of half mankind rather tedious than amufing. It is in vain, indeed, to look for converfation, where we might expect to find it in the greatest perfection, among perfons of fashion there it is almost annihilated by univerfal card-playing, infomuch that I have heard it given as a reafon, why it is impoffible for our prefent writers to fucceed in the dialogue of genteel comedy, that our people of quality fcarce ever meet but to game. All their difcourfe turns upon the odd trick and the four honours and it is no lefs a maxim with the votaries of whift than with thofe of Bacchus, that talking fpoils company.

Every one endeavours to make himfelf as agreeable to fociety as he can: but it often happens, that thofe, who moft aim at hining in converfation, over-shoot their mark. Though a man fucceeds, he fhould not (as is frequent ly the cafe) engrofs the whole talk to himself; for that deftroys the very ef. fence of converfation, which is talking together. We should try to keep up converfation like a ball bandied to and fro from one to the other, rather than feize it all to ourselves, and drive it before us like a foot-ball. We should likewife be cautious to adapt the mat. ter of our difcourfe to our company; and not talk Greek before ladies, or of the last new furbelow to a meeting of country juftices.

But nothing throws a more ridiculous air over our whole converfation, than certain peculiarities, eafily acquired, but very difficultly conquered and difcarded. In order to difplay these abfurdities in a truer light, it is my prefent purpose to enumerate fuch of them, as are moft commonly to be met with; and first to take notice of those buffoons in fociety, the Attitudinarians and Face-makers. Thefe accompany every word with a peculiar grimace or gefture they affent with a fhrug, and contradict with a twifting of the neck; are angry by a wry mouth, and pleafed in a caper of a minuet ftep. They may be confidered as fpeaking harlequins; and their rules of eloquence are taken from the pofture-mafter. Thefe fhould be condemned to converfe only in dumb fhew with their own perlons in the

looking-glafs; as well as the Smirkers and Smilers, who fo prettily fet off their faces, together with their words, by a je-ne fçai-quoi between a grin and a dimple. With thefe we may likewife rank the affected tribe of Mimics, who are conftantly taking off the peculiar tone of voice or gesture of their acquaint ance: though they are fuch wretched imitators, that (like bad painters; they are frequently forced to write the name under the picture, before we can difco. ver any likeness.

Next to thofe, whofe elocution is ab. forbed in action, and who converse chiefly with their arms and legs, we may confider the profeffed Speakers. And first, the emphatical; who squeeze, and prefs, and ram down every syllable with exceffive vehemence and energy. Thefe orators are remarkable for their diftin&t elocution and force of expref fion: they dwell on the important par ticles of and the, and the fignificant conjunctive and; which they feem to hawk up, with much difficulty, out of their. own throats, and to cram them, with no less pain, into the ears of their auditors. Thefe fhould be fuffered only to fyringe (as it were) the ears of a deaf man, through an hearing-trumpet: though I must confefs, that I am equally offended with the Whisperers or Low Speakers, who feem to fancy all their acquaintance deaf, and come up fo clofe to you, that they may be faid to meafure nofes with you, and frequently overcome you with the full exhalations of a ftinking breath. I would have these oracular gentry obliged to talk a a diftance through a fpeaking-trumpet or apply their lips to the walls of a whispering-gallery. The Wits, who will not condefcend to utter any thing. but a bon mot, and the Whitlers or Tune hummers, who never articulate, at all, may be joined very agreeably together in concert; and to thefe tinkling cymbals I would alfo add the founding brafs, the Bawler, who enquires after your health with the bellowing of a town-crier.

The Tatlers, whofe pliable pipes are admirably adapted to the "foft partsof converfation," and fwectly "prattling out of fashion," make very pretty

3D 3

mulie

mufic from a beautiful face and a female tongue; but from a rough manly voice and coarfe features, mere nonfenfe is as harsh and diffonant as a jig from an hurdy-gurdy. The Swearers I have fpoken of in a former paper; but the Half-fwearers, who fplit, and mince, and fritter their oaths into gad's bid, ad's fib, and demme; the Gothic humbuggers, and those who nick-name God's creatures," and call a man a cabbage, a crab, a queer cub, an odd fish, and an unaccountable mufkin, should never come into company without an interpreter. But I will not tire my reader's patience by pointing out all the pets of converfation; nor dwell particularly on the Senfibles, who pronounce dogmatically on the moft trivial points, and fpeak in fentences; the Wonderers, who are always wondering what o'clock it is, or wondering whether it will rain or no, or wondering when the moon changes; the Phrafeologifts, who explain a thing by all that, or enter into particulars with this and that and t'other; and laftly, the Silent Men, who seem afraid of opening their mouths, left they fhould catch cold, and literally obferve the precept of the gofpel, by letting their converfation be only yea yea, and nay nay.

The rational intercourfe kept up by converfation, is one of our principal diftinctions from brutes. We should therefore endeavour to turn this peculiar talent to our advantage, and confider the organs of fpeech as the inftruments of understanding: we fhould be very careful not to use them as the weapons of vice, or tools of folly, and do our utmost to unlearn any trivial or ridiculous habits, which tend to leffen the value of fuch an ineftimable prerogative. It is, indeed, imagined by fome philofophers, that even birds and beafts (though without the power of articulation) perfectly understand one another by the founds they utter; and that dogs, cats, &c. have each a particular language to themselves, like different nations. Thus it may be fuppofed, that the nightingales of Italy have as fine an ear for their own native woodnotes, as any fignor or fignora for an

Italian air; that the boars of Weft ha lia gruntle as expreffively through the nofe as the inhabitants in High-German; and that the frogs in the dykes of Holland croak as intelligibly as the natives jabber their Low-Dutch. Howe ever this may be, we may confider those, whofe tongues hardly feem to be under the influence of reason, and do not keep up the proper converfation of human creatures, as imitating the language of different animals. Thus, for instance, the affinity between chatterers and monkeys, and praters and parrots, is too obvious not to occur at once: Grunters and growlers may be justly compared to hogs: Snarlers are curs, that continually thew their teeth, but never bite; and the fpitfire paffionate are a fort of wild cats, that will not bear ftroking, but will purr when they are pleafed. Complainers are fcreechowls; and ftory-tellers, always repeating the fame dull note, are cuckows. Poets, that prick up their ears at their own hideous braying, are no better than affes: Critics in general are venomous ferpents, that delight in hifling; and fome of them, who have got by heart a few technical terms without knowing their meaning, are no other than magpies. Connoiffeur.

$121. A Citizen's Country Houfe def cribed.

Sir,

I remember to have feen a little French novel giving an account of a citizen of Paris making an excurfion into the country. He imagines himself about to undertake a long voyage to fome ftrange region, where the natives

were as different from the inhabitants of his own city as the most diftant nations. He accordingly takes boat, and is landed at a village about a league from the capital. When he is fet on fhore, he is amazed to fee the people fpeak the fame language, wear the fame drefs, and ufe the fame customs with himfelf. He, who had fpent all his life within the fight of Pont Neuf, looked upon every one that lived out of Paris as a foreigner; and though the utmoft extent of his travels was not three miles, he was as much furprized,

as

as he would have been to meet with a colony of Frenchmen on the Terra Incognita.

In your late paper on the amufe. ments of Sunday, you have fet forth in what manner our citizens país that day, which most of them devote to the country; but I wish you had been more particular in your defcriptions of thofe elegant rural man fions, which at once thew the opulence and the taste of our principal merchants, mechanics, and

artificers.

I went last Sunday, in compliance with a molt preffing invitation from a friend, to spend the whole day with him at one of thefe little feats, which he had fitted out for his retirement once a week from bufinefs. It is pleafantly fituated about three miles from London, on the fide of a public road, from which it is feparated by a dry ditch, over which is a little bridge, confifting of two narrow planks, leading to the houfe. From the lower part of the house there is no profpect; but from the garrets, indeed, one may fee two men hanging in chains on Kennington-common, with a diftant view of St. Paul's cupola enveloped in a cloud of smoke. I fet out in the morning with my friend's book-keeper, who was my guide. When I came to the houfe, I found my friend in a black velvet cap fitting at the door fmoking: he welcomed me into the country; and after having made me obferve the turn pike on my left, and the Golden Sheaf on my right, he conducted me into his house, where I was received by his lady, who made a thousand apologies for being catched in fuch a difhabille.

The hall (for fo I was taught to call it) had its white wall almoft hid by a curious collection of prints and paint ings. On one fide was a large map of London, a plan and elevation of the Manfion Houfe, with feveral leffer views of the public, buildings and halls: on the other, was the Death of the Stag, finely coloured by Mr. Overton; clofe by the parlour-door there hung a pair of tag's horns; over which there was laid acrofs a red roccelo, and an amber-headed cane. Over the chimney-piece was my friend's picture, who

was drawn bolt upright in a full-bot, tomed perriwig, a laced cravat with the fringed ends appearing through a button-hole, a fnuff-coloured velvet coat with gold buttons, a red velvet waiftcoat trimmed with gold, one hand ftuck in the bofom of his fhirt, and the other holding out a letter with this fuperfcription: "To Mr. -, common-council-man of Farringdon-ward without." My eyes were then directed to another figure in a fcarlet gown, who I was informed was my friend's wife's great great uncle, and had been fheriff and knighted in the reign of king James the firit, Madam herfelf filled up a pannel on the oppofite fide, in the habit of a fhepherdefs, fmelling to a nofegay, and ftroking a ram with gilt horns.

I was then invited by my friend to fee what he has pleafed to call his garden, which was nothing more than a yard about thirty feet in length, and contained about a dozen little pots ranged on each fide with lilies and coxcombs, fupported by fome old laths painted green, with bowls of tobacco-pipes on their tops. At the end of this garden he bade me take notice of a little fquare building furrounded with filleroy, which he told me an alderman of great tafte had turned into a temple, by erecting fome battlements and fpires of painted wood on the front of it: but concluded with a hint, that I might retire to it upon occafion.

As the riches of a country are visible in the number of its inhabitants, and the elegance of their dwellings, we may venture to fay that the prefent state of England is very flourishing and profperous; and if our tafte for building encreases with our opulence, for the next century, we fhall be able to boast of finer country-feats belonging to our fhopkeepers, artificers, and other plebeians, than the moft pompous defcriptions of Italy or Greece have ever re corded. We read, it is true, of country-feats belonging to Pliny, Hortenfius, Lucullus, and other Romans. They were Patricians of great rank and fortune: there can therefore be no doubt of the excellence of their villas, But who has ever read of a Chinese. 3D 4

bridge

bridge belonging to an Attic tallowchandler, or a Roman pastry-cook? Or could any of their fhoe-makers or taylors boast a villa with his tin cafcades, paper ftatues, and Gothic root-houses? Upon the above principles we may expect, that pofterity will perhaps fee a cheefe-monger's apiarium at Brentford, a poulterer's theriotrophium at Chiswick, and an ornithon in a fishmonger's garden Conno feur. at Putney.

§ 122. Humorous Petition of a French Gentleman to the King, who had given him a Title to which his Income was not equal, by reafon of the Weight of Taxes levied from his Eftate.

[After acknowledging the Honour done him by the King's conferring on him a Title, be goes on as follows.]

Your Majefty has only made me more unhappy by giving me a title; for there is nothing more pitiable than a gentleman loaded with a knapfack. This empty found, which I was fuch a fool as to be ambitious of, does not keep away hunger. I know well enough that glory makes us live after we are dead; but in this world a man has but a poor time on it, if he has not a bit of bread to put in his mouth. I had but a little bit of land on the banks of the Rhone, on which I made a shift to live; but as it is now taxed, any body may have it for me, for I fuppofe I thall foon, with my title and eftate, be glad of an alms-houfe for my feat. I have no refource if there be a profecution commenced against me, as they threaten, but in your Majefty's goodness. If, indeed, my fate is to be decided by that, I am in no danger, but fhall laugh at them all. If your Majefty were to feize my poor patrimony whole, what would a few acres of marsh land be to the mighty monarch of France and Navarre? It bears nothing but wil. lows, and your Majefty values no trees but the laurel; I therefore befeech your Majefty to give me leave to enjoy what my little spot brings in, without deduction. All that a poor fubject alks of your Majefty is that your Majesty would afk nothing of him.

§ 123. Humorous Scene between DENNIS the Critic (Jatirically reprefented by SWIFT, as mad) and the Doctor.

Scene DENNIS's Garret.

DENNIS, DOCTOR, NURSE, LINTOT the Bookfeller, and another Author.

DENNIS. [Looking wife, and bringing out his Words flowly and formally.]

Beware, Doctor, that it fare not with you as it did with your predeceffor, the famous Hippocrates, whom the miftaken citizens of Abdera fent for, in this very manner, to cure the philofopher Democritus. He returned full of admiration at the wifdom of the perfon whom he had fuppofed a lunatic. Behold, Doctor, it was thus that Ariftotle himfelf, and all the great ancients, spent their days and nights wrapped up in criticifm, and befet all round with their I have no difeafe befides a fwelling in own writings. As for me, be affured, my legs, of which I fay nothing, fince your art may farther certify you. tract this fwelling? Doctor. Pray, Sir, how did

you con

Dennis. By criticifm. Doctor. By criticism! that's a diftemper I have never heard nor read of.

is no diftemper; but a noble art. I have Dennis. Death, Sir! a diftemper ! it fat fourteen hours a day at it; and are you a doctor, and don't know that there's

a communication between the brain and

the legs?

Doctor. What made you fit fo many hours, Sir?

Dennis. Cato, Sir.

Doctor. Sir, I fpeak of your diftemper. What gave you this tumour ?

Dennis, Cato, Cato, Cato *.

Nurfe. For God's fake, Doctor, name not this evil fpirit; it is the whole cause of his madness. Alas! poor master will [Almoft crying. have his fits again.

Lintot. Fits with a pox! a man may writing fourteen hours in a day. The well have fits and fwelled legs, that fits Remarks, the Remarks, have brought all his complaints upon him.

Doctor. The Remarks! what are they? Dennis. Death! have you never read my Remarks? I'll be hang'd if this niggardly bookfeller has advertised the book as it should have been.

Lintot. Not advertise it, quoth'a! pox! I have laid out pounds after pounds in advertising. There has been as much done for the book as could be done for any book in Christendom.

Doctor. We had better not talk of books, Sir, I am afraid they are the fuel that feed his delirium. Mention books no more. I defire a word in private with this gentleman.-I fuppofe, Sir, you are his apothecary.

Gent. Sir, I am his friend.

Doctor. I doubt it not. What regimen have you obferved fince he has been under your care? You remember, I fuppofe, the paffage in Celfus, which fays, "If the patient on the third day have an interval, fufpend the medi"caments at night." Let fumigations be used to corroborate the brain. I hope you have upon no account promoted fternutation by hellebore?

Gent. Sir, you mistake the matter quite.

Doctor. What! an apothecary tell a phyfician he mistakes! you pretend to difpute my prefcription! Pharmacopola componant. Medicus folus præfcribat, Fumigate him, I fay, this very evening, while he is relieved by an interval.

Dennis. Death, Sir, do you take my friend for an apothecary! a man of genius and learning for an apothecary! Know, Sir, that this gentleman profeffes, like myself, the two nobleft fciences in the univerfe, criticism and poetry. By the immortals, he himself is author of three whole paragraphs in my Remarks, had a hand in my Public Spirit, and affifted me in my defcription of the furies and infernal regions in my Appius.

Lintot. He is an author. You miftake the gentleman, Doctor. He has been an author thefe twenty years, to his bookseller's knowledge, if to no

one's else.

Dennis. Is all the town in a combi nation? fhall poetry fall to the ground? muft our reputation in foreign coun

tries be quite loft? O destruction! perdition! curfed opera! confounded opera as poetry once raised critics, fo, when poetry fails, critics are overturned, and the world is no more.

Doctor. He raves, he raves. He muft be pinioned, he must be ftrait-waistcoated, that he may do no mischief. Dennis. O I am fick! I am fick to death!

Doctor. That is a good symptom, a very good fymptom. To be fick to death (fays the modern theory) is Symptoma præclarum. When a patient is fenfible of his pain he is half-cured. Pray, Sir, of what are you fick ?

Dennis. Of every thing. Of every thing. I am fick of the fentiments, of the diction, of the protafis, of the epitalis, and the catastrophe.-Alas! for the loft drama! the drama is no more!

Nurfe. If you want a dram, Sir, I will bring you a couple of penn'orths of gin in a minute. Mr. Lintot has drank the laft of the noggin.

Dennis. O fcandalous want! O shameful omiffion! By all the immortals, here is not the fhadow of a paripatia! no change of fortune in the tragedy!

Nurfe. Pray, Sir, don't be uneafy about change. Give me the fixpence, and I'll get you change immediately at the gin-fhop next door.

Doctor. Hold your peace, good woman. His fit increases. We must call for help. Mr. Lintot, a -hold him, pray. [Doctor gets behind Lintot.]

Lintot. Plague on the man! I am afraid he is really mad. And if he be, who the devil will buy the Remarks? I with [feratching his head] he had been befh-t, rather than I had meddled with his Remarks.

Doctor. He muft ufe the cold bath, and be cupped on the head. The fymptoms feem defperate. Avicen fays, "If

learning be mixed with a brain that " is not of a contexture fit to receive

it, the brain ferments till it be to"tally exhausted." We must endeavour to eradicate these indigefted ideas out of the pericranium, and to restore

* He wrote a treatife to prove, that the decay of public fpirit proceeds from the Italian opera,

the