprightly mischievous jade, stepped briskly up to me, and promifed to reftore my wig, if I would play her a tune on a fmall flute the held in her hand. I inftantly applied it to my lips, and blowing luftily into it, to my inconceivable furprife, was immediately choaked and blinded with a cloud of foot, that iffued from every hole in the inftrument. The younger part of the company declared I had not executed the conditions, and refused to surrender my wig; but the father, who has a rough kind of facetioufnefs about him, infifted on it's being delivered up; and protefted that he never knew the Black Joke better performed in his life. I am naturally a quiet inoffenfive animal, and not eafily ruffled; yet I fhall never fubmit to thefe indignities with patience, till I am fatisfied I deferve them. Even the old maids of my acquaintance, who, one would think, might have a fellow-feeling for a brother in diftrefs, confpire with their nieces to harrafs and torment me: and it is not many nights fince Mifs Diana Grizzle utterly spoiled the only fuperfine fuit I have in the world, by pinning the skirts of it together with a red-hot poker. I own, my resentment of this injury was fo ftrong, that I determined to punish it by kifling the offender, which in cool blood I fhould never have attempted. The fatisfaction, however, which I obtained by this imprudent revenge, was much like what a man of honour feels on finding himself run through the body by the scoundrel who had offended him. My upper lip was transfix with a large corkin pin which in thfcuffle the had conveyed into her mouth; and I doubt not, that I fhall carry the memorem labris notam (the mark of this Judaskifs) from an old maid to the grave with me. Thefe misfortunes, or others of the fame kind, I encounter daily: but at thefe feafons of the year, which give a fanction to this kind of practical wit, and when every man thinks he has a right to entertain himself at his friend's expence, I live in hourly apprehensions of more mortifying, adventures. No miferable dunghill cock, devoted a victim to the wanton cruelty of the mob, would be more terrified at the approach of a Shrove Tuesday, were he endued with human reafon and forecast, than I am at the approach of a merry Chriftmas or the First of April. No longer ago than laft Thursday, which was the latter of these feftivals, I was pestered with mortifying presents from the ladies; obliged to pay the carriage of half a dozen oyster-barrels ftuffed with brickbats, and ten packets by the poft containing nothing but old news-papers. But what vexed me the most, was the being fent fifty miles out of town on hat day, by a counterfeit express from a dying relation. I could not help reflecting, with a figh, on the resemblance between the imaginary grievance of poor Tom in the tragedy of Lear, and those which I really experienced. I, like him, was led through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire; and though knives were not laid under my pillow, minced horse-hair was ftrewed upon my sheets: like him, I was made to ride on an hard-trotting horfe through the most dangerous ways, and found, at the end of my journey, that I had only been courfing my own shadow. As much a fufferer as I am by the behaviour of the women in general, I must not forget to remark, that the pertnefs and faucinefs of an old maid is particularly offenfive to me. I cannot help thinking, that the virginity of these ancient miles is at least as ridiculous as my own celibacy. If I am to be condemned for having never made an offer, they are as much to blame for having never accepted one: if I am to be derided for having never married, who never attempted to make a conqueft; they are more properly the objects of derifion who are till unmarried, after having made fo many. Numberlefs are the proposals they have rejected, according to their own account: and they are eternally boafting of the havock they have formerly made among the knights, baronets, and 'fquires, at Bath, Tunbridge, and Eplom; while a tattered madrigal perhaps, a fnip of hair, or the portrait of a cherry-cheeked gentleman in a milk-white periwig, are the only re maining |