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 3 Oi^ri^r 's^-Kh a' IE QTii^r a' o?r .> li ^ Q 
 
 ■[■{UM THhiv OKIGIXAI. PAINTIXG 
 
THE 
 
 CONNOISSEUR 
 
 By Mr. TOWN^ 
 
 CRITIC AND CENSOR GENERAL. 
 
 Non de villis domibusve alicnis, 
 Nee male necne Jepos saltet : sed quod magis ad r;os 
 Pcrtinet, et nescire malum est, agitamus, 
 
 HOR. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JONES & COMPANY, 
 
 3, ACTON PLACE, KINGSLAND ROAD. 
 
 1826. 
 
7K I3^^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Na. 
 1. 
 
 Survey of the town. Characters at 
 Garraway's, Batson's, St. Paul's, 
 and the chapter Coffee Houses ; at 
 the Temple, the Bedford Coffee 
 House, White's, and other places. — 
 Mr. Town's Design in these Papers 
 —Col. and Thorn 1 
 
 2. On the different Branches of Virtu. 
 
 Letter, containing a Catalogue of 
 Pictures collected abroad by an emi- 
 nent Jew. Letter from a Game- 
 ster, advising the author to undertake 
 a Defence of Gaming — Col. and 
 Thorn S 
 
 3. The Ocean of Ink, a dVeam — Col, and 
 
 Thorn 5 
 
 4. Account of a new order of Females, 
 
 called Demi- Reps — Col. and Thorn. . 7 
 
 5. Letter from a Physician, with the 
 
 Account of a Plague newly broke 
 eut in London. Different Appear- 
 ances and Effects of it on a Great 
 Man ; on Members of Parliament ; 
 on Land and Sea Officers ; on a 
 Common Councilman, and an Alder- 
 man of the City: on the Club at 
 White's ; on the Ladies, particularly 
 a Maid of Honour; and others — Col. 
 and Thorn. 8 
 
 6. Education of the Muses, a Fable ; 
 
 with its Application to Authors. 
 Progress of an author exemplified in 
 Mr. Town's own Life — Col. and 
 Thorn. 10 
 
 7. Letter on Married People fondling 
 
 before Company. Behaviour of a 
 loving Couple at Dinner. Indecency 
 of Modern Plays censured — Col. and 
 Thorn 12 
 
 8. On the external Ornaments used by 
 
 Writers. Advantages arising to 
 them from the Arts used in Printing 
 — Col. and Thorn 14 
 
 9. On Free-thinking. Abuses commit- 
 
 ted by the Vulgar in this Point. 
 Free-thinking Debates at the Robin 
 
 Page i No. Page 
 1 Hood Society. The Unbeliever's 
 Creed. — Mr. Town's Address to 
 both Houses of Parliament— Co/. 
 and Thorn 16 
 
 10. On the Want of Learning in Land- 
 officers — Col. and Thorn. ...... 17 
 
 11. On the Excursions of young Acade- 
 mics to London. Steele's Character 
 of young Bookwit, an Oxonian. 
 Conversation between two in the 
 Bedford Coffee House, and a Set of 
 them at the Shakspeare. Journal of a r 
 Week's Transactions of an Oxonian 
 in Town. Ode, imitated from Ho- 
 race, sent by a fellow Collegian to 
 one of these Academical Rakes — Un- 
 known 19 
 
 12. Absurdity of Lord Bolingbroke repre- 
 senting Moses as making Beasts ac- 
 countable for Crimes. Trial of 
 Beasts, a Vision. Indictments ' 
 against a Hog, a Cat, a Parrot, a 
 Milch Ass, a Monkey, a Lion, and 
 other Animals — Col. and Thorn.. . 20 
 
 13. Letter from Mr. Village, concerning 
 Elections. Account of a Borough 
 Town divided into two Parties, 
 Christians and Jews.. An Anti-Ju- 
 daic Entertainment, Character of a 
 Country Knight, a violent Enemy to 
 the Jews — Col., and Thorn. . . . 2S 
 
 14. Letter, complaining of the Whisper- 
 ers and Gigglers among the Fair 
 Sex — Cd. and Thorn. Instance of 
 their rude Behaviour during a Visit. 
 Whispering and Giggling improper 
 at Church, in the Play House, and 
 other places — Earl of Cork ..... 24 
 
 15. On Bets ; particularly, on the Cus- 
 tom of Pitting, as practised at 
 White's ; i. e. staking one Man's 
 Life against another. Character of 
 Montano, a noble Gamester — Col. 
 and Thorn 25 
 
 16. Letter from Oxford, on the Story of 
 Shakspeare's Merchant of Venice^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 No. Page 
 Copy of an original Ballad, (preserv- 
 ed in the Ashmolean Museum) from 
 which Shakspeare is supposed to 
 have borrowed part of his Plot — Col. 
 and Thorn 27 
 
 17. Letter, proving the City of London to 
 be a University. Arts and Sciences 
 taught there in greater perfection 
 than at Oxford or Cambridge — Earl 
 of Cork 29 
 
 1^8. On the Dishonest}'- of Connoisseurs : 
 Instances of it, and Punishment 
 proposed for it. Story of a Virtuo- 
 so's Design to rob a Church — Col. 
 and Thorn. 31 
 
 19. Letter, on the different Tastes in 
 Eatings Luxury at White's. Dif- 
 ference between the Taverns about 
 St. James's and the 'Change. Of 
 the Taverns about Covent Garden. 
 Story of a Cook at one of them, toss- 
 ing up the Shoe of a Fille de Joye in 
 a Ragout. Characters to be met 
 with at Chop Houses, &c.^ — Letter 
 from Goliath English, remonstrat- 
 ing against the fashronable Neglect 
 shown to Roast Beef— JEarZ of Cork . 33 
 
 90. IjCtter from a Lady of Quality in the 
 Country, describing the Miseries 
 she is obliged to undergo on account 
 of Election Matters. — Reflections 
 on the dangerous Consequences of 
 Ladies interfering in Elections ; with 
 a proposal to prevent them — Col. and 
 Thorn 35 
 
 21. Tquassouw and Knonmquaih-a, a 
 
 Hottentot Story — Col. and Thorn. . 
 
 22. Letter on the modern Method of 
 
 Education, Characters of Lady Belle 
 Modely and the Colonel her Hus- 
 band. Consequences of the fashion- 
 able Education of their Son and 
 Daughter — Col. and Thorn. . . . 
 
 23. Letter from Mr. Village, with a De- 
 
 scription of a Quack Doctor, and a 
 Company of Strolling Players in a 
 Country Town — Col. and Thorn. 
 
 24. On the Learning of the Polite World. 
 
 Proper Studies for Persons of Fa- 
 shion. Letter containing a Scheme 
 for a Polite Circulating Library : 
 with a Specimen of the Books — Col. 
 and Thorn 42 
 
 25. On the Vanity of People making an 
 
 Appearance above their circum- 
 stances. Pride and Poverty of a 
 little Frenchman, known by the 
 name of Count. Artifices in Dress 
 made use of by the Shabby Genteel. 
 Second Hand Gentry among the 
 Women. Instances of this Vanity 
 
 36 
 
 38 
 
 40 
 
 No. Pag« 
 
 in several Families :— And in the 
 IVIen of Pleasure without Fortunes. 
 Story of an Economist who kept a 
 ]M istress— Co/, and Thorn. ... 43 
 
 26. On the Amusements of Sunday. Be- 
 
 haviour of Citizens, and Diary of a 
 Cit's Transactions on that Day. 
 Proposal for abolishing Christianity, 
 and turning the Churches into Free- 
 thinking Meeting Houses— CoZ. and 
 Thorn 45 
 
 27. On Hard Words. Affected Use of 
 
 them censured — In Abstract Specula- 
 tions — In Voyage Writers — In the 
 Pulpit — In Essays, and other Fa- 
 miliar Writings— And in Common 
 Conversation — Col. and Thorn. . . 47 
 
 28. On Conscience — Terrible Exit of 
 
 Tom Dare-Devil, a Buck and an 
 Atheist. Summary of the most no- 
 torious Actions of his Life — Col. and 
 Thorn. 48 
 
 29. On the Vanity of Authors. Diffe- 
 
 rent Reception and Fate of these 
 Essays. Mr. Town's Comparison of 
 himself to a Paper Kite— CoZ. and 
 Thorn 60 
 
 30. On Boxing. Account of a Boxing 
 
 Match between Slack and Petit, 
 Encomium on Slack. Prohibition 
 of Boxing lamented. Present Dis- 
 tress of Bruisers. Boxing consider- 
 ed as a Branch of Gaming — Col. and 
 Thorn 61 
 
 31. Letter on Duelling. Mr. Town an 
 
 Advocate for it. Proposal for mak- 
 ing Duels a Public Diversion. 
 Form of a Challenge, with the An- 
 swer, from two Duelists— Co/, and 
 Thorn 65 
 
 32. Letter against Snuff-taking. This 
 
 Custom inexcusable in the Men, but 
 abominable in the other Sex — Col. 
 and Thorn 55 
 
 33. Letter on the Villas of our Trades- 
 
 men. Description of them. A 
 Sunday Visit to a Citizen at his 
 country House, with an Account of 
 \i—Earl of Cork 57 
 
 34. On the Juggle of the Theatre, with 
 
 respect to Speaking, Acting, and 
 Dress. Fine Speaking exploded. 
 Attitudes censured. Impropriety of 
 Dress poiiited out, in Remeo and 
 Macbeth— Co/, and Thorn. ... 58 
 
 35. Letter, in praise of the Robin Hood 
 
 Society. Amazing Eloquence of 
 their Orators. Subject of their De- 
 bates. Account of some former 
 Members of this Society — Col. and 
 T/urrn e^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 No. ^AGE 
 
 36. On Dress. ' Fashions in Queen Eliza- 
 beth's Days compared with the pre- 
 sent. Revolutions in the Female 
 Dress. Dx*ess the Study of the 
 Male Part of the World. Birth 
 and Seci'et History of Fashion — Col. 
 and Thorn ." . . 62 
 
 S7. Panegyric on the Clare Market Ora- 
 tor. Subjects of his Lectures. Ele- 
 gance of his Advertisements. Ori- 
 ginal Letter from the Olrator to Mr. 
 Town. — Letter from James Wait, to 
 prove that Gentlemen come to the 
 Robin Hood Society — Col. and 
 Thorn 64 
 
 38. On Courtship. Marriages between 
 
 Persons, of Quality not founded on 
 Love. Plan of a Repository for 
 Males and Females, to be disposed of 
 in Marriage to the best Bidder, with 
 a specimen — Col. and Thorn. . . 65 
 
 39. On the Vanity of pompous Funerals, 
 
 Of the Hearse and Mourning Coach. 
 — Of the Achievement, — and other 
 Formalities in Mourning — Col. and 
 Thorn. 67 
 
 Letter, describing two Characters 
 among Gamesters ; the Dupe, and 
 the Sharper— ^ar^ of Cork ... 69 
 
 Letter from Mr. Village, with a Copy 
 of a Letter from a young Cantab, to 
 his friend in Town, giving an ac- 
 count of his Exploits at Newmarket 
 Races. — Newmarket considered as a 
 Supplement to the University of 
 Cambridge — Col. and Thorn. . . 70 
 
 42. Study of the English Language re- 
 
 commended. Neglect of it owing 
 to the Pride of Men of Learning, 
 and tJje Affectation of fine Gentle- 
 men—Co?, and Thorn 72 
 
 43. Survey of the Audience at the Play 
 
 Houses. Behaviour of Persons on 
 the Stage — In the Boxes — In the 
 Flesh Market— In the Pit, the Court 
 of Criticism — In the Middle, and 
 Upper Galleries — Distribution of the 
 Theatre into Pit, Box, and Gallery, 
 accounted for in the Tale of a Tub- 
 Co?, and Thorn 74 
 
 The Female World made up almost 
 entirely of Ladies. Distribution of 
 them into Married Ladies— Maiden 
 or Young Ladies — Ladies of Quality 
 — Fine Ladies— and Ladies of Plea- 
 sure — Col. and Thorn 76 
 
 On News Papers. Their Articles of 
 News. Subjects of their Advertise- 
 ments. Intrigues carried on by them. 
 Want of Newspapers among the 
 Ancients regretted. Specimen of 
 
 40, 
 
 41. 
 
 4-k 
 
 45 
 
 No. 
 
 46, 
 
 47. 
 
 48. 
 
 77 
 
 79 
 
 60. 
 
 51. 
 
 52. 
 
 53. 
 
 64. 
 
 55. 
 66. 
 
 82 
 
 84 
 
 Page 
 Curious Advertisements in the Daily 
 
 Papers — Cul. and Thorn 
 
 Letter from a Country Gentleman, 
 concerning the Practice of Face 
 Painting among the Ladies in Town 
 .—Duncombe 
 
 On Macklin's British Inquisition. 
 Speech on the Question, — Whether 
 the Stage might not be made more 
 conducive to Virtue? — Col. and 
 Thorn 81 
 
 On Christmas. Celebration of it in 
 Town and Country. On Christmas 
 Boxes. This Season disagreeable to 
 Persons of Fashion — Col. and Thorn. 
 
 Letter containing a Scheme for a Fe- 
 male Parliament.— Usefulness of it, 
 and Objections against it. — Account 
 of the Covent Garden Society, con- 
 sisting of certain Good-natured Fe- 
 males, divided into Ladies and Com- 
 mons — Duncombe ...... 
 
 On Suicide. Account of the Last 
 Guinea Club. Assembly at White's, 
 a kind of Last Guinea Club. Dif- 
 ferent Ways of Suicide between vul- 
 gar Persons and Persons of Fashion. 
 Punishments for Suicides proposer-. 
 Frequency of Self-Murders in Eng- 
 land falsely imputed to the Climate. 
 Despair brought on by extravagance 
 and Debauchery, a Cause of Suicide 
 — -Free- thinldng another. — Specimen 
 of a Bill of Suicide after the Man- 
 ner of, but distinct from, the com- 
 mon Bills of Mortality — Duncombe . 
 
 On kept Mistresses and Keepers. 
 Character of a Hen-pecked Keeper— 
 of a Keeper, a Married Man — of a 
 Keeper, an Old Man. Shifts of 
 Persons in middling or low Life, 
 who take Girls into Keeping — Dun- 
 combe 
 
 Two Letters, from a Pretty Miss in 
 Breeches— and from a Blood in Pet- 
 ticoats — Duncombe .... • . 
 
 On Dram Drinking. Rich Cordials 
 (however recommended by their spe- 
 cious foreign Names) no less perni- 
 cious than common Gin. Letter 
 from a Husband, complaining of his 
 Wife, who has taken to Drinking by 
 way of Medicine — Col. and Thorn. . 
 
 On Frolics. Instances among the 
 Bucks, &c. and among the Ladies- 
 Co?, and Thorn 93 
 
 On a New Sect among the Ladies, 
 called Evites — Col. and Thorn. . . 95 
 
 On Superstitions in Love. Lettei- 
 from a country Girl, enumerating 
 the several Tricks which she bad 
 
 86 
 
 8& 
 
 99 
 
 92 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 No. 
 
 67. 
 
 68. 
 
 60. 
 
 61. 
 
 62. 
 
 63. 
 
 64. 
 
 65. 
 
 66. 
 
 67. 
 
 100 
 
 . 102 
 
 106 
 
 107 
 
 Page 
 tried, in order to know who was to 
 be her Husband — Col. and Thorn. . 97 
 
 On the Import and Extent of the 
 phrase Good Company — Col. and 
 Thorn 98 
 
 Proposal for Pressing all the useless 
 and detrimental Members of the 
 Community, such as Country Squires 
 —Town Squires — Bloods — Duellists 
 
 — Fortune- Hunters — Gamesters — 
 and Free-thinkers — Col. and Thorn. . 
 
 Superstitions observed in the Country 
 •—Col. and Thorn. . . . 
 
 Proposal to erect a School for Whist 
 for the Instruction of young Ladies 
 ^Col. and Thorn 103 
 
 On Sectaries and Enthusiasts. Sects 
 founded by the lowest Mechanics. 
 History of Religion, Superstition, 
 and Atheism — Col. and Thorn. . . 
 
 Debates in the Female Parliament, in 
 the Committee of Religion. Speech 
 of Miss Graveairs, setting forth that 
 the Female Dress inclined to Popery. 
 Resolutions proposed to prevent it. 
 Debates upon them — Duncombe 
 
 On Race Horses. Panegyric on 
 White Nose. Pedigrees of Race 
 Horses carefully preserved. Praises 
 of the Jockey. Proposal to pre- 
 serve his Breed. Genealogy of a 
 Jockey — Col. and Thorn 108 
 
 Petition of the Dogs, a Dream. 
 Speeches of a Greyhound, a Pointer, 
 a Lap Dog, and others — Duncombe . 110 
 
 Letter, remonstrating against the Use 
 of Paint among the Men. — Descrip- 
 tion of a Male Toilet. Characters 
 of John Hardman, and Mr. Jessamy 
 
 — Unknown ■, 112 
 
 On Masquerades. Fantastic Dresses 
 
 there. Plan for a Naked Masque- 
 rade—Co/, and Thorn 113 
 
 On Imitation. Our present Writers 
 only Copiers of others. Verses on 
 Imitation — Lloyd 115 
 
 On the Public Gardens. Dearness of 
 the Provisions there. Description 
 and Conversation of a Citizeji, with 
 his Wife and two Daughters, at 
 Vauxhall— Co/, and Thorn. . . .116 
 
 Female Poets Riding Pegasus, a 
 Vision— Co/, and Thorn 118 
 
 Letters — from an Author to Mr. 
 Town, with a Proffer of his Assist- 
 ance — from another Author, com- 
 plaining of the Custom of giving 
 Money to servants— from a ]Metho- 
 dist Teacher— Letter, on the wonder- 
 ful Increase in the Order of Gentle- 
 men—Co/, and Thorn 120 
 
 No. 
 71. 
 
 72. 
 
 73. 
 
 74. 
 
 12^ 
 
 123 
 
 75. 
 
 76. 
 
 77. 
 
 78. 
 
 80. 
 
 81. 
 
 82. 
 
 83. 
 
 84. 
 
 85. 
 
 Pag-i 
 
 Of Essay Writing. — Mr. Town's 
 Character as an Essay Writer. Sub- 
 jects of his Essays, and manner of 
 treating them — Col. and Thorn. . 122 
 
 On Songs. — Mechanical Practice of 
 modern Song Writers — Col. and 
 Thorn. — Pastoral Dialogue, a Cento 
 from the most celebrated New Songs 
 — Lloyd 
 
 On the present State of Monuments. 
 —Flattery of Epitaphs.— Heathen 
 Gods improper Decorations for 
 Christian Monuments— XZo^cf 
 
 On the Modesty of the Moderns, in 
 including all the Vices, instead of 
 Virtues, in the Character of a Fine 
 Gentleman or Lady. — Account of a 
 New Treatise on Ethics, or System 
 of Immoral Philosophy — Col. and 
 Thorn 127 
 
 On Good Nature. — Analogy betweea 
 clothing the Body and adorning the 
 Mind. Extract from Swift's Tale 
 of a Tuh—Uy^cnown 128 
 
 On the present State of Politics.— 
 Letter from Mr. Village, with the 
 Character of a Country Politician — 
 Col. and Thorn 130 
 
 Letter from a Mind and Body Clo- 
 thier ; with a Plan of his Warehouse 
 for clothing the Mind together with 
 the Body— Ci;/. and Thorn. . . .131 
 
 On the Use of social Intei'course be- 
 tween Persons of different Ages and 
 Professions. — Want of it between 
 Father and Son — Unknown . . . 133 
 
 Description of a London Tradesman 
 in the Country — Col. and Thorn. . 135 
 
 Letter from a Husband, complaining 
 of bis being ruined by his Wife's 
 Relations— Co/, and Thorn. . . .136 
 
 Letter from Mr. Village, giving an 
 Account of his Visit to Lord Court- 
 ly. — Character of the Honourable 
 W. Hastings, by the Earl of Shafts- 
 bury— Co/, and Thorn 138 
 
 Letter of Advice to a young Acade- 
 mic. Characters of the Free-thinker 
 — Gamester — Drunkard — Lounger 
 — Wrangler — and others — Unknown 140 
 
 On Alliteration. Ridiculous Affecta- 
 tion of it in INIodern Poets. Pro- 
 posal for the Rhymer's Play-thing 
 or Poetaster's Horn Book — Col. and 
 Thorn 141 
 
 On Sea Officers. Their unpolished 
 Behaviour on Shore. — Their Con- 
 tempt of New Improvements in Na- 
 vigation. — Of Sea Chaplains— Co/. 
 and Thorn 14S 
 
 Account of the Female Thermometer. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Vll 
 
 No. 
 
 86. 
 
 87. 
 88. 
 
 89. 
 
 90. 
 91. 
 92. 
 
 146 
 
 148 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96. 
 97. 
 
 99. 
 
 100, 
 
 101 
 
 102, 
 
 Page 
 Secret Affections of Ladies disco- 
 vered by it. — Experiments upon it at 
 the Play Houses— Operas— Masque- 
 rades — Public Gardens — and other 
 
 Places— Co/, and Thorn 146 
 
 Letter from Orator Higgins, relating 
 bis Progress in Literature by Study- 
 ing in the Streets— Co/, and Thorn. 
 On Eating. Character of Cromwell, 
 
 and his Eating Club — Unknown 
 On Ideal Happiness. Authors pos- 
 sessed of it, especially Essay Writers. 
 Mr. Town's Description of his 
 
 Study— Co/, and Thorn 150 
 
 On Fondness for animals — Instances 
 of it in a Visit to a Lady. — Absurdi- 
 ty of providing for Animals by Will 
 
 —Col. and Thorn 151 
 
 On Genius and Application. Hare 
 and Tortoise, a Fable— X/oi/d . . 153 
 Letter containing the Character of a 
 
 Notable Wife— Co/, and Thorn. . . 154 
 On Drinking. Characters of Several 
 Hard Drinkei's. Various Effects of 
 Drinking. Stoi*y of Addison and 
 Steele. Evils resulting from Hard 
 Drinking — Col. and Thorn. . . . 156 
 Of the Lottery.— History of several 
 Adventurers who got the £10,000 — 
 
 Cd. and Thorn 158 
 
 Mr. Town considered in a Military 
 Capacity. His Articles of News, in 
 the Warlike Style— Co/, and Thorn. . 160 
 The Bride Cake. A Vision— Co/. 
 
 and Thorn 161 
 
 Letter, with a Scheme for a Literary 
 
 Register Office — Col. and Thorn. 
 Of Hangers-on. Tuft Hunters at 
 Cambridge, a Species of them — An 
 Humbler Sort of Hangers-on in the 
 Country — Col. and Thorn, . . . 
 Letter from a Husband, complaining 
 of his Wife's excessive Generosity 
 and Good-nature — Unknown . . . 
 Letter containing the Plan of a New 
 Almanack for Persons of Quality. 
 Specimen of it, in Observations on 
 the Month of May — Unknown . . 
 Letter from a Hanger-on, with the 
 History of his Life. His Depen- 
 dence on a Nobleman in the Country 
 —on a Gentleman from Ireland — on 
 a Colonel of the Guards— on a Jew 
 —and othei*s — Col. and Thorn. . . 
 On the New Year. Emblematical 
 Image of Janus explained— Moral to 
 be dra>vn from it — Colman 
 Letter on Nobility. Vanity of Pedi- 
 grees. Story of a Nobleman and 
 bis Coachman in Hell. Pedigree of 
 a Footman— £ar/ of Cork .... ITS 
 
 164 
 
 165 
 
 166 
 
 168 
 
 169 
 
 171 
 
 No. 
 103. 
 
 104. 
 
 105. 
 
 106. 
 
 107. 
 
 Page 
 
 Letter from a Husband, complaining 
 of his Wife's excessive Neatness in 
 her House— Co/, and Thorn. . . . 175 
 
 On the Abuse of Words — Instances 
 of it in the Word Ruined — Chai'ac- 
 ters of several, said to be Ruined.— 
 Odd Application of this Word, by 
 a Girl upon the Town — Unknown . 177 
 
 Letter from Mr. Village to Mr. 
 Town, containing the Character of 
 Jack Quickset, a Sporting Parson in 
 the North— Co/, and Thorn. . . . 178 
 
 On the Solemn Fast — Remarks on 
 some Laxities in the Observance of 
 it— Co/. a7id Thorn. . . . . . .180 
 
 Letter from Cantab, complaining of 
 too great Stress laid on Mathemati- 
 cal Studies in that University — Un- 
 known. Letter from Michael Kraw- 
 bridge, on the Lady's Diary — Earl 
 of Cork 182 
 
 108. On Cursing and Sweai'ing — Col. and 
 
 Thorn 184 
 
 109. On Vulgar Errors. — Specimen of a 
 
 Supplement to Sir Thomas Brown's 
 Treatise ; Refutation of the follow- 
 ing Vulgar Eri'ors, That a Maid 
 cannot be with Child — That Gaming 
 depends on Chance — That Matrimo- 
 ny brings People together — That the 
 Sabbath is a Day of Rest — That 
 there is any such Thing as an Old 
 Woman — That the Gospel is an Ob- 
 ject of Belief— Co/, and Thorn. , . 185 
 
 110. Letter, containing a Proposal to tax 
 
 all fashionable Vices and Amuse- 
 ments, viz. Routs, Drums, Card- 
 Tables, &c. — French Fopperies, and 
 French Servants — Kept Mistresses, ' 
 and Ladies of Pleasure — Duellists — 
 Advertisements to the Virtuosi in 
 Flowers — Col. and Thorn. . . .187 
 
 111. Letter, containing the Character of 
 
 the delicate Billy Suckling — Cowper 188 
 
 112. Letter on Caprioles, a whimsical 
 
 Decoration on the Heads of the 
 Ladies. Scheme to carry on Court- 
 ship by means of them — Mr. Town's 
 Proposal to extend the Use of Cap- 
 rioles to the Gentlemen — Specimen 
 of the Accounts of Matches drawn 
 up in the Sporting Phrase — Un- 
 known 190 
 
 113. On the Modern Taste in adorning 
 
 Gardens with the Statues of Pagan 
 Deities. — Letter From Moses Or- 
 thodox, proposing a Poll Tax on 
 Gods— Earl of Cork . . . . .192 
 
 114. On the Character of an Author. — 
 
 Meeting between Voltaire and Con- 
 greve — Different Opinions concern- 
 
via 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 No. Page 
 ing Mr. Town, as an Author — 
 Col. and Thorn 193 
 
 15. Letter from Christopher Ironside, an 
 
 Old Bachelor, complaining of the 
 Indignities received hy him from the 
 Ladies— Cottyjer 195 
 
 16. On the Three Great Professions. — 
 
 Remarks on the other Professions of 
 — An Author — A Playei* — ^A Pimp 
 — A Gamester — And a Highway- 
 man — Col. and Thorn 197 
 
 117. The Temple of Usury. A Vision- 
 
 Co?, and Thorn 199 
 
 118. History of the Birth and Family of 
 
 Nonsense — Col. and Thorn. , . . 201 
 
 119. Of keeping a Secret. — Characters of 
 
 Faithless Confidants — Cowper . . 205 
 190. On Taste— Co/, and Thorn. . . .204 
 
 121. On Match Making.— Of Match 
 
 Makers hy Profession — Account of a 
 droll Accident occasioned hy the 
 Mistake of a Match Maker— Co/. 
 and Thorn. 206 
 
 122. A Dedication in a New Manner, con- 
 
 taining a Panegyric on all the Vices 
 of a Fine Gentleman — Col. and 
 Thorn 207 
 
 123. Secret History of Infants brought to 
 
 the Foundling Hospital. A Vision 
 
 — Col. ana Tnorn, ...... 208 
 
 124. Of Love. — Characters of various 
 
 Lovers — Col. and Thorn 210 
 
 125. Letter from a Gentleman of Cam- 
 
 bridge in two Poems, viz. — The 
 Satyr and the Pedlar : a Fable. — 
 Epistle to a Friend, on the modern 
 Notions of Correctness — Lloyd . . 212 
 
 126. On Preaching. — Inflamed Oratory 
 
 and extravagant Gestures improper 
 in the Pulpit — Pi-etty Preachers con- 
 demned — Col. and Thorn 214 
 
 127. Letter, containing the Character of a 
 
 Jealous Wife— Co/, and Thorn. . . 216 
 123. Letter from Sir A. Humkin, com- 
 plaining of his Lady's violent pas- 
 sion for Music — Col. and Thorn. . 217 
 129. Letter from Thomas Vainall, an Old 
 Bachelor, describing himself and his 
 Sycophants, and asking Advice con- 
 cerning the Disposal of his Fortune 
 by his last Will— Co/, and Thorn. 
 
 220 
 
 222 
 
 No. Pagb 
 Mr. Town's Reflections on this Sub- 
 ject— JE:arZ of Cork 219 
 
 130. Letter from Lady Humkin, contain- 
 
 ing a Vindication of herself, on ac- 
 count of her Passion for Music — Un- 
 knoivn. .' 
 
 131. On Indolence— Proposal for a Bury- 
 
 ing ground on a new Plan. — Speci- 
 men of Epitaphs likely to be found 
 there — Col. and Thorn. . . 
 
 132. On keeping low Company. — Charac- 
 
 ter of Toby Bumper — Col. and 
 Thorn 223 
 
 133. Letter from Ignoramus, containing a 
 
 New Plan for studying the Law — 
 Character of Tom Riot — Col. and 
 Thorn 224 
 
 134. Letter from Mr. Village, giving an 
 
 Account of the present State of 
 Country Churches, their Clergy, and 
 their Congregations — Cowper . . 226 
 
 135. The Cit's Country Bos. A Poem— 
 
 Lloyd 228 
 
 136. On the Knowledge of the World- 
 
 Characters of Sir Harry Flash, and 
 his Brother Richard— Co/, and 
 Thorn 229 
 
 137. Letter from a Lady of Fashion, com- 
 
 plaining of her Lord's Pride in keep- 
 ing a Table, and showing the Extra- 
 vagance of his Entertainments — Col. 
 <and Thorn 280 
 
 138. On Conversation — the chief Pests of 
 
 Society pointed out — Those who 
 converse irrationally considered as 
 imitating the Language of Difi'erent 
 Animals — Couper 232 
 
 139. Farewell Letter from Mr. Village, 
 
 giving an Account of the Reception 
 which The Connoisseur met with 
 in the Country — Mr. Town's Re- 
 flections on the Reception he has 
 met with in London, considering 
 himself in the threefold Capacity of 
 Connoisseur, Critic, and Censor 
 General— Co/. a7id Thorn. . . . 234 
 
 140. Mr. Town's Farewell to the Public, 
 
 containing a List of his Correspon- 
 dents, together with a full Account 
 and Description of Himself.— Co/. 
 a7id Thorn S'35 
 
THE 
 
 CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 By MR. TOWN, 
 
 CRITIC AND CENSOR GENERAL. 
 
 No. 1.] Thursday, Jan. 31, 1754. 
 
 Ordine gentis 
 
 Mores, et studia, et populos, et prcElia dicam. Virg. 
 
 Their studies and pursuits in order shown, 
 •Tis mine to mark the Manners of the Town. 
 
 AS I have assumed the character of Censor 
 General I shall follow the example of the 
 old Roman Censor ; the first part of whose duty 
 was to review the people, and distribute them 
 into their several divisions. I shall therefore 
 enter upon my oflace, by taking a cursory survey 
 of what is usually called the Town. In this I 
 shall not confine myself to the exact method of a 
 geographer, but carry the reader from one quar- 
 ter to another, as it may suit my convenience, 
 or best contribute to his entertainment. 
 
 "When a comedian, celebrated for his excel- 
 lence in the part of Shylock, first undertook that 
 character, he made daily visits to the centre of 
 business, the 'Change and the adjacent coffee- 
 houses ; that by a frequent intercourse and con- 
 versation with "the unforeskinn'd race," he 
 iLight habituate himself to their air and deport- 
 ment. A like desire of penetrating into the 
 most secret springs of action in these people has 
 often led me there ; but 1 was nevermore divei'ted 
 than at Garraway's a few days before the draw- 
 ing of the lottery. I not only could read hope, 
 fear, and all the various passions excited by a 
 love of gain, strongly pictured in the faces of 
 those who came to buy ; but I remarked with 
 no less delight, the many little artifices made 
 use of to allure adventurers, as well as the visi- 
 
 ble alterations in the looks of the sellers, accord- 
 ing as the demand for tickets gave occasion to 
 raise or lower their price. So deeply were the 
 countenances of these bubble-brokers impressed 
 with an attention to the main chance, and their 
 minds seemed so dead to all other sensations, 
 that one might almost doubt, where money is 
 out of the case, whether a Jew " has eyes, hands, 
 organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions." 
 From Garraway's it is but a short step to a 
 gloomy class of mortals, not less intent on gain 
 than the stock-jobber : I mean the dispensers of 
 life and death, who flock together like birds of 
 prey watching for carcases, at Batson's. I never 
 enter this place, but it serves as a memento mori 
 to me. What a formal assemblage of sable suits, 
 and tremendous perukes ! I have often met here 
 a most intimate acquaintance, whom I have 
 scarce known again ; a sprightly young fellow, 
 with whom I have spent many a jolly hour; but 
 being just dubbed a graduate in physic, he has 
 gained such an entire conquest over the risible 
 muscles, that he hardly vouchsafes at any time 
 to smile. I have heard him harangue, with all 
 the oracular importance of a veteran, on the 
 possibility of Canning's subsisting for a whole 
 month on a few bits of bread ; and he is now pre- 
 paring a treatise, in which will be set forth a new 
 and infallible method to prevent the spreading 
 of the plague from France into England. Bat- 
 son's has been reckoned the seat of solemn stupi- 
 dity : yet it is not totally devoid of taste and 
 common sense. They have among them physi- 
 cians, who can cope with the most eminent law- 
 yers or divines ; and critics, who can relish the 
 %al volatile of a witty composition, or determine 
 B 
 
2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 1. 
 
 how much fire is requisite to sublimate a tragedy 
 secundum artem. 
 
 Emerging from these dismal regions, I am 
 glad to breathe the pure air in St. Paul's coflFee- 
 house ; where, (as I possess the highest venera- 
 tion for our clergy) I cannot contemplate the 
 magrificence of the ;athedral Avithout reflecting 
 on the abject condition of those " tattered 
 crapes," who are said to ply here for an occa- 
 sional burial or sermon, with the same regu- 
 larity as the happier drudges, who salute us 
 with the cry of "coach, Sir," or "chair, your 
 honour." 
 
 And here ray publisher would not forgive me, 
 was I to leave the neighbourhood without tak- 
 ing notice of the Chapter Coffee-house, which, 
 is frequented by those encouragers of literature, 
 and (as they are styled by an eminent critic) 
 " not the worst judges uf merit, the booksellers." 
 The conversation here naturally turns upon the 
 newest publications ; but their criticisms are 
 somewhat singular. When they say a good 
 book, they do not mean to praise the style or 
 sentiment, but the quick and extensive sale of 
 it. Tliat book in the phrase of the Conger is 
 best, which sells most; and if the demand for 
 Quarles should be greater than for Pope, he 
 would have the highest place on the rubric-post. 
 There are also many parts of every work liable 
 to their remai'ks, which fall not within the 
 notice of less accurate observers. A few nights 
 ago I saw one of thesv, gentlemen take up a 
 sermon, and after seeming to peruse it for some 
 time with great attention, he declared, " it was 
 very good English." The reader will judge 
 whether I was most surprised or diverted, when 
 I discovered, that he was not commending the 
 purity and elegance of the diction, but the 
 beauty of the type ; which, it seems, is known 
 among the printers by that appellation. We 
 must not, however, think the members of the 
 Conger strangers to the deeper parts of litera- 
 ture ; for as carpenters, smiths, masons, and all 
 mechanics smell of the trade they labour at, 
 booksellers take a peculiar turn from their con- 
 nections with books and authors. The character 
 of the bookseller is commonly formed on the 
 writers in his service. Thus one is a politician 
 or a deist ; another affects humour, or aims at 
 turns of wit and repartee ; while a third per- 
 haps is gi'ave, moral, and sententious. 
 
 The Temple is the harrier that divides the 
 city and suburbs ; and the gentlemen who re- 
 side there, seem influenced by the situation of 
 the place they inhabit. Templars are, in general, 
 a kind of citizen-courtiers. They aim at the 
 air and mien of the drawing-room ; but the 
 holyday smartness of a 'prentice, heightened 
 with some additional touches of the rake or 
 coxcomb, betrays itself in every thing they do. 
 The Temple, howevei", is stocked with its pecu- 
 liar beaux, wits, poets, critics, and every charac- 
 
 ter in the gay world : and it is a thousand 
 pities, that so pretty a society should be disgraced 
 with a few dull fellows, who can submit to 
 puzzle themselves with cases and reports, and 
 have not taste enough to follow the genteel 
 method of studying the law. 
 
 I shall now, like a true student of the Temple, 
 hurry from thence to Covent- Garden, the ac- 
 knowledged region of gallantry, wit, and criti- 
 cism ; and hope to be excused for not stopping 
 at George's in my way, as the Bedford affords 
 a greater variety of nearly the same characters. 
 This coffee-house is every night crowded with 
 men of parts. Almost every one you meet is a 
 polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bons mots 
 are echoed from box to box ; every branch of 
 literature is critically examined, and the raeric 
 of every production of the press, or performance 
 at the theatres, weighed and determined. This 
 school (to which I am myself indebted for a 
 great part of my education, and in which 
 though unworthy, I am now arrived at the 
 honour of being a public lecturer) has bred up 
 many authors, to the amazing entertainment 
 and instruction of their readers. Button's, the 
 gi'and archetype of the Bedford, was frequented 
 by Addison, Steele, Pope, and the rest of that 
 celebrated set, who flourished at the beginning 
 of this century : and was regarded with just 
 deference on account of the real geniuses who 
 frequented it. But we can now boast men 
 of superior abilities ; men, who without any 
 one acquired excellence, by the mere dint of a 
 happy assurance, can exact the same tribute of 
 veneration, and receive it as due to the illustrious 
 characters, the scribblers, players, fiddlers, gam- 
 blers, that make so large a part of the company 
 at the Bedford. 
 
 I shall now take leave of Covent- Garden, and 
 desire the reader's company to White's. Here 
 (as Vanbrugh saj's of Locket's) " he may have a 
 dish no bigger than a saucer, that shall cost him 
 fifty shillings." The great people who frequent 
 this place, do not interrupt their politer amuse- 
 ments, like the wretches at Garraway's, with 
 business, any farther than to go down to West- 
 minster one sessions to vote for a bill, and the 
 next to repeal it. Nor do they trouble themselves 
 with literary debates, as at the Bedford. Learn- 
 ing is beneath the notice of a man of quality. 
 They employ themselves more fashionably at 
 whist for the trifle of a thousand pounds the 
 rubber, or by making bets on the lie of the day. 
 From this very genteel place the reader must 
 not be surprised, if I should convey him to a 
 cellar, or a common porter-house. For, as it is 
 my province to delineate and remark on mankind 
 in general, whoever becomes my disciple must 
 not refuse to follow me from the Star and 
 Garter to the Goose and Gridiron, and be con- 
 tent to climb after me up to an Author's gaiTet, 
 or give me leave to introduce him to a route. 
 
No. 2.j 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 S 
 
 III my present cursory view of the Town I 
 have, indeed, confined myself principally to cof- 
 fee-houses ; though I constantly visit all places, 
 that afford any matter for speculation. I am 
 a Scotchman at Forrest's, a Frenchman at 
 
 Slaughter's, and at the Cocoa- Tree I am an 
 
 Englishman. At the Rohin Hood I am a 
 politician, a logician, a geometrician, a physician, 
 a metaphysician, a casuist, a moralist, a theolo- 
 gist, a mythologist, or any thing — but an atheist. 
 Wherever the World is, I am. You will therefore 
 hear of me sometimes at the theatres, sometimes 
 perhaps at the opera : nor shall I think the 
 exhibitions of Sadler's Wells, or the Little 
 Theatre in the Haymai'ket beneath my notice ; 
 but may one day or the other give a dissertation 
 upon tumbling, or, (if they should again become 
 popular) a critique on dogs and monkeys. 
 
 Though the Town is the walk I shall gene- 
 rally appear in, let it not be imagined, that vice 
 and folly will shoot up unnoticed in the country. 
 My cousin Village has undertaken that province, 
 and will send me the freshest advices of every 
 fault or foible that takes root there. But as it 
 is my chief ambition to please and instruct the 
 ladies, I shall embrace every opportunity of de- 
 voting my labours to their service : and I may 
 with justice congratulate myself upon the hap- 
 piness of living in an age, when the female part 
 of the world are so studious to find employment 
 for a Censor. 
 
 The character of Mr. Town is, I flatter my- 
 self, too well known to need an explanation. 
 How far, and in what sense, I propose to be a 
 Connoisseur, the reader will gather fi'om my 
 general motto : 
 
 -Non de vUlis doniibusve alienis. 
 
 Nee male necne Lepos saltet ; sed quod magis ad rws 
 Pertinet, et nescire malum est, agitamus. Hon. 
 
 Who better knows to build, and who to dance, 
 Or this from Italy, or that from France, 
 Our Connoisseur will ne'er pretend to scan, 
 But point the follies of mankind to man. 
 Th' important knowledge of ourselves explain. 
 Which not to know all knowledge is but vain. 
 
 As Critic and Censor General, I shall take 
 the liberty to animadvert on everything that ap- 
 pears to me vicious or ridiculous : always endea- 
 vouring " to hold as it were the mirror up to 
 Nature^ to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn 
 her own image, and the very age and body of the 
 Time his form and pressure." 
 
 No. 2.] Thursdat, Feb. 7, 1754. 
 
 •Commissa quod auctio vendii 
 
 Stantibus, cenophorum, tripodes, armaria, cistas. Juv. 
 
 Maim'd statues, rusty medals, marbles old, 
 By Sloane collected, or by Langford sold. 
 
 I HAVE already received letters from several Vir- 
 
 tuosi, expressing their astonishment and concern 
 at my disappointing the warm hopes they had 
 conceived of my undertaking from the title of 
 my paper. They tell me, that by deserting the 
 paths of Virtu, 1 at once neglect the public inte- 
 rest and my own ; that by supporting the char- 
 acter of Connoisseur in its usual sense, I mighfc 
 have obtained very considerable salaries from 
 the principal auction-rpoms, toy-shops, and re- 
 positories, and might besides very plausibly have 
 recommended myself as the properest person in 
 the world, to be keeper of Sir Hans Sloane's 
 Museum. 
 
 I cannot be insensible of the importance of 
 this capital business of taste, and how much 
 reputation as well as profit would accrue to my 
 labours by confining them to the minutest re- 
 searches into natui'e and art, and poring over 
 the rust of antiquity. I very well know that 
 the discovery of a new zoophyte, or species of 
 the polype, would be as valuable as that of the 
 longitude. The cabinets of the curious would 
 furnish out matter for my essays, more instruct- 
 ing than all the learned lumber of a Vatican. 
 Of wliat consequence would it be, to point out 
 the distinctions of originals from copies so pre- 
 cisely, that the paltry scratchings of a modern 
 may never hereafter be palmed on a Connoisseur 
 for the labours of a Rembrandt ! I should com- 
 mand applause from the adorers of antiquity, 
 v.ere I to demonstrate, that merit never existed 
 but in the schools of the old painters, never flou- 
 rished but in the warm climate of Italy : and 
 how should I rise in the esteem of my coun- 
 trjTiien, by chastising the arrogance of an Eng- 
 lishman in presuming to determine the analysis 
 of beauty! 
 
 At other times I might take occasion to show 
 my sagacity in conjectures on rusty coins and 
 illegible marbles. What profound erudition is 
 contained in a half-obliterated antique piece of 
 copper! TRAJ. IMP. P. VII. COSS, MAX. 
 ***TREB. V. P. P. S. C. ; and how mcr- 
 betlloiis, most courteous anti rgsijte teovtijgc 
 reatrcv, would the barbarous inscription of some 
 ancient monument appear to thee, and how 
 plcasaitt to tljene eguc bgtfjcall, thus pre- 
 served in its obsolete spelling and original ilacfe 
 c!)avactcv ! To this branch of tastej I am more 
 particularly pressed : a correspondent desires to 
 know, whether I was of the party that lately 
 took a survey of Palmyra in the Desert ; ano- 
 ther, if I have traversed the Holy Land, or visi- 
 ted Mount Calvary. I shall not speak too 
 proudly of my travels : but as my predecessor 
 the Spectator has recommended himself by hav- 
 ing made a trip to Grand Cairo to take measure 
 of a pyramid, I assure my reader that I have 
 climbed Mount Vesuvio in the midst of its erup- 
 tions, and dug some time under ground in the 
 ruins of Herculaneum. 
 
 I shall al ways be solicitous to procure the es- 
 
THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 2. 
 
 teem of so respectable a body as the Connois- 
 seurs : since I cannot but be sensible, could I 
 any way merit it by my labours, how much 
 more important the name of Mr. Town would 
 appear, dignified with the addition of F. R. S. 
 or Member of the Society of Antiquarians. I 
 therefore take this early opportunity of obliging 
 the curious with a letter from a very eminent 
 personage, who, as well as myself, is lately be- 
 come a Connoisseur, and is known to have gone 
 abroad for no other purpose than to buy pictures. 
 
 TO MR. . 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 The hurry in which I left England must have 
 convinced you how much I was in earnest, when 
 I talked of making a valuable collection of pic- 
 tui*es. By my frequent attendance on sales, I 
 already know almost as much of painting, as I do 
 of the funds: and can talk as learnedly of light 
 and shade, figure, proportion, drapery, &c. as of 
 the rise and fall of stocks. I have, however, 
 been very much embarrassed in getting together 
 a collection, suitable to the religion I profess. 
 The famous painters were most of them such 
 bigots to their own way of thinking, that they 
 have scarce left any thing behind them but 
 Holy Families, Dead Christs, and Madonasj^ 
 subjects which, to me and my tribe are odious 
 and abominable. A picture, since it has the 
 property of being the language of all mankind, 
 should never be particular in its subject; but 
 we should paint, as the English are taught to 
 pray, " for all Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Here- 
 tics." 
 
 When I have made the tour of Italy, I wiU 
 send you a complete list of all my purchases : 
 in the mean time, the following short specimen 
 will enable you to judge of my precautions, in 
 selecting pieces suitable to my character, and 
 not offensive to my principles. 
 
 The first that I bought was " the Elevation 
 of the Golden Calf." This I shall set up in the 
 Royal Exchange, as a typical representation of 
 myself, to be worshipped by all brokers, insurers, 
 scriveners, and the whole fraternity of stock- 
 jobbers. 
 
 The second is "The Triumph of Gideon." 
 This I intended, if a late project in favour of 
 our brethren had not miscarried, should have 
 been hung ijp in St. Stephen's Chapel, as a 
 memorial of our victory over the Uncircumcised. 
 
 The third and fourth are " Peter denying his 
 Master," and " Judas betraying him for thirty 
 pieces of silver ;" both which I design as presents 
 
 to our two worthy friends, the B s of , 
 
 and . 
 
 The next which I shall mention to you, 
 
 deserves particular notice ; and this is " the 
 
 Prophet of Nazareth himself, conjuring the 
 
 Devil into a herd of swine." From this piece, 
 
 ihen 1 retui-n to England, I intend to have a 
 
 print engraved ; being very proper to be had in 
 all Jewish families, as a necessary preservative 
 against pork and Christianity. 
 
 I shall not tire you with a particular detail of 
 some other lesser pieces ; such as — the Deluge, 
 in water-colours — the New Jerusalem, in per- 
 spective — Some Ruins of the Temple— a Pub- 
 lican at the Receipt of Custom — and a Samson 
 in miniature. 
 
 Besides these, I have employed an ingenious 
 artist here to execute a design of my own. It 
 is a picture of Fortune, not standing (as in the 
 common style) upon a kind of cart-wheel, but 
 on the two wheels of the lottery, with a repre- 
 sentation of a net cast over the lesser engros- 
 sers of tickets, while a chief manager is breaking 
 his way through the meslies. 
 
 I must not forget to tell you, that I have 
 picked up an infamous portrait, by an English 
 hand, called Shylock ; with the following in- 
 scription under it, taken, I suppose, from the 
 London Evening Post, or that impudent fool 
 the Gazetteer: "they have disgraced me and 
 hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, 
 mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted 
 my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine 
 enemies ; — and what's the reason? I am a Jew." 
 
 As soon as the parliament is dissolved, you 
 may expect to see me in England ; till when, 
 
 I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. 
 
 ******* ****** 
 
 I shall here subjoin a letter of a very different 
 stamp ; which points out to me another walk 
 as a Connoisseur, not less extensive, perhaps, 
 and more agreeable to the modern taste, than 
 that of Virtu. 
 
 TO MR, TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I suppose Connoisseur is only another word 
 iV'' a knowing one. So write me a few papers 
 in defence of cards, dice, races, and gaming in 
 general ; and I will admit you upon the square, 
 introduce you at White's, set you upon the turf 
 the next meeting at Newmarket, and make 
 your fortune at once. If you are the man I 
 take you for, you will be wise, and do this 
 directly ; and then the odds are for you. If 
 not, I'll hold you a hundred pounds to a 
 China orange, that your paper is neglected as 
 low and vulgar, and yourself condemned as an 
 unfashionable blockhead. 
 
 Yours, as you behave, 
 
 T. Will. Hazard. 
 
No. 3.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 No. 3.] Thursdat, Feb. 14, 1754-. 
 
 Suave mart magna, turbaniibus cequora veniis, 
 
 E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem. Lucret. 
 
 Wlien raging winds the ruffled deep deform. 
 We look at distance, and enjoy the storm ; 
 Toss'd on the waves with pleasure others see. 
 Nor heed their dangers, while ourselves are free. 
 
 We writers of essays, or (as they are termed) 
 periodical papers, justly claim to ourselves a 
 place among the modern improvers of literature. 
 Neither Bently nor Burman, nor any other 
 equally sagacious commentator, has heen able to 
 discover the least traces of any similar produc- 
 tions among the ancients : except we can sup- 
 pose, that the history of Thucydides was re- 
 tailed weekly in sixpenny numbers ; that Se- 
 neca dealt out his morality evei'y Saturday ; or 
 that Tully wi'ote speeches and philosophical dis- 
 quisitions, whilst Virgil and Horace clubbed 
 together to furnish the poetry for a Roman ma- 
 gazine. 
 
 There is a word, indeed, hy which we are 
 fond of distinguishing our works, and for which 
 we must confess ourselves indebted to the Latin. 
 Myself, and every petty journalist, aflFect to dig- 
 nify our hasty performances by styling them Lu- 
 cubrations ; by which we mean, if we mean any 
 thing, that as the day is too short for our labours, 
 we are obliged to call in the assistance of the night : 
 not to mention the modest insinuation, that our 
 compositions are so correct, that (like the oi"a- 
 tions of Demosthenes) they may be said to smell 
 of the lamp. We would be understood to follow 
 the directions of the Roman Satirist, " to grow 
 pale by the midnight candle ;" though, perhaps, 
 as our own Satirist expresses it, we may be 
 thought 
 
 Sleepless ourselves, to give our readers sleep. 
 
 But, as a relief from the fatigue of so many 
 restless hours, we have frequently gone to sleep 
 for the benefit of the public : and surely we, 
 whose labours are confined to a sheet and a half, 
 may be indulged in taking a nap now and then, 
 as well as those engaged in longer works ; who 
 (according to Horace) are to be excused, if a 
 little drowsiness sometimes creeps in upon them. 
 
 After this preface, the reader will not be sur- 
 prised, if I take the liberty to relate a dream of 
 my own. It is usual on these occasions to be 
 lulled to sleep by some book: and most of my 
 brethren pay that compliment to Virgil or Shak- 
 speare : but as I could never discover any opiate 
 qualities in those authors, I chose rather to doze 
 over some modern performance. 1 must beg to 
 be excused from mentioning particulars, as I 
 would not provoke the resentment of my con- 
 temporaries : nobody will imagine, that I dipped 
 
 into any of our modera novels, or took up any 
 of our late tragedies. Let it siaffice, that I pre- 
 sently fell fast asleep. 
 
 I found myself transported in an instant to 
 the shore of an immense sea, covered with in- 
 nxmaerable vessels ; and though many of them 
 suddenly disappeared every minute, I saw others 
 continually launching forth, and piu'suing the 
 same course. The seers of visions, and dreamers 
 of dreams, have their organs of sight so consider- 
 ably improved, that they can take in any object, 
 however distant or minute. It is not therefore 
 to be wondered at, that I could discern every 
 thing distinctly, though the waters before me 
 were of the deepest black. 
 
 While I stood contemplating this amazing 
 scene, one of those good-natured genii, who 
 never fail making their appearance to extricate 
 dreamers from their difficulties, rose from the 
 sable stream, and planted himself at my elbow. 
 His complexion was of the darkest hue, not xax- 
 like that of the Daemons of a printing-house j 
 his jetty beard shone like the bristles of a black- 
 ing-brush : on his head he wore a turban of im- 
 perial paper : and 
 
 There hung a calf-skin on his reverend limbs, 
 which was gilt on the back, and faced with 
 robings of Morocco, lettered (like a rubric-post) 
 w^th the names of the most eminent authors. 
 In his left hand he bore a printed scroll, which 
 from the marginal connections I imagined to be 
 a proof-sheet J and in his right he waved the 
 quill of a goose. 
 
 He immediately accosted me. " Town," 
 
 said he, " 1 am the genius, who is destined to 
 conduct you through these turbulent waves. 
 The sea that you now behold is the Ocean of 
 Ink. Those towers, at a great distance, whose 
 bases are founded upon rocks, and whose tops 
 seem lost in the clouds, are situated in the Isle 
 of Fame. Contiguous to these, you may dis- 
 cern by the glittering of its golden sands, is the 
 Coast of Gain, which leads to a fertile and rich 
 country. All the vessels which are yonder sail- 
 ing with a fair wind on the main sea, are mak- 
 ing towards one or other of these : but you will 
 observe, that on their first setting out they were 
 irresistibly drawn into the eddies of Criticism, 
 where they were obliged to encounter the most 
 dreadful tempests and hurricanes. In these dan- 
 gerous straits, you see with what violence every 
 bark is tossed up and down ; some go to the 
 bottom at once; others, after a faint struggle, 
 are beat to pieces ; many are much damaged ; 
 while a few, by sound planks and tight rigging, 
 are enabled to weather the storm." 
 
 At this sight I started back with horror : and 
 the remembrance still dwells so strong upon my 
 fancy, that I even now imagine the torrent of 
 criticism bursting in upon me, and ready to 
 overwhelm me in an instant. 
 
6 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 4. 
 
 « Cast a look," resumed my instructor, " on 
 that vast lake divided into two parts, which 
 lead to yonder magnificent structures, erected by 
 the Tragic and Comic Muse. There you may 
 observe many trying to force a passage without 
 chart or compass. Some have been overset by 
 crowding too much sail, and others have foun- 
 dered by carrying too much ballast. An * Arca- 
 dian vessel (the master an Irishman) was, 
 through contrary squalls, scarce able to live nine 
 days : but you see that light Italian gondola fG/i 
 Amanti Gelosi, skims along pleasantly before the 
 wind, and outstrips the painted frigates of our 
 country, :j:Didone and Artaserse. Observe that 
 triumphant squadron, to whose flag all the 
 others pay homage. Most of them are ships of 
 the first rate, and were fitted out many years 
 ago. Though somewhat irregular in their make, 
 and but little conformable to the exact rules of 
 art, they will ever continue the pride and glory 
 of these seas : for as it is remarked by the pre- 
 sent Laureat, in his prologue to Papal Tyi-anny, 
 
 " Shakspeare, whose art no play-wright can excel, 
 Has launch 'd us fleets of plays, and built them well, " 
 
 The Genius then bade me turn my eye, where 
 the water seemed to foam with perpetual agita- 
 tion. " That," said he, " is the strong current 
 of Politics, often fatal to those who venture on 
 it." I could not but takenotice of a poor wretch 
 on the opposite shore, fastened by the ears to 
 a terrible machine. This, the Genius informed 
 me, was the memorable Deibe, set up there as a 
 land- mark, to prevent future mariners from 
 splitting on the same rock. 
 
 To this turbulent prospect succeeded objects 
 of a more placid nature. In a little creek, wind- 
 ing through flowery meads and shady groves, 1 
 descried several gilded yachts and pleasure boats, 
 all of them keeping due time with their silver 
 oars, and gliding along the smooth, even, calm, 
 regularly flowing rivulets of Rhyme. Shep- 
 herds and shepherdesses playing on the banks ; 
 the sails were gently swelled with the soft 
 breezes of amorous sighs ; and little Loves sport- 
 ed in the silken cordage. 
 
 My attention was now called ofT from these 
 pacific scenes to an obstinate engagement be- 
 tween several ships, distinguished from all 
 others by bearing the Holy Cross for their col- 
 ours. These the Genius told me were em- 
 ployed in the Holy War of Religious Contro- 
 
 * Philoclea, a tragedy : founded on Sir Philip Sydney's 
 Arc2.dia. 
 
 t An admired Burletta. 
 X Operas. 
 
 versy ; and he pointed out to me a few Corsairs 
 in the service of the Infidels, sometimes aiding 
 one party, sometimes siding with the other, 
 as might best contribute to the geueral confu- 
 sion. 
 
 1 observed in diflferent paitsof the Ocean seve- 
 ral galleys which were rowed by slaves. " Those," 
 said the Genius, " are fitted out by very oppres- 
 sive owners, and are all of them bound to the 
 Coast of Gain. The miserable wretches, whom 
 you see chained to the oars, are obliged to tug 
 without the least respite ; and though the voyage 
 should turn out successful, they have little or no 
 share in the profits. Some few you may observe, 
 who rather choose to make a venture on their 
 own bottoms. These work as hard as the gal- 
 ley-slaves, and are frequently cast away ; but 
 though they are never so often wrecked, neces- 
 sity still constrains them to put out to sea 
 again," 
 
 -"ReficU rates 
 
 HOH. 
 
 Quassas, indocilis pauperiem pati." 
 
 Still must the wretch his shatter'd bark refit. 
 For who to starve can patiently submit ? 
 
 It were needless to enumerate many other 
 particulars that engaged my notice. Among 
 the rest was a large fleet of Annotators, Dutch- 
 built, which sailed very heavy, Avere often 
 a-ground, and continually ran foul on each other. 
 The whole ocean, I also found, was infested by 
 pirates, who ransacked every rich vessel that 
 came in their way. Most of these were endea- 
 vouring to make the Coast of Gain, by hanging 
 out false colours, or by forging their passports, 
 and pretending to be freighted out by the most 
 reputable traders. 
 
 My eyes were at last fixed, I know not how, 
 on a spacious channel running through the midst 
 of a great city. I felt such a secret impulse at 
 this sight, that I could not help inquiring parti- 
 cularly about it. " The discovery of that pas- 
 sage," said the Genius, " was first made by one 
 Bickerstaff^, in the good ship called The Tatler, 
 and who afterwards embarked in The Spectator 
 and Guardian. These have been followed since 
 by a number of little sloops, skiff's, hoys, and 
 cock-boats, which have been most of them 
 wrecked in the attempt. Thither also must 
 your course be directed." — At this instant the 
 Genius suddenly snatched me up in his arms, 
 and plunged me headlong into the inky flood. 
 While 1 lay gasping and struggling beneath the 
 waves, methought I heard a familiar voice call- 
 ing me by my name, which awaking me, I 
 with pleasure recollected the features of the 
 Genius in those of my publisher, who was stand- 
 ing by my bed-side, and had called upon me for 
 copy. 
 
No. 4.] T H E C O N N O I S S E U R. 
 
 No. 4.] Thursday, Fkb. 21, 1754. 
 
 Conjugium vocat, hoc prcetexit nomine culpam. Virg. 
 
 Where matrimony veils th' incestuous life, 
 ftjid whore is shelter'd in the name of wife. 
 
 /t is with the utnaost concern I have heard my- 
 self within this week past accused at several tea- 
 tables, of not being a man of my word. The 
 female part of my readers exclaim against me 
 for not having as yet paid my particular addresses 
 to the fair. " Who is this Mr. Town ?" says 
 one: " Where can the creature live? He has 
 said nothing yet of the dear Burletta girl." An- 
 other wonders that I have not recommended to 
 the ladies Mr. Hoyle's New Calculation of 
 Chances; for understanding which nothing more 
 is required, we are told, than the first principles 
 of arithmetic ; that is, to know how to tell the 
 pips, and set up one's game. But I find the 
 whole sex in general have expected from me 
 some shrewd remarks upon the Marriage Bill. 
 To ohlige them in some measure, I shall at pre- 
 sent recommend to their notice the following ad- 
 vertisement, which has been sent me, with a re- 
 q'lest to make it public. 
 
 To all whom it may concern. 
 THE REVEREND MR. KEITH, 
 
 ( Who has had the honour to perform before several of the 
 Nobility, Gentry, and others,) 
 
 GIVES THIS PUBLIC NOTICE, 
 
 Tliat he shall continue at his Chapel in May- 
 Fair no longer than the present month. He 
 will then set out on his progress through the 
 principal market-towns, where he will exhibit 
 publicly, w^ithout loss of time, any hour of the 
 day or night. He will perform to no less than 
 two persons, and will wait on any Gentleman 
 and Lady privately at their own houses. 
 
 *^* We have no connection with the Fleet 
 Parsons, or other Pretenders. Beware of coun- 
 terfeits. Ego sum solus. 
 
 I may perhaps take a future opportunity of 
 enlarging on this very important subject, the 
 Marriage Bill; but shall at present oblige the 
 ladies by celebrating an order of females lately 
 sprung up among them, usually distinguished 
 by the denomination of Demi- Reps; — a word 
 not to be found in any of our dictionaries. 
 
 This order, which seems daily increasing upon 
 us, was first instituted by some ladies eminent 
 for their public spirit, with a view of raising 
 their half of the species to a level with the other 
 in the unbounded license of their enjoyments. 
 By this artifice the most open violation of mo- 
 desty takes the name of innocent freedom and 
 gayety ; and as long as the last failing remains 
 a secret, the lady's honour is spotless and un- 
 
 tainted. In a word, a Demi-Rep is a lady, whom 
 every body thinks, what nobody chooses to call 
 her. 
 
 It is absolutely necessary, that every lady of 
 this order should be married. Custom has given 
 a certain charm to wedlock which changes the 
 colour of our actions, and renders that behaviour 
 not improper, which in a state of celibacy would 
 be accounted indecent and scandalous. As to the 
 promises made in marriage " to love, honour, and 
 obey," custom has made them also merely cere- 
 monial, and in fact as little binding as the wed- 
 ding-ring, which may be put on or pulled off at 
 pleasure. 
 
 Religious and political writers have both for 
 different reasons endeavoured to encourage fre- 
 quent marriages : but this order, if it maintains 
 its ground, will more certainly promote them. 
 How inviting must such a state appear to a wo- 
 man of spirit ! An English wife, with all the 
 indiscretions of a girl, may assume more than 
 the privileges of a woman; may trifle publicly 
 with the beaux and smarts, introduce them to 
 her toilette, and fix it as a certain rule in all her 
 conversation and behaviour, that when once 
 marriage has (in Lucy's phrase) " made an honest 
 woman of her," she is entitled to all the license 
 of a courtesan. 
 
 I have lately seen, with a good deal of com- 
 passion, a few forward maiden ladies investing 
 themselves with the dignities, and encroaching 
 on the privileges of this order. It may not be 
 improper to caution them to recede in time. As 
 their claim to these liberties is unwarranted by 
 custom, they will not retain that ambiguous re- 
 putation enjoyed by the Demi-Reps, whose 
 whole system of conduct is founded on the basis 
 of matrimony. Every lady, therefore, inclined 
 to indulge herself in all those little innocent free- 
 doms, should confine herself within the pale of 
 matrimony, to elude censure ; as insolvent debt- 
 ors avoid a jail by Lodging within the verge of 
 the court. 
 
 A Demi-Rep then must necessarily be mar- 
 X'ied : nor is it easy for a lady to maintain so 
 critical a character, unless she is a woman of 
 fashion. Titles and estates bear down all weak 
 censures, and silence scandal and detraction. 
 That good breeding too, so inviolably preserved 
 among persons of condition, is of infinite service. 
 This produces that delightful insipidity so re- 
 markable in persons of quality, -ivhose conversa- 
 tion flows with an even tenor, undisturbed by 
 sentiment, and unrufiled by passion : insomuch 
 that husbands and wives, brothers, sisters, 
 cousins, and in short the whole circle of kin- 
 dred and acquaintance, can entertain the most 
 thorough contempt and even hatred for pach 
 other, without transgressing the minutest article 
 of good breeding and civility. But those fe- 
 males, who want the advantages of birth and 
 fortune, must be content to wrap themselves up 
 
8 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 5. 
 
 in their integrity ; for the lower sort are so no- 
 toi'iously deficient in the requisities of politeness, 
 that they would not fail to throw out the most 
 cruel and bitter invectives against the pretty de- 
 linquents. 
 
 The great world will, I doubt not, return me 
 thanks for thus keeping the canaille at a distance, 
 and securing to them a quiet possession of their 
 enjojTnents. And here I cannot but observe, 
 how respectable an order the Demi- Reps com- 
 pose, of which the lovely sisterhood must all be 
 married, and almost all Right Honourable. 
 
 For this order, among many other establish- 
 ments of modern life, we are indebted to the 
 French. Such flippant gayety is more agi'ce- 
 able to the genius of that nation. There is a 
 native bashfulness inherent in my country-wo- 
 men, which it is not easy to surmount ; but our 
 modem fine ladies, who take as much pains to 
 polish their minds as to adorn their persons, 
 have got over this obstacle with incredible faci- 
 lity. They have so skilfully grafted the French 
 genius for intrigue upon British Beauty and 
 liberty, that their conduct appears perfectly 
 original : though we must do the French the 
 justice to allow, that when a lady of this airy 
 disposition visits Paris, she returns most won- 
 derfully improved. Upon the whole, France 
 appears the properest school to instruct the ladies 
 in the theory of their conduct : but England, 
 and more especially London, the most commo- 
 dious place to put it in practice. In this town, 
 indeed, a lady studious of improvement, may in 
 a very short time become a considerable pro- 
 ficient, by frequenting the several academies 
 kept constantly open for her profit and instruc- 
 tion. The card tables and masquerades in par- 
 ticular have trained up some ladies to a surpris- 
 ing eminence, without the least assistance from 
 a foreign education. 
 
 It is observed, that the difference between the 
 several species in the scale of being is but just 
 sufficient to preserve their distinction; the high- 
 est of one order approaching so near to the low- 
 est of the other, that the gradation is hard to be 
 determined ; as the colours of the rainbow, 
 through an infinite variety of shades, die away 
 into each other imperceptibly. The Demi- Reps 
 hold this intermediate station, in the characters 
 of females, between the modest women and the 
 women of pleasure ; to both which they are in 
 some measure connected, as they stand upon the 
 utmost verge of reputation, and totter on the 
 brink of infamy. It were therefore to be wished^ 
 that these ladies wore some symbol of their 
 order, or were distinguished by some particular 
 mode of dress. The Romans assigned different 
 habits to persons of different .iges and stations ; 
 and I hope, that when the bustle of the ensuing 
 election is over, the new parliament will take 
 this matter into consideration, and oblige the 
 several classes ot females to distinguish them- 
 
 selves by some external marks and badges of 
 I their principles. 
 
 Till some act of this nature shcdl take place, I 
 shall propose a method by which every lady may 
 i exactly learn in what class she may be reckoned. 
 j The world must know then, that my very good 
 : friend Mr. Ayscough has at length, with infinit? 
 I pains and study, constructed a thermometer ; 
 upon which he has delineated, after the manner 
 ' that the degrees of heat and cold are marked on 
 the common sort, the whole scale of female char- 
 I acters, from the most inviolable modesty to the 
 most abandoned impudence. It is of a commo- 
 dious size to wear at a watch : the liquor within 
 the tube is a chemical mixture, which being 
 acted on by the circulation of the blood and ani- 
 i mal spirits, will rise and f^ll according to the 
 i desii'es and affections of the wearer. He will 
 very shortly publish a large assortment of them, 
 : to be sold at his shop on Ludgate-hill : and I 
 flatter myself, there are many women in Eng- 
 j land, who would be glad to purchase such an 
 effectual regulator of their passions. Every lady, 
 therefore, may avail herself of the instructions 
 of this pocket monitor : a monitor, who would 
 give her the most profitable lessons, without the 
 I usual impertinence of advice. It will be of equal 
 ' efficacy, if worn by the men. But I expect my 
 j friend will have but little of their custom ; for as 
 ! the mere reputation of chastity is the utmost aim 
 of a fine lady, to preserve even that, in a fine 
 gentleman, is accounted mean and unmanly. 
 
 O. 
 
 No. 6.] Thursday, Feb. 28, 1754. 
 
 "iKYt'^OCS \\ctwu KoifMS ix^t^vos ftoXiU SOPHOCL. 
 
 A plague has seized us, and the tainted city 
 Is one wide pest-house teeming with contagion. 
 
 TO MR, TOWN. 
 
 Sir, Batsoii's Coffee-House, Feb. 26, 1754. 
 
 I MUST beg leave to trouble you on a most serious 
 and melancholy subject, a subject, which I fear 
 will be attended with the most dreadful conse- 
 quences to the whole nation. Notwithstanding 
 the last mail brought the college positive assur- 
 ances from the French King's physicians, tha' 
 the late plague at Rouen was entirely ceased, I 
 have the strongest reasons to apprehend, that the 
 contagion is already spread to this city. My 
 own practice daily furnishes me with lament- 
 able instances, that manifestly indicate a pesti- 
 lential disorder in the blood and humours. 
 
 I was first induced to suspect, that some epide- 
 mical distemper was taking root among us, from 
 my being called in to a noble patient, who (as the 
 
No. 5." 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 public prints have informed you) has lately been 
 afflicted with a violent boil on his back. From 
 this patient, thei'e have issued continually great 
 quantities of corruption of a yellow hue. His 
 complaint seems to be in some sort constitu- 
 tional, as it commonly breaks out with extraor- 
 dinary virulence every seven years ; and as this 
 is the crisis, we cannot pronounce our noble 
 patient out of danger, till he has got over the 
 ensuing spring. It is moreover to be feared, 
 that the contagion has likewise reached Ireland ; 
 where we hear that the best physicians are 
 using the most forcing medicines, and are of 
 opinion that nothing .can relieve the unhappy 
 people, till they have voided a stone. A great 
 man there labours also under the above-mention- 
 ed complaint of having a violent Boyle on his 
 back. * 
 
 1 shall now proceed to give you the history of 
 some other cases, which have fallen under my 
 notice, and are to me an indisputable proof, that 
 the plague has got footing among us. Its ma- 
 lignancy shows itself particularly about the 
 court ; and we are assured, that some parts of 
 the country are also tainted with it. I have 
 had the honour to attend several members of 
 parliament, whose cases are very desperate. 
 Some I found in a declining way, given over by 
 all their friends ; others are so weak, that they 
 cannot stand alone ; and many are so restless, 
 that they are continually turning from side to 
 side. As [ found they had great need of sup- 
 port, I have advised them to drink plentifully 
 of strong liquors, and guard against the ill con- 
 sequences of a return. 
 
 I visited the other day a young gentleman, 
 who has lately been promoted to a command in 
 the squadron designed for the East Indies. I 
 found him in a most languishing condition ; his 
 spirits were quite depressed ; he had a violent 
 palpitation of the heart ; and the whole nervous 
 system was relaxed. I would have prescribed 
 the well known diet-drink brought into practice 
 by the late Bishop of Cloyne ; but he told me, 
 every thing went against his stomach that sa- 
 voured of tar. However, I at length prevailed 
 on him to submit to a long course of sea water. 
 I have observed the same prognostics in some of 
 our land officers ; to whom I have recommend- 
 ed the frequent use of exercise, together with a 
 course of steel, and a powder composed of nitre 
 and sulphur. 
 
 A friend of mine, one of the common-council 
 men of this city, is infected to a strong degree 
 with the present pestilence. His chief com- 
 plaint is a canine appetite; and his wife assures 
 me, she has often felt the wolf in his belly. The 
 seat of this distemper is originally in the palate. 
 
 * Alluding to some disputes in Ireland. 
 
 and discovers itself by a watering of the mouth 
 from the salival glands, and a grinding of the 
 teeth as in the action of mastication. This dis- 
 order being very common in the city, and likely 
 to spread among the livery, I have directed him 
 to perform quarantine for forty days, by abstain- 
 ing from flesh during the present Lent. 
 
 I know another, a very worthy alderman, 
 who now lies in a most deplorable condition. 
 He is swelled to a most enormous size; his 
 whole face, and particularly his nose, is crusted 
 over with fiery pustules of the confluent kind. 
 He is afflicted with au insatiable thirst and is 
 very subject to falling-fits. I was sent for last 
 night, when one of these fits had just seized 
 him. He lay to all appearance dead on the 
 floor, wallowing in the midst of a fetid mass, 
 partly solid, partly fluid, which had issued from 
 his mouth and nostrils with repeated eructations. 
 I would immediately have administered to him 
 a proper dose of Aq. Font, tepefact. but on offer- 
 ing him the draught, he showed the strongest 
 symptoms of a confirmed hydrophobia. 
 
 I went out of charity to see a poor tragic au- 
 thor, (no reflection upon any of the profession, 
 Mr. Town) who has been obliged to keep his 
 room all the winter, and is dying by inches of 
 an inveterate atrophy. By his extravagant 
 ravings, sudden starts, incoherent expressions, 
 and passionate exclamations, 1 judged his dis- 
 order to be seated in the brain, and therefore 
 directed his head to be blistered all over. I 
 cured another, a comic author, of a lethargy, by 
 making a revulsion of the bad humour, from the 
 part affected, with stimulating cathartics. A 
 short squabby gentleman of a gross and corpu- 
 lent make was seized with a kind of St. Vitus's 
 dance, as he was practising Harlequin for the 
 masquerade : his whole body was convulsed 
 with the most violent writhings and irregular 
 twitches ; but I presently removed his complaint 
 by applying blisters to the soles of his feet. 
 
 The plague, as I observed before, puts on 
 different appeai'ances in different subjects. A 
 person of quality, one of the club at White's, was 
 seized with the epidemical frenzy raging there, 
 which propagates itself by certain black and red 
 spots. He had suffered so much loss by con- 
 tinual evacuations, that his whole substance was 
 wasted ; and when I saw him he was so reduced 
 that there were no hopes of a recovery. Another 
 nobleman caught the infection at Newmarket, 
 which brought upon him such a running that 
 he is now in the last stage of a galloping con- 
 sumption. A reverend divine, lately, made" a 
 dignitary of the church, has unhappily lost his 
 memory ; and is so blind withal, that he hardly 
 knows any of his old acquaintances ; the mus- 
 cles of his face are all contracted into an austere 
 frown, his knees are stiff and inflexible, and he 
 is unable, poor gentleman ! to bend his body, or 
 C 
 
10 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 6. 
 
 move his hand to his head. I have observed 
 others seized at times with a strange kind of 
 deafness ; and at certain intervals, I have found 
 them so prodigiously bard of hearing, that 
 though a tradesman has bawled ever so loudly 
 in their eai's, it has had no effect on them. 
 
 By what means this plague has been intro- 
 duced among us, cannot easily be ascertained ; 
 ^whether it was imported in the same band- 
 box with the last new head, or was secretly 
 conveyed in the plaits of an embroidered suit : 
 —But that it came over hither from France, 
 plainly appears from the manner in which it 
 affects our people of fashion, (especially the 
 ladies,) who bear about them the most evident 
 marks of the French Disease. This is known 
 to affect the whole habit of body, and extends 
 its influence from head to foot. But its strong- 
 est attacks are levelled at the face : and it has 
 such an effect upon the complexion, that it en- 
 tirely changes the natural colour of the skin. 
 At Paris, the face of every lady you meet is be- 
 smeared with unguent, ceruss, and plaster : and 
 I have lately remarked, with infinite concern, 
 the native charms of my pretty countrywomen 
 destroyed by the same cause. In this case I 
 have always proposed calling in the assistance 
 of a surgeon to pare off this unnatural epidermis 
 of scarf-skin, occasioned by the ignorance of em- 
 pirics in the immoderate application of altera- 
 tives. 
 
 From what I have been able to collect from 
 observations on my female patients, I have 
 found little variation in the effects of the plague 
 on that sex. Most of them complain of a lassi- 
 tude, a listlessness, an uneasiness, pains they 
 don't know where, vapours, hysterics, want of 
 rest, want of spirits, and loss of appetite : con- 
 sequently the same regimen may serve for all. 
 1 advise them to use a great deal of exercise in 
 driving about the town, to dilute properly with 
 tea, to perspire freely at public places, and in 
 their seasons to go to Bath, Tunbridge, Chelten- 
 ham, or Scarborough. 
 
 I was indeed surprised ^vith an extraordinary 
 new case the other night, when I was called out 
 of bed to attend a maid of honour, who is fre- 
 quently afflicted with fits of the mother. Her 
 abdomen, I found, upon examination, to be pre- 
 ternaturally distended ; the tumour has been 
 gradually increasing ; but I would not attempt 
 to discuss it, as it was not yet arrived to matu- 
 I'ity. I intend soon to remove her into the 
 country for a month, in order to deliver her 
 from the complaint she labours under. 
 
 I have been induced, Sir, to write to you on this 
 occasion, as you are pleased to take this city un- 
 der your immediate care. So alarming an evil 
 calls upon us all to oppose its progress : for my 
 own part nothing shall deter me from a diligent 
 discharge of the duty of my profession ; though 
 it has already exposed me to the greatest dan- 
 
 gers in the execution of it. An old captain of a 
 man of war, who is grievously troubled with 
 choler and overflowing of the gall, on my only 
 hinting a clyster, swore vehemently that I 
 should take one myself, and applying his foot 
 directly to my fundament, kicked me down 
 stairs. This very morning I escaped almost by 
 miracle from the contagion, which raged in the 
 most violent degx'ee through a whole family. 
 The master and mistress were both of them in a 
 very high fever, and quite frantic and delirious: 
 their tongues were prodigiously inflamed, with 
 the tip very sharp, and perpetual vibrating with- 
 out the least intennission. I would have pre- 
 scribed some cooling and lenitive medicines ; 
 but the husband in the height of his frenzy flung 
 my tie-wig into the fire, and his wife sluiced 
 me with extravasated urine. As I retired with 
 precipitation, I heard the same wild ravings in 
 the nui'sery, the kitchen, and every other quar- 
 ter, w^hich convinced me that the pestilence had 
 seized the whole house. I ran out of dooi's as 
 fast as possible, reflecting with Terence, " If 
 Health herself would save this family, she 
 could not." 
 
 ' Ipsa si ciipiat solus 
 
 Servare prorsus non potest hanc famiHam. 
 
 Upon the whole, I may conclude with the 
 aphorism of Hippocrates ; " that no people ran 
 possibly be afflicted with so many and so terrible 
 disorders, unless the plague is among them." 
 I am, Sir, youi's, &c. 
 
 W. B. G. 
 
 No. 6.] Thursday, March 7, 1754. 
 
 Quid alat fai-metqxie poctam. 
 
 Hon, 
 
 Practice alone must form the writer's head. 
 And every author to the trade be brcil. 
 
 I REMEMBER to havc Seen, in some old Italian 
 poet, a fable called " The Education of the 
 Muses." Apollo is there said to have taken 
 them at their birth under bis immediate care, 
 and as they grew up, to have instructed them, 
 according to their different capacities, in the 
 several branches of playing and singing. Thalia, 
 we are told, was of a lively turn, and took de- 
 light in the most comic airs ; but was at first 
 with difficulty restrained from falling into ridi- 
 culous drolleries, and what our author calls ex- 
 travaganzas in her manner. Melpomene., who 
 was of a serious and grave disposition, indulged 
 herself in strains of melancholy ; but when she 
 aimed at the most pathetic strokes, was often 
 harsh, or run into wild divisions. Clio, and 
 
No. 6.2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 11 
 
 the rest of the Nine, had not yet learned to tem- 
 per their voices with sweetness and variety ; nor 
 could they tell how to regulate the stops of their 
 (iiites, or touch the strings of their lyres witli 
 judgment and grace. However, by much prac- 
 tice, they improved gi'adually under the instruc- 
 tions of Apollo, till at last they were able to 
 exert all the powers of music : and they now 
 form a complete concert, which fills all Pai'nas- 
 sus with the most enchanting harmony. 
 
 The moral to be drawn from this little fable 
 is naturally applied to those servants of the 
 Muses, Authors ; who must necessarily rise, by 
 the same slow degrees, from their first lame at- 
 tempts in cultivating the arts of ApoUo. The 
 best of them, without doubt, went thx'ough many 
 more stages of writing, than appears fi'om the 
 palpable gradations still remaining in their 
 works. But as it is impossible to trace them 
 from the first setting out, I shall here present 
 the reader with the sum of my own experience, 
 and illustrate, in the life of Mr. Town, the pro- 
 gress of an author. 
 
 Right or wrong, I have ever been addicted to 
 scribbling. I was famous at school for my readi- 
 ness at crambo and capping verses : 1 often 
 made themes for other boys, and sold my copy 
 for a tart or a custard : at nine years old I was 
 taken notice of for an English distich ; and after- 
 wards immortalized myself by an holiday's task 
 in the same language, which my master, who 
 was himself a poet, pronounced to be scarce in- 
 ferior to his favourite Blackmoi'e. These were 
 followed by a multitude of little pieces ; which, 
 like other fruits that come before their season, 
 had nothing to recommend them but their early 
 appearance. 
 
 Filled, however, with great conceptions of my 
 genius and importance, I could not but lament, 
 that such extraordinary parts should be confined 
 within the narrow cii'cle of my relations and ac- 
 quaintance. — Therefore, in order to oblige and 
 amaze the public, I soon became a very large 
 contributor to the monthly magazines. But I 
 had the unspeakable mortification to see my fa- 
 vours sometimes not inserted, sometimes post- 
 poned, often much altered, and you may be sure 
 always for the worse. On all these occasions, I 
 never failed to condemn the arrogance and folly 
 of the compilers of these miscellanies; wonder- 
 ing how they could so grossly mistake their own 
 interest, and neglect the entertainment of their 
 readers. 
 
 In the meantime a maiden aunt, with whom 
 I lived, a very pious old lady, turned Methodist, 
 and often took me with her to the Tabernacle, 
 the Foundery, and many private meetings. This 
 made such an impression upon my mind, that I 
 devoted myself entirely to sacred subjects, and 
 wrote several hymns, which were received with 
 infinite applause by all the good women who 
 visited my aunt ; and (the servants being also 
 
 Methodists) they were often sung by the whole 
 family in the kitchen. I might perhaps in time 
 have rivalled Wesley in these divine composi- 
 tions, and had even begun an entire new version 
 of the Psalms; when my aunt changing her 
 religion a second time, became a Moravian. But 
 the hymns usually sung by the United Brethren, 
 contain sentiments so sublime and so incompre- 
 hensible, that notwithstanding my late success 
 in that kind of poetry, and the great opinion I 
 entertain of my own talents, I dui'st not venture 
 on their style and manner. 
 
 As love and poetry mutually produce each 
 othei', it is no wonder, that before I was seven- 
 teen I had singled out my particular Sacharissa. 
 This you may suppose gave birth to innumerable 
 songs, elegies, and acrostics. In the space of two 
 years I had written more love verses than 
 Waller, or any other poet ; when, just as I 
 imagined I had rhymed myself into her good 
 graces, I had the mortification to find that my 
 mistress was married to a cornet of horse, a 
 fellow, who I am sure never wrote a line in his 
 life. This threw me into such a violent rage 
 against the whole sex, that I immediately burnt 
 every syllable I had written in her praise, and 
 in bitterness of soul translated the sixth satii-e 
 of Juvenal. 
 
 Soon after this, the son and heir of Lord 
 Townly, to whom I have the honour of being a 
 distant relation, was engaged in a treaty of mar- 
 riage with a rich heiress. I sat down imme- 
 diately with great composure to write an £pi- 
 thalamium on this occasion. I trimmed Hy- 
 men's torch, and invited the Loves and Graces 
 to the wedding ; Concord was prepared to join 
 their hands, and Juno to bless them with a 
 numerous race of children. After all these 
 pains, when every thing was ready for the wed- 
 ding, and the last hand- put to the Epithalaraium, 
 the match was suddenly broke oif, and my poem 
 of course rendered useless. I was more uneasy 
 under this disappointment than any of the par- 
 ties could possibly be ; till I was informed of 
 the sudden marriage of a noble lord with a cele- 
 brated beauty. On this popular occasion, pro- 
 mising myself universal applause, I immediately 
 published my Epithalamium, which like Bays's 
 Prologue, was artfully contrived to serve one 
 purpose as well as another. 
 
 As my notions had been hitherto confined 
 within a narrow sphere of life, my literary pur- 
 suits were consequently less important, till I had 
 the opportunity of enlarging my ideas by going 
 abroad. My travels, of which I have before 
 hinted something to the reader, opened to me a 
 new and extensive field for observation. I wU 
 not presume to boast, that I received any part 
 of my education at Geneva, or any of those cele- 
 brated foreign universities, in which alone an 
 Englishman can be grounded in the principles 
 of religion and liberty : but I may say without 
 
12 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 7. 
 
 vanity, that I gleaned some useful knowledge I 
 from every place I visited. My propensity to I 
 writing followed me wherever I went : and 
 were I to meet with encouragement by a large | 
 subscription, I could publish several volumes of 
 curious remarks, which I made in my tour. I 
 had, indeed, like to have got into some unlucky 
 scrapes, by turning author in places, where the 
 liberty of the press was never so much as heard 
 of. At Paris I narrowly escaped being put 
 into the Bastile for a little Chanso-n a boire, 
 reflecting on the mistress of the Grand Mo- 
 iiarque ; and I was obliged to quit Rome a week 
 sooner than I intended, for fixing on Pasquin 
 a prayer for the Pope's toe, which was then 
 laid up with the gout. 
 
 It was not till my return from abroad, that I 
 formally commenced a professed critic, for 
 which I now thought myself thoroughly quali- 
 fied. I could draw parallels between Marseilles 
 and Denoyer, compare the behaviour of the 
 French parterre with the English pit ; and 
 have lately made a figure by affecting an in- 
 difference about the present burlettas, as I took 
 care to let every body know that I had often 
 seen them in Flanders. My knowledge in the- 
 atrical affairs naturally led me to write a great 
 number of occasional pamphlets on those topics ; 
 such as ' Examens of New plays. Letters to the 
 Managers, 8fc.' Not content with this 1 had a 
 strong inclination to shine in the drama. I 
 often pleased myself with computing — " three 
 benefit nights — ^let me see — six hundred pounds 
 at least — a hundred more for the copy — besides 
 a perpetual freedom of the house." — These were 
 temptations not to be resisted. I sat down 
 therefore to a tragedy ; but, before I got through 
 the first act, despairing to make it sufficiently 
 pathetic for the modern taste, I changed my 
 scheme, and began a comedy; then again re- 
 flecting, that most of our comedies were in 
 reality nothing but overgrown farces, contented 
 myself with writing, what authors are now 
 pleased to call a comedy of two acts. This I 
 finished with a great deal of pains, and very 
 much to my own satisfaction : but not being 
 able to get it on the stage, as one house was 
 entirely taken up with pantomimes, and the 
 manager of the other had so many farces of his 
 own, I generously made a present of it to an 
 actor for his benefit;— when to my great sur- 
 prise it was damned. 
 
 I have at last resolved to bend all my atten- 
 tion, and dedicate all my powers, to the carrying 
 on this my present elaborate undertaking. 1 
 am sorry to own, that the success has not at 
 all answered my expectations : I flattered my- 
 self with being universally known, read, and 
 admired ; but I find quite the contrary. I 
 went into a coffee-house the other day by 
 White-chapel Mount, where on asking for the 
 Connoisseur, the woman stared at mc, and said 
 
 she did not know what 1 meant. I dined last 
 week at a foreign ambassador's ; and not a word 
 about me or my works passed at table. I wrote 
 to a relation at Caermarthen, desiring to know 
 what reputation my paper has in Wales : but 
 he tells me, that nothing in the literary way 
 comes down there but the King's speech and 
 the London Evening Post. I have inquired 
 into the sale of my first number, my second, 
 my third, my fourth, and the last : yet 1 cannot 
 assure my readers, that I have sold three thou- 
 sand of any one of them. In short, I give this 
 public notice once for all, that if I do not find 
 myself taken in all over England, by the time 
 I have published two or three hundred papers, 
 — let them look to it — let them look to it — I'll 
 bid adieu to my ungrateful country, go directly 
 to Berlin, and (as Voltaire is discarded) employ 
 my pen in the service of that encourager of 
 literary merit the King of Prussia. O. 
 
 * ^* As several correspondents, since the first 
 publication of this number, have desired to 
 know, from what Italian author the Fable at 
 the beginning of this paper is borrowed : we 
 think it necessary to acquaint them, that the 
 fiction is entirely our own. 
 
 No. 7.] Thursday, March 14, 1754. 
 
 PcEnitd hospitti, ckm me spedanie lacerios 
 
 Imponit collo rmticiis ille tuo. 
 Oscula cu7n verv coram non dura darcfis. 
 
 Ante oculos jx)sui poctila snmpta t/u'os. Ovid. 
 
 1 loath'd the dinner, while before my face 
 The clown still paw'd you with a rude embrace : 
 But when ye toy'd and kiss'd without control, 
 I turn'd and screen 'd my eyes behind the bowl. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I SHALL make no apology for recommending to 
 your notice, as Censor General, a fault that is 
 too common among the married people; I mean 
 the absurd trick of fondling before company. 
 Love is, indeed, a vei'y rai*e ingredient in 
 modern wedlock ; nor can the parties enteitain 
 too much affection for each other : but an open 
 display of it on all occasions renders them ridi- 
 culous. 
 
 A few days^ago I was introduced to a young 
 couple who were but lately married, and are 
 reckoned by all their .icqualntance to be exceed- 
 ing happy in each other. I had scarce saluted 
 the bride, when the husband caught her eagerly 
 in his arms, and almost devoured her with 
 kisses. When we were seated, they took care 
 to place themselves close to each other ; and 
 during our conversation he was constatitly pid- 
 dling with her fingers, tapping her cheek, or 
 
No. 7.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 13 
 
 playing with her hair. At dinner, they were 
 mutually employed in pressing each other to 
 taste of every dish ; and the fond appellations 
 of *' my dear, my love," &c.were constantly ban- 
 died across the table. Soon after the cloth was 
 removed, the lady made a motion to retire ; but 
 the husband prevented the compliments of the 
 rest of the company by saying, " We should be 
 unhappy without her." As the bottle went 
 round, he joined her health to every toast ; and 
 could not help now and then rising from his 
 chair to press her hand, and manifest the 
 warmth of his passion by the ardour of his 
 caresses. This precious fooling, though it 
 highly entertained them, gave me great disgust : 
 therefore, as my company might very well be 
 spared, I took my leave as soon as possible. 
 
 Nothing is more common than to see a new 
 married couple, setting out with a splendour in 
 their equipage, furniture, and manner of living, 
 which they have been afterwards obliged to re- 
 trench. Thus it happens, when they have 
 made themselves remarkable by a show of exces- 
 sive love. They begin with great eclat, are 
 lavish of their fondness, at first, but their whole 
 stock is soon wasted ; and their poverty is the 
 more insupportable, as their former profusion 
 has made it more conspicuous. I have remark- 
 ed the ill consequences of this indiscretion in 
 both cases : One couple has at last had separate 
 beds, while the other have been carried to the 
 opera in hackney chairs. 
 
 Two people who are to pass their whole lives 
 together, may surely find time enough for dal- 
 liance without playing over their pretty tricks 
 in public. How ridiculous would it appear, if 
 in a large assembly every one should select his 
 mate, and the whole company should fall into 
 couples, like the birds on Valentine's day ! And 
 it is surely no less absurd, to see a man and his 
 wife eternally trifling and toying together. 
 
 Still amorous, and fond, and billing. 
 Like Philip and Mary on a shilling. 
 
 HUDIBRAS. 
 
 1 have often been reduced to a kind of awk- 
 ward distress on these occasions ; not knowing 
 which way to look, or what to say. I consider 
 them as playing a game, in which the stander- 
 by is not at all interested ; and would therefore 
 recommend it to every third person in these cir- 
 cumstances to take it as a hint, that the parties 
 have a mind to be alone, and leave the room 
 without further ceremony. 
 
 A friend of mine happened to be engaged in a 
 visit to one of these loving couples. He sat still 
 for some time, without interrupting the little 
 endearments that passed between them. Find- 
 ing them at last quite lost in nods, whispers, 
 ogles, and in short, wholly taken up with each 
 other, he rang the bell, and desired the servant 
 to send in my lady's woman. When she came, 
 he led her very gravely to the settee, and began 
 
 to indulge himself in certain freedoms, which 
 provoked the damsel to complain loudly of his 
 rudeness. The lady &ew into a violent passion, 
 and rated him severely for his monstrous behavi- 
 our. My fi'iend begged her pardon with great 
 politeness, hoped she was not offended, for that 
 he thought there had been no harm in amusing 
 himself a little while with Mrs. Betty, in the 
 same manner as her ladyship and Sir John had 
 been diverting themselves these two hours. 
 
 This behaviour, though at all times improper, 
 may in some sort be excused, where perhaps the 
 match had been huddled up by the parents, and 
 the young people are such new acquaintance, 
 that they scarce ever saw each other till their 
 marriage. A pair of loving turtles may be in- 
 dulged in a little amorous billing at their first 
 coming together : yet this license should expire 
 with the honey-moon, and even in that period 
 be used but sparingly. 
 
 But if this conduct is blameable in young 
 people, how very absurd is it in those advanced 
 in years ! Who can help laughing when he sees 
 a worn-out beau and belle, practising at three- 
 score the very follies that are ridiculous at six- 
 teen ? I could wish that such a pair of anti- 
 quated lovers were delineated by the pencil of a 
 Hogarth. How humorously would he repre- 
 sent two emaciated wrinkled figures, with eyes 
 sunk into their heads, lank cheeks, and toothless 
 gums, affecting to leer, smile, and languish at 
 each other. But this affectation is still more 
 remarkable, when a liquorish old fool is contin- 
 ually fondling a young wife : though perhaps 
 the sight is not so disgusting to a strangei-, who 
 may reasonably suppose it to be the overflowings 
 of a fathei-'s tenderness for his daughter. 
 
 It sometimes happens, that one of the parties 
 perceives the folly of this behaviour. I have 
 seen a sensible man quite uneasy at the indiscreet 
 marks of kindness shown by his lady. I know a 
 clergyman in the country, Avho is often put to 
 the blush by the strange familiarities, which his 
 wife's love induces her to take with him. As she 
 has had but an indifferent education, you would 
 often be at a loss to knov/, whether she is very 
 kind, or very rude. If he dines abroad, she always 
 sees him get on horseback, and before he has got 
 twenty yards from the door, halloos after him, 
 "be at home in time, my dear soul, do." I have 
 known her almost quarrel with him for not but- 
 toning his coat in the middle of summer : and 
 she once had the good-nature to burn a very 
 valuable collection of Greek manuscripts, lest 
 the poring over those horrid crooked letters 
 should put her dear Jack's eyes out. Thus does 
 she torment the poor parson with her violent af- 
 fection for him, and according to the common 
 phrase, kills him with kindness. 
 
 Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
 those luscious love-scenes that have so great a 
 share in our modern plays ; which are rendered 
 
14i 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 8. 
 
 still more fulsome by the offidousness of the 
 player, who takes every opportunity of heighten- 
 ing the expression by kisses and embraces. In 
 a comedy nothing is more relished by the au- 
 dience than a loud smack, which echoes through 
 the whole house; and in the most passionate 
 scenes of a tragedy the hero and the heroine are 
 continually flying into each other's arms. For 
 my part I am never present at a scene of this 
 kind, which produces a conscious simper from 
 the boxes, and a hearty chuckle of applause from 
 the pit and galleries, .but I am ready to exclaim 
 with old Renault — " I like not these buggers." 
 
 I would recommend it to all married people, 
 but especially to the ladies, not to be so sweet 
 upon their dears before company : but I would not 
 be understood to countenance that coldness and 
 indifference, which are so fashionable in the 
 polite world. Nothing is accounted more un- 
 genteel, than for a husband and wife to be seen 
 together in public places ; and if they should 
 e\ier accidentally meet, they take no more notice 
 of each other, than if they were absolute stran- 
 gers. The gentleman may lavish as much gal- 
 lantry as he pleases on other women, and the 
 lady give encouragement to twenty pretty fel- 
 lows, without censure : but they would either 
 of them blush at being surprised, in showing 
 the least marks of a regard for each other. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 T. Your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 , mark on this part of the production of Mr. 
 Fitz-Adam. When he gave his paper the title 
 
 I of the World, I suppose he meant to intimate 
 his design of describing that part of it, who are 
 known to account all other persons nobody, and 
 are therefore emphatically called The World. If 
 this was to be pictured out in the head-piece, a 
 lady at her toilette, a party at whist, or the 
 jovial member of the Diletanti tapping the 
 World for Champagne, had been the most na- 
 tural and obvious hieroglyphics. But when we 
 see the porti'ait of a philosopher poring on the 
 globe instead of observations on modern life, we 
 might more naturally expect a system of geo- 
 graphy, or an attempt towards a discovery of the 
 longitude. 
 
 The reader will smile, perhaps, at a criticism 
 of this kind ; yet, certainly, even here propriety 
 should be observed, or at least all absurdities 
 avoided. But this matter being usually left to 
 the printer or bookseller, it is often attended 
 with strange blunders and misapplications. I 
 have seen a sermon ushered in with the repre- 
 sentation of a shepherd and shepherdess sporting 
 on a bank of flowers, with two little Cupids 
 smiling over head ; while, perhaps, an epitha- 
 lamium, or an ode for a birth-day, has been in- 
 troduced with death's heads and cross marrow- 
 
 No. 8.] Thursday, March 21, 1754. 
 
 quanta species cerebrum non hdbet I PHiBBR. 
 
 In outward show so splendid and so vain, 
 'Tis but a gilded block without a brain. 
 
 I MUST acknowledge the receipt of many letters 
 containing very lavish encomiums on my works. 
 Among the rest a correspondent, whom I take 
 to be a bookseller, is pleased to compliment me 
 on the goodness of my print and paper ; but 
 tells me, that he is very sorry not to see some- 
 thing expi'cssive of my undertaking in the little 
 cut that I carry in front. It is true, indeed, 
 that my printer and publisher held several con- 
 sultations on this subject ; and I am ashamed 
 to confess, that they had once prevailed on me 
 to suffer a profile of my facQ to be prefixed to 
 each number. But when it was finished, I was 
 quite mortified to see what a scurvy figure 
 I made in wood : nor could I submit to be hung 
 out, like Broughton, at my own door, or let my 
 face serve like the canvas before a booth to call 
 people into the show. I hope it will not be im- 
 puted to envy or malevolence, that 1 here re • 
 
 The inhabitants of Grub-street are generally 
 very studious of propriety in this point. Before 
 the halfpenny account of a horse-race, we see 
 the jockeys whipping, spun'ing, jostling, and 
 the horses straining within sight of the post. 
 The last dying speech, character, and behaviour 
 of the malefactors presents us with a prospect of 
 the place of execution ; and the History of the 
 London 'Prentice exhibits the figure of a lad 
 standing between two lions, and ramming his 
 hands down their throats. A due regard has 
 been paid to this article, in the several elegies 
 from that quarter on the death of Mr. Pelham. 
 They are encompassed with dismal black lines, 
 and all the sable emblems o*' doath : nor can we 
 doubt, but that an author, who takes such care 
 to express a decent sorrow on the outside of his 
 work, has infused a great deal of the pathetic 
 into the piece itself. 
 
 These little embellishments were originally 
 designed to please the eye of the reader ; as we 
 tempt children to learn their letters by disposing 
 the alphabet into pictures. But, in our modern 
 compositions, they ai'e not only ornamental but 
 useful. An angel or a flower-pot, at the be- 
 ginning and end of every chapter or section, en- 
 ables the bookseller to spin out a novel, without 
 plot or incident, to a great number of volumes : 
 and by the help of these decorations, properly 
 disposed, I have known a little piece swell into 
 a duodecimo, which had scarce matter enough 
 for a sixpenny pamphlet. 
 
 In this place I might also take notice of the 
 several new iiuprovcmente in the buslaess of 
 
No. 8.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 15 
 
 typography. Though it is reckoned ungenteel 
 to write a good hand, yet every one is proud of 
 appearing in a beautiful print : and the produc- 
 tions of a man of quality come from the press in 
 a very neat letter, though, perhaps, the manu- 
 script is hai-dly legible: Indeed, our modern 
 writers seem to be more solicitous about out- 
 ward elegance, than the intrinsic merit of their 
 eom positions : and on this account it is thought 
 no mean recommendation of their works, to 
 advertise that they are " beautifully printed on 
 a fine paper and entire new letter." Nor are 
 they only indebted to the press for the beauty of 
 the type, but often call in its assistance to explain 
 and enforce the sentiment. When an author is 
 in doubt whether the reader will be able to com- 
 prehend his meaning, or indeed, whether he has 
 any meaning at all, he takes care to sprinkle the 
 sentence with italics ; but when he would sur- 
 prise us with any thing more striking than ordi- 
 nary, he distinguishes the emphatical words by 
 large staring CAPITALS, which overtop the 
 rest of their feUows, and are intended, like the 
 grenadiers' caps, to give us an idea of something 
 grand and uncommon. These are designed as 
 so many hints to let the reader know where he 
 is to be particularly affected ; and answer the 
 same purpose with the marginal directions in 
 plays, which intbrm the actor when he is to 
 laugh or cry. This practice is most remarkable 
 in pieces of modern wit and humour; and it 
 may be observed, that where there is the least of 
 these lively qualities, the author is most desir- 
 ous of substituting these arts in their room ; 
 imagining, that by a judicious distribution of 
 these enlivening strokes in different parts of it, 
 his work, however dull in itself, will become 
 smart and brilliant. 
 
 And here I cannot but take notice, that these 
 arts have been employed to a very great advan- 
 tage in the service of the theatres. The writer 
 of the play bills deals out his capitals in so just 
 a proportion, that you may tell the salary of 
 each actor by the size of the letter in which his 
 name is printed. "When the present manager of 
 Drury-lane first came upon the stage, a new set 
 of types two inches long were cast on purpose to 
 do honour to his extraordinary merit. This 
 indeed is so proper, that the severest critics ou 
 the drama cannot be offended at this piece of 
 theatrical justice. 
 
 There is lately sprung up among us a new 
 species of writers, who are most of them per- 
 sons of the first rank and fashion. At this period 
 the whole house of commons are turned authors : 
 and we cannot sufficiently admire the propriety 
 of style and sentiment in those elegant addresses, 
 by which they humbly offer themselves as candi- 
 dates, and beg the favour of your votes and in- 
 terest. These gentlemen avail themselves 
 greatly of the arts of printing above-mentioned : 
 whether they would raise the merits of their 
 
 own cause, or throw out invectives on the op- 
 posite party. The courtier sets before your eyes 
 in large letters his steady attachment to King 
 George, while his opponent displays in the same 
 manner his zeal for Liberty and the Constitu- 
 tion. This must undoubtedly have a wonderful 
 effect on the electors ; and I could almost assure 
 any patriot certain success, who should manifest 
 his regard for ©111 iSnglantJ by printing his 
 addresses in the ©lU iSnglisi^ Cf)aractet. 
 
 But, in the whole republic of letters, there are 
 none, perhaps, who are more obliged to the 
 printer, than the writers of periodical essays. 
 The Spectators, indeed, came into the world 
 without any of the advantages we are possessed 
 of. They were originally published in a very 
 bad print and paper, and were so entirely desti- 
 tute of all outward ornaments, that like 
 (Terence's virgin) 
 
 Ni vis boni 
 
 In ipsa inesset forma, hcecformam extinguereni, 
 
 " Unless the soul of beauty had breathed through 
 the compositions themselves, these disadvantages 
 would have suppressed the least appearances 
 of it." 
 
 As it requires no genius to supply a defect of 
 this nature, our modern essays as much excel the 
 Spectators in elegance of form, as perhaps they 
 may be thought to fall short of them in every 
 other respect. But they have this additional 
 advantage, that by the fineness of their paper 
 they are rescued from serving many mean and 
 ignoble purposes, to which they might other- 
 wise be applied. They also form themselves 
 more commodiously into volumes, and become 
 gcnteeler appendages of the tea-table. The can- 
 did reader will undoubtedly impute this extra- 
 ordinary care about externals to the modesty of 
 us present essayists, who are willing to compen- 
 sate for our poverty of genius, by bestowing 
 these outward graces and embellishments on our 
 works. For my own part, I never reflect on 
 the first unadorned publication of the Spectator, 
 and at the same time take up one of my own 
 papers, set off with every ornament of the press, 
 but I am afraid that the critics will apply, what 
 a facetious peer is said to have remarked on two 
 different ladies ; that " the first is a soul without 
 a body, and the last a body without a soul." 
 
 As in this fashionable age there are many of 
 Lord Foppington's opinion, " that a book should 
 be recommended by its outside to a man of qua- 
 lity and breeding," it is incumbent on all authors 
 to let their works appear as well dressed £s possi- 
 ble, if they expect them to be admitted into polite 
 company. Yet we should not lay too much 
 stress on the decorations, but rather remember 
 Tully's precepts to aU who build, that "the 
 owner should be an ornament to the house, and 
 not the house to the owner." 
 
16 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 9. 
 
 No. 9.] Thursday, March 28, 1754. 
 
 — — — SolvUque animis miracula rcrum, 
 EripiiUque Jovifulmcn, vincsque tonanti. Ma.ml. 
 
 He freed our minds from dread of things above. 
 And snatch 'd the thunder from the hand of Jove. 
 
 The publication of Lord Bolingbroke's posthu- 
 mous works has given new life and spirit to 
 free-thinking. We seem at present to be en- 
 deavouring to unlearn our catechism, with all 
 that we have been taught about religion, in or- 
 der to model our faith to the fashion of his 
 Lordship's system. We have now nothing to 
 do, but to throw away our Bibles, turn the 
 churches into theatres, and rejoice that an act of 
 Parliament, now in force, gives us an opportuni- 
 ty of getting rid of [the clergy by transportation. 
 I was in hopes that the extraordinary price of 
 these volumes would have confined their in- 
 fluence to persons of quality. As they are 
 placed above extreme indigence and absolute 
 want of bread, their loose notions would have 
 carried them no farther than cheating at cards, 
 or perhaps plundering their country: but if 
 ■these opinions spread among the vulgar, we 
 shall be knocked down at noon-day in our 
 streets, and nothing will go forward but rob- 
 beries and murders. 
 
 The instances I have lately seen of free-think- 
 ing, in the lower part of the world, make me 
 fear, they are going to be as fashionable and as 
 wicked as their betters. I went the other night 
 to the Robin Hood ; where it is usual for 
 the advocates against religion to assemble, and 
 openly avow their infidelity. One of the ques- 
 tions for the night was, " Whether Lord Bol- 
 ingbroke had not done greater service to man- 
 kind by his writings, than the Apostles or 
 Evangelists?" As this society is chiefly compos- 
 ed of lawyer's clerks, petty tradesmen, and the 
 lowest mechanics, I was at first surprised to 
 find such amazing erudition among them. To- 
 land, Tindal, Collins, Chubb, and Mandeville, 
 they seemed to have got by heart. A slioe- 
 makcr harangued his five minutes upon the ex- 
 cellence of the tenets maintained by Lord Bol- 
 ingbroke ; but I soon found that his reading 
 had not been extended beyond the idea of a pa- 
 triot King, which he had mistaken for a glori- 
 ous system of fi-ee-thinking. I could not help 
 smiling at another of the company, who took 
 pains to show his disbelief of the Gospel by un- 
 sainting the apostles, and calling them by no 
 other title than plain Paul or plain Peter. The 
 proceedings of this society, have, indeed, almost 
 induced me to wish, that (like the Roman Ca- 
 tholics) they were not permitted to read the 
 Bible, rather than they should read it only to 
 abuse it. 
 
 I have frequently heard many wise trades- 
 men settling the most important articles of our 
 
 I faith over a pint of beer. A baker took occasion 
 from Canning's affair to maintain, in opposition 
 to the Scriptures, that man might live by bread 
 alone, at least that woman might ; " for else," 
 said he, " how could the girl liave been support- 
 ed for a whole month by a few hard crusts?" 
 In answer to this, a barber surgeon set forth 
 the improbability of that story ; and thence in- 
 ferred, that it was impossible for our Saviour to 
 have fasted forty days in the wilderness. I 
 lately heard a midshipman swear that the Bible 
 was all a lie ; for he had sailed round the world 
 with Lord Anson, and if there had been any 
 Red Sea, he must have met with it. I know a 
 bricklayer, who, while he'was working by line 
 and rule, and carefully laying one brick upon 
 another, would argue with a fellow-labourer, 
 that the world was made by chance ; and a 
 cook, who thought more of his ;trade than his 
 Bible, in a dispute concerning the miracles, 
 made a pleasant mistake about the nature of the 
 first, and gravely asked his antagonist what lie 
 thought of the Supper at Cana. 
 
 This affectation of free-thinking, among the 
 lower class of people, is at present happily con- 
 fined to the men. On Sundays, while the hus- 
 bands are toping at the ale-house, the good 
 women their wives think it their duty to go to 
 church, say their prayers, bring home the text, 
 and hear the children their catechism. But our 
 polite ladies are, I fear, in their lives and con- 
 versations, little better than free-thinkers. Go- 
 ing to church, since it is now no longer the 
 fashion to carry on intrigues there, is almost 
 wholly laid aside ; and I verily believe, that no- 
 thing but another earthquake can ever fill the 
 churches with people of quality. The fair sex 
 in general are too thoughtless to coucern them- 
 selves in deep inquiries into matters of religion. 
 It is sufficient, that they are taught to believe 
 themselves angels : it would therefore be an ill 
 compliment, while we talk of the heaven they 
 bestow, to persuade them, into the Mahometan 
 notion, that they have no souls : though perhaps 
 our fine gentlemen may imagine that by con- 
 vincing a lady that she has no soul, she will be 
 less Scrupulous about the disposal of her bodj'. 
 
 The ridiculous notions maintained by free- 
 thinkers in their writings, scarce deserve a seri- 
 ous refutation ; and perhaps the best method ot 
 answering them would be to select from their 
 works all the absurd and impracticable notions, 
 which they so stiffly maintain in order to evade 
 the belief of the Christian religion. I shall here 
 tlirow together a few of their principal tenets, 
 under the contradictory title of 
 
 THE .UNBELIEVER'S CREED. 
 
 I believe that there is no God, but that mat- 
 ter is God, and God is matter; and that it is 
 no matter whether there is any God or no. 
 
 I believe that the world was not made : that 
 
No. 10.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 17 
 
 the world made itself; that it had no begin- 
 ning; that it will last for ever, world without 
 end. 
 
 I believe that man is a beast ; that the soul is 
 the body, and the body the soul ; and that after 
 death there is neither body nor soul. 
 
 I believe that there is no religion ; that na- 
 tural religion is the only religion ; and that all 
 religion is unnatural. 
 
 I believe not in Moses ; I believe in tlie First 
 Philosophy ; I believe not the Evangelists ; 
 I believe in Chubb, Collins, Toland, Tindal, 
 Morgan, Mandeville, Woolston, Hobbs, Shaf- 
 tesbury ; I believe in Lord Bolingbroke ; I be- 
 lieve not St. Paul. 
 
 I believe not Revelation ; I believe in tradi- 
 tion ; 1 believe in the Talmud ; I believe in the 
 Alcoran ; I believe not the Bible ; I believe in 
 Socrates, I believe in Confucius; I believe in 
 Sanconiathon ; I believe in Mahomet ; I believe 
 not in Christ. 
 
 Lastly, I believe in all unbelief. 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 TO BOTH HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 My Lords and Gentlemen, 
 
 Ever since we have thought fit to take these 
 kingdoms into our immediate care, we have 
 made it our earnest endeavour to go hand in 
 hand with your wisdoms in promoting the wel- 
 fare and prosperity of the people. The impor- 
 tant business of taxes, lotteries, marriages, and 
 Jews, we have left to your weighty considera- 
 tion : while ourselves have been employed in the 
 regulation of fashions, the establishment of taste, 
 and amendment of the morals. We have the 
 satisfaction to find, that both our measures have 
 hitherto met with success: and the public affairs 
 are at present in so prosperous a condition, that 
 the national vices seem as likely to decrease as 
 the national debt. 
 
 The dissolution of your assembly is now at 
 hand ; and as your whole attention will naturally 
 be engaged in securing to yourselves and friends 
 a seat in the next parliament, it is needless to re- 
 commend to you that heads should be broken, 
 drunkenness encouraged, and abuse propagated ; 
 ■which has been found by experience to be the 
 best method of supporting the freedom of elec- 
 tions. In the mean time, as the care of the 
 nation must be left to us, it is necessary that, 
 during this interval, our prerogative, as Censor- 
 General, should be considerably extended, and 
 we should be invested with the united powers of 
 Lords and Commons. 
 
 When we are entrusted with this important 
 charge, we shall expect, that every different 
 faction shall concur in our measures for the 
 public utility : that Whig and Tory, High- 
 Churoh and Low- Church, Court and Country, 
 •hall all unite in this common cause : and that 
 
 opposite parties in the body politic, like the arms 
 and legs in the body natural, shall move in con- 
 cert, though they are on different sides. In 
 our papers, which we continue to publish on 
 Thursdays, under the title of The Connoisseur, 
 every misdemeanour shall be examined, and 
 offenders called to the bar of the House. Be it 
 therefore enacted, that those our orders and 
 resolutions have an equal authority with acts of 
 parliament : as we doubt not they will be of 
 equal advantage to the community. 
 
 The extraordinary supplies requisite for the 
 service of the current weeks, and for the support 
 of our own privy purse, oblige us to demand of 
 you that a sum, not exceeding two-pence, be 
 levied weekly on each person, to be collected by 
 our trusty and well-beloved the booksellers. 
 We must also particularly request of you, that 
 the same privilege and protection be extended 
 to us, which is enjoyed by yourselves, and is so 
 very convenient to many of your honourable 
 members. It is no less expedient, that we 
 should be secured from let or molestation ; be it 
 therefore provided, that no one presume to 
 arrest, or cause to be arrested, our person, or 
 the persons of our publisher, printer, corrector, 
 devil, or any other employed in our service. 
 
 We have only to add, that you may rely on 
 our care and diligence in discharging the high 
 trust reposed in us, in such manner as shall 
 merit the thanks of the next parliament. We 
 shall then recommend it to their consideration, 
 whether it would not be for the interest of these 
 kingdoms, that we should have a woolpack 
 allotted us with the bishops, or be allowed a 
 perpetual seat among the commons, as the re- 
 presentative of the whole people. But if this 
 should be deemed too great an honour, it will, 
 at least, be thought necessary, that we should 
 be occasionally called in, like the judges, to 
 give our opinion in cases of importance. 
 
 Town, Connoisseur, Critic, and 
 T. Censor-General. 
 
 No. 10.] Thursday, April 4, ITSi. 
 
 Homer. 
 
 What knows the stripling of the soldier's trade 
 Beyond his regimentals and cockade ? 
 
 Learning, as it polishes the mind, enlarges our 
 ideas, and gives an ingenious turn to our whole 
 conversation and behaviour, has ever been 
 esteemed a liberal accomplishment ; and is, in- 
 deed, the principal characteristic that distin- 
 guishes the gentleman from the mechai>ic. 
 
 n 
 
18 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 10. 
 
 This axiom beings universally allowed, I Jiave 
 often observed with wonder the neglect of learn- 
 ing that prevails among the gentlemen of the 
 army; who, notwithstanding their shamcftil 
 deficiency in this main requisite, are generally 
 proposed as the most exact models of good be- 
 havioui", and standards of politeness. 
 
 The art of war is no easy study : it requires 
 much labour and application to go through what 
 Milton calls "the rudiments of soldiership, in 
 all the skill of embattling, marching, encamp- 
 ing, fortifying, besieging, and battering, with all 
 the helps of ancient and modern stratagems, 
 tactics, and warlike maxims." AVith all these, 
 every officer should undoubtedly be .acquainted ; 
 for mere regimentals no more create a soldier, 
 than the cowl makes a monk. But, I fear, the 
 generality of our army have made little profi- 
 ciency in the art they profess; have learnt little 
 more than just to acquit themselves with some 
 decency at a review ; have not studied and 
 examined as they ought, the ancient and modern 
 principles of war ; 
 
 Nor the division of a battle know. 
 
 More than a spinster. Shakspeare. 
 
 Besides the study of the art of war itself, 
 there are many collateral branches of literature; 
 of which, as gentlemen and as soldiers, they 
 should not be ignorant. Whoever bears a com- 
 mission in the army should be Avell read in 
 history. The examples of Alexander, Csesar, 
 or Marlborough, however illustx'ious, are of little 
 concern to the generality of readers, but are set 
 up as so many land-marks, to direct those who 
 are pursuing the same course of glory. A 
 thorough knowledge of history would furnish 
 a commander with true couj-age, inspire him 
 with an honest emulation of his ancestors, and 
 teach him to gain a victory without s?iedding 
 blood. 
 
 Poetry too, more especially that of the an- 
 cients, seems particularly calculated for the 
 perusal of those concerned in war. The subject 
 of the Iliad is entirely martial ; and the princi- 
 pal characters ai-e <listinguished from each other 
 chiefly by their different exertion of the single 
 quality of courage. It was, I suppose, on 
 account of this martial spirit, Avhich breathes 
 throughout the Iliad, that Alexander was so 
 captivated with it, that he is said to have laid it 
 every night under his pillow. The principal 
 character in the iEneid is a general, of remark- 
 able piety and courage ; and great part of the 
 poem is made up of war. These studies cannot, 
 surely, fail of animating a modern breast, 
 which often kindled such a noble ardour in the 
 ancients. 
 
 If we look into the lives of the greatest 
 generals of antiquity, we shall find tliem no 
 mean proficients in science. They led their 
 arnues to victory by their courage, and support- 
 
 ed the state by their counsels. They rerered 
 the same Pallas, as the goddess of war and of 
 wisdom ; and the Spartans in particular, before 
 they entered on an engagement, always sacri- 
 ficed to the Muses. The exhortations, given by 
 commanders before the onset, are some of tlie 
 most animated pieces of oratory in all antiquity, 
 and frequently produced astonishing effects, 
 rousing the soldiers from despair, and hurrying 
 them on to victory. An illiterate commander 
 would have been the contempt of Greece and 
 Rome. Tully, indeed, was called the learned 
 Consul in derision ; but then, as Drydcn ob- 
 serves, " his head was turned another way. 
 When he read the tactics, he was thinking on 
 the bar, which was his field of battle." 1 am 
 particularly pleased with the character of Scipio 
 jEmilianus, as drawn by Velleius Paterculus, 
 and would recommend it to the sei"ious imitation 
 of our modern officers. He was so great an 
 admirer of liberal studies, that he always re- 
 tained the most eminent wits in his camp : nor 
 did any one fill up the intervals of business witii 
 more elegance, retiring from wai- only to culti- 
 vate the arts of peace ; always employed inarms 
 or study, always exercising his body with perils, 
 or disciplining his mind with science. The 
 author contrasts this amiable portrait -with a 
 description of Mummius ; a general so little 
 versed in the polite arts, that, having taken at 
 Corinth several pictures and statues of the 
 greatest artists, he threatened the persons who 
 were intrusted with the carriage of them to 
 Italy, " that, if they lost those, they should give 
 new ones." 
 
 I would fain have a British officer looked upon 
 with as much deference as those of Greece and 
 Rome : but while they neglect the acquisition of 
 the same accomplishments, they will never meet 
 with the same respect. Instead of cultivating 
 their minds, they are wholly taken up in 
 adorning their bodies, and look upon gallantj y 
 and intrigue as essential parts of their character. 
 To glitter in the boxes, or at an assembly, is the 
 full display of their politeness; and to be the 
 life and soul of a lewd brawl, almost the only 
 exertion of their courage ; insomuch that there 
 is a good deal of justice in Macheath's raillery, 
 when he says, " if it was not for us, and the 
 other gentlemen of the sword, Drury-Lane 
 would be uninhabited." 
 
 It is something strange, that officers should 
 want any inducement to acquire so gentleman- 
 like an accomplishment as learning. If they 
 imagine it would derogate from their good- 
 breeding, or call of their attention from militai-y 
 business, they are mistaken. Pedantry is no 
 more connected Avith learning, than ra^jhuess 
 %vith courage. Casar, who was the finest 
 gentleman and the greatest general, was also the 
 best scholar of his age. 
 
 To say the truth; learning wcais a more 
 
No. 11.- 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 19 
 
 amiable aspect and wii)iiiag air in courts and 
 camps, whenever it appears there, than amid the 
 gk)om of colleges and cloisters. Mixing in gen- 
 teel life files off the rust that may have been con- 
 tracted by study, and wears out any little odd- 
 ness or peculiarity, that may be acquired in the 
 closet. For this reason, the officer is more inex- 
 cusable who neglects an accomplishment that 
 would sit so gi-acefidly vipon him : for this rea- 
 son, too, we pay so great deference to those few 
 who have cm*iched their minds with the trea- 
 sures of antiquity. An illiterate officer either 
 hardens into a bravo, or refines into a fop. The 
 insipidity of the fop is uttei'ly contemptible ; and 
 a rough brutal courage, unpolished by science, 
 and unassisted by reason, lias no more claim to 
 heroism, than the case-hardened valour of a 
 bruiser or prize-fighter. Agreeable to this no- 
 tion, Homer in the fifth Iliad represents the 
 goddess Miners'aas wounding Mars, and driving 
 the heavy deity off the field of battle ; implying 
 allegorically, that wisdom is capable of subduing 
 courage. 
 
 I would flatter myself, that British minds are 
 still as noble, and British geniu-s as exuberant, 
 as those of any other nation or age whatever ; 
 but that some are debased by luxury, and others 
 run wild for 'want of proper cultivation. If 
 Athens can boast her MUtiades, ,Themistocles, 
 &o. Rome her Camillus, Fabius, Cfesar, &c. 
 England had her Edwards, Henrys, and IMarl- 
 boroughs. It is to be hoped the time will come, 
 when learning will be reckoned as necessary to 
 qualify a man for the army, as for the bar or 
 pulpit. Then we may expect to see the British 
 soldiery enter on the field of battle, as on a 
 theatre, for which they are prepared in the parts 
 they are to act. " They will not then, (as Milton 
 expresses himself with his usual strength in his 
 Treatise on Education) if intrusted with fair 
 and hopeful armies, suffer them, for want of 
 just and wise discipline, to shed away from 
 about them like sick feathers, though they be 
 never so oft supplied : they would not suffer 
 their empty and unrecruitable colonels of t wwity 
 men in a company, to quaff out, or convey into 
 secret hoards, the wages of a delusive list and 
 miserable remnant ; yet in the meanwhile to be 
 over-mastered with a score or two of drunkards, 
 the only soldiery left about them ; or else to 
 comply with all rapines and violences. No, 
 certainly, if they kne%y auglit of that knoAvledge, 
 that belongs to good men and good govai-nors, 
 they would not suffer these things." O. 
 
 No. 11.] Thursday, April II, 1754. 
 
 fpsa colat.' 
 
 •Pallas quas condidit arces 
 
 Vine. 
 
 Let Fallas dwell in towers herself has »aiscd. 
 1'he principal character in Steele's comedy of 
 
 the Lying Lover is j^oung Book wit ; an Oro - 
 nian, who at once throws off the habit and man- 
 ners of an academic, and assumes the dress, air, 
 and conversation of a naan of the town. He 
 is, like other fine gentlemen, a coxcomb ; but a, 
 coxcomb of learning and parts. His erudition 
 he renders subservient to his pleasures : his 
 knowledge in poetry qualifies him for a son- 
 neteer, his rhetoric to say fine things to the 
 ladies, and his philosophy to regulate his equi- 
 page ; for he talks of having " Peripatetic foot- 
 men, a follower of Aristippus for a valet de 
 chambre, an epicurian cook, with an hermetical 
 chemist (who are good only at making fires) 
 for a scullion." Thus he is, in every particular, 
 a fop of letters, a complete classical beau. 
 
 By a review I have lately made of the people 
 in this great metropolis, as Censor, I find that 
 the town swarais with bookwits. The play- 
 houses, parks, taverns, and coffee-houses are 
 thronged with them. Their manner, which 
 has something in it very chai'acteristic, and dif- 
 fei'ent from the town-bred coxcombs, discovers, 
 them to the slightest observer. It is, indeed, no 
 easy matter for one, whose chief employment is 
 to store his mind with new ideas, to throw that 
 happy vacancy, that total absence of thou^ght and 
 reflection, into his countenance, so remarkable 
 in our modern fine gentlemen. The same loung- 
 ing air, too, that passes for genteel in a univer- 
 sity coffee-house, is soon distinguished from the 
 genuine careless loll, and easy saunter ; and 
 bring us over to the notion of Sir Wilful in The 
 Way of the World, " that a man should be 
 bound 'prentice to a maker of fops, before he 
 ventures to set up for himself." 
 
 Yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, the 
 love of pleasure, and a few sujiernumcrary 
 guineas, draw the student from his literary em- 
 ployment, and entice him to this theatre of noise 
 and hiu'ry, this grand mart of luxury ; where 
 as long as his purse can supply him, he may be 
 as idle and debauched as he pleases. I could not 
 help smiling at a dialogue between two of these 
 gentlemen, which I overheard a few nights age 
 at the Bedford Coffee-house, " Ha ! Jack (says 
 one accosting the other) is it you? how long 
 have you been in town?" — "Two hours." — 
 " How long do you stay ! — Ten guineas.— If 
 you'll come to Venable's after the play is over, 
 you'll find 'Torn Latine, Bob Classic, and two 
 or three more, who will be very glad to see you. 
 What, you're in town upon the sober plan at 
 your father's ? But harkye, Frank, if you'll call 
 in. 111 tell your friend Harris to prepare for 
 you. So your sei^A-ant ; for I am going to meet 
 the finest girl upon town in the green boxes." 
 
 I left the colfoo-house pretty late ; and as 1 
 came into the piazza, the fire in the Bedford- 
 Arms kitchen blazed so cheerfully and invitingly 
 before me, that I v-as easily persuaded by a 
 iiiond who was with me, to end the evening at 
 that house. Our good fortune^ led us into tlio 
 
20 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 TNo. 12. 
 
 next room to this knot of academical rakes. 
 Their merriment being pretty boisterous, gave 
 ■us a good pretext to inquire what company were 
 in the next room. The waiter tol J us, with a 
 smartness which those fellows frequently con- 
 tract from attending on beaux and wits, " some 
 gentlemen from Oxford, with some ladies, Sir. 
 My master is always very glad to see them ; for 
 while they stay in town, they never dine or sup 
 out of his house, and eat and drink, and pay 
 better than any nobleman." 
 
 As it grew [later they gi-ew louder : till at 
 length an unhappy dispute arose between two of 
 the company, concerning the present gi'and con- 
 test between the Old and the NeAv Interest, 
 which has lately inflamed Oxfordshire. This 
 accident might have been attended with ugly 
 consequences : but.as the ladies are gi'eat ene- 
 mies to quarrelling, unless themselves are the 
 occasion, a good-natured female of the company 
 interposed, and quelled their animosity. By 
 the mediation of this fair one, the dispute ended 
 very fashionably, in a bet of a dozen of claret, 
 to be drank there by the company then present, 
 whenever the wager should be decided. There 
 was something so extraordinary in their whole 
 evening's conversation, such an odd mixture!,of 
 the town and university, that I am persuaded, 
 if Sir Richard had been witness to it, he could 
 have Avrought it into a scene as lively and enter- 
 taining as any he has left us. 
 
 The whole time these Jettered beaux remain 
 in London, is spent in a continual round of 
 diversion. Their sphere, indeed, is somcAvhat 
 confined ; for they generally eat, drink, and sleep 
 within the precincts of CoA^ent- Garden. I re- 
 member I once saAV, at a public inn on the road 
 to Oxford, a journal of the town transactions of 
 one of these sparks ; who had recorded them on 
 a window-pane for the example and imitation of 
 his fellow-students. I shall present my reader 
 with an exact copy of this curious journal, as 
 nearly as I can remember. ° 
 
 Monday, rode to town in six hours — saw the 
 two last acts of Hamlet — at night Avith Polly 
 BroAA'n. 
 
 Tuesday, saAV Harlequin Sorcerer — at night, 
 Polly again. 
 
 Wednesday, saAV Macbeth — at night, with 
 Sally Parker, Polly engaged. 
 
 Thursday, saAv the Suspicious Husband — at 
 night, Polly again. 
 
 Friday, set out at tAvelve o'clock for Oxford — 
 a damn'd muzzy place. 
 
 There are no set of mortals more joyous 
 than these occasional rakes, whose pride it is to 
 gallop up to toAvn once or tAvice in the year Avith 
 their quarterage in their pockets, and in a feAv 
 days to squander it aAvay in the highest scenes 
 of luxury and debauchery. The taA'ern, the 
 theatre, and the bagnio, engross the I'hief part of 
 their attention ; and it is constantly Polly again 
 
 with them, till their finances are quite exhaust- 
 ed, and they are obliged to return (as Book-Avit 
 has it) " to small beer and three-halfpenny com- 
 mons." 
 
 I shall enlarge no further on this subject at 
 present, but conclude these reflections with an 
 Ode, Avhich I haA-e received from an unknown 
 coiTespondent. He tells me, it Avas lately sent 
 from an academical fi'iend to one of these gentle- 
 men, Avho had resigned himself wholly to these 
 polite enjojTnents, and seemed to have forgot 
 his connections with the University. AU, who 
 peruse this elegant little piece, Avill I doubt not, 
 thank me for inserting it ; and the learned 
 reader will haA'e the additional pleasure of ad- 
 miring it as a humorous imitation of Horace, 
 
 led, beatis nunc Arabuiminvides 
 
 Gazis, S(c, L. I. Ode xxix. 
 
 So you, my friend, at last are caught 
 
 Where could you get so strange a thought. 
 
 In mind and body sound ? 
 All meaner studies you resign, 
 Your Avhole ambition now to shine 
 
 The beau of the beau-monde. 
 
 Say, gallant youth, what Avell-known name 
 Shall spread the triumphs of your fame 
 
 Through all the realms of Drury ? 
 How will you strike the gaping cit ? 
 What tavern shall record your wit ? 
 
 What Avatchmen mourn your fury ? 
 
 What sprightly imp of Gallic breed 
 Shall have the culture of your head, 
 
 (I mean the outward part) 
 Form'd by his parent's early care 
 To range in nicest curls the hair. 
 
 And Avield the puff with art ? 
 
 No more let mortals toil in vain. 
 By wise conjecture to explain 
 
 What rolling time will bring : 
 Thames to his source may upwards flo v. 
 Or Garrick six feet high may grow, 
 
 Or Avitches thrive at Tring : 
 
 Since you each better promise break. 
 Once famed for slov'nliness and Greek, 
 
 Now turn'd a very Paris, 
 For lace and velvet quit your gown, 
 The Stagyritc for Mr. ToAvn, 
 
 For Drury-lane St Mary's. 
 
 No. 12.] Thursday, April IS, 1754. 
 
 Nee verb hoc sinesorte data:, sine judice scdes. ViRii. 
 
 Nor shall the four-lcgg'd culprit 'scape the law. 
 But at the bar hold up the guilty paw. 
 
 Turning OA'cr the last A'olumo of Lord Boling- 
 broke's Works a feAV days ago, I could not help 
 smiling at his lordship's extraordinary manner 
 of commenting on some parts of the Scriptures. 
 
No. 12.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 21 
 
 \mong the rest he represents Moses, as making 
 beasts accountable to the community for crimes, 
 as well as men : whence his lordship infers, 
 that the Jewish legislator supposed them capa- 
 ble of distinguishing between right and wrong, 
 and acting as moral agents. The oddity of this re- 
 mark led me to reflect, if such an opinion should 
 prevail in my country, what whimsical laws 
 would be enacted, and how ridiculous they 
 would appear, when put in execution. As if 
 the horse, that carried the highwayman, should 
 be arraigned for taking a purse, or a dog indict- 
 ed for feloniously stealing a shoulder of mutton. 
 Such a country would seem to go upon the same 
 principles, and to entertain the same notions of 
 justice, as the puritanical old woman, that hanged 
 her cat for killing mice on the sabbath-day. 
 
 These reflections were continued afterwards 
 in my sleep ; when methought such proceeding-s 
 were common in our oAvn courts of judicature. 
 I imagined myself in a spacious hall like the Old 
 Bailey, Avhere they were preparing to tr^ sev- 
 eral animals, who had been guilty of offences 
 against the laws of the land. The walls, I ob- 
 served, were hung all round with bulls'-hides, 
 sheep-skins, foxes-tails, and the spoils of other 
 brute-malefactors; and over the justice-seat, 
 where the King's Arms are commonly placed, 
 there was fixed a large stag's head, which over- 
 shadowed the magistrate with its branching 
 horns. I took particular notice, that the galler- 
 ies were veiy much crowded with ladies ; which 
 I could not tell how to account for, till I found 
 it was expected that a Goat would that day be 
 tried for a rape. ' 
 
 The sessions soon opened : and the first pris- 
 oner that was brought to the bar, was a Hog, 
 who was prosecuted at the suit of the Jews on 
 an indictment for burglary, in breaking into 
 their synagogue. As it was apprehended, that 
 religion might be affected by this cause, and as 
 the prosecution appeared to be malicious, the 
 Hog, though the fact w^as plainly proved against 
 him, to the great joy of all true Chi-istians was 
 allowed Benefit of Clergy. 
 
 An indictment was next brought against a 
 Cat for killing a favourite canarj'-bird. This 
 offender belonged to an old woman who was be- 
 lieved by the neighbourhood to be a witch. The 
 jury, therefore, were unanimous in their opin- 
 ion, that she was the devil in that shape, and 
 brought her in guilty. Upon which the judge 
 formally pronounced sentence upon her, which 
 I remember concluded with these words : ' You 
 must be carried to the place of execution, where 
 you are to be hanged by the neck nine times, till 
 you are dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, 
 dead, dead, and the fiddlers have mercy on 
 your guts. ' 
 
 A Parrot was next tried for sca7idahim mag- 
 "latum. He was accused by tlie chief magistrate 
 ef the city, and the whole court of aldermen, for 
 
 defaming them, as they passed along the sti'eet, 
 on a public festival, by singing " Room for cuck- 
 olds, here comes a great company, room for 
 cuckolds, here comes my lord mayor. " This Par- 
 rot was a very old offender ; much addicted to 
 scurrility ; and had been several times convicted 
 of profane cui'sing and swearing. He had even 
 the impudence to abuse the whole court by call- 
 ing the j ury rogues and rascals ; and frequent- 
 ly inten'upted my lord judge in summing up 
 the evidence by crying out ' old bitch.' The 
 court, however, was pleased to show mercy to 
 him, upon the petition of his mistress, a strict 
 Methodist ; who gave bail for his good beha- 
 viour, and delivered him over to Mr. Whitefield, 
 who undertook to make a thorough convert of 
 him. 
 
 After this a Fox was indicted for robbing a 
 hen-roost. Many farmers appeared against him, 
 who deposed, that he was a very notorious thief, 
 and had long been the terror of ducks, geese, 
 tiu-keys, and all other poultiy. He had infest- 
 ed the country a long time, and had often been 
 pursued, but they^could never take him before. 
 As the evidence was very full against him, the 
 jui-y readily brought him in guilty; and the 
 judge was proceeding to condemn him, when 
 the sly villain, watering his brush, flirted it in 
 the face of the jailor, and made off. Upon this 
 a coimtiy squire, who was present, hallooed out. 
 Stole away ! and a hue and cry was immediate- 
 ly sent after him. 
 
 When the uproar, which this occasioned, was 
 over, a Milch- Ass was brought to the bar, and 
 tried for contumeliously braying, as she stood 
 at the door of a sick lady of quality. It appear- 
 ed that this lady was terribly afflicted with the 
 vapours, and could not bear the least noise ; had 
 the knocker always tied up, and straw laid in 
 the street. Notwithstanding which, this au- 
 dacious creatm-e used every morning to give her 
 foul language, which broke her rest, and flung 
 her into hysterics. For this repeated abuse the 
 criminal was sentenced to the pUlory, and 
 ordered to lose her ears. 
 
 An information was next laid against a shep- 
 herd's Dog upon the Game Act for poaching. 
 He was accused of killing a hare, without being 
 properly qualified. But the plaintiff thought it 
 advisable to quash the indictment, as the owner 
 of the dog had a vote to sell at the next election. 
 
 There now came on a very important cause, 
 in which six of the most eminent comicil learn- 
 ed in the law Avere retained on each side. A 
 Monkey belonging to a lady of the first rank and 
 fashion, was indicted for that he with malice 
 prepense did commit wilful murder on the body 
 of a lap-dog. The council for the prosecutor 
 ?et forth, that the imfortunate deceased came on 
 a visit with another lady ; when the prisoner at 
 the bar, without the least provocation, and con- 
 trary to the laws of hospitality, perpetrated this 
 
22 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR, 
 
 [No. 13. 
 
 inhuman fact. Tlie council for the prisoner, 
 being called upon to make the Monkey's defence, 
 pleaded his piuvUege, and insisted on his being 
 tjied by his peers. This plea was admitted ; and 
 a jury of beaux Avas immediately empannelled, 
 who without going out of court honourably ac- 
 quitted him. 
 
 The proceedings were here interrupted by a 
 Hound who came jumping into the hall, and 
 running to the justice-seat, lifted up his leg 
 against the judge's robe. For this contemptu- 
 ous behaviour, he was directly ordered into cus- 
 tody ; when to our great surprise he cast his 
 skin and became an Ostrich ; and presently after 
 shed his feathers, and terrified us in the shaggy 
 figure of a Bear. Then he was a Lion, then a 
 Horse, then again a Baboon ; and after many 
 other amazing transformations, leaped out a 
 Harlequin, and before they could take hold of 
 him, skipped away to Covent- Garden theatre. 
 
 It Avould be tedious to recount the particulars 
 of several other ^trials. A sportsman brought 
 ail action against a Race- Horse, for running on 
 the wrong side of the post, by which he lost the 
 plate and many considerable bets. For this the 
 criminal was sentenced to be bui'nt in the fore- 
 hand, and to be whipt at the cart's tail. A 
 Mare Avould have undergone the same punish- 
 ment, for throwing her rider in a stag-hunt, but 
 escaped by pleading her belly ; upon which a 
 jury of grooms was empannelled, who brought 
 her in quick. The company of Dogs and Mon- 
 keys, together with the dancing Bears, who 
 were taken up on the License Act, and indicted 
 for strollers, were transported for life. 
 
 The last trial was for high treason. A Lion, 
 who had been long confined as a state-prisoner 
 in the Tower, having broken jail, had appeared 
 in open rebellion, and committed several acts of 
 violence on his majesty's liege subjects. As this 
 was a noble animal, and a prince of the blood in 
 Ills own native country, he was condemned to be 
 beheaded. It came into my thoughts, that this 
 lion's head might vie with that famous one for- 
 merly erected at Button's for the service of the 
 Guardian. I was accordingly going to petition 
 for leave to put it up in Macklin's new coffee- 
 house ; when raethought the Lion, setting up a 
 most horrible roar, broke liis chains, and put the 
 whole court to flight ; and I awak6<l in the ut- 
 most consternation, just as I imagined he had 
 got me in his gripe. 
 
 »-»*'W%^***^x*-WV*» 
 
 I ■WV^'V* •V* •w 
 
 No. 13.] Thursday, AmiL 25, 1754. 
 
 — — Conw70tn fcrvct. plcLccula bile. Persi I's. 
 
 Inspired by freedom, and election al?^ 
 
 Tlic patriot-njob at courts and placemen rail. 
 
 I SHALL this day present my readers Avith a 
 
 letter, which I have received from my cousin 
 Village ; Avho, as I infonncd them iu my first 
 paper, has undertaken to send me an account ut" 
 every thing remaikable, that passes in the coun- 
 try. 
 
 Dear Cousin, 
 
 I have not been unmindful of the province 
 which you Avas pleased to allot me ; but the 
 whole countiy has been lately so much taken up 
 Avith the business of elections, that nothing haa 
 fallen under my notice, but debates, squabbles, 
 and drunken rencounters. The spirit of party 
 prevails so uni\-ersally, that the very children 
 are instructed to lisp the names of the favourite 
 chiefs of each faction ; and I have more than 
 once been in danger of being knocked of niy 
 horse, as I rode peaceably on, because I did not 
 declare with Avhich party I sided, though I 
 kncAV nothing at all of either. Every petty vil- 
 lage abounds Avith the most profound statesmen : 
 it is common to see our rustic politicians assem- 
 bling after sermon, and settling the good of their 
 country across a tomb-stone, like so many dic- 
 tators from the plough ; and almost every cot- 
 tage can boast its patriot, Avho, like the old Ro- 
 man, Avould not exchange his turnip for a bribe. 
 
 I am at present in ****, Avhere the election is 
 just coming on, and the Avhole town conse- 
 quently in an uproar. They haA-e for several 
 parliaments returned two members, avIio recom- 
 mended themselves by constantly opposing the 
 court : but tiitve came down a few days ago a 
 banker from London, who has offered liimself 
 a candidate, and is backed Avith the most power- 
 ful of all interests, money. Nothing has Ijeen 
 since thought of but feasting and revelling ; and 
 both parties strive to outdo each other in the fre- 
 quency and expense of their entertainments. 
 This, indeed, is the general method made use of 
 to gain the fiA^our of electors, and manifest a 
 zeal for the constitution. I have knoAvn a can- 
 didate depend more upon the strength of his 
 liquor than his arguments; and the merits of a 
 treat has often recommended a member, Avhohas 
 had no merits of his own. For it is cei'tain, 
 that people, hoAveA'er they may differ in other 
 points, are unanimous in promoting the grand 
 business of eating and drinking. 
 
 It is impossible to give a particular account ot 
 the A'arious disorders occasioned by the content 
 in this toAvn. The streets ring Avith the diflVr- 
 ent cry of each party ; and every horn- produces 
 a ballad, a set of queries, or a serious address to 
 tlie Avorthy electors. I have seen the mayor, 
 Avilh half the corporation, roaring, hallooing, 
 !.nd reeling along the streets, and yet tlu-eaten- 
 ing to clap a poor IVUoav into the stocks for 
 making the sanie noise, only because he Avould 
 not vole as tbey do. It is no Avonder that the 
 strongest c(Uincctions should be broken, and tlie 
 most intimate friends set at viuiiuicc, through 
 
No. 15.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 23 
 
 t]i?!r difference of opinions. Not only the men, 
 bat their wives were also engaged in the same 
 quarrel. INIr. Staunch the haberdasher used to 
 smoke his pipe constantly, in the same kitchen 
 comer every evening, at the same alehouse, with 
 his neighbour, Mr. Veer the chandler, while 
 their ladies chatted together at the street-door : 
 out now the husbands never speak to each 
 other ; and consequently Mrs. Veer goes a 
 quarter of a mile for her inkle and tape, rather 
 than deal at Mr. Staunch's shop; and Mrs. 
 Staimch declai-es, she Avould go without her tea, 
 though she has always been used to it twice a 
 day, rather than fetch her half quartern from 
 that turn-coat Veer's. 
 
 Wherever politics are introduced, religion is 
 alvvays drawn into the quarrel. The town I 
 have been speaking of, is divided into two parties, 
 who are distinguished by the appellatiou of 
 Christians and Jews. The Jews, it seems, are 
 those who are in the interest of a nobleman, who 
 gave his vote for passing the Jew-bill, and are 
 held in abomination by the Christians. The 
 zeal of the latter is still further inflamed by the 
 vicar, who everj' Simday thunders out his ana- 
 themas, and preaclies up the pious doctrines of 
 persecution. In this he is seconded by the 
 clerk, who is careful to enforce the arguments 
 from the pulpit, by selecting staves proper for 
 tlie occasion. 
 
 This truly Christian spirit is no where more 
 manifest than at their public feasts. I was at 
 one of theh' dimiers, where I foimd great variety 
 of x»ig-meat was provided. The table was co- 
 vered from one end to the other with hams, legs 
 of pork, spare-ribs, gi'iskins, haslets, feet and 
 cars, brawn, and the like. In the middle there 
 smoked a large barbecued hog, which was soon 
 devoured to the bone, so desiroxis was every one 
 to prove his Christianity by the quantity he 
 could swaUow of that Anti- Judaic food. After 
 dinner there was brought in, by way of desert, a 
 dish of hog's puddings ; but as I have a dislike 
 to that kind of diet, (though not from any scru- 
 ple of conscience) I was regarded as little better 
 than a Jew for declining to eat of them. 
 
 The great support of this pai"ty is an old 
 neighbouring knight, who, ever since the late 
 natiu^zation act, has conceived a violent anti- 
 pathy to the Jews, and takes every opportunity of 
 railing at the above-mentioned nobleman. Sir 
 Rowland swears, that his lordship is ^vorse than 
 Judas, that he is actually circiuncised, and that 
 the chapel in his house is turned mto a syna- 
 gogue. The knight had never been seen in a 
 church till the late clamom* about the Jew-bUl ; 
 but he now attends it regularly every Sunday, 
 where he devoutly takes his nap all the service ; 
 and he lately bestowed the best living in his gift, 
 which he had before promised to his chaplain, on 
 one whom he had never seen, but had read liis 
 name in a title-page to a sermon against the Jews. 
 
 He turned off his butler, who had lived with 
 him many years, (and whose only crime was a 
 swarthy complexion) because the dog looked like 
 a Jew. He feeds hogs in his park and the court- 
 yard, and has guinea-pigs in his parlour. Every 
 Saturday he has a hunt, because it is the Jewish 
 sabbath; and in the evening he is sm-e to get 
 drunk with the vicar in defence of religion. As 
 he is in the commission, he oixlered a poor Jew 
 pedlar, who came to hawk goods at his house, to 
 Bridewell ; and he vras once going to send a 
 little parish-boy to the same place, for presuming 
 to play in his worship's hearing on that vmchi'is- 
 tian-like instrument the Jew's-harp. 
 
 The fair sex here are no less ambitious of dis- 
 playing their affection for the same cause ; and 
 they manifest their sentiments by the colour and 
 fashion of their dress. Their zeal more parti- 
 cularly shows itself in a variety of posies for 
 rings, buckles, knots, and garters. I observed 
 the other night at the assembly, that the ladies 
 seemed to vie with each other in hanging out 
 the ensigns of the faith in orthodox ribands, 
 bearing the inscription of No Jews. Christi- 
 anity for ever. They likewise wore little cross- 
 es at their breasts ; their pompons were formed 
 into crucifixes, their knots disposed in the same 
 angles, and so many parts of their habits mould- 
 ed into that shape, that the whole assembly 
 looked like the court on St. Andrew's day. It 
 was remarkable that the vicar's lady, who is 
 a thorough-paced High- Chuixh- woman, was 
 more religious in the decorations of her dress 
 than any of the company ; and, indeed, she was 
 so stuck over from head to foot with crosses, that 
 a wag justly compared her to an old Popish mo- 
 nument in a Gothic cathedral. 
 
 I shall conclude my letter with the relation of 
 an adventure, that happened to myself at my 
 first coming into this to^vn. I intended to put 
 up at the Catherine- Wheel, as I had often used 
 the house before, and knew the landlord to be a 
 good civil kind of fellow. I accordingly tiu-ned 
 my horse into the yard, when, to my great sur- 
 prise, the landlord, as soon as he saw me, gave 
 me a hearty curse, and told me I might go about 
 my business, " for indeed he would not enter- 
 tain any such rascals. " Upon this he said some- 
 thing to two or three strapping countrj^-fellows 
 who immediately came towards me : and if I 
 had not rode away directly, I should have met 
 with a very rough salutation from their horse- 
 whips. I could not imagine what offence I had 
 committed, that could give occasion for such iU 
 usage, till I heard the master of the inn halloo- 
 ing after me, " that's the scoundrel that came 
 here some time ago with Tom T'otherside ;" 
 who, I have since learned, is an agent for the 
 other party, 
 
 I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 
 
2* THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 No. 14.J Thursday, May 2, 1754. 
 
 [N». 14. 
 
 'Turn in lecto quoque videres 
 
 Stridcre secretd divisos aure susurros. 
 NuUos his malleni ludos spectasse. Sed ilia 
 Redde age, qius deinceps risisti. . Hok. 
 
 Imparted to each laughter-loving fair. 
 The whizzing whisper glides from chair to chsir : 
 And e'er the conscious ear receives it half, 
 With titterings they betray the stifled laugh. 
 Such giggling glee !— what farce so full of mirth '. 
 But tell the tickling cause which gave it birth. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Sir, 
 As the ladies are naturally become the imme- 
 diate objects of your care, ■will you permit a 
 complaint to be inserted in your paper, which is 
 founded upon a matter of fact ? They will per- 
 don me, if by laying before you a particular in- 
 stance I was lately witness to of their impi'o- 
 per behaviour. I endeavour to expose a i-eigning 
 ovil, which subjects them to many shameful im- 
 l>utations. 
 
 I received last week a dinner-card from a 
 fnend, -v^lh an intimation that I should meet 
 some very agreeable ladies. At my arrival, I 
 found that the company consisted chiefly of fo- 
 males, who indeed did me the honour to rise, 
 but quite disconcerted me in paying my respects, 
 by their whispering each other, and appearing 
 to stifle a laugh. When I was seated, the ladies 
 grouped themselves up in a corner, and entered 
 into a private cabal, seemingly to discourse upon 
 points of great secrecy and importance, but of 
 equal merriment and diversion. 
 
 The same conduct of keeping close to their 
 ranks was observed at table, where the ladies 
 seated themselves together. Their conversation 
 was here also confined wholly to themselves, and 
 seemed like th« mistress of the Bona JDea, in 
 which men were forbidden to have any share. 
 It wasa continued laugh and Avhisper from the 
 beginning to the end of dinner. A whole sen- 
 tence was scarce ever spoken aloud. Single words 
 indeed, now and then broke forth ; such as odious, 
 horrible, detestable, shocking, humbug. This 
 last new-coined expression, which is only to be 
 found in the nonsensical vocabulary, sounds 
 absurd and disagreeable, whenever it is pronoun- 
 ced : but from the mouth of a lady it is * shock- 
 i ng, detestable, horrible, and odious. ' 
 
 My friend seemed to be in an uneasy situation 
 at his own table ; but I was far more miserable. 
 I was mute, and seldom dared to lift up my eyes 
 from my plate, or turn my head to call for small 
 beer, lest by some awkward gesture I might draw 
 upon me a wliisper or a laugh. Sancho, when 
 he was forbid to eat a delicious banquet set be- 
 fore him, could scarce appear more melancholy, 
 'i'he rueful length of my face might possibly in- 
 crease the mirth of my tormentors : at least, 
 their joy seemed to rise in exact proportion 
 
 with my misery. At length, however, the time 
 of my delivery approached. Dinner ended, tlie la- 
 dies made their exit in pairs, and went off, hand in 
 hand, whispering,like the two kings of Brentford. 
 Modest men, Mr. Town, are deeply wounded, 
 when they imagine themselves the objects of 
 ridicule or contempt : and the pain is the great- 
 er, when it is given by those whom they admire, 
 and from whom they are ambitious of receiving 
 any marks of countenance and favour. Yet we 
 must allow, that affronts are pardonable from 
 ladies, as they are often prognostics of future 
 kindness. If a lady strikes our cheek, we caa 
 very willingly follow the precept of the Gospel, 
 and turn the other cheek to be smitten. Even 
 a blow from a fair hand conveys pleasure. But 
 this battery of whispers is against all legal rights 
 
 of war : poisoned an'ows, and stabs in the 
 
 dark, are not more repugnant to the general 
 laws of humanity. 
 
 If the misconduct which I have described, 
 had been only to be found, Mr. Town, at my 
 friend's table, I should not have troubled you 
 with this letter ; but the same kind of ill breed- 
 ing prevails too often, and in too many places. 
 Thegigglers and the whisperers are innumer- 
 able : they beset us wherever we go ; and it is ob- 
 servable, that, after a short mui-mur of whispers 
 out comes the burst of laughter : like a gunpow- 
 der serpent, which, after liissing about for some 
 time, goes off in a bounce. 
 
 Modern writers of comedy often introduce a 
 a pert witling into their pieces, who is very se- 
 vere upon the rest of the company j but all his 
 waggery is spoken aside. These gigglers and 
 whisperers seem to be acting the same pai't in 
 company, that this arch rogue does in the play. 
 Every word or motion produces a train of whis- 
 pers ; the dropping of a snuff-box, or spilling the 
 tea, is sure to be accompanied with a titter : and 
 upon the entrance of any one with something 
 particular in his person or manner, I have seen 
 a whole room in abuzz like a bee-hive. 
 
 This practice of whispering, if it is any where 
 allowable, may, perhaps, be indulged the fair 
 sex at church, where the conversation ran only 
 be carried on by the secret sjTnbols of a courtesy, 
 an ogle or a nod. A whisper in tliis place is very 
 often of great use, as it serves to convey the 
 most secret intelligence, which a Isidy would Ikj 
 ready to burst with, if she could not find vent 
 for it by this kind of auricular confession. A 
 piece of scandal transpires in this manner from 
 one pew to another, then presently whizzes 
 along the chancel, from whence it crawls up to 
 the galleries, till at last the whole church hums 
 with it. 
 
 It were also to be wished, that the ladies 
 would be pleased to confine themselves to whis- 
 pering, in their tete-a-tete conferences at the 
 opera or tlie play-hotise; which would be a 
 projter defer uuice to the rest of the audience. In 
 
No. 15.2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 25 
 
 France, we are told, it is common for the parterre 
 to join with the performers in any favom'ite air ; 
 but we seem to have carried this custom still 
 further, as the company in oxir hoxes, without 
 concerning themselves in the least with the play, 
 are even louder than the players. The wit and 
 humour of a Vanbrugh or a Congreve is fre- 
 quently interrupted by a brilliant dialogue be- 
 tAveen tAvo persons of fashion ; and a love-scene 
 in the side-box, has often been more attended to, 
 than that on the stage. As to their loud bm'sts 
 of laughter at the theatre, they may very well 
 be excused, when they are excited by any lively 
 strokes in a comedy : but I have seen our ladies 
 titter at the most distressful scenes in Romeo 
 and Juliet, grin over the anguish of a Monimia, 
 or Belvidera, and fairly laugh King Lear oflF the 
 stage. 
 
 ITius the whole behaviour of these ladies is in 
 direct contradiction to good manners. They 
 laugh When they should cry, are loud when they 
 should be silent, and are silent when theii* con- 
 versation is desirable. If a man, in a select 
 company, was thus to laugh or whisper me out 
 of countenance, I should be apt to construe it as 
 an afiront, and demand an explanation. As to 
 the ladies, I would desire them to reflect how 
 much they would suffer, if their own weapons 
 were turned against them, and the gentlemen 
 should attack them with the same arts of laugh- 
 ing and whispering. But, however free they 
 may be from our resentment, they are still open 
 to ill-natured suspicions. They do not consider, 
 what strange constructions may be put on these 
 laughs and whispers. It were, indeed, of little 
 consequence, if we only imagined that they were 
 taking the reputations of theh* acquaintance to 
 pieces, or abusing the company round ; but when 
 they indulge themselves in this behaviour, some, 
 perhaps, may be led to conclude, that they are 
 discoursing upon topics, which they ai'e ashamed 
 to speak of in a less pz'ivate manner. 
 
 Some excuse may perhaps be framed for this 
 ill-timed merriment in the fair sex. Venus, the 
 goddess of beauty, is frequently called the laugh- 
 ter-loving dame ; and by laughing our modern 
 ladies may possibly imagine, that they render 
 themselves like Venvis. I have indeed remarked, 
 that the ladies commonly adjust their laugh to 
 their persons, and are merry in proportion as it 
 sets off their particular charms. One lady is 
 never farther moved than to a smile or a simper, 
 because nothing else shows hei" dimples to so 
 much advantage ; another, who has a very fine 
 set of teeth, runs into the broad grin ; while a 
 third, who is admii'ed for a well turned neck 
 and graceful chest, calls up all her beauties to 
 view, by breaking into violent and repeiited peals 
 of laughter. 
 
 I would not be understood to impose gravity 
 or too gi-eat a reserve on the fair sex. Let them 
 l3ugh at a feather ; but let them declare openly, 
 
 that it is a feather which occasions their mirth. 
 I must confess, that laughter becomes the young, 
 gay, and the handsome : but a whisper is unbe- 
 coming at aU ages, and in both sexes ; nor ought 
 it ever to be practised, except in the round gal- 
 lery at St. Paul's, or in the famous whispering 
 place in Gloucester Cathedral, where two whis- 
 perers hear each other at the distance of five and 
 twenty yards. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Yolu* most humble ^servant, 
 K. L. 
 
 No. 15.] Thursday, May 9, 1754, 
 
 ■ Tii die, mecum quopigiKn-e certes. Virg. 
 Name your Bet. 
 
 A FRIEND of mine, who belongs to the Stamp- 
 Oflice, acquaints me, that the revenue arising 
 from the duty on cards and dice continues to in- 
 crease every year, and that it now brings in near 
 six times more than it did at first. This will 
 not appear very wonderful, when we consider, 
 that gaming is now become rather the business 
 than amusement of our persons of quality : and 
 that they are more concerned about the transac- 
 tions of the two clubs at White's than the pro- 
 ceedings of both houses of parliament. Thus 
 it happens, that estates are now almost as fre- 
 quently made over by whist and hazard, as by 
 deeds and settlements ; and the chariots of many 
 of our nobility may be said (like Count Basset's 
 in the play) " to I'oll upon the four aces." 
 
 This love of gaming has taken such entire 
 possession of their ideas, that it infects their 
 common conversation. The management of a 
 dispute was formerly attwnpted by reason and 
 argument ; but the new way of adjusting all 
 difference in opinion is by the sword or a wager : 
 so that the only genteel method of dissenting is 
 to risk a thousand pounds, or take yoiu' chance 
 of being run through the body. The strange 
 custom of deciding every thing by a wager is so 
 universal, that if (in imitation of Swift) any 
 body was to publish a specimen of Polite Con- 
 versation, instead of old sayings and tiite repar- 
 tees, he would in all probability fiU his dialogues 
 with little more than bet after bet, and now or 
 then a calculation of the odds. 
 
 White's, the present grand scene of these 
 transactions, was formerly distinguished by gal- 
 lantry and intrigue. Diuing the publication of 
 the Tatler, Sir Richard Steele thought proper 
 to date all his love news from that quarter : but 
 it would now be as absmd to pretend to gather 
 any such intelligence from White's, as to send 
 to Batson's for a lawyer, or to the Roll's coffee- 
 house for a man-midwife. 
 
 The gentlemen who now frequent this place, 
 E 
 
26 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 15. 
 
 profess a kind of universal scepticism : and ;i.s 
 they look upon every thing as dubious, put the 
 issue upon a wager. There is nothing however 
 trivial or ridiculous, which is not capable of pro- 
 ducing a bet. Many pounds have been lost upon 
 the colour of a coach-horse, an article in the 
 news, or the change of the weather. The birth 
 of a child has brought great advantages to 
 persons not in the least related to the family it 
 was born in ; and the breaking off a match has 
 affected many in their fortunes, besides the par- 
 ties immediately concerned. 
 
 But the most extraordinary' part of this fash- 
 ionable practice is, what in the gaming dialect is 
 called pitting one man against another ; that is, 
 in plain English, wagering which of the two 
 will live longest. In this manner, people of the 
 most opposite chai'acters make up the subject of 
 a bet. A player, perhaps, is pitted against a 
 duke, an alderman against a bishop, or a pimp 
 with a privy-counsellor. There is scarce one re- 
 mai'kable person, upon whose life there are not 
 many thousand pounds depending : or one per- 
 son of quality, whose death will not leave sev- 
 eral of these kind of mortgages upon his estate. 
 The various changes in the health of one, who is 
 the subject of many bets, occasion very serious 
 reflections in those, who have ventm*ed large 
 sums on his life or death. Those who would be 
 gainers by his decease, upon every slight indis- 
 position, watch all the stages of his illness, and 
 are as impatient for his death, as the imdertalcer 
 who expects to have the care of his funeral ; 
 while the other sides are very solicitous about 
 his recovery, send every hour to know how he 
 does, and take as much care of him, as a clergy- 
 man's wife does of her husband, who has no 
 other fortune than his living. I remember a 
 man with the constitution of a porter, upon 
 whose life very great odds were laid ; but when 
 the person he was pitted against, was expected 
 to die every week, this man shot himself through 
 the head, and the knowing ones were taken in. 
 
 Though most of our follies are imported from 
 France, this has had its rise and progress entire- 
 ly in England. In the last Illness of Lewis the 
 Fourteenth Lord Stair laid a wager on his 
 death ; and we may guess what the French 
 thought of it, from the manner in which Vol- 
 taire mentions it in his Steele de Louis XIV. 
 ' Le Roifut attaqu^ vers le milieu du mois d'Aout. 
 Le Conite de Stair, ambassadeur d' Angleterre, 
 paria, selon le genie de sa nation, que le Roi ne 
 ])asseroit pas le mois de Septenibre.' * The King,' 
 says he, * was taken ill about the middle of Au- 
 gust ; when Lord Stair, the ambassador from 
 England, betted according to the genius of his 
 nation, that the Kirig would not live beyond 
 September.' 
 
 1 am in some pain, lest this custom should get 
 among the ladies. They are at present vci-y 
 deep In cards and dice ; and while my lord is 
 
 gaming abroad her ladyship has her rout at 
 home. I am inclined to suspect, tliat our wo- 
 men of fashion will also learn to divert them- 
 selves with this polite practice of laying wagers. 
 A birth-day suit, the age of a beauty, who in- 
 vented a particular fashion, or who were sup- 
 posed to be together at the last masquerade, 
 would frequently give occasion for bets. This 
 would also affoi'd them a new method for the 
 ready propagation of scandal : as the truth of 
 several stories, which are continually flying 
 about the town, would naturally be brought to 
 the same test. Should they proceed further to 
 stake the lives of their acquaintance against each 
 other, they would doubtless bet with the same 
 fearless spirit, as they are known to do at brag : 
 the husband of one would perhaps be pitted 
 against the gallant of another, or a woman of 
 the town against a maid of honour. And, per- 
 haps, if this practice should once become fash- 
 ionable among the ladies, we may soon see the 
 time, when an allowance for bet-money will be 
 stipulated in the marriage articles. 
 
 As the vices and follies of persons of distinc- 
 tion are very apt to spread, I am also much 
 afraid, lest this branch of gaming shoidd descend 
 to the common people. Indeed, it seems already 
 to have got among them. We have frequent ac- 
 coimts in the daily papers of tradesmen riding, 
 walking, eating, and drinking for a wager. The 
 contested election in the city has occasioned several 
 extraordinary bets : I know a butcher in Lead- 
 enhall market, who laid an ox to a shin of beef, 
 on the success of Sir John Barnard against the 
 field ; and have been told of a publican in 
 Thames-street, who ventured an hogshead of 
 entire butt, on the candidate who serves him 
 with beer. 
 
 We may observe, that the spirit of gaming dis- 
 plays itself with as much variety among the 
 lowest as the highest order of people. It is the 
 same thing whether the dice rattle in an orange 
 barrow or at the hazard-table. A couple of 
 chairmen in a night cellar are as eager at put or 
 aU-fours, as a party at St. James's at a rubber 
 of whist ; and the E O table is but a higher 
 sort of INIerry-go-round, where you may get six 
 half pence for one, sixpence for one, and six two- 
 pences for one. If the practice of pitting should 
 be also propagated among the vulgar, it will be 
 common for prize fighters to stake their lives 
 against each other ; and two pickpockets may lay 
 which of them shall first go to the gallows. 
 
 To give the reader a full idea of a person of 
 fashion wholly employed in this manner, I shall 
 conclude my paper with the character of Mon- 
 tano. Montano was born heir to a nobleman, 
 remarkable for deep play, from whom he very 
 early imbibed the principles of gaming. When 
 he first went to school, he soon became themost 
 expert of any of his play-fellows, he was sure to 
 win all their marbh's at taw, and would often 
 
Na 16.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 27 
 
 strip them of their whole week's allowance at 
 chuck. He was afterwards at the head of every 
 match of football or cricket ; and when he was 
 captain, he took in all the big boys by making a 
 lottery, but went away without drawing the 
 prizes. He is still talked of at the school, for a 
 famous dispute he had with another of his own 
 cast about their superiority in learning ; which 
 they decided by tossing up heads or tails who 
 ^¥as the best scholar. Being too great a genius 
 for our universities at home, he was sent abroad 
 on his travels, but never got fiu'ther than Paris ; 
 where having lost a considerable bet of four to 
 one concerning the taking a town in Flanders, 
 he was obliged to come back with a few guineas 
 he borrowed to bring him over. Here he soon 
 became universally known by frequenting every 
 gaming-table, and attending every horse-race in 
 the kingdom. He first reduced betting into an 
 art, and made White's the gi'and market for 
 wagers. He is at length such an adept in this 
 art, that whatever turn things take, he can 
 never lose. This he has effected, by what he has 
 taught the world to call hedging a bet. Thei'e 
 is scarce a contested election in the kingdom, 
 whicli will not end to his advantage ; and he has 
 lately sent over commissions to Paris to take up 
 bets on the recall of the parliament. He was 
 the first that struck out the above-mentioned 
 practice of pitting ; in which he is so thoroughly 
 versed, that the death of every person of quality 
 may be said to bring him a legacy : and he has 
 so contrived the bets on his own life, that (live 
 or die) the odds are in his favovu'. O. 
 
 No. 16.] Thursday, May 16, 1754. 
 
 AUius omnetn 
 
 Expediam prima repetens ab originefamam. Virg. 
 
 I'll trace the current upwards, as it flows, 
 And mark the secret spring, whence first it rose. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, Oxford, May 12, 1754. 
 
 Your last week's paper, on the subject of bets, 
 put me in mind of an extract I lately met with 
 in some newspapers, fi'om the " Life of Pope 
 Sixtus V. translated from the Italian of Gre- 
 gorio Leti by the Reverend Mr. Farnworth." 
 The passage is as follows : 
 
 It was reported in Rome, that Drake had 
 taken and plundered St. Domingo in Hispaniola, 
 and carried off an immense booty. This account 
 came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very 
 considerable merchant in the city, who had large 
 concerns in those parts, which he had insured. 
 Upon receiving this news, he sent for the insurer 
 Samson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him 
 witb i*:. The Jew, whose interest it was 
 
 have such a report thought false, gave many rea- 
 sons why it could not possibly be true ; and at 
 last worked himself up into such a passion, that 
 he said, I'll lay you a pound of my flesh it is a 
 lie. Secchi, who was of a fiery hot temper, re- 
 plied, I'll lay you a thousand crowns against a 
 pound of your flesh, that it is true. The Jew ac- 
 cepted the wager, and articles were immediately 
 executed betwixt them, That if Secchi won, he 
 should himself cut the flesh with a sharp knife 
 from Avhatcver part of the Jew's body he pleas- 
 ed. The truth of the account was soon con- 
 firmed ; and the Jew was almost distracted, 
 when he was informed, that Secchi had solemnly 
 sworn he would compel him to the exact literal 
 performance of his conti*act. A report of this 
 transaction was brought to the Pope, who sent 
 for the parties, and being informed of the whole 
 affair, said " When contracts are made, it is just 
 they should be fulfilled, as this shall. Take a 
 knife therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh 
 from any part you please of the Jew's body. 
 We advise you, however, to be very careful ; for 
 if you cut but a scruple more or less than yoiu* 
 due, you shall certainly be hanged." 
 
 What induced me to trouble you with this, is 
 a remark made by the editor, that the scene be- 
 tween Shylock and Antonio in the Merchant of 
 Venice is borrowed from this story." I should 
 perhaps have acquiesced in this notion, if I had 
 not seen a note in the " ObserA^ations on Spen- 
 ser's Faerie Queene, by Mr. T. Warton of 
 Trinity College," where he seems to have dis- 
 covered the real source from which Shakspeare 
 di'ew his fable, which (he informs us) is found- 
 ed upon an ancient ballad. The admirei's of 
 Shakspeare are obliged to him for this curious 
 discovery ; but as Mr. Warton has only given 
 some extracts, they would undoubtedly be glad 
 to see the whole. This baUad is most probably 
 no where to be met with but in the Ashmolean 
 Museum in this University, where it was de- 
 posited by that famous antiquary Anthony a 
 Wood : I have therefore sent you a faithfid 
 transcript of it ; and you must agree with me, 
 that it Avould do you more credit, as a Connois- 
 seur to draw this hidden treasure into light, 
 than if you had discovered an Otho or a Niger. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Showing the crueltie of Gernutus a Jew, who 
 lending to a merchant an hundi-ed crownes, 
 would have a pound of his fleshe because he 
 could not pay him at the time api>ointed. 
 
 In Venice town not long agoe, 
 
 A cruel Jew did dwell. 
 Which lived all on usurie. 
 
 As Italian writers tell. 
 Gernutus called was the Jew, 
 
 Which never thought to die. 
 Nor never yet did any good 
 
 To them in streets that lye. 
 
28 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 16 
 
 His life was like a barrow hogge. 
 
 That liveth many a day. 
 Yet never once doth any good. 
 
 Until men will him slay. 
 
 Or like a filthy heap of dung. 
 
 That lyeth in a hoord ; 
 Which never can do any gooi^ 
 
 Till it be spread abroad. 
 
 So fares it with this usurer. 
 
 He cannot sleep in rest. 
 For feare the theefe doth him pursue 
 
 To pluck him from his nest. 
 
 His heart doth think on many a wile. 
 How to deceive the poore ; 
 
 His mouth is almost full of mucke. 
 Yet still he gapes for more. 
 
 His wife must lend a shilling, 
 
 For every weeke a penny. 
 Yet bring a pledge that's double worth; 
 
 If that you will have any. 
 
 And see (likewise) you keep your day. 
 
 Or else you lose it all : 
 This was the living of his wife. 
 
 Her cow she doth it call. 
 
 Within that citie dwelt that time 
 A merchant of great fame. 
 
 Which being distressed, in his need 
 Unto Gernutus came. 
 
 Desiring him to stand his friend. 
 For twelve moneth and a day. 
 
 To lend to him a hundred crownes. 
 And he for it would pay. 
 
 Whatsoever he would demand of him 
 And pledges he should have : 
 
 No, (qd. the Jew with fleering looker) 
 Sir, aske what you will have. 
 
 No penny for the loane of it 
 For one yeere you shall pay ; 
 
 You may do me as good a turne. 
 Before my dyii>g day. 
 
 But we will have a merry jeast 
 
 For to be talked long : 
 You shall make me a bond (quoth he) 
 
 That shall be large and strong. 
 
 And this shall be the forfeiture, 
 Of your owne fleshe a pound. 
 
 If you agree, make you the bond. 
 And here's a hundred crownes. 
 
 The second part of the Jew's crueltic ; setting 
 forth the mercifulnessc of the Judge towai-ds 
 the Merchant. 
 
 With right good will the merchant said. 
 
 And so the bond was made. 
 When twelve months and a day drew on 
 
 That back it should be payd. 
 
 The merchants ships were all at sea, 
 
 And money came not in ; 
 Which way to take, or what to doc, 
 
 To thinke he doth begin. 
 
 And to Gemutus straight he comes 
 
 With cap and bended knee. 
 And sayd to him of curtesie 
 
 I pray you bear with mc. 
 
 My day is come, and I have not 
 
 The money for to pay : 
 And little good the forfeiture 
 
 Will doe you I dare say. 
 
 With all my heart, Gemutus said 
 
 Command it to your minde : 
 In things of bigger weight than this 
 
 You shall mc readie finde. 
 
 He goes his way ; the day once past 
 
 Gernutus doth not slacke 
 To get a Serjeant presentlie, 
 
 And clapt him on the backe. 
 
 And layd him into prison strong. 
 
 And sued his bond withall ; 
 And when the judgment day was come. 
 
 For judgment he doth call. 
 
 The merchant's friends came thither fast. 
 
 With many a weeping eye. 
 For other means they could not find, 
 
 But he that day must dye. 
 
 Some offered for his hundred crownes 
 
 Five hundred for to pay j 
 And some a thousand, two or three. 
 
 Yet still he did denay. 
 
 And at the last, ten thousand crownes 
 
 They offered him to save, 
 Gernutus said, I will no gold. 
 
 My forfeit I will have. 
 
 A pound of flesh is my demand. 
 
 And that shall be my hyre. 
 Then said the judge, yet my good friend 
 
 Let me of you desire. 
 
 To take the fleshe from such a place 
 
 As yet you let him live ; 
 Doe so, and lo a hundred crowncj. 
 
 To thee here will I give. 
 
 No, no, quoth he, no judgment here 
 
 For this it shall be tryde, 
 For I will have my pound of fleshe 
 
 From under his right sid& 
 
 It grieved all the companic. 
 
 His crueltie to sec ; 
 For neither friend nor foe could help 
 
 But he must spoiled bee. 
 
 The bloudie Jew now ready is 
 
 With whetcd blade in hand 
 To spoyle the blood of innocent, 
 
 By forfeit of his bond. 
 
 And as he was about to strike 
 
 In him the deadly blow : 
 Stay (quoth the Judge) thy crueltic 
 
 I charge thee to do so. 
 
 Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have 
 
 Which is of fleshe a {wund : 
 See that thou shed no drop of blood. 
 
 Nor yet the man confound. 
 
No. 17.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 20 
 
 For if thou doe, like murtherer. 
 
 Thou here shalt hanged be : 
 Likewise of fleshe see that thou cut 
 
 No more than 'longs, to thee. 
 
 For if thou take either more or lesse. 
 
 To the value of a mite, 
 Thou shalt be hanged presently 
 
 As is both law and right. 
 
 Gemutus now waxt frantic mad. 
 
 And wotes not what to say : 
 Quoth he at last, ten thousand crownes 
 
 I will that he shall pay. 
 
 And so I grant to set him free : 
 
 The Judge doth answer make. 
 You shaU not'have a penny given. 
 
 Your forfeiture now take. 
 
 At the last he doth demand, 
 
 But for to have his own : 
 No, quoth the Judge, do as you list. 
 
 Thy judgment shall be showne. 
 
 Either take your pound of fleshe (qd. he) 
 
 Or cancell me your bond, 
 O cruel Judge, then quoth the Jew, 
 
 That doth against me stand ! 
 
 And so with griped grieved minde 
 
 He biddeth them farewell : 
 All the people prays 'd the Lord 
 
 That ever this heard tell 
 
 Good people that do hear this song. 
 
 For truth I dare well say, 
 That many a wretch as ill as he 
 
 Doth live now at this day. 
 
 That seeketh nothing but the spoylc 
 
 Of many awealthie man. 
 And for to trap the innocent, 
 
 Deviseth what they can. 
 
 From whom the Lord deliver me. 
 
 And every christian too. 
 And send to them like sentence eke, 
 That meaneth so to doo. 
 Printed at LoMon by E. P. for J. Wright, dwelling in 
 Gtlt^urstreet. 
 
 It will be proper to subjoin what the ingeni- 
 ous Mr. Warton has obsei^ed upon this sub- 
 ject : — i" It maybe objected," says he, " that this 
 ballad might have been written after, and copied 
 from Shakspeare's play. But if that had been 
 the case, it is most likely, that the author would 
 have preserved Shak^eare's name of Shylock 
 for the Jew ; and nothing is more likely, than 
 that Shakspeare, in copying from this ballad, 
 should alter the name from Gernutus to one 
 more Jewish. Another argument is, that our 
 ballad has the air of a narrative written before 
 Shakspeare's play ; I mean, that if it had been 
 written after the play, it would have been much 
 more full and circumstantial. At present, it 
 has too much the nakedness of an original." 
 
 It would, indeed, be absm-d to think, that 
 this ballad was taken from Shakspeare's play, 
 as they differ in the most essential circumstances. 
 The sum borrowed is in the former a hundred 
 
 crowns, in the latter thi'ee thousand ducats : the 
 time limited for payment in the one is only thi-ee 
 months, in the other a year and a day : in the 
 play the merchant's motive for borrowing 
 (which is finely imagined by Shakspeare, and is 
 conducive to the general plot,) is not on accoimt 
 of his own necessities, but for the service of his 
 fi'iend. To these we may add, that the close of 
 the story is finely heightened by Shakspeare. A 
 mere copyist, such as we may suppose a baUad- 
 maker, would not have given himself the trouble 
 to alter circumstances : at least he would not 
 have changed them so much for the worse. But 
 this matter seems to be placed out of all doubt 
 by the first stanza of the baUad, which informs 
 us, that the story was taken from some Italian 
 novel. " This much therefore is certain (as Mr. 
 IVarton observes,) that Shakspeare either copied 
 from that Italian novel, or from this ballad. 
 Now we have no translation, I presume, of 
 such a novel into English. If then it be grant- 
 ed, that Shakspeare genei'ally took his Italian 
 stories from their English translations, and that 
 the arguments above, concerning the prior anti- 
 quity in this ballad, are true, it will follow, that 
 Shakspeare copied from this baUad. " 
 
 Upon the whole, it is very likely, that the 
 Italian novel, upon which this ballad seems 
 founded, took its I'ise (with an inversion af the 
 circumstances) fi'om the above-mentioned story 
 in the " Life of Pope Sixtus V." the memory of 
 which must have been then recent. I should 
 be glad if. any of your readers can give any fiu-- 
 ther light into this affair, and if possible, ac- 
 quaint the public from whence Shakspeare bor- 
 I'owed the other part of this fable concerning 
 Portia and the caskets ; which, it is more than 
 probable, is drawn fi-om some other novel well 
 known in liis time. 
 
 I cannot conclude without remarking, with 
 what art and judgment Shakspeare has wove 
 together these different stories of the Jew and 
 the caskets ; from both which he has formed 
 one general fable, without having recourse to the 
 stale artifice of ekeing out a barren subject with 
 impertinent underplots. 
 I am, Sir, 
 T. Your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 ».**<.*•«.*■»/». ***^'*^'' 
 
 No. 17.] Thursday, May 23, 1754. 
 
 Pattlo plus artis Athetur. 
 
 Hon. 
 
 Scarce more with Athens Science chose to dwell. 
 Or Grecian poets Grub-street bards excel. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Though many historians have described the city 
 of London (in which we may include West- 
 
THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 17. 
 
 minster) with great accuracy, yet they have not 
 set it out in the full light, which at present it 
 deserves : they have not distinguished it as a 
 University. Paris is a University, Dublin is a 
 Univei'sity, even Moscow is a University ; but 
 London has not yet been honoured with that 
 title. I will allow our metropolis to have been 
 intended, originally, only as a city of trade ; 
 and I will further own, that scarce any sciences, 
 except such as were purely mercantile, were 
 cultivated in it, till within these last thirty 
 years. But from that period of time, I may 
 say a whole army, as it were, of arts and sci- 
 ences have amicably mai-ched in upon us, and 
 have fixed themselves as auxUiai-ies to our 
 capital. 
 
 The four greater faculties, I mean Theology, 
 Law, Medicine, and Philosophy, which are 
 taught in other universities, are in their highest 
 perfection here. The prosperity of the first may 
 be seen by the crowded churches every Sunday, 
 and the discipline of the second by the number- 
 less young students, who constantly dine in their 
 respective halls at the several inns of covu't. 
 These two faculties have of late received con- 
 siderable improvements, but particularly that of 
 Theology ; as is manifest from several new and 
 astonishing opinions, which have been started 
 among us. There have risen, within these few 
 years, very numerous tribes of Methodists, Mo- 
 ravians, Middletonians, Muggletonians, Hut- 
 chinsonians, 85c. In a word, our sects are multi- 
 plied to such an infinite degree, that (as Voltaire 
 has before observed) " every man may now go to 
 heaven his own way." Can the divinity-schools 
 boast such sound doctrine as the Foundery in 
 Moorfields ? Or were ever Fellows of Colleges 
 such adepts in matrimony, as the reverend Doc- 
 tors of the Fleet, or the Primate of May- Fair ? 
 
 The theory of Medicine may undoubtedly be 
 taught at Oxford and Cambridge in a tolerable 
 manner ; but the art itself can only be learned, 
 where it flourishes, at London. Do not our 
 daily papers give us a longer list of medicines, 
 than are contained in any of the dispensatories ? 
 And are we not constantly told of surprising 
 antidotes, certain cures, and never-failing reme- 
 dies for every complaint ? And are not each of 
 these specifics equally efficacious in one distemper 
 as another, from the Grand Restorative Elixir 
 of Life down to the Infallible Corn- Salve, as 
 thousands have experienced ? With what plea- 
 sure and admiration have I beheld the Machaon 
 of 'OUT times. Dr. Richard Rock, dispensing 
 from his one-horse chaise his Cathartic Anti- 
 venereal Electuary, his Itch-powder, and his 
 Quintessence of Vipers! It may be{i8ked,-is he 
 a Graduate ? Is he a Regular Physician ? No, 
 he is superior to Regularity. He despises the 
 formality of Academical Dcgi'ecs. He styles 
 himself M. L. He is a London Physician^ or 
 
 as Moliere would express it, Cest un Medidn de 
 Londiies. 
 
 After Medicine let us consider Logic. How 
 is that most useful art taught in the two Uni- 
 versities ? Is it not clogged with such barba- 
 rous terms, as tend to puzzle and confound 
 rather than enlighten or direct the imderstand- 
 ing ? Is it not taught in a dead, I had almost 
 said, in a Popish tongue? Is it not oven-un 
 with dry distinctions and useless subtleties? 
 Where then is it to be learned in all the purity 
 of reason, and the dignity of language ? Neither 
 at Oxford nor at Cambridge, but at the Robin 
 Hood Alehouse in Butcher row near Temple 
 Bar. 
 
 From Logic let us proceed to Elo<iuence : and 
 let us ingenuously confess, that neither of our 
 Universities can boast an orator equal to the re- 
 nowned Henley. Has he not all the qualifica- 
 tions required by Tully in a complete orator ? 
 Has he not been followed by the greatest men of 
 the nation? Yet has this modest divine never 
 derived any title to himself from his own rhe- 
 toric, except such a one as his extraordinary elo- 
 cution natm-aUy bestowed upon him. ]Might he 
 not have called himself President of the 
 Butchers? Dean of Marrow-bones and Clea^ 
 vers? or Warden of Clare- Market? Certainly he 
 might. Therefore, if it were for his sake only, 
 in my humble opinion, London ought imme- 
 diately to assume the title of a University ; and 
 the butchers of Clare-Market, who have so 
 constantly attended Mr. Henley's Lectmes, 
 ought to be presented with honorary degrees. 
 
 I know not what pretensions the Universities 
 may have had originally to adopt Music among 
 the rest of their sciences : perhaps they have 
 assumed a right of bestowing degrees in Music, 
 fi-om their being called the seats of the Muses j 
 as it is well known, that ApoUo was a fiddler, 
 as weU as a poet and a physician : and the 
 Muses are said to have delighted in fiddling and 
 piping. The young students, I am told, of either 
 University are more ambitious to excel in this 
 science than any other, and spend most of theii- 
 time in the study of the gamut : but their 
 knowledge in harmonics is seldom carried fur- 
 ther than I love Sue, or Ally Crokcr. In this 
 point London Jias undoubtedly a better title to 
 be called a Universit)'. Did Oxford or Cam- 
 bridge ever produce an opera, though they have 
 the advantage of languages so very little known, 
 as the Greek and even Hebrew, to compose in? 
 Had ever any of their professors the least idea of 
 a bvu'letta ? Or are any of their most sublime 
 anthems half so ravishing as Foote's Minuet 
 from the hand organ of the little Savoyard 
 Dutchess ? Are those classical instnmients, the 
 Doric lute, the syrinx, or tlu; fistula, to ho com- 
 pared to the melody ol" the wooden spoons, the 
 Jew's-harp, and salt-box, at Mr. Midnight's? 
 
No. 18,] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 31 
 
 But there are no doctrines more forcibly in- 
 culcated among us than those of Ethics, or 
 Moral Philosophy. What are the precepts of 
 Plato, -Epictetus, or Tully, in comparison to 
 the moral lessons delivered by our periodical 
 \vTiters ? And are not you, Mr. Town, a wiser 
 man than Socrates? But the age is more par- 
 ticularly indebted, for its present universal 
 piu'ity of manners, to those excellent rules for 
 the conduct of life contained in our modern 
 novels. From these moral works might be 
 compiled an entire new system of Ethics, far 
 superior to the exploded notions of musty acade- 
 mies, and adapted to the practice of the present 
 times. Cato, we are told, commended a young 
 man whom he saw coming out of the public 
 stews, because he imagined it might preserve 
 him from the crime of adultery ; and the Spar- 
 tans used to make their slaves drunk in the pre- 
 sence of their youth, that they might be deterred 
 from the like debaucheries. For the same rea- 
 sons, we may suppose, that our tavei'ns and 
 bagnios are so much frequented by oui* young 
 people ; and in this light we may fairly consider 
 them as so many Schools of Moral Philosophy. 
 
 If we are willing to turn our thoughts to- 
 wards Experimental Philosophy, can the several 
 Universities of the whole world produce such a 
 variety of instruments, so judiciously collected, 
 for astronomical, geographical, and all other sci- 
 entific observations, as are to be seen in the two 
 amazing repositories of Mr. Professor Deard in 
 the Strand, and of Mr. Professor Russell at 
 Charing- Cross? It were endless to enumerate 
 particulars ; but I cannot help taking notice of 
 those elegant little portable telescopes, that are 
 made use of in all public places ; by which it is 
 evident that even our fine ladies and gentlemen 
 are become proficients in optics. 
 
 The Universities seem to pride themselves 
 greatly on their choice collections of curious and 
 invaluable trifles, which are there preserved, only 
 because they were not thought worth preserving 
 any where else. But is the Ashmolean Collec- 
 tion of rarities comparable to the Nicknackatory 
 of Mr. Pinchbeck ? Or are any of their muse- 
 ums stored with such precious curiosities, as are 
 frequently seen in Mr. Langford's auction 
 room ? Strangers, who think it worth while to 
 go as far as Oxford or Cambridge to see sights, 
 may surely meet with as much satisfaction at 
 London. Are the two little pigmies, striking a 
 clock at Carfax in Oxford, with any degree of 
 comparison with the two noble giants at St. 
 Dunstan's church in Fleet-sti'eet ; to say nothing 
 of their enormous brethren at Guildhall ? Are 
 any of the college halls in either of the Univer- 
 sities, so magnificent as those belonging to our 
 worshipful companies ? Oi' can the Theatre at 
 Oxford, or the Senate-house at Cambridge, vie 
 with that stupendous piece of architecture the 
 iVIansi on- House, set apart for our Chancellor 
 
 the Lord Mayor ? It may be alleged, perliaps, 
 that these are trifling examples of superiority, 
 which the younger sister bears over her two 
 elder: but at the same time, it cannot be denied, 
 that she excels them both even in the minutiae of 
 learning and antiquity. 
 
 We must confess, that ^^ Hydraulics, or the 
 motion of fluids, seem to be taught exactly in 
 the same manner, and with the same degree of 
 knowledge, in London as in Oxford or Cam- 
 bridge. The glass tubes, and the syphons, are 
 fonned very much in the same shape and fashion. 
 The great hydrostatical law, " That all fluids 
 gravitate injyroprio loco," is proved by the same 
 kind of experiments. The several students, of 
 whatever age or station, vie with each other in 
 an unweai'ied application, and a constant attend- 
 ance to this branch of mixed mathematics. The 
 Professors, in each of the thi'ee Universities, 
 are confessedly very great men ; but I hope I 
 may be forgiven, if I wish to see my friend Mr. 
 Ryan, President of the King's Arms in Pall- 
 Mail, unanimously declared Vice- Chancellor of 
 the University of London. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 
 T. G. K. 
 
 No. 18.] Thursday, May 30, 1754. 
 
 NihU estfuracius illo : 
 
 Nonfuit Antolyci tarn piceata manus. 
 
 Mart. 
 
 Could he have filch 'd but half so sly as thee, 
 Crook-fingcr'd Jack had 'scaped the triple tree. 
 
 An information was the other day laid before a 
 magistrate by a FeUow of the Society of Anti- 
 quarians, against one of his brethren for a rob- 
 bery. The prosecutor deposed upon oath, that 
 the other had called upon him to see his collec- 
 tion of medals, and took an opporttmity of steal- 
 ing a leathern purse, formerly belonging to the 
 celebrated Tom Hearne, in which were contain- 
 ed, (besides an antique piece of copper-money, 
 place, date, name, figure, and value unknown) 
 a pair of breeches of Oliver Cromwell, a denarius 
 of Trajan worth fifty shillings, and a Queen 
 Anne's farthing value five pounds. He was 
 with much ado dissuaded fi'om can'ying on his 
 suit ; as the magistrate convinced him, that 
 however highly he might rate his own treasures, 
 a jury, who were no Virtuosos, would consider a 
 farthing merely as a farthing, and look upon a 
 copper coin of a Roman emperor as no better 
 than a King George's halfpenny. 
 
 I cannot, indeed, without great concern, as a 
 Connoisseur, reflect on the known dishonesty of 
 my learned brethren. Their scandalous prac- 
 tices, wherever their darling passion is interest- 
 
32 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 18. 
 
 ed, arc too notorious to be denied. The moment 
 they conceive a love for rarities, and antiques, 
 their strict notions of honour disappear : and 
 Taste, the more it establishes their veneration 
 for Virtu, the more certainly destroys their in- 
 tegrity : as nist enhances the value of an old 
 coin, by eating up the figure and inscription. 
 
 Most people are masters of a kind of logic, by 
 which they argue their consciences to sleep, and 
 acquit themselves of doing what is wrong. The 
 coimtry squire of confinned honesty in all other 
 respects, thinks it very fair to over-reach you in 
 the sale of a horse ; and the man of pleasure, 
 who would scorn to pick youi- pocket, or stop 
 you on the road, regards it rather as gallantry 
 than baseness, to intrigue with your wife or 
 daughter. In the same manner the Virtuoso 
 does not look on his thefts as real acts of felony j 
 but while he owns that he would take any pains 
 to steal an old rusty piece of brass, boasts that 
 you may safely trust him with untold gold : 
 though he woidd break open your cabinet for a 
 shell or butterfly, he would not attempt to force 
 j'our escritoire or your strong box : nor woxxld 
 he offer the least violence to your wife or 
 daughter, though perhaps he would run away 
 with the little finger of the Venus de Medicis. 
 Upon these principles he proceeds, and lays hold 
 of all opportunities to increase his collection of 
 rarities : and as Mahomet established his religion 
 by the sword, the Connoisseur enlarges his mu- 
 seum, and adds to his store of knowledge, by 
 fraud and petty larceny. 
 
 If the libraries and cabinets of the cm-ious 
 were, like the daw in the fable, to be stripped of 
 their borrowed ornaments, we should in many 
 see nothing but bare shelves and empty drawers. 
 I know a medalist, Avho at fii'st set up with lit- 
 tle more than a paltry series of English coins 
 since the Reformation, which he had the good 
 luck to pick up at their intrinsic value. By a 
 pliant use of his fingers, he became soon pos- 
 sessed of most of the Traders ; and by the same 
 slight of hand, he, in a short time after, made 
 himself master of a gi-eat part of the Cresars. 
 He was once taken up for coining ; a forge, a 
 crucible, and several dies being fovmd in his 
 cellar : but he was acquitted, as there was no law 
 which made it high treason to countei'feit the 
 image of a Tiberius or a Nero ; and the coin which 
 he imitated, was current only among Virtuosos. 
 I remember another, who piqued himself on 
 his collection of scarce editions and original 
 manuscripts, most of which he had purloined 
 fi'om the libraries of others. He was continually 
 borrowing books of his acquaintance, with a re- 
 solution never to return them. He would send 
 ia a great hurry for a particular edition which 
 Ik; wanted to consult only iov a moment ; but 
 when it was asked for again, he was not at home, 
 or he had lent it to another, or he had lost it, or 
 he could not find it, and sometimes he would 
 
 not scruple to swear, that he had himself deliv- 
 ered it into the owner's hands. He woidd fre- 
 quently spoil a set by stealing a volume, and 
 then purchase the rest for a trifle. After his 
 death his library was sold by auction ; and many 
 of his friends were obliged to buy up theii* own 
 books again at an exorbitant price. 
 
 A thorough-bred Virtuoso will surmount all 
 scruples of conscience, or encounter any danger 
 to serve his purpose. Most of them are chiefly 
 attached to some particulai" branch of know- 
 ledge ; but I remember one, who was passionate- 
 ly fond of every part of Virtu. At one time, 
 when he could find no other way of carrj'ing off 
 a medal, he ran the risk of being choked by 
 swallowing it j and at another, broke his leg in 
 scaling a garden wall for a tulip root. But no- 
 thing gave him so much trouble and diflficulty 
 as the taking away pictm*es and ancient mar- 
 bles ; which being heavy and unwieldy, he often 
 endangered his life to gratify his curiosity. He 
 was once locked up all night in the Duke of 
 Tuscany's gallery, where he took out an original 
 painting of Raphael, and dexterously placed a 
 copy of it in the fi'ame. At Venice he turned 
 Roman Catholic, and became a Jesuit, in order 
 to get admittance into a convent, from whence 
 he stole a fine head of Ignatius Loyolo ; and at 
 Constantinople he had almost formed the reso- 
 lution of qualifying himself for the Seraglio, that 
 he might find means to carry off a picture of the 
 Grand Signior's chief mistress. 
 
 The genei'al dishonesty of Connoisseurs is in- 
 deed so weU known, that the sti-ictest precaution 
 is taken to guard against it. Medals are secured 
 under lock and key, pictures screwed to the 
 walls, and books chained to the shelves ; yet ca- 
 binets, galleries, and libraries are continually 
 plundered. Many of the maimed statues at 
 Rome pei'haps owe their present ruinous con- 
 dition to the depradations made on them by Vir- 
 tuosos : the head of Henry the Fifth, in West- 
 minster-Abbey was in all probability stolen by 
 a Connoisseur ; and I know one who has at dif- 
 ferent times pilfered a gi'cat part of Queen Ca- 
 therine's bones, and hopes in a little while io be 
 master of the whole skeleton. This gentleman 
 has been detected in so many little thefts, that 
 he has for several years past been refused ad- 
 mittance into the museums of the curious ; and 
 he is lately gone abroad with a design upon the 
 ancient Greek manuscripts discovered at Her- 
 culaneum. 
 
 It may seem siu'prising, that these gentlemen 
 should have been hitherto suffered to esc.ipe un- 
 punished for their repeated thefts ; and that a 
 Virtuoso, who robs you of an unique of inesti- 
 mable value, should even glory in the action, 
 while a poor dog, who picks your pocket of six- 
 pence, shall be hanged for it. What a shock- 
 ing disgrace would be brought tipon taste, should 
 wc ever see the dying speech, confession, and be- 
 
No. 19.3 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 3$^ 
 
 haviour of a Connoisseur, related in the account 
 of malefactors by the Ordinary of Newgate ! 
 Such an accident would doubtless bring the 
 study of Vu"tii into still more contempt among 
 the ignorant, when they found that it only 
 brought a man to the gallows ; as the country 
 fellow, when he saw an attorney staad in the 
 pillory, for foi'gery, shook his head and cried, 
 " Ay, this comes of your writing and reading." 
 It were perhaps worthy the consideration of th* 
 legislature to devise some punishment for these 
 offenders which should bear some analogy with 
 their crimes : and as common malefactors ai"e 
 delivered to the surgeons to be anatomized, I 
 would propose, that a Connoisseur should be 
 made into a mummy, and preserved in the haU 
 of the Royal Society, for the terror and admi- 
 I'ation of his brethren. 
 
 I shall conclude this paper with the relation 
 of a circumstance, which feU within my own 
 knowledge when I was abi'oad, and in which I 
 declined a glorious opportunity of signalizing 
 nayself as a Connoisseur. While I was at 
 Rome, a young physician of oiu' party, who was 
 e^ten up w^ith Virtu, made a serious proposal to 
 us of breaking into one of the churches by night, 
 and taking away a famous piece of painting 
 over the altar. As I had not quite taste enough 
 to come at once into his scheme, I could not 
 help objecting to him, that it was a robbery. 
 Poh, says he, it is a most exquisite picture. — 
 Ay, but it is not only a robbery, but sacrilege. — 
 Oh it is a most charming piece ! — Zounds, 
 doctor, but if we sliould be taken, we shall ?ijl 
 be broke upon the wheel.— .Then, s?Jd he, we 
 sliall die martyrs. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 19.] Thursday, June 6, 1754. 
 
 Posccntes vario mvlthm diversa pal'ato. HoR. 
 
 How very ill our different tastes agree. 
 This will have beef, and that a fricassee. 
 
 I HAVE selected the following letters from a 
 great number, which I have lately been favoured 
 with from unknown correspondents : and as 
 they both relate nearly to the same subject, I 
 shall without further preface submit them to 
 the public. 
 
 Sir, 
 "When you was got into White's, I was in 
 hopes that you would not have confined your- 
 self merely to the gaming-table, but have given 
 us an accoimt of the entertainment at their or- 
 dinaries. A bill of fare from thence would have 
 been full as diverting to your readers as the laws 
 of the game, or a list of their bets. These gen- 
 tlemen, we are told, are no less adepts in the 
 
 science of eating than of gaming ; and as'Hoyle 
 has reduced the latter into a new and complete 
 system, I could wish that their cook, (who to 
 be sure is a FrenGhman) would also oblige the 
 world by a treatise on the ai't and mystery of 
 sauces. 
 
 Indeed, Mr. Town, it surprises me, that you 
 have so long neglected to make some reflections 
 on the diet of this great city. Dr. Martin Lis- 
 ter, v/ho was universally allowed to be a great 
 Connoisseur, and published several learned trea- 
 tises upon cockle shells, did not think it beneath 
 him to comment on the works of Apicius Cseli- 
 us, who had coEected together many valuable 
 receipts in cookery, as practised by the Romans. 
 If you would preserve your papers from the in- 
 dignity of covering breasts of veal, or wrapping 
 up cutkts a la Maintenon, I would advise you to 
 lard tl:iem now and then with the ragouts o^ 
 Heliogabalus, or a parallel between our modern 
 soups and the Lacedaemonian black broth. 
 Your works might then be universally read, 
 from the mistress in the parlour down to the 
 cookmaid and scullion. 
 
 It is absolutely necessary for people of all 
 tempers, complexions, persuasions, habits, and 
 stations of life, however they may differ in other 
 particulars, to concur in the grand ai'ticle of 
 eating. And as the hujpaours of the body arise 
 from the food we take in, the dispositions of the 
 mind seem to bear an equal resemblance to our 
 places of I'efreshment. You have already taken 
 a review of our several coffee-houses; and I 
 wish you would proceed to delineate the differ- 
 ent characters, that are to be found in oui' 
 tavei'ns and chop-houses. A friend of mine 
 always judges of a man of taste and fashion, by 
 asking, who is his peruke-maker or his tailor ? 
 Upon the same principles, when I would forni 
 a just opinion of any man's temper and inclina- 
 tions, I always inquire, where does he dine ? 
 
 The difference between the taverns near St. 
 James's, and those about the 'Change, consist 
 not so much in the costliness as the substance 
 of their viands. The round-bellied alderman, 
 who breathes the foggy air of the city, requires 
 a more solid diet than the light kickshaws of 
 our meagi-e persons of quality. My lord, or Sir 
 John, after havmg whiled away an hour or two 
 in the parliament-house, drive to the Star and 
 Garter to regale on macaroni, or piddle with an 
 ortolan ; while the merchant, who has plodded 
 all the morning in the Alley, sits down to a 
 turtle-feast at the Crown or the King's Arms, 
 and crams himself with calipash and calipee. 
 As the city taverns are appropriated to men of 
 business, who drive bargains for thousands over 
 their morning's gill, the taverns about the court 
 are generally filled with an insipid race of mor- 
 tals, who have nothing to do. Among these you 
 may see most of oiu" young men of fashion, and 
 young ofl&cers of the guards, who meet at these 
 F 
 
84> 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 19. 
 
 places to show the elegance of their taste by the 
 expensiveness of their dinner : and many an en- 
 sign, with scarce any income but his commission, 
 prides himself on keeping the best company, and 
 often throws doAvn more than a week's pay for 
 his reckoning ; though at other times it obliges 
 him, with several of his brethren upon half pay, 
 to dine with Duke Humphry in St. James's 
 park. 
 
 The taverns about the purlieus of Covent- 
 Garden are dedicated to Venus, as well as Ceres 
 and Liber ; and you may frequently see the 
 jolly messmates of both sexes go in and come out 
 in couples, like the clean and unclean beasts in 
 Noah's ark. These houses are equally indebted, 
 for their support, to the cook, and that worthy 
 personage, whom they have dignified with the 
 title of Pimp. These gentlemen contrive to 
 play into each other's hands. The first by his 
 high soups and rich sauces prepares the way for 
 the occupation of the other ; who having reduced 
 the patient by a proper exercise of his art, 
 returns him back again to go tkrough the same 
 regimen as before. We may therefore suppose, 
 that the culinary arts are no less studied here 
 than at White's or Pontac's. True geniuses in 
 eating will continually strike out new improve- 
 ments : but I dare say, neither Braund nor Le- 
 beck ever made up a more extraordinary dish, 
 than I once remember at the Castle. Some 
 bloods being in company with a celebrated Jille 
 dejoie, one of them pulled off her shoe, and in 
 excess of gallantry fiUed it with Champagne, 
 and drank it off to her health. In this delicious 
 draught he was immediately pledged by the rest, 
 and then, to carry the compliment still farther, 
 he ordei'ed the shoe itself to be dressed and ser- 
 ved up for supper. The cook set himself se- 
 riously to work upon it : he pulled the upper 
 part (which was of damask) into fine shreds, 
 and tossed it up in a ragout ; minched the sole ; 
 cut the wooden heel into very thin slices, fi-ied 
 them in butter, and placed them round the dish 
 for garnish. The company, you may be sure, 
 testified their affection for the lady by eating 
 very heartily of this exquisite inijiromptu : and 
 as this transaction happened just after the French 
 king had taken a cobbler's daughter for his mis- 
 tress, Tom Pierce (who has the style as well as 
 art of a French cook) in his bill politely called it, 
 in honour of her name, De Soulier a la Murphy. 
 
 Taverns, Mr. Town, seem contrived for the 
 promoting of luxury ; while the humbler chop- 
 houses are designed only to satisfy the ordinary 
 cravings of nature. Yet at these you may meet 
 with a variety of characters. At Dolly's and 
 Horseman's you commonly see the hearty lovers 
 of a beef-steak andT gill ale ; and at Betty's, and 
 the chop-houses about the inns of court, a pretty 
 maid is as inviting as the provisions. In these 
 common refectories you may always find the 
 jemmy attorneys clerk, the prim curate, the 
 
 walking physician, the captain upon half pay, 
 the shabby valet de chambre upon board wages, 
 and the foreign count or marquiss in dishabiUe, 
 who has refused to dine with a duke or an am- 
 bassador. At a little eating-house in a dark 
 alley behind the 'Change, I once saw a grave 
 citizen, worth a plum, order a twopenny mess 
 of broth with a boiled chop in it : and when it 
 was brought him, he scooped the crumb out of a 
 halfpenny roll, and soaked it in the poiTidge for 
 his present meal ; then carefully placing the chop 
 between the upper and under crust, he wiapped 
 it up in a checked handkerchief, and carried it 
 off for the morrow's repast. 
 
 I shall leave it to you. Sir, to make further 
 reflections on this subject, and should be glad to 
 dine with you at any tavern, dive with you into 
 any cellar, take a beef-steak in Ivy-lane, a mut- 
 ton chop behind St. Clement's, or (if you choose 
 it) an extempore sausage or black-pudding over 
 the farthing fries at Moorfields. 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 Pye-Corner. T. Savoury. 
 
 Mr. Town, _ ^ 
 
 By Jove it is a shame, a burning shame, to 
 see the honoui* of England, the glory of cur na- 
 tion, the gi'eatest pillar of life, Rcast Beef, utter- 
 ly banished from our tables. This evil, like 
 many others, has been growing upon us by de- 
 grees. It was begun by wickedly placing the 
 beef upon a side-table, and screening it by a 
 parcel of queue-taUed fellows in laced waistcoats. 
 However, the odorous effluvia generally affected 
 the smeU of every true Briton in the room. The 
 butler was fatigued with carving : the master of 
 the house grew pale, and sickened at the sight of 
 those juicy collops of fat and lean, that come 
 swimming in gravy, and smoking most delici- 
 ously under our nostrils. Other methods, there- 
 fore, were to be pursued. The beef was still 
 served up, but it was brought up cold. It was 
 put upon a table in the darkest part of the room, 
 and immured between four walls formed artifi- 
 cially by the servants with the hats of the com- 
 pany. When the jellies and slip-slops were 
 coming in, the beef was carried off in as secret a 
 manner, as if it had gone through the ceremo- 
 nies of concoction. But still. Sir, under all these 
 disadvantages, we had a chance of getting a slice 
 £xs it passed by. Now, alas ! it is not suffered to 
 come up stairs. I dare say it is generally ba- 
 nished from the steward's table ; nor do I suppose 
 that the powdered footmen will touch it, for fear 
 of daubing their ruffles. So that the dish that 
 was served up to the royal tables, the dish <hat 
 was the breakfast of Queen Elizabeth and her 
 maids of honour, the dish that received the dig- 
 nity of knighthood from King James the First, 
 is now become the food only of scullions and 
 stable-boys. In what words can I vent my re- 
 sentment upon this occasicn, especially when I 
 
No. 20.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 35 
 
 reflect, that innovations seldom come alone ! 
 Toasted cheese is already buried in rammekins : 
 plum-porridge has been long banished : I trem- 
 ble for plum-pudding. May we not live to see 
 a le^ of pork detested as carrion ! and a shoulder 
 of mutton avoided as if it were horse-flesh ! 
 Our only hopes are in the Clergy and the Beef- 
 steak Club. The former still preserve, and 
 probably will preser\'e the rectitude of their 
 appetites ; and will do justice to beef wherever 
 they find it. The latter, who are composed of 
 the most ingenious artists in the kingdom, meet 
 every Saturday in a noble room at the top of 
 Covent Garden Theatre, and never suffer any 
 dish except beef-steaks to appear. These, indeed, 
 ai'e most glorious examples ; but what, alas ! 
 are the weak endeavom-s of a few to oppose the 
 daily inroads of fi'icassees and soup maigres ! 
 This, Mr. Town, is a national concern, as it 
 may prove more destructive to beef than the dis- 
 temper among the horned cattle : and should the 
 modish aversion against rumps and sirloins con- 
 tinue, it will be absolutely necessary to enforce 
 the love of beef by an act of parliament. 
 Yours, 
 
 GoLiAH English. 
 
 No. 20.] Thursday, June 13, 1754. 
 
 Non urnbrtE altorum nemorum, non moUia possunl 
 Prat a Tnovere ammum. Virq. 
 
 No rural charms her joyless mind can move. 
 The verdant meadow or the lofty grove. 
 
 The ladies of the present age are strangely 
 altered from the unpolished females, who flou- 
 rished in the days of romance. What modern 
 Parthenissa would not prefer a tall yomig fellow 
 to the most beautiful dwarf in the imiverse, or 
 a coach and six to a white palfrey ! The fair 
 damsels of old were chiefly to be found in woods 
 and forests ; but our present heroines are dis- 
 tinguished by an utter aversion to the country, 
 and would as soon be confined by a giant in an 
 enchanted castle, as immiu-ed with old maiden 
 aunts in the family mansion-house. Nothing is 
 more dreadful to our ladies of quality than the 
 approach of summer ; for what woman of spirit 
 would choose to leave the town to wander in 
 solitudes and deserts ; or what pleasure can the 
 long days give to our fine ladies, when the pretty 
 creatures are conscious, that they look best by 
 candle-light? The general complaint against 
 the country is want of amusement, or want of 
 company : but these common inconveniences are 
 trifles in comparison to the suiFerings of the 
 poor lady who wrote the following letter, which 
 was communicated to me with leave to make it 
 public. 
 
 Dear Lady Chai'lotte, 
 
 I have been plagued, pestered, teased to death, 
 and hiuTied out of my wits, ever since I have 
 been in this odious country. O my dear, how I 
 long to be in town again ! Pope and the poets 
 may talk what they will of their pmling 
 streams, shady groves, and flowery meads : but 
 I had rather live all my days among the cheese- 
 mongers' shops in Thames-street, than pass such 
 another spring in this filthy country. Would 
 you believe it ? I have scarce touched a card 
 since I have been here ; and then there has been 
 such ado with us about election matters, that I 
 am ready to die with the vapours ; such a rout 
 with their hissing and hallooing, my head is 
 ready to split into a thousand pieces ! If my Sir 
 John must be in parliament, why cannot he do 
 as your lord does, and be content with a borough, 
 where he might come in without all this trouble, 
 and take his seat in the house, though he has 
 never been within a hundred ntules of the 
 place. 
 
 Om* house, my dear, has been a perfect inn, 
 ever since we came down ; and I have been 
 obliged to trudge about as much as a fat land- 
 lady. Our doors are open to every dirty fellow 
 in the county that is worth forty shillings a-year ; 
 all my best floors are spoiled by the hobnails of 
 farmers stumping about them ; every room is a 
 pig-stye, and the Chinese paper in the drawing- 
 room stinks so abominably of pxinchand tobacco, 
 that it would strike you down to come into it. 
 If you knew what I have suffered, you would 
 think I had the constitution of a washer- woman 
 to go through it. We never sit down to table 
 without a dozen or more of boisterous two- 
 legged creatiu'es as rude as bears ; and I have 
 nothing to do but to heap up their plates, and 
 di'ink to each of their healths. \Miat is worse 
 than all, one of the beasts got tipsy, and nothing 
 would serve him but he must kiss me, which I 
 was forced to submit to, for fear of losing his 
 vote and interest. Woxild you think it, dear 
 Charlotte ?— do not laugh at me — I stood god- 
 mother in person to a huge lubberly boy at a 
 country farmer's, and they almost poisoned me 
 with their hodge-podge they called caudle, made 
 of sour ale and brown sugar. All this and 
 more I have been obliged to comply with, that 
 the country fellows might not say, my lady ia 
 proud and above them. 
 
 Besides, there is not a woman creature within 
 twenty miles of the place, that is fit company 
 for my house-keeper ; and yet I must be inti- 
 mate with them all. Lady B indeed is very 
 
 near us ; but though Ave are very well acquaint- 
 ed in town, we must not be seen to speak to each 
 other here, because her lord is in the opposition. 
 Poor Thomas got a sad drubbing at her house, 
 when I innocently sent him, at my first coming 
 into the country, with a how d'ye to her lady- 
 ship. The greatest female acquaintances I have 
 
36 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 20. 
 
 here, are Mrs. Mayoress, a tailor's wife, and 
 Mrs. Alderman Gascoigne, who sells pins and 
 needles on one side of the shop, while her hus- 
 band works at his pestle and mortar on the 
 ■other. These ordinary wretches are constant 
 attendants on my tea-table : I am obliged to 
 take them and their brats out an airing in my 
 coach eveiy evening ; and am aftei'wards often 
 doomed to sit down to whist and swabbers, or 
 one-and-thirty bone-ace for farthings. Mrs. 
 Mayoress is a very violent party woman ; and 
 she has two pug-dogs ; one of which she calls 
 Sir John, and the other Colonel, in compliment, 
 you must know, to my husband and his brother 
 candidate. 
 
 We had a ball the other day ; and I opened it 
 with Sir Humphrey Chace, who danced in his 
 boots, and hobbled along for all the world like 
 the dancing-bears, which I have seen in the 
 streets of London. A terrible mistake happen- 
 ed about precedence, which, I fear, will lose Sir 
 John a good many votes. An attoniey'« wife 
 was very angry thsrt her daughter, a little pert 
 chit just come from the boarding-school, was 
 not called out to dance before Miss Norton, the 
 brewer's daughter, when every body knew (»he 
 said) that her girl was a gentlewoman bi'ed and 
 born. 
 
 J wish, my dear, you were to see my dressing- 
 room ; you would think it was a ribbon-shop. 
 Lefttice and I have been busy all this week in 
 making up knots and favours ; and yesterday 
 no milliner's 'prentice could work harder than I 
 did, in tying them on to the sweaty hats of coun- 
 try bumpkins. And is it not very hard upon 
 me ? I must not even dress as I please ; but am 
 obliged to wear blue, though you know it does 
 not suit my complexion, and makes me look as 
 horrid as the witches in Macbeth. 
 
 But what is worse than all. Sir John tells me, 
 the election expenses have run so high, that he 
 must shorten my allowance of pin-money. He 
 talks of turning off half his servants ; nay, he 
 has even hinted to me, that I shall not come to 
 town all the winter. Barbarous creature ! — 
 But if he dare serve me so, he shall positively 
 lose his election next time ; I will raise such a 
 spirit of opposition in all the wives and daugh- 
 ters of the county against him. 
 
 I am youi" affectionate fi'iend, &c. 
 
 This lady's case is, indeed, very much to be 
 pitied : but as Sir John has had the good luck to 
 gain his point after a strong opposition, he will, 
 doubtless, be sensible of the gi-eat share his lady 
 had in his success. For my own part, when I 
 consider the vast influence which the fair sex 
 must naturally have over my fellow-countrymen, 
 I cannot help looking on their interesting them- 
 selves in these matters as a very serious affair. 
 What success must a fine lady meet with on her 
 canvas ! No gentleman to be sure could be so rude, 
 
 OT 80 cruel, as to refuse such a pretty beggar any 
 thing she could ask ; and an honest country far- 
 mer, who could withstand any other arguments, 
 might be coaxed and wheedled, oi* bribed with a 
 smile, into voting against his conscience. Many 
 instances have been found, dnring the late elec- 
 tions, of husbands who have been forced to poll 
 as their wives would hare them ; and I know a 
 young fellow that was brought over to give a 
 vote against his inclination by his sweetheart, 
 who refused to receive his addresses, if he did 
 not change his party. 
 
 It may not, perhaps, be loo bold an assertion, 
 that half the members in the present parliament 
 owe their seats to the direct ot indirect influence 
 of the other sex. It would, therefore, be -highly 
 proper for the legislature to provide against this 
 evil for the future ; and I hope, before the next 
 general election, to see among the votes the fol- 
 lowing resolution : 
 Resolved, 
 
 That it is a high infringement of the liberties 
 and privileges of the Commons of Great Britain, 
 for any peeress, or any other lady to concern 
 themselves in the elections of members to serve 
 for the Commons in Parliament. T. 
 
 No. 21.] Thursday, June 20, 1754. 
 
 > StndeOy hvllatis ut mifu nugii 
 
 Pagina turgescat, dare pondus idoneafumo. Pebsius. 
 
 A tale in sounding phrase I strive to tell. 
 With pompous trifles that my page may swell ; 
 That wordy trappings the thin sense may cloak 
 And add imaginary weight to smoke. 
 
 Tquassouw, the son of Kqvussomo, was Kon- 
 quer, or Chief Captain over the Sixteen Nations 
 of Caffraria. He was descended from N'oh and 
 Hingn'oh, vrho dropt from the moon; and his 
 power extended over all the Kraals of the Hot- 
 tentots. 
 
 This prince was remarkable for his prowess 
 and activity ; his speed was like the torrent, that 
 rushes down the precipice ; and he would over- 
 take the wild ass in her flight : his arrows 
 brought down the eagle from the clouds ; the 
 lion fell before bim, and his lance drank the 
 blood of the rhinoceros. He fathomed the wa- 
 ters of the deep, and buffeted the billows in the 
 tempest ; he drew the rock-fish from their lurk- 
 ing holes, and rifled the beds of coral. Traine<l 
 from his infancy in the exercise of war, to wieKl 
 the hassagaye with dexterity, and break the wild 
 bulls to battle, he was a stranger to the short 
 dalliance of love ; and beheld with indifference 
 the thick-lipped damsels of Gongeman, and the 
 fiat-nosed beauties of Hauteniqua. 
 
 As Tquassouw was one day giving instructions 
 for spreading toils for the elk, and digging pit- 
 
No. 21 1| 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 37 
 
 ialls for the Blephant, he received information, 
 that a tiger prowling for prey was committing 
 ravages on the Kraals of the Chamtouers. He 
 snatched up his how of olive-wood, and hounded, 
 like the roebuck on the mountains, to their as- 
 sistance. He arrived just at the instant when 
 the enraged animal was about to fasten on a vir- 
 gin,'and aiming a poisoned arrow at his heart, 
 laid him dead at her feet. The virgin threw 
 herself on the ground, and covered her head 
 with dust, to thank her deliverer ; but when she 
 rose, the prince was dazzled with her charms. 
 He was struck with the glossy hue of her com- 
 plexion, which shone like the jetty down on the 
 black hogs of Hessaqua : he -was ravished with 
 the prest gi'istle of her nose : and his eyes dwelt 
 with admiration on the flaccid beauties of her 
 breasts, which descended to her naval. 
 
 Knonmquaiha (for that was the virgin's 
 name)was daughter to the Kouquequa or Lead- 
 er of the Kraal, vv^ho bred her up with all the deli- 
 cacy of her sex. She was fed with the entrails 
 of goats, she sucked the eggs of the ostrich, and 
 her drink was the milk of ewes. After gazing 
 for some time upon her charms, the prince, in 
 great transport, embraced the soles of her feet : 
 then ripping the beast he had just killed, took 
 out the caul, and hung it about her neck, in to- 
 ken of his affection. He afterwards stripped the 
 tiger of his skin, and sending it to the Kouqiie- 
 qua her father, demanded the damsel in mar- 
 riage. 
 
 The eve of the full moon was appointed for 
 the celebration of the nuptials of Tquassouw and 
 Knonmquaiha. When the day airived, the 
 magnificence in which the bridegroom was ar- 
 rayed,' amazed all Caffraria. Over his shoul- 
 der was cast a Kroese, or mantle of wild cat- 
 skins ; he cut sandals for his feet from the raw 
 hide of an elephant ; he had hunted down a leo- 
 pard, and of the spotted fur formed a superb cap 
 for his head ; he girded his loins with the intes- 
 tines, and the bladder of the beast he blew up 
 and fastened to his hair. 
 
 Nor was Knonmquaiha less employed in 
 adorning her person. She made a varnish of the 
 fat of goats with mixed soot, with wliich she 
 anointed her whole body, as she stood beneath 
 the rays of the sim : her locks wei-e clotted with 
 melted grease, and powdered with the yellow 
 dust of buchu : her face, which shone like the 
 polished ebony, was beautifully varied with 
 spots of red earth, and appeared like the sable 
 curtain of the night bespangled with stars ; she 
 sprinkled her limbs with wood ashes, and per- 
 fumed them with the dung of the stinkbingsem. 
 Her arms and legs were entwined with the 
 shining entrails of a heifer: from her neck 
 there hung a pouch composed of the stomach of 
 a kid : the wings of an ostrich overshadowed 
 the fleshy promontories behind ; and before, she 
 wore an api'on formed of the shaggy esirs of a lion. | 
 
 The chiefe of the seveial Kraals, who were 
 summoned to assist at their nuptials, formed a 
 circle on the ground, sitting upon their heels, and 
 bowing their heads between their knees in token 
 of reverence. In the centre the illustrious 
 prince with his sable bride, reposed upon soft 
 cushions of cow-dung. Then the Surri or chief 
 priest approached them, and in a deep voice 
 chanted the nuptial rites to^ the melodious 
 gi'umbliiig of the gom-gom ; and at the same 
 time, according to the manner of CaflEraria, 
 bedewed them plentifully with the urinary 
 benediction. The bride and bridegi-oom rubbed 
 in the precious stream with ecstacy ; while the 
 briny drops trickled from then* bodies like the 
 oozy surge from the rocks of Chirigriqua. 
 
 The Hottentots had seen the increase and 
 wane of two moons since the happy union of 
 Tquassouw and Knonmquaiha, when the 
 Kraals were surprised with the appearance of a 
 most extraordinai'y personage that came fi"om 
 the savage people who rose from the sea, and 
 had lately fixed themselves on the borders of 
 Cafft-aria. His body was en^vrapped with 
 strange coverings, which concealed every part 
 fi'om sight, except his face and hands. Upon 
 his skin the sun darted his scorching rays in 
 vain, and the colour of it was pale and -wan as 
 the watery beams of the moon. His hair, which 
 he could put on and take off at pleasiu-e, was 
 white as the blossoms of the almond- tree, and 
 bushy as the fleece of tlie ram- His lips and 
 cheeks resembled the red ochi'e, and his nose wa$ 
 sharpened like the beak of an eagle. His lan- 
 guage, which was rough and inai'ticulate, was 
 as the language of beasts; nor could Tquassouw 
 discover his nxeaning, till a Hottentot (who at 
 the first coming of these people had been taken 
 prisoner, and afterwai-ds made his escape) inter- 
 pi'eted betAveen them. This interpreter inform- 
 ed the prince, that the stranger was sent from 
 his fellow-countrymen to treat about the en- 
 largement of their territories, and that he was 
 called, among them, Mynheer Van Snickersnee. 
 Tquassouw, who was remarkable for his hu- 
 manity, treated the savage Avith extraordinary 
 benevolence. He spi'ead a mantle of sheep- 
 skins, anointed with fat, for his bed ; and for his 
 food he boiled in their own blood the tripes of 
 the fattest herds that grazed in the rich pastures 
 of the Heykoms. The stranger in 'return in- 
 structed the prince in the manners of the savages, 
 and often amused him. with sending fire from 
 a hollow engine, which rent the air with 
 thunder. Nor was he less studious to please the 
 gentle Knonmquaiha. He bound bracelets of 
 polished metal about her arms, and encircled her 
 neck with beads of glass : he filled the cocoa-shell 
 with a delicious liquor, and gave it her to diink, 
 which exhilarated her heart, and made her eyes 
 sparkle with joy : he also taught her to kindle 
 fire through a tube of clay with the dried leaves 
 
38 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 22. 
 
 of Dacha, and to send forth rolls of odorous 
 smoke from her mouth. After having sojoui'n- 
 ed in the Kraals for the space of half a moon, 
 the stranger was dismissed with magnificent 
 presents of the teeth of elephants ; and a grant 
 was made to his countrymen of the fertile mea- 
 dows of Kochequa, and the forests of Stink- 
 wood bounded by the Palamite river. 
 
 Tquassouw and Knonmquaiha continued to 
 live together in the most cordial affection ; and 
 the Surris every night invoked the great Gounja 
 Ticquoa, who illuminates the moon, that he 
 would give an heir to the race of N'oh and 
 Hingn'oh. The princess at length manifested 
 the happy tokens of pregnancy : while her waist 
 increased daily in circumference, and swelled 
 like the gourd. When the time of her delivery 
 approached, she was committed to the care of 
 the wise women, who placed her on a couch of 
 the reeking entrails of a cow newly slain, and 
 to facilitate the birth, gave her a portion of the 
 milk of wild asses, and fomented her loins with 
 the warm dung of elephants. When the throes 
 of child-birth came on, a terrible hurricane 
 howled along the coast, the air bellowed with 
 thunder, and the face of the moon was obscured 
 as with a veil. The Kraal echoed with shrieks 
 and lamentations, and the wise women cried 
 out, that the princess was delivered of a mon- 
 ster. 
 
 The offspring of her womb was white.— They 
 took the child and washed him with the juice 
 of aloes : they exposed his limbs to the sun, 
 anointed them with the fat, and rubbed them 
 Avith the excrement of black bulls :— but his 
 skin still retained its detested hue, and the child 
 was still white. The venerable Surris were as- 
 sembled to deliberate on the cause of this prodi- 
 gy ; and they unanimously pronounced, that it 
 was owing to the evil machinations of the dae- 
 mon Cham-ouna, who had practised on the vir- 
 tue of the princess under the appearance of Myn- 
 heer Van Snickersnee. 
 
 The incestuous parent and her unnatural off- 
 spring were judged unworthy to live. They 
 bowed a branch of an olive tree in the forest of 
 lions, on which the white monster was sus- 
 pended by the heel,s ; and ravenous beasts feast- 
 ed on the issue of Knonmquaiha. The princess 
 herself was sentenced to the severe punishment 
 allotted to the heinous crime of adultery. The 
 Kouquequas, who scarce twelve moons before 
 had met to celebrate her nuptials, were now 
 summoned to assist at her unhappy death. They 
 were collected in a circle, each of them wielding 
 a huge club of cripple-wood. The beauteous 
 criminal stood weeping in the midst of them, 
 prepared to receive the first blow from the hand 
 of her injured husband. Tquassouw in vain 
 essayed to perform the sad office : thrice he up- 
 lifted his ponderous mace of iron, and thrice 
 dropt it ineffectual on the ground. At length 
 
 from his re.uctant arm descended the fell stroke, 
 which lighted on that nose, whose flatness and 
 expansion had first captivated his heart. The 
 Kouquequas then rushing in with their clubs, 
 redoubled their blows on her body, till the 
 pounded Knonmquaiha lay as a heap of mud, 
 which the retiring flood leaves on the strand. 
 
 Her battered limbs, now without form and 
 distinction, were inclosed in the paunch of a 
 rhinoceros, which was fastened to the point of a 
 bearded arrow, and shot into the ocean. Tquas- 
 souw remained inconsolable for her loss : he 
 frequently climbed the lofty cliffs of Chirigrique, 
 and cast his eyes on the watery expanse. One 
 night, as he stood howling with the wolves to 
 the moon, he descried the paunch that contained 
 the precious relics of Knonmquaiha, dancing on 
 a wave and floating towards him. Thrice he 
 cried out with a lamentable voice. Bo, Bo, Bo ; 
 then springing from the cliff, he darted like the 
 eagle sousing on his prey. The paunch burst 
 asunder beneath his weight; the green wave 
 was discoloured with the gore, and Tquassouw 
 was enveloped in the mass. He was heard of no 
 more : and it was believed by the people who 
 remained ignorant of this catastrophe, that he 
 was snatched up into the moon. 
 
 The fate of this unhappy pair is recorded 
 among the nations of the Hottentots to this day ; 
 and their marriage rites have ever since con- 
 cluded with a wish, ' That the husband may be 
 happier than Tquassouw, and the wife more 
 chaste than Knonmquaiha.' W. 
 
 No. 22.] Thursdat, June 27, 1754. 
 
 Scilicet erpectes, ut tradet mater honestos 
 
 Atque alios mores, quam quos habet ? Ji 
 
 The same their breeding, and so like each other, 
 Miss is the very model of her mother. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I REMEMBER, in a match between two persona 
 of diffei'ent religions, it was stipulated in the 
 marriage articles, that the boys should be bred 
 up in the persuasion of the father, and the girls 
 in that of the mother. The consequence of this 
 was, that one part of the family was taught to 
 look upon the other with a most pious con- 
 tempt ; and in the end it produced a separation. 
 The sons followed the example of their father, 
 and in order to avoid the least appearance of 
 superstition or bigotry, turned out freethinkers : 
 the lady of the house retired with her daughters 
 to France, and to preserve them from a commu- 
 nication with heretics, confined them in a nun- 
 nery. 
 
 The like method seems to be observed la the 
 
No. 22.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 S9 
 
 general education of children, who as soon as 
 they leave the nursery, are resigned over to the 
 care and direction of their respective parents, 
 according to their sex : whence it often happens, 
 that families are as much distinguished by their 
 peculiar manners, as by a certain cast of features 
 or complexion. My young squire is put upon a 
 little horse before he can well walk, and becomes 
 (as his father was before him) the pupil and 
 companion of the groom and the gamekeeper ; 
 and if miss's mamma should chance to be the 
 daughter of a poor man of quality, though tlie 
 wife of a substantial tradesman, the little lady 
 is early instructed to value herself on her blood, 
 and to despise her father's dirty connexions with 
 business. 
 
 To this method of education it is owing, that 
 the same vices and follies are delivei'ed down 
 from one generation to another. The modish 
 excesses of these times are in their nature the 
 same with those which were fonnerly in vogue, 
 though they differ somewhat in their shape and 
 appearance. The present race of bucks, bloods, 
 and freethinkers, are but the spawn of the Mo- 
 hocks and the Hell- Fire Club : and if our 
 modern fine ladies have had their masquerades, 
 their Vauxhalls, their Sunday tea-drinking at 
 Ranelagh, and their morning chocolate in the 
 Hay-market, they have only improved upon the 
 Ring, the Spring Gardens, the New Exchange 
 assignations, and the morning puppet-show, 
 which employed the attention of their grand- 
 mothers. And as it is not apparent that our 
 people of fashion are more wicked, so neither ai"e 
 they wiser than their predecessors. 
 
 When I contemplate the manner in which the 
 younger part of the polite world is brought up, 
 I am apt to cari'y my reflections fui'ther than 
 what merely concerns their own persons. Let 
 our young men of fashion expose their ignorance 
 abroad, rather than improve at our universities 
 at home;— let them trifle away their time in 
 insipid amusements, and run loose about the 
 town in one continued round of extravagance 
 and debauchery ; let our young ladies be taught 
 nothing but gallantry and whist, and be seen 
 only at routs and assemblies ; — if the conse- 
 quence extend not beyond themselves. But as 
 these are to be the fathers and mothers, the 
 guardians and tutors, on whom the morals of 
 our next race must depend ; it becomes a public 
 concern, lest the reign of vice and ignorance 
 should be supported, as it were, by hereditary 
 succession, and propagated to distant genera- 
 tions. 
 
 The modern method of education is, indeed, 
 so little calculated to promote virtue and learn- 
 ing, that it is almost impossible the children 
 should be wiser or better than their parents. 
 The country squire seldom fails of seeing his son 
 as dull and awkward a looby as himself; whUe I 
 tJie debauched or foppish man of quality breeds ] 
 
 up a rake or an empty coxcomb, who brings new 
 diseases into the family, and fresh mortgages on 
 the estate. If you would therefore favour us, 
 Mr. Town, with a few remai'ks on this subject, 
 you would do sei-vice to posterity : for the 
 present, give me leave to illustrate what I have 
 said, by the example of a very fashionable 
 family. 
 
 Lady BeUe Modely was one of the finest 
 women in the last reign, as the Colonel, her 
 husband, was one of the smartest fellows. After 
 they had astonished the world singly with the 
 eclat of their actions, they came together ; as 
 her ladyship was proud of fixing a man, who 
 was thought to have inti'igued with half the 
 women of fashion; while the Colonel fell a 
 sacrifice to her beauty, only because she was ad- 
 mired by every body else. They lived together 
 for some time in great splendour ; but as matri- 
 mony was a constraint upon their freedom, they 
 at length parted by a private agi'eement. Lady 
 Belle keeps the best company, is at the head of 
 every party of pleasui-e, never misses a masque- 
 rade, and has card-tables constantly at her own 
 house on Sundays. The Colonel is one of the 
 oldest members of the club at White's, runs 
 horses at Newmarket, has an actress in keeping, 
 and is protected from the impertinence of duns, 
 by having purchased a seat in parliament at 
 almost as great an expense as would have satis- 
 fied the demands of his creditors. 
 
 They have two childi-en : the one has been 
 educated by the direction of his father, the other 
 has been bred up under the eye of her mamma. 
 The boy was, indeed, put to a grammar-school 
 for a while ; but Latin and Greek, or indeed 
 any language except French, are of no service to 
 a gentleman ; and as the lad had discovered early 
 marks of spirit (such as kicking down wheel- 
 ban'ows, and setting old women on their heads,) 
 the Colonel sv/ore Jack should be a soldier, and 
 accordingly begged a pair of coloui's for him be- 
 fore he ^vas fifteen. The Colonel, who had 
 served only in the peaceful campaigns of Covent- 
 Garden, took great pains to instil into Jack all 
 that prowess so remarkable in the modern heroes 
 of the army. He enumerated his victories over 
 bullies, his encounters Avith sharpers, his mid- 
 night skirmishes with constables, his storming 
 of bagnios, his imprisonment in round-houses, 
 and his honoui-able wounds in the service of 
 prostitutes. The Captain could not fail of im- 
 proving under so excellent a tutor, and soon be- 
 came as eminent as his father. He is a blood of 
 the first rate ; Sherlock has instructed him in 
 the use of the broad-sword, and Broughton has 
 taught him to box. He is a fine gentleman at 
 assemblies, a sharper at the gaming-table, and a 
 bully at the bagnios. He has not yet killed his 
 man in the honourable way ; but he has gallantly 
 crippled several watchmen, and most counfge- 
 ously run a waiter througli the body. Hia 
 
40 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 23. 
 
 scanty pay will not allow him to keep a mistress ; 
 l»ut it is said, that he is privately married to a 
 woman of the town. 
 
 Such is the consequence of the son's education, 
 and by this our people of distinction may learn 
 how much better it is to let a lad see the woi'ld, 
 as the phrase is, than to lash him through a 
 grammar-school, like a parish-boy, and confine 
 him with dull pedants in a college cloister. 
 Lady Belle has not been less careful of her 
 daughter, Miss Harriot. Those who undertake 
 the business of educating polite females, have laid 
 it down as a rule to consider women merely as 
 dolls ; and therefore never attempt the culti- 
 vation of their principles, but employ their 
 whole attention on adorning their persons. 
 The romantic notions of honour and virtue 
 are only fit for poor awkwai'd creatures who 
 are to many a shopkeeper or a parson ; but 
 they are of no use to a fine girl, who is designed 
 to make a figure. Accox'dingly Miss HaiTiot 
 was committed to the care of Madame Gover- 
 nante, who never suffered her to speak a word 
 of English, and a French dancing-master, who 
 taught her to hold up her head, and come into 
 the I'oom like a little lady. As she grew up, 
 her mamma instructed her in the nicest points 
 of ceremony and good breeding : she explained 
 to her the laws and regulations of dress, direct- 
 ed her in the choice of her Sbrocades, told her 
 what fashions best became her, and what colours 
 best suited h^r complexion. These excellent 
 rules were constantly enforced by examples 
 drawn from her ladyship's own practice : above 
 all, she unravelled the various arts of gallantry 
 and intrigue, recounted the stratagems she had 
 herself employed in gaining new conquests, 
 taught her when to advance and when to re- 
 treat, and how far she might ventui'e to indulge 
 herself in certain freedoms without endangering 
 her reputation. 
 
 Miss Harriot soon became the public admira- 
 tion of all the pretty fellows, and Avas allowed 
 to be a lady of the most elegant accomplish- 
 ments. She was reckoned to play a better game 
 at whist than Mrs. Sharply, and to bet with 
 more spirit at brag than the bold Lady Atall. 
 She was carried about to Tunbridge, Bath, 
 Cheltenham, and every other place of diversion, 
 by the mother ; where she was exposed as at a 
 public mart for beauty, and put up to the best 
 bidder. But as Miss had some fortune in her 
 own disposal, she had not the patience to wait 
 the formal delaj's of marriage articles, jointures, 
 settlements, and pin-money ; and just before the 
 late act took place, eloped with a gentleman, who 
 had long been very intimate with her mamma, 
 and recommended himself to Miss Harriot by a 
 stature of six-foot and a shoulder-knot. 
 I am. Sir, 
 
 O. Your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 No. 23.] Thursday, July 4, ITlii. 
 
 Qui modo scurra 
 
 Avt si quid hac re tritium vidcbatur. 
 
 Idem injicao est inficctior rure. Cati'i.i.. 
 
 The Fool of Pantomime, who ne'er spake word. 
 Or worse than Fool, the Senator, or T-ord, 
 In the duU country his dull trade pursuing, 
 The blockhead underdoes his underdoing. 
 
 I HAVE lately received several letters from my 
 cousin Village, concernir»g the entertainments 
 of the country. He tells me, that they have 
 concerts every evening in that part of the month 
 in which the almanack promises it will be moon- 
 light. In one little town in particular, aU the 
 polite company of the place assemble every Sun- 
 day evening (after church) at the Three Com- 
 passes, which is kept by the clerk, to regale 
 themselves with cakes and fine home-brewed ih 
 an arbour at the end of his cabbage garden ; ta 
 which they have given the genteel denomination 
 of Little Ranelagh. I shall this day present my 
 reader with his last letter ; and only take notice 
 of the grand difference between the summer 
 amusements in town and country. In London, 
 while we are almost smothered in smoke and 
 dust, gardens are open every eveoing to refresh 
 us with the pure air of the country ; while thode, 
 who have the finest walks and most beautiful 
 prospects eternally before them, shut themselvoa 
 up in theatres and baU-rooms, * lock fair day- 
 light out, and make themselves an artificial 
 London.' 
 
 Deab, Cousin, 
 
 Whenever the town goes, those who liv« by 
 the town naturally follow. The facetious and 
 entertaining gentry, who, during the winter, 
 amused the world within the bills of mortality, 
 are now dispei-sed into different parts of the 
 country. We have bad most of them here al- 
 ready. The Colossus, the Dwarf, the Female 
 Samson, made some stay with us. We went for 
 a week together to see Mr. Powell eat red-hot 
 tobacco-pipes, and swallow fire and brimstone. 
 The Hermaphrodite was obliged to leave the 
 town on a scandalous report, that a lady used 
 frequently to visit him in private. Mr. Church 
 for some time charmed us with cx)ncertos and 
 sonatas on the Jew's-harp; and at our last ball 
 we footed it to our usual melody of the tabor 
 and pipe, accompanied with the cymbal and 
 wooden spoons. 
 
 I will not tire you with a particular detail of 
 all our entertainments, but confine myself at 
 present to those of the stage. About the middle 
 of last month there came among us one of those 
 gentlemen, who are famous for the cure of CTery 
 distemper, and espcciaUy those pronounced in- 
 
No. 23.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 41 
 
 curable by the faculty. The vulgar call him a 
 mountebank ; — but wlsen I considered his im- 
 passioned speeches, and the extempore stage from 
 which he uttered them, I was apt to compare 
 liim to Thespis and his cart. Again, when I 
 beheld the Doctor dealing out his drugs, and at 
 the same time saw his Merry- Andrew play over 
 his tricks, it put me in mind of a tragi-comedy ; 
 where the pathetic and the ludicrous are so inti- 
 mately connected, and the whole piece is so merry 
 and so sad, that the audience is at a loss whether 
 they shall laugh or cry. 
 
 After the Doctor had been here some time, 
 there came down two or three emissaries from 
 a strolling company, in order (according to 
 the players' phrase) to take the town ; but 
 the Mayor being a strict Presbyterian, absolute- 
 ly refused to license their exhibitions. The play- 
 ers, you must know, finding this a good town, 
 had taken a lease last summer of an old synagogue 
 deserted by the Jews ; and were therefore much 
 alarmed at this disappointment : but when they 
 were in the utmost despair, the ladies of the place 
 joined in a petition to Mrs. Mayoress, who pre- 
 vailed on her husband to wink at their perform- 
 ances. The company immediately opened their 
 S3'nagogue- theatre with the Merchant of Venice : 
 and finding the Doctor's Zany a droll fellow, 
 they decoyed him into their service ; and he has 
 since performed the part of the Mock Doctor 
 with universal applause. Upon his revolt, the 
 Doctor himself found it absolutely necessary to 
 enter the company ; and having a talent for 
 tragedy, has performed with gi'eat success the 
 Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 The performers at our rustic theatre arc far 
 beyond those paltry strollers, who run about the 
 counti'y, and exhibit in a barn or cow-house : 
 for (as their bills declare) they are a company of 
 comedians from the Theatres Royal; and I as- 
 sure you, they are as much applauded by our 
 country critics, as any of your capital actors. 
 The shops of our ti-adesmen have been almost 
 deserted, and a crowd of weavers and hard- 
 ware-men have elbowed each other fwo hours 
 before the opening of the doors, when the bills 
 have informed us, in enormous red letters, that 
 the part of George Barnwell was to be per- 
 formed by Mr. , at the particular desire of 
 
 several ladies of distinction. It is true, indeed, 
 that our principal actors have most of them had 
 their education in Covent- Garden, or Drury- 
 Lane ; but they have been employed in the 
 business of the drama in a degree but just above 
 a scene-shifter. A heroine, to whom your 
 managers in town (in envy to her rising merit) 
 scarce allotted the humble part of a confidante, 
 now blubbers out Andi-omache or Belvidera : 
 the attendants on a monarch strut monarchs 
 themselves, mutes find their voices, and mes- 
 sage-bearers rise into heroes. The humour of 
 our best comedian consists in shrugs and gri- 
 
 maces ; he jokes in a wry mouth, and repartees 
 in a grin : in short, he y>ractises on Congreve 
 and Vanbrugh all those distortions that gained 
 him so much applause from the galleries, in the 
 drubs which he was condemned to undergo in 
 pantomimes. I was vastly diverted at seeing a 
 fellow in the character of Sir Harry Wildair, 
 whose chief action was a continually pressing 
 together of the thumb and fore-finger; which, 
 had he lifted them to his nose, I should have 
 thought he designed as an imitation of taking 
 snuff; but I could easily account for the cause 
 of this singular gesture, when I discovered that 
 Sir Harry was no less a person than the dexter- 
 ous Mr. Clippit, the candle-snuffer. 
 
 You would laugh to see how strangely the 
 parts of a play are cast. They played Cato ; 
 and their Marcia was such an old woman, that 
 when Juba came on with his — * Hail ! charm- 
 ing maid !' — the fellow could not help laughing. 
 A.nother night, I was surprised to hear an eager 
 lover talk of rushing into his mistress's arms, 
 rioting on the nectar of her lips, and desii-ing 
 (in the tragedy rapture) to ' hug her thus, and 
 thus for ever;' though he always took care to 
 stand at a most ceremonious distance ; but I. 
 was afterwards very much diverted at the cause 
 of this extraordinary respect, when I was told, 
 that the Indy laboured under the misfortune of 
 an ulcer in her leg, which occasioned such a 
 disagreeable stench, that the performers were 
 obliged to keep her at arm's length. The enter- 
 tainment was Letha ; and the part of the 
 Frenchman was performed by a South Biiton ; 
 who, as he could not pi'onounce a word of the 
 French language, supplied its place by gabbling 
 in his native Welch. 
 
 The decorations, or (in the theatrical dialect) 
 the property af our company, are as extraordi- 
 nary as the performers. Othello raves about a 
 checked handkerchief; the Ghost in Hamlet 
 stalks in a postilion's leathern jacket for a coat 
 of mail ; and, in a new pantomime of their 
 own, Cupid enters with a fiddle-case slung over 
 his shoulders for a quiver. The apothecary of 
 the town is free of the house, for lending them 
 a pestle and mortar to serve as the bell in Venice 
 Preserved ; at)d a barber-surgeon has the same 
 privilege, for furnishing them with basins of 
 blood to besmear the daggers in IVIacbeth. Mac- 
 beth himself carries a rolling-pin in his hand 
 for a truncheon ; and, as the breaking of glasses 
 would be very expensive, he dashes down a 
 pewter pint at the sight of Banquo's Ghost. 
 
 A fray happened here the other night, which 
 was no small diversion to the audience. It 
 seems there had been a great contest between 
 two of these mimic heroes, who was the ^ttest 
 to play Richard the Third. One of them was 
 reckoned to have the better person, as he was 
 very round-shouldered, and one of his legs was 
 shorter than the other ; but his antagonist car- 
 G 
 
42 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 [No. 24. 
 
 I'leA the part, because he started best in the 
 Tent-Scene. However, when the curtain dr«w 
 up, they both rushed in upon the stage at once ; 
 and bawling out together, ' Now are our brows 
 l>ound with victorious wreaths,' they both went 
 through the whole speech without stopping. 
 I aii), dear Cousin, yours, &c. 
 
 No. 24.] Thursday, July 11, 1754.. 
 
 Hie dablt populo, patribusque, equitique lef^endmn. Mart. 
 
 Books that the knowledge of the world can show. 
 Such as might please a lady, or a beau. 
 
 When I consider the absurd taste for litera- 
 ture, that once prevai]ed among our persons of 
 distinction, I cannot but applaud the reforma- 
 tion, which has been since brought about in this 
 article by the polite world. A Duke of New- 
 castle made himself remarkable by a Treatise on 
 Horsemanship; a Rochester supplied the place 
 of Ovid in the closets of men of pleasure ; and 
 even the ladies of former ages sacrificed to love 
 in novels and romances. I will not mention a 
 Shaftsbury, as our present age has produced a 
 Bolingbroke. We of this generation are wiser 
 than to suffer our youth of quality to lose their 
 precious time in studying the Belles Lettres, 
 while our only care is to introduce them into 
 the beau monde. A modern poet, instead of lay- 
 ing down the theory of horsemanship, is perfect 
 in the practice, and commences jockey himself; 
 and our rakes of fashion are content with acting 
 the scenes which Rochester described. Our 
 ladies are, indeed, very well qualified to publish 
 a recital of amours; and one in particular has 
 already entertained the world with memoirs of 
 her own intrigues, cuckoldoms, and elopements. 
 I am very glad to find the present age so en- 
 tirely free from pedantry. Some part of the 
 polite world read, indeed, but they are so wise 
 as to read only for amusement; or at least only 
 to improve themselves in the more modern and 
 fashionable sciences. A Treatise on Whist has 
 more admirers than a System of Logic, and a 
 new Atalantis would be more universally read 
 than a Practice of piety. A fine gentleman or 
 lady would no more choose the mind of a pe- 
 dant, than the person of a cook-maid, or a por- 
 ter. I cannot, therefore, but approve of the 
 plan laid down by the writer of the following 
 letter, and would recommend it to all persons of 
 fashion to subscribe to his proposals. 
 
 Sir, 
 1 have long observed with infinite regret the 
 little care that is taken to supply persons of dis- 
 
 and amusement. It is no wonder, that they 
 should be so averse to study, when learning is 
 rendered so disagreeable. Common creatures, 
 indeed, as soon as they can spell, may be made 
 to read a dull chapter in the Testament, after 
 which the Whole Duty of Man, or some other 
 useless good book, may be put into their hands ; 
 but these can never instruct a man of tbe world 
 to say fine things to a lady, or to swear with a 
 good grace. Among a few dirty pedants the 
 knowledge of Greek and Latin may be culti- 
 vated; but among fine gentlemen these are 
 justly discarded for French and Italian. Why 
 should persons of quality trouble themselves 
 about Mathematics and Philosophy, or throw 
 away their time in scratching circles and trian- 
 gles on a slate, and then rubbing them out again ? 
 All the Algebra requisite for them to know, is 
 the combination of figures on the dice ; nor 
 could Euclid be of any use to them, except he had 
 represented the most graceful attitudes in fenc- 
 ing, or drawn out the lines of a minuet. 
 
 In order to remedy these inconveniences, and 
 that the erudition of persons of fashion may he 
 as different from the vulgar knowledge of the 
 rest of mankind as their dress, I have formed a 
 project for regulating their studies. An old 
 crabbed philosopher once told a monarch, that 
 there was no royal way of learning the mathe- 
 matics : — First then, as to the musty volumes 
 which contain Greek, Latin, and the Sciences, 
 (since there is no genteel method of coming at 
 the knowledge of them) I would banish them 
 entirely from the polite world, and have them 
 chained down in university libraries, tbe only 
 places where they can be useful or entertaining. 
 Having thus cleared the shelves of this learned 
 lumber, we shall have room to fill them more 
 elegantly. I'o this end, I have collected all such 
 books as are proper to be perused by people of 
 quality; and shall shortly make my scheme 
 public by opening a handsome room under the 
 title of the Polite Circulating Library. Many 
 of my books are entirely new and original : all 
 the modern novels, and most of the periodical 
 papers fall so directly in with my plan, that 
 they will be sure to find a place in my library ; 
 and if Mr. Town shows himself an encourager 
 of my scheme, I shall expect to see peers and 
 peeresses take up the pen, and shine in the Con- 
 noisseur. 
 
 I intend in the beginning of the winter to 
 publish my proposals at large, and in the mean 
 time beg you to submit the following Specimen 
 of my Books to the public. 
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS, ETC. 
 
 Revelation, a Romance. 
 
 The Complete Cook, by Solomon Gundy. 
 
 The Gentleman's Religion. By a Free-lTiinker. 
 
 tin?tion with proper books for their instruction [ Dissertation on Parties. Or an Essay on Break- 
 
No. 25.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 43 
 
 ing of Eggs. Addressed to the Big and Little 
 Endians. 
 
 A Defence of Alexander the Coppersmith against 
 St. Paul. By the late Lord Bolingbroke. 
 
 The Practice of Bagnios : or the Modern Me- 
 thod of Sweating. 
 
 The Ladies' Dispensatory ; containing the most 
 approved Recipes for Tooth- Powders, Lip- 
 Salves, Beautifying Lotions, Almond Pastes, 
 Ointments for Freckles, Pomatums, and 
 Hysteric Waters ; according to the present 
 Practice. 
 
 A Description of the World; with the Lati- 
 tudes of Vauxhall, Ranolagh, the Theati'es, 
 the Opera- House, &c. calculated for the Meri- 
 dian of St. James's. 
 
 A Map of the Roads leading to Tyburn. By 
 James Maclean, Esq. late Surveyor of the 
 High- Ways. 
 
 Essay on Delicacy. By an Ensign of the 
 Guards. 
 
 The Art of Dissembling. From the French. 
 
 A New Way to pay Old Debts. From an 
 Original published at Berlin. 
 
 The Spirit of Laws. With Notes on the Game- 
 Act, the Jew-Bill, and the Bill for preventing 
 Marriages. 
 
 Jargon versus Common Sense. By a Bencher 
 of Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 Universal Arithmetic. Containing Calculations 
 for laying the Odds at Horse- Racing, Cock- 
 ing, Card-playing, &c. 
 
 Optics, or the Use of Opei'a- Glasses : with the 
 Importance and Benefit of Near-Sightedness 
 considered. To which is added, a Disserta- 
 tion on the portable Pocket Looking- Glass. 
 
 The Modern Gymnasium. By Broughton. 
 
 Geometry made easy, and adapted to the mean- 
 est Capacity, By Nath. Hart, Dancing- 
 Master to Grown Gentlemen. 
 
 De Oratore, or the Art of speaking on all 
 Subjects. By Andrew Mac Broad, F. R. H. S. 
 Fellow of the Robin Hood Society. 
 
 A Dissertation on the Miracle x>f the Five 
 Loaves. By the Baker, President of the 
 same Society. 
 
 Gai'rick upon Death ; with an account of the 
 several Distortions of the Face, and Wri things 
 of the Body ; and particular Directions con- 
 cerning Sighs, Groans, Ohs, Ahs, &c. &c. For 
 the use of Young Actors. 
 
 The Court Register ; Containing an exact List 
 of all Public Days, Routs, Assemblies, &c. 
 where and when kept. 
 The Englishman in Paris. 
 The Englishman returned fiom Pai'is. 
 
 The Whole Duty of Woman, disposed under 
 the Articles of Visiting, Cards, Masquerades, 
 Plays, Dress, &c. 
 A Dissertation on the waters of Tunbridge, 
 Cheltenham, Scai'borough, and Bath : show- 
 ing- their vt^onderful Efficacy in removing the 
 
 Vapoui's ; — with Directions how to assist 
 their Operations by using the Exercise of 
 Country- Dancing. 
 
 The Traveller's Guide, or Young Nobleman's 
 Vade Mecum. Containing an exact List of 
 the most eminent Peruke Makers, Tailors, 
 and Dancing- Masters, &c. Being the Sum of 
 a Gentleman's Experience during his tour 
 through France and Italy. 
 
 Honour, or the Fashionable Combat. — Honns- 
 low Heath, or the Dernier Resort. — The 
 Suicide, or the Coup de Grace. — —Tragedies. 
 
 The Virgin Unmasked. — Miss in her Teens. — 
 The Debauchees. — She would, if she could. 
 — The Caieless Husband. — The Wanton 
 Wife. — Th& Innocent Adultery. Come- 
 dies ; as they are now acting with universal 
 applause. 
 
 The True Patriot, a Farce. 
 
 Handeli, Geminiani, Degiardini, Chabrani. 
 Pasquali Pasqualini, Passerini, Baumgarteni, 
 Guadagni. Frasi, Gaili, item aliorum harmo- 
 niosissimorum Signororum et Signorarum 
 Opera. 
 
 Yours, Sec 
 T. Jacob Elzevir. 
 
 No. 25,] Thursday, July 18, lloi. 
 
 • J'ivi7nus ambitiosS 
 
 Paupertate ^ Juv. 
 
 A laced, embroider'd, powder'd, bcggai-ciowd ; 
 Haughty, yet even poorer than they're proud. 
 
 A LITTLE Frenchman, commonly knov/n in 
 town by tlie name of Count, and whose tigure 
 has been long stuck up in the windows of pi int- 
 shops, was always remarkable for the meanness, 
 and at the same time the foppery of his appeai*- 
 ance. His shoes, though perhaps capped at the 
 toe, had red heels to them j and his stockings, 
 though often full of holes, were constantly rolled 
 up over his knees. By good luck he was once 
 master of half a guinea; and having a great 
 longing for a feather to his hat, and a very press- 
 ing necessity for a pair of breeches, he debated 
 with himself about the disposal ot his money. 
 However, his vanity got the better of his neces- 
 sity ; and the next time the Count appeared in 
 the Mall, by the ornaments of his head you 
 would have imagined him a beau, and by the 
 nether part of his dress you would have taken 
 him for a heathen philosopher. 
 
 The conduct of this Frenchman, however 
 ridiculous, is copied by a multitude of people in 
 this town. To the same little pride of desiring 
 to appear finer than they can alTord, are owing 
 the many rusty suits of black, the tyes that 
 seem taken from the basket of a shoeboy, and 
 the smart waistcoats edged with a narrow cord. 
 
44; 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 25. 
 
 which serves as an apology for lace. 1 know a 
 inaa of this cast, who has but one coat ; but by 
 now and then turning the cuffs, and changing 
 the cape, it passes for two. He uses the same 
 ai-tifice with his peruke, which is naturally a 
 kind of flowing bob ; but by the occasional addi- 
 tion of two tails, it sometimes appears as a 
 major. Of this sort of men are composed the 
 numerous fraternity of the shabby-genteel, who 
 are the chief support of the clothiers in Mon- 
 mouth- Street, and the barbers in Middle- Row. 
 
 Women are naturally so fond of ornament, 
 that it is no wonder we shoidd meet with so 
 many second-hand gentry in that sex. Hence 
 arise the red-armed belles that appear in the 
 park every Sunday : hence it is, that sacks and 
 petenlaii's may be seen at Moorfields and White- 
 chapel ; and that those who are ambitious to 
 shine in diamonds, glitter in paste and Scotch 
 pebbles. When I see the wives and daughters 
 of tradesmen and mechanics ixiake such attempts 
 at finery, I cannot help pitying their poor fa- 
 thers and husbands ; and at the same time am 
 apt to consider their dress as a robbery on the 
 shop. Thus, when I observe the taAvdiy gen- 
 tility of a tallow chandler's daughter, I look up- 
 on her as hung round with long sixes, short 
 eights, and rushlights ; and when I contemplate 
 the awkward pride of dress in a butcher's wife, I 
 suppose her carrying about her sirloins of beef, 
 tillets of veal, and shoulders of mutton. I was 
 vastly diverted with a discovery I made a few 
 days since. Going u.pon some business to a 
 tradesman's house, I surprised in a very extra- 
 ordinary dishabille two females, whom I had 
 been frequently used to see strangely dizened out 
 in the Mall. These fine ladies, it seems, were no 
 other than my honest friend's daughters ; and 
 one, who always dresses the family dinner, was 
 genteelly employed in winding up the jack, 
 while the other was up to the elbows in soap- 
 suds. 
 
 A desire of grandem- and magnificence is often 
 absurd in those who can support it ; but when 
 it takes hold of those who can scarce furnish 
 themselves with necessaries, their poverty, in- 
 stead of demanding our pity, becomes an object 
 of ridicule. Many families among those who 
 are called middling people, are not content with- 
 out living elegantly as well as comfortably, and 
 often involve themselves in very comical distres- 
 ses. When they aim at appearing grand in the 
 eye of the world, they grow proportion ably mean 
 and soi'did in private. I went the other day to 
 dine with an old friend : and as he used to keep 
 a remarkable good table, I was surprised that I 
 could scarce make a meal with him. After din- 
 ner he iMing the bell, and ordered the chariot to 
 be got ready at six ; and then turning to me 
 with an air of superiority, asked if he should set 
 me down. Here the riddle was out; and I 
 i'ound that his equipage had eat up his table, and 
 
 that he was obliged to starve his family to feed 
 his horses. 
 
 I am fti quainted at another house, where the 
 master ketps an account against himself. This 
 account is exactly stated in a large ledger book. 
 What he saves fi-om his ordinary expenses he 
 phues undei" the title of Debtor, and what lie 
 runs out is ranged under Creditor. I had late- 
 ly an ojjportunity of turning over this curious 
 account, and could not help smiling at many 
 of the articles. Among the rest, I remember 
 the following, with which I shall present the 
 reader. 
 
 Debtor. 
 
 Dined abroad all this week— 3Iy wife ill — &iw 
 no company — Saved seven dinners, etc. 
 
 Kept Lent, and saved in table charges the ex- 
 pense of four weeks. 
 
 Bated from the baker's bill half a crown. 
 
 Saved in apparel, by my family continuing to 
 wear mourning three months longer than was 
 requisite for the death of an aunt. 
 
 Received £1 : 10s. of the undertaker, in lieu of a 
 hatband and gloves. 
 
 Creditor. 
 
 Went to the play ivith my tvife and daughtt 
 Sat in the boxes, instead of the gallery, as 
 
 usual. Mem. To go no more to plays this 
 
 year. 
 
 Invited Sir Charles Courtly and Major Stand- 
 ard to dinner. Treated with claret, and 
 
 two courses, in order to appear handsome. 
 Mem. To be denied to every body before din- 
 ner-time for these next three weeks. 
 
 Sunday — my wife had a rout — Lost at whist 
 thirty guineas— Card-money received, fifty 
 
 shillings. N. B. My wife must be ill 
 
 again. 
 
 Gave at church to a brief for a terrible fire, six- 
 pence—Charity begins at home. 
 
 I should be sorry to have this method of ba- 
 lancing accounts become general. True economy 
 does not merely consist in not exceeding our in- 
 come, but in such a judicious management of it, 
 as renders our whole appearance equal and con- 
 sistent. We should laugh at a nobleman, who, 
 to support the expense of running horses, should 
 abridge his set to a pair : and, that his jockies 
 might come in first for the jdate, be content to 
 have his family dragged to his country-seat, like 
 servant maids, in the cnravan. There are many 
 well meaning people, who have the pride of liv- 
 ing in a polite part of the town, though they are 
 distressed even to pay the taxes ; and nothing is 
 more common than to see one particular room 
 in a house furnished like a piUace, while the rest 
 have scarcely the necessary accommodations of 
 an inn. Such a conduct appeals to me equally 
 ridiculous with that of the Frenchman, who 
 
No. 260 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 45 
 
 (according to the jest) for the sake of wearing 
 ruffles, is contented to go without a shirt. 
 
 This eiideavoui" to appear grander than 
 our circumstances will allow, is no where 
 so contemptible as among those men of plea- 
 sure about town, who have not fortunes in 
 any proportion to their spirit. Men of quality 
 have wisely contrived, that their sins should 
 be expensive ; for which reason those, who with 
 equal taste have less money, are obliged to be 
 economists in their sins, and are put to many 
 little shifts to appear tolerably protligate and de- 
 bauched. They get a knowledge of the names 
 and faces of the most noted %vomen upon town, 
 and pretend an intimate acquaintance with 
 them ; though tljey know none of that order of 
 ladies above the draggle-tailed prostitutes who 
 walk the Strand. They talk very familiarly of 
 the King's Arms, and are in raptui-es with Mrs. 
 Allan's claret, though they always dine snugly 
 at a chop-house, and spend their evening at an 
 alehouse or cyder cellar. The most ridiculous 
 character I know of this sort is a young fellow, 
 the son of a rich tobacconist in the city, who 
 (because it is the fashion) has taken a girl into 
 keeping. He knows the world better than to 
 set her up a chariot, or let her have money at 
 her own disposal. He regulates her expenses 
 with the nicest economy, employs every morn- 
 ing in setting down what is laid out upon her, 
 and very seriously takes an account of rolls and 
 butter, two-i>ence — for ribband, one shilling and 
 four-pence — pins, a halfpermy, etc. etc. Thus 
 does he reconcile his extravagance liud frugality 
 to eaah other ; and is as penui'ious and exact as 
 a usurer, that he may be as genteel and wicked 
 .IS a lord. O. 
 
 No. 20.] Thursday, July 25, 1754. 
 
 Hie dies vert mihifestus airas 
 Exirnet curas. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Of all the days are in the week, 
 
 1 dearly love but one day ; 
 And that's the day that comes between 
 
 A Saturday and Monday. Olu Ballad. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN of my acquaintance lately laid 
 before me an estimate of the consumption of 
 bread and cheese, cakes, ales, etc. in all the little 
 towns near London every Sunday. It is in- 
 credible how many thousand buns are devoured 
 in that one day at Chelsea and Paddington, and 
 how much beer is swallowed at Islington and 
 Mile End. Upon the whole I was vastly en- 
 tertained with a review of this estimate ; and 
 could not help approving the observation of Tom 
 Brown, ' that the sabbath is a very fine institu- 
 tion, since the very breaking it is the support of 
 half the villages about our metropolis.' 
 
 Our common people are very observant of 
 that part of the commandment, which enjoins 
 them to do no manner of work on that day : 
 and which they also seem to understand as a 
 license to devote it to pleasure. They take this 
 opportunity of thrusting their heads into the 
 pillory at Georgia, being sworn at Highgate, 
 and rolling down Flamstead-hill, in the Park at 
 Greenwich. As they all aim at going into the 
 country, nothing can be a greater misfortune to 
 the meaner part of the inhabitants of London 
 and Westminster, than a rainy Sunday ; and 
 how many honest people would be balked of a 
 ride once a week, if the legislature were to limit 
 the hired one-horse chaises working on that day 
 to a certain number, as well as the hackney 
 coaches ? 
 
 The substantial tradesman is wheeled down to 
 his snug box ; which has nothing rural about it 
 except the ivy that over-runs the front, and is 
 placed as near to the road side as possible, where 
 the pleasure of seeing carriages pass under his 
 window, amply compensates for his being al- 
 most smothered with dust. The few smart 
 'pj'entices, who are able to sit on ahorse, may be 
 seen spurring their broken-v/inded hacks up the 
 hills : nnd the good-natured husband, together 
 with his mate, is dragged along the road to the 
 envy and aJmiration of the foot passenger, 
 who (to complete the Sunday picture) trudges 
 patiently v/ith a child in one arm, wliile his 
 beloved doxy leans on the other, and waddles at 
 his side sweltering beir^ath the unusual weight 
 of a hoop petticoat. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the counti'y has 
 in itself any peculiar attractive charms to those 
 v/ho think themselves out of the world, if they 
 are not within the sound of Bow Bell. To most 
 of our cockneys it serves only as an excuse for 
 eating and drinking ; and they get out of town 
 merely because they have nothing to do at home. 
 A brick-kiln smells as sweet to them as a fp.rm- 
 yard ; they would pass by a barn or a hay- 
 stack without notice ; but they rejoice at the 
 sight of every hedge ale-house that promises 
 good home-brewed. As the rest of a cit's life is 
 regular and uniform, his Sunday diversions have 
 as little variety ; and if he were to take a journal 
 of them, we might suppose that it would run 
 much in the following manner. 
 
 Sunday— Overslept myself — Did not rise till 
 nine— Was a full hour in pulling on my new 
 double-channell'd pumps — Could get no break- 
 fast, my Avife being busy in dressing herself for 
 chui'ch. 
 
 At ten — Family at church — Self walked to 
 Mother Red Cap's — Smoked half a pipe, and 
 drank a pint of the Alderman's. N. B. The 
 beer was not so good as at the Adam i.nd Lve 
 at Paiicras. 
 
 Dined at one — Pudding not boiled enough, 
 
46 
 
 THE CONxNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 26. 
 
 Buet musty — Wife was to drive itip in a one- 
 horse chair to see Mother Wells at Enfield 
 Wash, but it looked likely to rain — Took a nap, 
 and posted seven pages from my day-book till 
 five. Mem. Colonel Promise has lost his elec- 
 tion, and is turned out of his place.— To arrest 
 him to-morrow. 
 
 At six — Mrs. Deputy to drink tea with my 
 wife — I hate their slip-slops — Called ou my 
 neighbour the Common-council man, and took 
 a walk with him to Islington. 
 
 From seven to eight — Smoked a pipe at the 
 Castle, eat a heart cake, and drank two pints of 
 cyder. N. B. To drink cyder often, because 
 neighbour tells me it is good for the stone and 
 gravel. 
 
 At nine — Got to town again, very much fa- 
 tigued with the journey — Pulled off my claret 
 coloured coat, and blue satin waistcoat — Went 
 to club, smoked three pipes, came home at 
 twelve, and slept very soundly, till the 'prentice 
 called me to go and take out a writ against 
 Colonel Promise. 
 
 As to persons of quality, like Lady Loverule 
 in the farce, they cannot see why one day should 
 be more holy than another ; therefore Sunday 
 wears the same face with them as the rest of the 
 week. Accordingly, for some part of this sum- 
 mer, Raiielagh was opened on Sunday evening ; 
 and I cannot help wondering, that the custom 
 did not continue. It must have been very con- 
 venient to pass away the time there, till the hour 
 of meeting at the card-table; and it was cer- 
 tainly more decent to fix assignations there, 
 than at church. 
 
 Going to church may, indeed, be reckoned 
 among our Sunday amusements, as it is made a 
 mere matter of diversion among many well- 
 in eaning people, who are induced to appear in a 
 place of worship from the same motives that 
 they frequent other public places. To some it 
 answers all the purposes of a rout or assembly, 
 to see and be seen by their acquaintance ; and 
 from their bows, nods, courtesies, and loud con- 
 versation, one might conclude, that they ima- 
 gined themselves in a drawing-room. Toothers 
 it affords the cheap opportunity of showing 
 their taste for dress. Not a few, I believe, are 
 dx'awn together in our cathedrals and larger 
 churches by the influence of the music rather 
 than the prayers ; and are kept awake by a jig 
 from the organ-loft, though they are lulled to sleep 
 by the harangue from the pulpit. A well-dis- 
 posed Christian will go a mile from his own 
 house to the Temple Church, not because a 
 Sherlock is to preach, but to hear a solo from 
 Stanley. 
 
 But though going to church may be deemed a 
 kind of amusement, yet upon modern piinciples 
 it appears such a very odd one, that 1 am at a 
 loss to account for the reasons which induced 
 
 our ancestors to give in to that method of passing 
 their Sunday.' At least it is so wholly incx)m- 
 patible with the polite system of life, that a per- 
 son of fashion (as affairs are now managed) 
 finds it absolutely impossible to comply with 
 this practice. Then, again, the service always 
 begins at such unfashionable hours, that in a 
 morning a man must huddle on his clothes, like 
 a boy to run to school, and in an afternoon must 
 inevitably go without his dinner. In order to 
 remove all these objections, and that some ritual 
 may be established in this kingdom, agi'eeable to 
 our inclinations and consistent with our prac- 
 tice, the following scheme has been lately sent 
 me, in order to submit it to the serious consi- 
 deration of the public. 
 
 Imprimis, It 5? humbly proposed, that Chris- 
 tianity be entirely abolished by act of parlia- 
 ment, and that no other religion be imposed on 
 us in its stead ; but as the age grows daily more 
 and more enlightened, we may at last be quit* 
 delivered from the influence of superstition and 
 bigotiy. 
 
 Secondly, That in order to prevent our ever 
 relapsing into pious errors, and that the common 
 people may not lose their holiday, every Sunday 
 be set apart to commemorate our victory over 
 all religion : that the churches be turned into 
 free-thinking meeting houses, and discoui-ses 
 read in them to confute the doctrine of a future 
 state, the immortality of the soul, and other ab- 
 surd notions, which some peojile now regard as 
 objects of belief. 
 
 Thirdly, That a ritual be compiled exactly 
 opposite to our present Liturgy ; and that, in- 
 stead of reading portions of Scripture, the first 
 and second lessons shall consist of a section of the 
 Posthumous Works of Lord Bolingbroke, or a 
 few pages from the writings of Spinoza, Chubb, 
 Mandeville, Hobbes, Collins, Tindal, &c. from 
 which writers the preachers shall also take their 
 text. 
 
 Fourthly, That the usual feasts and fasts, viz. 
 Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, Trinity Sun- 
 day, &c. be still preserved ; but that on those 
 days discourses be delivered suitable to the occa- 
 sion, containing a refutation of the Nativity, the 
 Resurrection, the Trinity, &c. 
 
 Fifthly, That instead of the vile melody of a 
 clerk bawling out two staves of Sternhold and 
 Hopkins, or a cathedral choir singing anthems 
 from the Psalter, some of the most fashionable 
 cantatas, opera airs, songs, or catches, be per- 
 formed by the best voices for the entertainment 
 of the company. 
 
 Lastly, That the whole service be conducted 
 with such taste and elegance, as may rerder 
 these free-thinking meeting-houses as agreeable 
 as the thfatres ; and that they may be even more 
 judiciously cahMilated for the propagation of 
 atheism and infidelity, than the lU.biu Hood 
 Society, or the Oratory in Clare-^Iaiket. T. 
 
No. 27.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 47 
 
 No. 27.] Thursday, August U, 1754. 
 
 Barbara, Celarent, Barii, Ferio, Baralipton. 
 
 Words full of sound, but quite devoid of sense. 
 
 It is a heavj- tax upon authors, that they should 
 always be expected to write sense. Some few, 
 indeed, who are rich in sentiment, pay this tax 
 veiy cJieerfuUy ; but the generality endeavour, 
 one way or another, to elude it. For this pm-- 
 pose some have moulded their pieces into the 
 form of wings, axes, eggs, and altars, while 
 others have laced do^vn the side of a copy of 
 verses with the letters of their mistress's name, 
 and called it an acrostic : not to mention the 
 curious inventions of rebusses and anagi'ams. 
 For the same reasons, the modern song-w^riters 
 for our public gardens, w^ho are our principal 
 love-poets at present, entertain us with sonnets 
 and madrigals in Crambo. Authors who pi'o- 
 mise Avit, pay us oif with puns and quibbles ; 
 and with om* Avriters of comedy, long SAVords, 
 short jerkins, and tables with cai-pets over them, 
 pass for incident and humour. 
 
 But no artifice of this sort has been so often 
 and so successfully practised, as the immoderate 
 use of uncouth terras and expressions. Words 
 that mean nothing, provided they soimd big, and 
 611 the ear, are the best succedaneum for sense. 
 Notliing so effectually answers Mr. Bayes's 
 endeavour to elevate and sn^mss ; and the reader, 
 though he sees nothing but straws floating on 
 the surface, candidly supposes that there are 
 pearls and diamonds at the bottom. Several dull 
 authors, by availing themselves of this secret, 
 have passed for very deep wi-iters ; and arrant 
 nonsense has as often lain snugly beneath hard 
 Avords, as a shalloAV pate beneath the solemn 
 appearance of a full bottomed periwig. 
 
 Those Avho are employed in what they caU ab- 
 stract speculations, most commonly haA-e re- 
 course to this method. Their dissertations are 
 naturally expected to illustrate and explain ; but 
 this is sometimes a task above their abilities ; 
 and when they have led the reader into a maze, 
 from Avhich they cannot deliver Iiim, they very 
 wisely beAvilder him the more. This is the 
 case with those profound Avriters, Avho haA'e 
 treated concerning the essence of matter, who 
 talk very gravely of cnppeity, tableitij, tallow-can- 
 dleitt/, and twenty other things with as much 
 sound and little signification. Of these we may 
 very AveU say AA'ith the poet. 
 
 Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, 
 Amaze th' unlearn 'd, and make the learned smile. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 No mode of expression throws such an im- 
 penetrable mist over a work, as an unnecessary 
 profusion of technical terms. This will appear 
 very plainly to those, who will turn over a few 
 
 pages of any modern collection of A'oyages. 
 Descriptions of a storm make some of the finest 
 and most striking passages in the best poets ; 
 and it is for these in particular, that Longinus 
 admires the Odyssey. The I'eal circumstances 
 of a storm are in themseh^es, without the aid of 
 poetical ornaments, A'ery affecting ; yet whoeA-er 
 reads an account of them in any of oiu* Avriters 
 of A^oyages, Avill be so puzzled and perplexed 
 with starboard, larboard, the main-mast and 
 mizen-mast, and a multitude of sea-terms, that 
 he Avill not be the least moved at the distress ot 
 the ship's crcAV. The absiu'dity of this did not 
 escape Swift, Avho has ridiculed it by a mock 
 description of the same kind in his Gulliver. 
 Those who treat of military subjects, are equally 
 ridiculous : they OA'erAvhelm you Avith counter- 
 scarps, palisades, bastions, etc., and so fortify 
 their no-meaning with ha,rd words, that it is 
 absolutely impossible to beat them out of their 
 intrenchments. Such AAriters, who abound in 
 technical terms, always put me in mind of Igno- 
 ramus in the play, Avho courts his mistress out 
 of the laAA'-dictionary, runs over a long catalogue 
 of the messuages, lands, tenements, barns, out- 
 houses, etc. of Avhich he Avill put her in posses- 
 sion, if she will join issue Avith him, and mani- 
 fest his passion in the same manner that he 
 would draAv up a lease. 
 
 This affectation is neA-er more offensiA'e, 
 than AA'hen it gets into the pulpit. The gi'eater 
 part of almost every audience that sits under 
 our preachers, are ignorant and illiterate, and 
 should therefore have every thing deliAered to 
 them in as plain, simple, and intelligent a manner 
 as possible. Hard AA'ords, if they have any 
 meaning, can only serve to make them stare ; 
 and they can never be edified by what they do 
 not imderstand. Young clergjnnen, just come 
 from the University, are proud of shoAving the 
 world, that they have been reading the Fathers, 
 and are fond of entering on the most abstruse 
 points of divinity. But they would employ 
 their time more to their oaati credit, as well as to 
 the improvement of their hearers, if they would 
 rather endeaAour to explain and enforce the 
 precepts of the Apostles and EA*angelists, than 
 retail the confused hypotheses of crabbed meta- 
 physicians. 
 
 As to essays, and all other pieces that come 
 under the denomination of familiar Avritings, 
 one would imagine that they must necessarily 
 be AATitten in the easy language of nature and 
 common sense. No AAriter can flatter himself, 
 that his productions wiU be an agreeable part of 
 the equipage of the tea-table, who Avrites almost 
 too abstrusely for the study, and involves his 
 thoughts in hard Avords and affected latinisms. 
 Yet this has been reckoned by many the standard 
 style for these loose detached pieces. Addison 
 was proud that he could boast of having drawn 
 learning out of schools and colleges into clubs 
 
48 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 28. 
 
 and coffeo-bouses, as Socrates was said to draw 
 morality from the clouds to dAvell among men : 
 but these people (as Lord Bolingbroke pretends 
 to say of the same Socrates) mount the clouds 
 themselves. This newfangled manner of de- 
 livering our sentiments is called writing sound 
 sense : and if I find this mode seems like ly to 
 prevail, I shall certainly think it expedient to 
 give into it, and very suddenly oblige the world 
 with a Connoisseur so sensible, that it will be 
 impossible to ^lnderstand it. 
 
 But hard words and uncouth ways of expres- 
 sing ourselves never appear with so ill a grace, 
 
 as in our common conversation. In -writing 
 
 tve expect some degree of exactness and preci- 
 sion : but if even there they seem harsh and 
 disagreeable, when they obstruct the freedom of 
 our familiar chat, they either make us laugh, or 
 put us out of patience. It was imagined by the 
 ancients, that things were called by one name 
 among mortals, and by another among the gods : 
 In like manner some gentlemen, who would be 
 accounted fine spoken persons, disdain to men- 
 tion the most trivial matters in the same terms 
 with the rest of the world ; and scarce inquire 
 how you do, or bid you good morrow, in any 
 phrase that is intelligible. It always puts me in 
 pain to find a lady give into this practice ; if she 
 makes no blunder, it sits very ungracefully upon 
 her ; but it is ten to one that the rough uncouth 
 syllables that form these words, are too harsh 
 and big for the pi'etty creature's mouth ; and 
 then she maims them and breaks them to her 
 use so whimsically, that one can scai'ce tell 
 whether she is talking Fi'ench or English. I 
 shall make no more reflections on this subject at 
 present, but conclude my paper with a short 
 story. 
 
 A merry fellow, who was formerly of the 
 vmiversity, going through Cambridge on a jour- 
 ney, took it into his head to call on his old tutor. 
 As it is no great wonder that pedantry should 
 be found in a college, the tutor used to laird his 
 convei-sation with numberless hard words and 
 forced derivations from the Latin. His pupil, 
 who had a mind to banter the old gentleman on 
 his darling foible, when he visited him, entered 
 his chambers with a huge dictionary under his 
 arm. The first compliments were scarce over, 
 before the tutor bolted out a word big enough 
 for the mouth of Garagantua. Here the pupil 
 begged that he would stop a little ; and after 
 turning over his dictionary desired him to pro- 
 ceed. The learned gentleman Avent on, and the 
 pupil seemed to listen with great attention, till 
 another word came out as hard as the former, at 
 which he again interrupted him, and again had 
 recourse to his dictionary. — This appears to me 
 the only way of conversing with persons of so 
 pompous an elocution ; unless we convert the 
 orators themselves into lexicons to interpret 
 their own phrases, by troubling them to reduce 
 
 the meaning of their fine speeches into plain 
 English. o. 
 
 No. 28.] Thursday, Aug. 8, 17i34. 
 
 -Seq^iar atris igrtilnts absrrs, 
 
 Omnibus vmbra locis adao, dabis improbe pcenas. 
 
 VlRC. 
 
 Thou to thy crime shall feel the vengeance due : 
 With hell's black fires for ever I'U pursue ; 
 In every place my injured shade shall rise. 
 And conscience still present me to thy eyes. 
 
 Tom Dare- Devil, who was so much superior to 
 the rest of our Bucks that he gained the appella- 
 tion of Stag, finished a course of continual de- 
 baucheries, and was carried off last week by a 
 phrenetic fever. I happened to be present at his 
 last moments; and the remembrance of him 
 still duells so strongly on my mind, that I see 
 him, I hear him, in all the agonies of despair, 
 starting, trembling, and uttering the most horrid 
 execrations. His conscience at the approach of 
 death had conjured up before him ' ten thousand 
 devils with their red-hot spits,' v.-ho assumed 
 the shapes of all those whom he injured, and 
 ' came hissing on him,' to retaliate their wrongs. 
 ' Save me, save me,' he would cry, ' from that 
 bleeding form — He was my friend — but 1 run 
 him through the heart in a quarrel about a whore 
 — Take away that eld follow — He would have 
 carried us to the round-house — I knocked him 
 down with his own staff— but I did not think 
 the poor dog would have died by it.' When the 
 nurse offered him a draught to take, ' Why,' 
 said he, ' will you ply me with Champagne ? — 
 'tis a damnable liquor, and I'll drink no more of 
 it.' In one of his lucid intervals he grasped my 
 hand vehemently, and bursting into tears, 
 ' Would to God,' said he, < I had died twenty 
 years ago.' At length his unwilling soul parted 
 from the body; and the last words we lieard 
 from him were a faint ejaculation to his Maker, 
 whom he had blasphemed all his life. His 
 shocking exit made me reflect on that fine pas- 
 sage in the Scriptures, ' Let me die the death of 
 the righteous, and let my latter end be like 
 his.' 
 
 The behaviour of this unhappy wretch afford- 
 ed a dreadful instance of the truth of that maxim, 
 T/icrc is no ficll liJcc a troubled conscience. ' There 
 needs, indeed, no ghost to tell us this.' But it 
 were to be wished, that the conscience of every 
 living reprobate could work on his imagination 
 in the same manner, and raise up such horrid 
 apparitions to torment him. Where is thL< 
 wretch so hardened, who would not be dismayed 
 at these terrors? Or who could persevere in a 
 course of wickedness, when every fi'esh offence 
 
No. 28.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 49 
 
 would create a new fury to haunt him for his 
 crimes? . •■ , 
 
 Let US', for instance, take a view of the mos-t 
 glaring circumstances in the life of that arch- 
 infidel, Tom Dare- Devil; and let us at the 
 same time conceive (if possible) what pangs he 
 must have felt, had every flagitious act been 
 attended with the same phantoms that dis- 
 tracted him on his death-bed. First then, let 
 us contemplate him as a pai-ricide ; for so 
 he may be called, who by repeated disobedience 
 broke the heart of a most affectionate father. 
 Could filial ingratitude receive a sharper punish- 
 ment, than in the midst of his debaucheries 
 to have his father continually before his eyes, 
 expostulating him on his unnatural behaviour? 
 
 * O my son,' might he have heard him say, 
 
 * was it for this that thy mother, who died in 
 giving thee life, begged me with her last breath 
 to be kind to the boy ? Was it for this that the 
 country rung with joy for my being blessed with 
 an heir? — O my child, whom can I now call 
 my heir? That estate which I was so solicit- 
 ous to improve for thy sake, is dissipated among 
 jockeys, gamblers, pimps, and prostitutes.— —If 
 you should ever have a son, may his ingratitude 
 never make you think on me.' 
 
 Tom, indeed, took care never to have any 
 vexation from children : he had too great a spi- 
 rit to bear the shackles of matrimony, and lived 
 in a state of celibacy among bagnios. Some- 
 times he made inroads on private life, and dis- 
 turbed the peace of families by debauching the 
 wives and daughters of his acquaintance. Among 
 other gallant exploits, he decoyed up to town the 
 daughter of a country gentleman, where he 
 ruined her, and then left her to linger under an 
 infamous disease. At length the fruits of his 
 amour appeared in a child, which soon perished 
 with its unhappy parent in a public hospital. 
 By the same magic of the fancy let us raise up 
 this poor girl with the infant in her arms, while 
 he is wantoning among his doxies, and lording 
 it like a bashaw over the vassals of his lust. 
 What remorse must this villain have felt, could 
 he have imagined her to have addressed him in 
 the; following terms ! — * Behold in the loath- 
 some carcase of this babe the image of thyself; 
 foul, rotten, and corrupt.^How could I suffer 
 so contemptible a creature to draw me from the 
 comfortable protection of my parents?— It was 
 just, indeed, that I should fall a victim to my 
 folly; but was this diseased infant quickened 
 only to proclaim my dishonour and thy infamy ? 
 —Why hadst thou yet the power left to propa- 
 gate misery even to the innocent !' 
 
 Tom had often signalized himself as a duel- 
 list : his conscience, as we have already men- 
 tioned, upbraided him at his dying moments with 
 the murder of a particular friend. He had 
 once ill luck at cards ; and being irritated with 
 his losses, and suspecting foul play on the part 
 
 of his antagonist, he took him by the nose, 
 which consequently pi'oduced a challenge. He 
 is hastening to the field of battle, — but he fan- 
 cies himself followed by the manes of his friend, 
 Avhom, on the same unhallowed ground, he had 
 lately sacrificed to that idol Honour. He hears 
 him call—' Turn, madman, turn, and look on 
 me. — You may remember with what reluctance 
 
 I met you You foi'ced me to the combat — 
 
 and I was even pleased that the victory was 
 yours. You deprived me of life in an idle quar- 
 rel about a creature, whom at your return from 
 the murder of your fiiend, you detected in the 
 arms of another. — It was honour that induced 
 
 you to wound the bosom of one you loved : 
 
 The same honour now calls you to give a fellow, 
 whom you despise, an opportunity to retaliate 
 the injury done to me. — What folly is it to put 
 your life into the hands of a scoundrel, who, you 
 suspect, has already robbed you of your fortune ? 
 —But go on, and let your death rid the world 
 of a monster, who is desperate enough to put his 
 own life on the hazard, and wicked enough to 
 attempt that of another.' — It happened, how- 
 ever, that Tom had no occasion for such a mo- 
 nitor, as the person whom he went to meet 
 proved as great a coward as he was a cheat ; and 
 our hero, after waiting a full hour in his pumps, 
 and parrying with the air, had no other revenge 
 for the loss of his money, than the satisfaction of 
 posting him for a scoundrel. 
 
 Though the hero of our story was cut off in 
 the prime of his life, yet he may be said, like 
 Nestor, to have outlived three generations. All 
 the young fellows of spirit were proud to be en- 
 rolled in the list of his companions ; but as their 
 constitutions were more puny than his, three 
 sets of them had dropt into the gi'ave, and left 
 him at the head of the fourth. He would often 
 boast of the many promising geniuses who had 
 fallen in the vain attempt to keep pace with him 
 in the various scenes of debauchery. In this 
 light we may consider him as an accessary to so 
 many wanton murders. By the operation of 
 his conscience, at evei'y tavern door he might 
 have met with an acquaintance to bar his pas- 
 sage; and in the midst of his joUitj'-, like Mac- 
 beth, he might have dashed down his glass, and 
 imagined that he saw a departed friend filling 
 the vacant chair. 
 
 From the nature of the facts which have al- 
 ready been recorded of Tom Dare-Devil, the 
 reader will easily conclude that he must have 
 been an Atheist. No creature, who believed in 
 a Supreme Being, could have acted so vilely to- 
 wards his fellow-creatures. Tom was a presi- 
 dent of an abominable club, who met together 
 every Sunday night to uttev the most horrid 
 blasphemies. The members of this most scan- 
 dalous society must have heard of the man- 
 ner of their great tutor's death : — Let us ima- 
 gine, therefore, that they could figure to them- 
 H 
 
50 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 29, 
 
 selves his gbost appearing to them, warning 
 them of their errors, and exhorting them to 
 repent. They might conceive him settir)g forth, 
 in the most pathetic manner, the consequences 
 of their folly, and declaring to them, how con- 
 vinced he now was of the certainty of those doc- 
 trines, which they daily ridiculed. Such an ap- 
 parition would, indeed, have an effect upon 
 common sinners ; hut in all prohability a tho- 
 rough-paced infidel would not be reclaimed, 
 even ' though one rose from the dead.' 
 
 What I have heresupposed might have been the 
 case of one particular reprobate, is in the power 
 of every person to put in practice for himself. 
 Nothing is a surer instance of the goodness of 
 the Creator, than that delicate inward feeling, so 
 strongly impressed on every reasonable creature. 
 This internal sense, if duly attended to, and di- 
 ligently cherished and kept alive, would check 
 the sinner in his career, and make him look 
 back with horror on his crimes. An ancient is 
 commended for wishing, < that he had a window 
 in his breast, that every one might see into it :' 
 but it is certainly of more consequence to keep 
 ourselves free from the reproach of our own 
 hearts, than from the evil opinions of others. 
 We should therefore consider conscience as a 
 mirror, in which every one may see himself re- 
 flected, and in which every action is represented 
 in its proper colours. O. 
 
 •v*-w %.•*■< 
 
 No. 29.] Thursday, Aug. 15, 1754. 
 
 Gaudent scribentes, et se venerantur. 
 
 From self each scribbler adoration draws. 
 And gathers incense from his own applause. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 That there is a vanity inherent in every author 
 must be confessed, whatever pains they may 
 take to conceal it from the rest of mankind. For 
 ray own part, I readily acknowledge, that I am 
 always wonderfully delighted with my own pro- 
 ductions. I snatch up the favourite sheets wet 
 from the press, and devour every syllable ; not 
 the least particle escapes my notice : and X dwell 
 with admiration on the beauties of an expressive 
 and or emphatical the. If every reader was to 
 pay the same attention to my works, or peruse 
 them with half the satisfaction, Mr. Town might 
 be fairly pronounced the greatest author of the 
 age. But I am afraid I shall scarce find another 
 who will so heartily join in the good opinion 1 
 have conceived of myself; and many a choice 
 sentiment, many a culled expression, which I 
 have repeated to myself over and over again with 
 ecstasy, has by others, perhaps, been as liastily 
 hurried over, as any common article in a news- 
 paper. 
 
 An author, who is ever big with the idea of 
 his own importance, will gather matter for self- 
 
 flattery from the most trivial circumstances. 
 On the mornings of publication, I have some* 
 times made it my business to go round the cof- 
 fee-houses, in order to receive whatever incense 
 of praise I could collect from the approbation of 
 my readers. My heart, you may imagine, has 
 bounded with joy, when I have heard the room 
 echo with calling for the Connoisseur : but how 
 has it sunk again, when I have found the same 
 tokens of esteem shown to a brother writer ! I 
 could have hugged any honest fellow, that has 
 chuckled over my performances, and pointed out 
 my good things ; but I have been no less cha- 
 grined, when I have seen a coxcomb coolly take 
 up my paper, squint over the first page, and 
 throw it down again with all the indifl'erence 
 imaginable : though, indeed, I have never failed 
 within myself to pronounce of such a person, 
 that he is dull, ignorant, and illiterate. I once 
 happened to be seated in the next box to two 
 noted critics, who were looking over the file of 
 my papers, and seemed particularly pleased with 
 several parts of them. I immediately conceived 
 a very high opinion of their taste and judgment : 
 I remarked with singular satisfaction the effect 
 which my wit and humour had on their coun- 
 tenances ; and as they turned over the pages, 1 
 imagined I could point out the very passages 
 which provoked them frequently to smile, and 
 sometimes to burst into a loud laugh. As soon 
 as they were gone, I seized the file ; when, lo ! 
 to my great mortification, I found they had been 
 reading, not my own admirable works, but the 
 lucubrations of a brother essayist. 
 
 My vanity has often prompted me to wish, 
 that I could accompany my papers, whereso^- 
 ever they ai"e circulated. I flatter myself I 
 should then be introduced to the politest men of 
 quality, and admitted into the closets of our 
 finest ladies. This consideration would doubt- 
 less make me vain of myself; but my pride 
 would be soon checked by reflecting further, that 
 were I oblrged to follow my papers afterwards 
 through all their travels and mutations, I should 
 certainly undergo the shame of seeing many of 
 them prostituted to the vilest purposes. If in 
 one place I might be pleased to find them the 
 entertainment of the tea-table, in another I 
 should be no less vexed to see them degraded to 
 the base ofiice of sticking up candles. Such is 
 the fatality attending these loose sheets, that 
 though at their first publication they niiiy be 
 thought as precious as the Sybil's leaves, the 
 next moment they may be thrown aside as no 
 better than a last year's almanack. 
 
 Ever since my firet appearance in a sheet and 
 half, I have telt great uneasiness on account of 
 the rude treatment which my works have been 
 subject to in their present foi-m. I turned off 
 my printer for a very heinous aifi'oat offered to 
 my delicacy, having detected some foul proofii 
 of my fii"st numbers lodged in a vo-y unseemly 
 
No. SO.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 51 
 
 place; and I almost came to an open rupture 
 with my publisher, because his wife had con- 
 verted a supernumerary half-sheet into a thread- 
 paper. A lady whose sense and beauty I had 
 always admired, forfeited my esteem at once, by 
 cutting out a pattern for a cap from one of my 
 papers ; and a young fellow, who had spoken very 
 handsomely of one of my essays, entii'elylost the 
 good opinion I had conceived of him, by defiling 
 the blank margin with a filthy list of foul shirts 
 and dirty stockings. The repeated abuses of 
 illiterate bakers, pasti*y-cooks, and chandlers, I 
 know I am condemned to suffer in common 
 with other mortal writers. It was ever their 
 privilege to prey indiscriminately on all authors 
 good or bad; and as politicians, wits, free- 
 thinkers, and divines, may have their dust min- 
 gled in the same piece of gi-ound, so may their 
 works be jumbled together in the lining of the 
 same trunk or band box. 
 
 One instance may indeed be brought, in which 
 I am used to hail as a lucky omen the damages 
 that my papers appear to have sustained in their 
 outward form and complexion. With what 
 raptures have I traced the progress of my fame, 
 while I have contemplated my numbers in the 
 public coffee-houses strung upon a file, and 
 su'elling gradually into a little volume ! By the 
 appearance which they make, when thus col- 
 lected, I have often judged of the reception they 
 have singly met with from their readers : I have 
 considered every speck of dirt as a mark of re- 
 putation, and have assumed to myself applause 
 from the spilling of coffee, or the print of a 
 greasy thumb. In a word, I look upon each 
 paper, when torn, and sullied by frequent hand- 
 ling, as an old soldier battered in the service, 
 and covered with honourable scars. 
 
 I was led into this train of thought by an ac- 
 cident which happened to me the other evening, 
 as 1 was walking in some fields near the town. 
 As I went along, my curiosity tempted me to 
 examine the materials of which several paper 
 kites were made up ; from whence I had suffi- 
 cient room to moralize on the ill fate of authors. 
 On one I discovered several pages of a sermon 
 expanded over the surface ; on another the 
 wings fluttered with love songs ; and a satire on 
 tli8 ministry furnished another with his ballast 
 for the tail. I at length happened to cast my 
 eye on one taller than the rest, and beheld seve- 
 ral of my own darling productions pasted over 
 It. iMy indignation was presently raised, that 
 I should become the plaything of children ; and 
 I was even ashamed, that the great name of 
 Town, which stared me full in the front, should 
 be exposed, like the compositions of Dr. Rock 
 on the wall, to every idle gazer. However, by 
 a curious turn of thought, I converted what at 
 first seemed a disgrace into a compliment to my 
 vanity. As the kite rose into the air, I diew a 
 flpt+^vjntr T.arallel between the height of its flight, 
 
 and the soaring of my own reputation : I ima- 
 gined myself lifted up on the wings of Fame, 
 and like Horace's swan towering above morta- 
 lity ; I fanced myself borne like a blazing staf 
 among the clouds, to the admiration of the gaz- 
 ing multitude. 
 
 Via est,' qua me quoque possbn 
 
 Tollere humo, victorque virumvoUtare per ora. 
 
 And up he rises like a vapour; 
 
 Supported high on wings of paper. 
 
 He singing flies and flying sings. 
 
 While from below all Grub-street rings. Swift. ; 
 
 While I was indulging thisTantastic contem- 
 plation of my own excellence, I never considered 
 by how slight a thread my chimerical impor- 
 tance was supported. The twine broke : and 
 the kite, together with my airy dreams of im- 
 mortality, dropt to the ground. T. 
 
 No. 30.] Thursday, Aug. 22, 1754. 
 
 MuUa viri nequlcquam inter se vulnerajactant, 
 Miilfa cava lateri ingeminant, ct peciore vastos 
 Dant sonitus ; erratque aitres ct tempora circum 
 Crelra rnanus : duro crepitant sub mlnere males, Virg. 
 
 Thunii)s following thumps, and blows succeeding blows. 
 Swell the black eye, and crush the bleeding nose : 
 Beneath the pond'rous fist the jaw bone cracks. 
 And the cheeks ring with their redoubled thwacks. 
 
 At a time when Peace spreads her downy wings 
 over contending nations, and when armies (like 
 the harmless militia) are drawn into the field 
 only to be reviewed, all Europe must undoubt- 
 edly be alarmed to hear of the bloody battle, which 
 has been lately fought in England. It is a jus- 
 tice due to posterity to preserve a faithful ac- 
 count of this memorable event : I shall therefore 
 set it down, as I find it recorded in those au- 
 thentic registers of heroic actions the news- 
 papers, without deviating a tittle from the ex- 
 pressive tei-ms, in which this extraordinary 
 combat is related. 
 
 ' Harlston in Norfolk, July 30. Yesterday in- 
 the afternoon Slack and Pettit met and fought. 
 At the first set-to Pettit seized Slack by the' 
 throat, and held him up against the rails, and 
 grain'd him so much as to make him extremely 
 black ; this continued for half a minute, before 
 Slack could break Pettit's hold ; after which for 
 near ten minutes Pettit kept fighting and driv- 
 ing hard at Slack, when at length Slack closed 
 with his antagonist, and gave him a very severe 
 fall, after that a second and third ; but between 
 these falls Pettit threw Slack twice off the 
 stage, and indeed Pettit so much dreaded Slack's 
 
52 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. SO. 
 
 falls that he ran directly at his hams and tum- 
 bled him down, and by that means gave Slack 
 an opportunity of making the falls very easy. 
 When they had been fighting eighteen minutes, 
 tlie odds ran against Slack a guinea to a shil- 
 ling ; whereas on first setting out, it was three 
 or four to one on his head ; but after this time 
 Slack shortened Pettit so as to disable him from 
 running and throwing him down in the man- 
 ner he had done before, but obliged him to stand 
 to close fighting. Slack then closed one of his 
 eyes, and beat him very much about the face. 
 At twenty minutes Pettit gi-ew weaker. Slack 
 stronger ; this was occasioned by Slack's strait 
 way of fighting. At twenty-two minutes the 
 best judges allowed Slack to have the advantage 
 over Pettit very considerably, as he was then 
 recovering his wind, which was ow^ing to game ; 
 when they had boxed twenty-four minutes, 
 Pettit threw Slack again over the rails. This 
 indeed Slack suffered him to do, as by that 
 means he fixed a blow under Pettit's ribs, that 
 hurt him much. Whilst Slack was again getting 
 upon the stage, (it was not half a minute before 
 he was remounted) Pettit had so much the fear 
 of his antagonist before his eyes, that he walked 
 off without so much as civilly taking leave of the 
 spectators, or saying any thing to any person. 
 This the cockers call roguing of itj for it is 
 generaEy thought that Pettit ran away full 
 strong. The whole time of their fighting was 
 twenty-five minutes ; and this morning the bat- 
 tle was given to Slack, who di'ew the first ten 
 guineas out of the box. Thus ended this dread- 
 ful combat.' 
 
 Every man, who has the honour of the 
 British fist at heart, must look with admiration 
 on the bottom, the wind, the game, of this in- 
 vincible champion Slack. How must they ap- 
 plaud his address in fighting strait ; and with 
 ■what detestation must they look upon his das- 
 tardly antagonist, who could so shamefully 
 rogue it ! Captain Godfrey, the sublime histo- 
 rian of these hardy heroes, would have exclaim- 
 ed on this occasion : — ' Hail, mighty Slack, thou 
 pride of the butchers ; Let the shambles echo 
 with thy praise, and let marrow-bones and 
 cleavers proclaim thy glorious triumph. What 
 was that half-bred bruiser Milo, who is celebrat- 
 ed by the ancients for knocking down an ox, to 
 cut out the hide into thongs for his cestus ? 
 Every petty slaughter-man of Clare-market can 
 perform greater feats : but thou with resistless 
 arm hast not only knocked down oxen but made 
 the sturdy race of barbers, cobblers, and water- 
 men fall before thee.' 
 
 I cannot but lament the cruelty of that law, 
 which has shut up our amphitheatres : and I 
 'ook upon the professors of the noble art of box- 
 ng, as a kind of disbandeil army, for whom we 
 have made no provision. 'Ihe mechanics, who 
 at the call of glory left their mean occupations, 
 
 are now obliged to have recourse to them again ; 
 and coachmen and barbers resume the whip and 
 the razor, instead of giving black eyes and cross- 
 buttocks. I know a veteran that has often won 
 the whole house, w^ho is reduced, like Bellisa- 
 rius, to spread his palm in begging for a half- 
 penny. Some have been forced to exercise their 
 art in knocking down passengers in dark alleys 
 and corners ; while others have learned to open 
 their fists and ply their fingers in picking pock- 
 ets. Buckhorse, whose knuckles had been used 
 to indent many a bruise, now clenches them 
 only to grasp a link ; and Broughton employs 
 the muscles of his brawny arm in squeezing a 
 lemon or drawing a cork. His amphitheatre 
 itself is converted into a Methodist meeting- 
 house : and perhaps (as lajTnen there are admit- 
 ted into the pulpit) those very fists, which so 
 lately dealt such hearty bangs upon the stage, 
 are now with equal vehemence thumping the 
 cushion. 
 
 The dexterous use of the fist is a truly British 
 exercise : and the sturdy English have been as 
 much renowned for their boxing as their beef; 
 both which are by no means suited to the watery 
 stomachs and Aveak sinews of their enemies the 
 French. To this nutriment and this art is 
 owing that long established maxim, that one 
 Englishman can beat three Frenchmen. A 
 Frenchman who piddles on a fricassee of frogs, 
 can no more encounter with an Englishman, who 
 feeds upon beef, than the frog in the fable could 
 swell her little belly to the size of an ox ; and 
 from hence we may conclude, on the principles 
 of philosophy, that the elastic spring which darts 
 from the knuckles of an Englishman, falls into 
 the heels of a Frenchman. One of my coiTes- 
 pondents has already remonstrated against the 
 degeneracy of the pi*esent times in our shameful 
 neglect of that support of oiu- national strength, 
 old English roast beef. Indeed, we can never 
 hope, that any of our modern heroes would at- 
 tempt to fix a blow under tlie ribs, when they 
 are afraid of plunging a knife into a sirloin : and 
 I will venture to prophesy, that when the times 
 come, that sirloins are no more brought upon 
 the table, we shall not be able to produce one 
 Englishman who can knock down an ox. 
 
 Our present race of spindle-shanked beaux 
 had rather close with an orange wench at the 
 play-house than engage in a bye-battle at Tot- 
 tenham- Coui't. It is therefore no wonder that 
 they should object to this manly practice, for 
 which they are so ill fitted. How can we im- 
 agine, that they could stand against the buffets 
 of a bruiser, when they might almost be patted 
 down with the fan of a lady ? An attempt was 
 once made by Broughton to bring this study in 
 vogue, by establishing a school for boxing, in 
 which he was himself to be the lecturer. He 
 invited the young gentlemen of the "army, and 
 all other men of spirit, to engage under his di- 
 
No. 31.] 
 
 TPIE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 53 
 
 rections ; and promised to arm their feeble wrists 
 with mufflers, so that nothing might be appre- 
 hended by the softest head or tenderest skin. A 
 fifw, indeed, were hardy enough to try a fall 
 with him ; but most of our young fellows gare 
 up the gauntlet for scented gloves ; and loathing 
 the mutton fists of vulgar carmen and porters, 
 they rather chose to hang their hands in a sling, 
 to make them white and delicate as a lady's. I 
 cannot but regret, that this design was not gene- 
 rally encouraged, as it might perhaps have abol- 
 ished almost the only use that is at present made 
 of the sword ; and men of honour, instead of 
 tQting at each othex*, might have had satisfaction 
 in a tight set-to behind Montague-house. 
 
 The amusement of boxing, I must confess, is 
 more immediately calculated for the vulgar who 
 can have no relish for the more refined pleasures 
 of whist and the hazard table. Men of fashion 
 have found out a more genteel emplojTuent for 
 their hands, in shuffling a pack of cards and 
 shaking the dice : and, indeed, it will appear, 
 upon a strict review, that most of our fashionable 
 diversions are nothing else but different branch- 
 es of gaming. What lady would be able to 
 boast a rout at her house, consisting of three or 
 four hundred persons, if they were not to be 
 drawn together by the charms of playing a 
 rubber ? and the prohibition of our jubUee mas- 
 querades is hardly to be regretted, as they want- 
 ed the most essential part of their entertain- 
 ments, the E O table. To this polite spirit of 
 gaming, which has diffused itself through all the 
 fashionable world, is owing the vast encourage- 
 m^ent that is given to the turf; and horse-races 
 are esteemed only as they afford occasion for 
 making a bet. The same spix'it likew^ise di'aws 
 the knowing ones together in a cock-pit ; and 
 cocks are rescued fi'om the dunghiU, and armed 
 with gaffles, to furnish a new species of gaming. 
 P'or this reason, among others, I cannot but 
 regret the loss of our elegant amusements in 
 Oxford Road and Tottenham Court. A great 
 part of the spectators used to be deeply interest- 
 ed in what was doing on the stage, and were as 
 earnest to make an advantage of the issue of the 
 battle, as the champions themselves to draw the 
 largest srnn from the box. The amphitheatre 
 was at once a school for boxing and gaming. 
 Many thousands have depended upon a match ; 
 the odds have often risen at a black eye ; a large 
 bet has been occasioned by a cross-buttock; and 
 while the house has resounded with the lusty 
 bangs of the combatants, it has at the same time 
 echoed with the cries of five to one, six to one, 
 ten to one. 
 
 The loss of this branch of gaming is a public 
 calamity : and I doubt not but the gentlemen at 
 White's and all others whom it concerns, wiU 
 use their utmost endeavours to restore it. The 
 many plates given all over the kingdom have 
 undoubtedly improved our breed of horses ; and 
 
 if the diversion of boxing was to meet with 
 equal encouragement, we should certainly have 
 a more stout and hardy race of bruisers. It 
 might perhaps become a fashion for gentlemen, 
 who were fond of the sport, to keep champions 
 in training, put them in sweats, diet them and 
 breed up the human species with the same care 
 as they do cocks and horses. In course of time 
 this branch of gaming, like all others, would 
 doubtless be reduced to a science ; and B rough- 
 ton, in imitation of that great genius Hoyle, 
 might oblige the public with a Treatise on the 
 Fist, and calculations for laying the odds at any 
 match of boxing. T. 
 
 No. 31.] Thursday, Aug. 29, 1754, 
 
 Neu, pueri, neu tctnta animis assuesciie beHa. Virq. 
 
 No more ye bloods, encounter with each otlier. 
 But each fine gentleman embrace his brother. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 You must have observed a paragraph in the 
 newspapers dated from Dublin, which informs 
 us, ' the spirit of duelling is now become so 
 common, that scarce a day passes without one or 
 more being fought in or near that metropolis.' 
 I am very much alarmed lest this madness should 
 cross the seas : to say the truth, I almost begin 
 to think it necessary, that the frequent importa- 
 tion of Irishmen into this kingdom should, for 
 some time, be prohibited ; and an embargo laid 
 on those ships, that are freighted with contra- 
 band duellists. It is your duty, Mr. Town, at 
 least to do all in youi* power to prevent the influ- 
 ence, which the conduct of these heroic gentle- 
 men, who cannot suffer their swords to sleep 
 quietly in their scabbards, may have on our 
 young fellows : I must therefore beg of you to 
 put together a few thoughts on this occasion, 
 and though the subject has been often treated 
 before, I cannot but imagine that there is suffi- 
 cient room left for you to expatiate on it. It is 
 usual among the bishops, when they find any 
 particular vice prevail, to send orders to the 
 clergy of their respective dioceses to preach 
 against it. In like manner it is your duty, as 
 Censor General, to attack the reigning foUies ; 
 and it is sm-ely as easy for you to throw them 
 into a new light, as it is for the clergy to pi'each 
 different sei'mons on the same text. 
 
 You will undoubtedly agi'ee with me, that 
 gaming is one of the principal causes of duels, 
 and that many a young fellow has owed his 
 death to cards and dice. As the gaming-houses 
 are often filled with rogues in lace, and sharpers 
 in embroidery, an honest but rash adventurer 
 often loses his temper with his money, and be- 
 
54: 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 31. 
 
 gins to suspect thjit the cards are packed, br the 
 dice loaded : and then very wisely risks his life, 
 because he finds it impossible to recover his 
 cash. Upon this account I am never witness 
 to deep play, but it raises very serious reflections 
 in me. When I ha», e seen a young nobleman 
 offer a large stake, I have considered him as 
 setting his life upon a card, or (like King Rich- 
 ard) ' laying it upon a cast, and standing the 
 hazard of the die.' I have even imagined, that 
 I heard bullets rattle in the dice-box, and that I 
 saw challenges written upon every card on the 
 table. 
 
 The ladies also are frequently the cause of 
 duels ; though it must be owned, in justice to 
 the better part of the sex, that where one is 
 fought on account of a modest women, ten are 
 occasioned by prostitutes. The stout knight- 
 errants, who entertain a passion for the faithless 
 Dulcineas of Drury-lane and Covent- Garden, 
 findf^frequent opportunities of manifesting their 
 prowess. They not only encounter with bullies 
 and bravoes, but sometimes meet with other 
 inamoratos as fond and as mad as themselves. 
 I am personally acquainted with two gentlemen 
 of this turn, who held out pistols at each other, 
 across a bed at one of these ladies' lodgings, and 
 tossed up which should fire first. The pistol, 
 however, luckily missed fire, and gave them 
 time to think better of it ; so they very amicably 
 shook hands, laid down their pistols, and went 
 to bed to the lady together. These females are 
 not content, it seems, with the conquests com- 
 monly made by the fair, but often pass a more 
 eruel sentence on their captives. Their lovers 
 not only suffer those metaphorical deaths, which 
 all their tribe must endure, but are often really 
 killed in serious truth and sober sadness. They 
 are not only shot through the heart by an acci- 
 dental glance of the eyes, but often have a brace 
 of balls lodged in their heads : and are not only 
 * stabbed through the liver (as Mercutio has it) 
 by the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft,' but they 
 may, perhaps, be engaged in a duel with a rival 
 in which they are run through the body. 
 
 A foreign Count was once challenged by one 
 of these hot-headed gentlemen ; and I shall con- 
 clude my letter by recommending his method to 
 our modern duellists. The place of battle ap- 
 pointed was the Count's house ; and when the 
 furious challenger came in, breathing nothing 
 but revenge, he wns surprised to find the Count 
 sitting very composedly with a candle and a bar- 
 rel at his side. * This, Sir,' said the Count, 
 'is a barrel of gunpowder ; and if you please, 
 we will take our chance, who shall set fire to it, 
 you or I.' The gentleman, amazed at so ex- 
 traordinary a proposal, made no answer ; upon 
 which the Count lighted a match, and waving 
 it over the mouth of the barrel, cried out, ' Get 
 out of the room, Sir, or I will set fire to the 
 powder this instant.' This abated our chal- 
 
 lenger's wrath so considerably, that the Count 
 was rid of him in a rooment, and he was glad 
 to leave the room without any satisfaction. — I 
 shall expect something from you on this subject, 
 and am, 
 
 Sir, your humble Servant, 
 Ephkaim Makepeacb. 
 
 I shall not refuse, in compliance with the re- 
 quest of my correspondent, to give my animad- 
 versions on this subject; but as I am not in- 
 clined to measure swords on this occasion with 
 any of my predecessors or contemporaries, I 
 shall take a different course, and appear in the 
 cause' as an advocate for duelling. The vices 
 and follies of the fashionable world are so con- 
 nected with each other, that they almost form 
 a regular system ; and the practice of them all 
 is absolutely necessary to complete the character 
 of a fine gentleman. A fine gentleman (in the 
 modern sense of the word) is one that whores, 
 games, and wears a sword. Running after 
 loose women is, indeed, in some measure com- 
 mon to this exalted part of mankind with the 
 vulgar; but to live in bagnios, to be kept in re- 
 pair by Rock or Ward by the quarter, to be in a 
 continual course of pill and electuary, and to 
 make a business of fornication, is the peculiar 
 privilege of a fine gentleman. Gaming is also 
 an essential requisite to this character, and is 
 indeed capable of itself to create a person a gen- 
 tleman, who has no other pretensions to that 
 title. The greatest scoundrels, provided they 
 were gamesters, have always been permitted to 
 associate with people of fashion ; and, perhaps, 
 they hold their title to the best company by the 
 same tenure that the knaves keep their rank 
 among the honours in a pack of cards. But the 
 grand distinguishing mark of a fine gentleman 
 is the wearing a sword. Gentility displays it- 
 self in a well fancied sword knot, and honour 
 lies sheathed in the scabbard. All who bear 
 arms have a claim to this character; even our 
 common soldiers (like the knights of old) are 
 dubbed gentlemen on the shoulder; with this 
 only difference, that, instead of the sword, the 
 ceremony is performed by a brown musket. 
 
 Upon these and many other weighty consi- 
 derations, 1 have resolved not to disturb the 
 tranquillity of the polite world, by railing at 
 their darling vices. A Censor may endeavour 
 to new cock a hat, to raise the stays, or write 
 down the short petticoat, at his pleasure. Per- 
 sons of quality will vary fashions of themselves, 
 but will always adhere steadily to their vices, 
 I have besides received several letters from sur- 
 geons and younger brothers, desiring mt to pro- 
 mote as far as lies in my power the modern way 
 of life, and especially the practice of duelling. 
 The former open their case in the most pathetic 
 terms, and assure me if it was rot for duels, 
 and the amorous rencounters of fine gentlemen 
 
No. 32.-] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 with the other sex, their profession would scarce 
 support them. As to the young gentlemeD, they 
 inveigh bitterly against the unequal distribution 
 of property by the laws of England, and offer me 
 very considerable bribes, if I will espouse the 
 cause of duels and debauchery ; without which 
 they scarce have any tolerable chance of coming 
 in for the family estate. 
 
 Swift somewhere observes, that these differ- 
 ences very rarely happen among men of sense, and 
 he does not see any great harm, if two worthless 
 fellows send each other out of the world. I 
 shall therefore humbly propose, the more effec- 
 tually to keep up this spirit, that duels may be in- 
 cluded in the Licence- Act among our other pub- 
 lic diversions, with a restraining clause, taking 
 away all power from the justices to prohibit 
 these entertainments. I would also propose, for 
 the better accommodation of the public, that 
 scaffolds be erected behind Montague-house, or 
 in any other convenient place, as there are now 
 at Tyburn ; and that whenever any two gentle- 
 men quarrel, they shall insert their challenges 
 in the daily papers, after the following manner, 
 in imitation of the late champions at Brough- 
 ton's Amphitheatre. 
 
 I, John Mac- Duel, having been affronted by 
 Richard Flash, hereby challenge him to meet 
 me behind Montague-house on the day of 
 
 to go through all the exercise of the small 
 sword ; to advance, retire, parry, and thrust in 
 carte, tierce, and segoon, and to take my life, or 
 lose his own. 
 
 John Mac-Duel. 
 
 I, Richard Flash, who have spitted many 
 such dastardly fellows on my sword like larks, 
 promise to meet John Mac-Duel, and doubt 
 not, by running him through the body, to give 
 him gentleman-like satisfaction. 
 
 Richard Flash. 
 
 By this scheme the public would have an op- 
 portunity of being present at these fashionable 
 amusements, and might revive that lost species 
 of gaming (so much lamented in our last paper) 
 by laying bets on the issue of the combat. 
 
 It should also be provided, that if either or 
 both are killed, the body or bodies be delivered 
 to the surgeons to be anatomized, and placed in 
 their hall ; unless the younger brother or next 
 heir shall give them an equivalent. 
 
 It should also be provided by the above-men- 
 tioned act, that no person be qualified to fight a 
 due), who is not worth £500 per ann. For as it 
 is unsportsman-like to admit dunghill cocks into 
 the pit, so it would render this inestimable pri- 
 vilege less valuable, if every mean wretch had a 
 right of being run through the body, who could 
 do the public no service by his death. 
 T. 
 
 No. 32.] Thursday, Sept. 5, 1764. 
 
 EmunctcE tuiris- 
 
 55 
 
 HOR. 
 
 A plain blunt fellow, who, like scented beaux, 
 "With vile pulvilio ne'er begrim'd his nose. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN, 
 Sir, 
 1 KNOW not whether you yourself are addicted 
 to a filthy practice, which is fi*equent among all 
 ranks of people, though detestable even among 
 the lowest. The practice I mean is that of 
 snuff-taking: which 1 cannot help regardirT as 
 a national plague, that, like another epidemic 1 
 distemper, has taken hold of our noses. You 
 authors may perhaps claim it as a privilege, since 
 snuff is supposed by you to whet the invention, 
 and every one is not possessed of Bayes's admi- 
 rable receipt, the ' spirit of brains:' but give 
 
 me leave to tell you, that snuff should no more 
 be administered in public, than Major's medici- 
 nal composition at four-pence a pinch, or any 
 other dose of physic. I know not why people 
 should be allowed to annoy their friends and 
 acquaintance by smearing their noses w^ith a 
 dirty powder, any more than in using an eye- 
 water, or rubbing their teeth with a dentrifice. 
 If a stranger to this nasty custom was to ob- 
 serve almost every one < drawing out his pouncet 
 box, and ever and anon giving it to his nose,' he 
 would be led to conclude, that we were no better 
 than a nation of Hottentots ; and that every one 
 was obliged to cram his nostrils with a quantity 
 of scented dirt to fence them from the disagree- 
 able effluvia of the rest of the company. Indeed, 
 it might not be absurd in such a stranger to ima- 
 gine, that the person he conversed with took 
 snuff, for the same reason that another might 
 press his nostrils together between his finger 
 and thumb, to exclude an ill smell. 
 
 It is customary among those polite people, the 
 Dutch, to carry with them every Avhere their 
 short dingy pipes, and smoke and spit about a 
 room even in the presence of ladies. This piece 
 of good breeding, however ridiculous it may 
 seem, is surely not more offensive to good man- 
 ners than the practice of snuff-taking. A very 
 Dutchman would think it odd, that a people 
 who pretend to politeness, should be continually 
 snuflSng up a parcel of tobacco dust ; nor can I 
 help laughing, when I see a man every minute 
 stealing out a dirty muckender, then sneaking 
 it in again, as much ashamed of his pocket com- 
 panion as be would be to carry a dishclout about 
 him. 
 
 It is, indeed, impossible to go into any large 
 company without being disturbed by this abo- 
 minable practice. The church and the playhouse 
 continually echo with this music of the nose, 
 and in every corner you may heai- them in con - 
 
56 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. .t::. 
 
 cert snuffling, sneezing, hawking, and grunting, 
 lilie a drove of hogs. The most pathetic speech 
 in a tragedy has been interrupted by the blow- 
 ing of noses in the front and side boxes ; and I 
 have known a whole congregation suddenly rais- 
 ed from their knees in the middle of a prayer by 
 the violent coughing of an old lady, who has 
 been almost choked by a pinch of snuff in giving 
 vent to an ejaculation. A celebrated actor has 
 spoiled his voice by this absurd treatment of his 
 nose, which has made his articulation as dull 
 and drowsy as the hum of a bagpipe ; and the 
 parson of our parish is often forced to break off 
 in the middle of a period, to snort behind his 
 white handkerchief. 
 
 Is it not a wonder, Mr. Town, that snufF, 
 which is certainly an enemy to dress, should yet 
 gain admittance among those who have no other 
 merit than their clothes ? I am not to be told, 
 that your men of fashion take snufF only to dis- 
 play a white hand, perhaps, or the brilliancy of 
 a diamond ring : and I am confident, that num- 
 bers would never have defiled themselves with 
 the use of snuff, had they not been seduced by 
 the charms of a fashionable box. The man of 
 taste takes his Strasburg veritable tabac from a 
 
 right Paris paper box ; and the pretty fellow 
 uses an enamelled box lined in the inside with 
 polished metal, that by often opening it, he may 
 have the opportunity of stealing a glance at his 
 own sweet person, reflected in the lid of it. 
 
 Though I abhor snuff-taking myself, and 
 would as soon be smothered in a cloud raised by 
 smoking tobacco, as I would willingly suffer the 
 least atom of it to tickle my nose, yet I am ex- 
 posed to many disgusting inconveniences from 
 the use of it by others. Sometimes I am choked 
 by drawing in with my breath some of the finest 
 particles together with the air ; and I am fre- 
 quently set a sneezing by the odorous effluvia 
 arising from the boxes that surround me. But 
 it is not only my sense of smelling that is offend- 
 ed : you will stare when I tell you, that I am 
 forced to taste, and even to eat and drink this 
 abominable snuff. If I drink tea with a cer- 
 tain lady, I generally perceive what escapes from 
 her fingers swimming at the top of my cup ; but 
 it is always attributed to the foulness of the 
 milk or dross of the sugar. I never dine at a 
 particular friend's house, but I am sure to have 
 as much rappee as pepper with my turnips ; nor 
 can I drink my table-beer out of the same mug 
 with him, for fear of coughing from his snuff, if 
 not the liquor going the wrong way. Such 
 eternal snuff-takers as my friend, should, I 
 think, at meal times, have a screen flapping 
 down over the nose and mouth, imder which 
 they might convey their food, as you may have 
 seen at the masquerade : or at least they should 
 be separated from the rest of the company, and 
 placed by themselves at the side-table, lilce the 
 children. 
 
 This practice of snuff-taking, however inex- 
 cusable in the men, is still more abominable in 
 the other sex. Neatness and cleanliness ought 
 to be always cultivated among tlie women ; but 
 how can any female appear tolerably clean, who 
 so industriously bedaubs herself with snuff? I 
 have with pain observed the snow-white surface 
 of a handkerchief or api-on sullied with the 
 scatterings from the snuff-box ; and whenever 
 I see a lady thus besmeared with Scotch or Ha- 
 vannah, I consider her as no cleanlier than the 
 kitchen wench scouring her brasses, and begrim- 
 med with brick-dust and fuller's earth. House- 
 wifely accomplishments are at present seldom 
 required in a well-bred woman, or else I should 
 little expect to find a wife in the least notable, 
 who keeps up such a constant correspondence 
 between her fingers and nose ; nor, indeed, 
 would any one think her hands at all fit to be 
 employed in making a pudding. 
 
 It should be remembei'ed by the younger part 
 of your fair readers, Mr. Town, that snuff is an 
 implacable enemy to the complexion, which in 
 time is sure to take a tinge from it : they should 
 therefore be as cautious of acquiring a sallow 
 hue from this bane of a fair skin, as of being 
 tanned or freckled by exposing their delicate 
 faces to the scorching rays of the sun. Besides, 
 as the nose has been always reckoned a principal 
 ornament of the face, they should be as careful 
 to preserve the beauty of it as of any other fea- 
 ture, and not suffer it to be undermined or 
 bloated by so pernicious an application as snuff- 
 taking. For my own part, I should as soon 
 admire a celebrated toast with no nose at all, as 
 to see it prostituted to so vile a purpose. They 
 should also consider, that the nose is situated 
 very near the lips ; and what relish can a lover 
 find in the honey of the latter, if at the same 
 time he is obliged to come into close contact with 
 the dirt and rubbish of the former? Rather 
 than snuff-taking should prevail among the 
 ladies, I could wish it were the fashion for them 
 to wear rings in their noses, like the savage na- 
 tions ; nay, I would even carry it still farther, 
 and oblige those pretty females, who could be 
 still slaves to snuff, to have their nostrils bored 
 through as well as thtir ears, and instead of 
 jewels, to bear rolls of pigtail bobbing over their 
 upper lips. 
 
 We cannot otherwise account for this fashion 
 among the womon, so unnatural to their sex, 
 than that they want employment for their 
 hands. It was formerly no disgrace for a young 
 lady to be seen in the best company busied with 
 her work ; but a girl, now-a-days, would as 
 soon be surprised in twirling a spinning-wheel, 
 as in handling a thread paper. The fan or the 
 snuff-box are now the only implements they 
 dare to use in public ; yet surely it would be 
 much more becoming to have the fore-finger 
 piMclced and_8rarified with the point of a needle. 
 
No. 33.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 57 
 
 than to see it erabrowned with squeezing to- 
 gether a filthy pinch of snuff. 
 
 I am, Sir, yom* huioble servant, &c. 
 T. 
 
 No. 33. J Tkcrsday, Sept. 12, ITS^. 
 
 At iu stib urlie possides famen mundam, 
 Et turre ab alta prospicis meras launis ; 
 Pktamque portas otiosus ad Villain. 
 Olits, ova, pullos, poma, caseuin, mustitm 
 Bus hoc vocari debet, an domus longe ? 
 
 IMart. 
 
 A little country box you boast. 
 So neat, 'tis cover'd all with dust ; 
 And nought about it to be seen. 
 Except a nettle-bed, that's green : 
 Your Villa ! rural but the name in. 
 So desert, it would breed a famine. 
 Hither, on Sundays, you repair, 
 Wliile heaps of viands load the chair. 
 With poultry bought from Leadenhali, 
 And cabbage from the huckster's stall. 
 'Tis not the country, you must own ; 
 'Tia only London out of town. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I REMEJiBER to havG s88ri a little French novel, 
 giving an account of a citizen of Paris making 
 an exciu-sion into the country. He imagines 
 himself about to undertake a long voyage to 
 some strange region, where the natives were as 
 different from the inhabitants of his own city, 
 as the most distant nations. He accordingly 
 takes boat, and is landed at a village about a 
 league from the capital. When he is set on 
 shore, he is amazed to find the people talk the 
 same language, wear the same dress, and use 
 the same customs Avith himself. He, who had 
 spent aU his life within the sight of Pont-Neuf, 
 looked upon every one who lived out of Paris as 
 a foreigner ; and though the utmost extent of 
 his travels was not three miles, he was as much 
 surprised, as he Avould have been to meet with a 
 colony of Frenchmen on the Terra hicognita. 
 
 Most of our late novels are, with some little 
 variation of circumstances, borrowed from the 
 French : but if we should endeavour to adapt 
 the novel I have been speaking of to a citizen of 
 London, the humour of the Avhole piece would 
 evaporate, and the fiction become unnatural and 
 improbable. A London ti'adesman is as well 
 acquahited with Tm-nham- Green or Kentish- 
 Town, as Fleet-street or Cheap-side, and talks 
 as familiarly of Richmond or Flampton- Court, 
 as of the 'Change or the Custom-house. In 
 your late paper, on the amusements of Sunday, 
 you have set forth in what manner our citizens 
 pass; that day, which most of them devote to the 
 country : but I wish you had been more par- 
 ticular in your descriptions of those elegant 
 
 niral mansions, winch at once show the opulence 
 and the taste of our principal merchants, mecha- 
 nics, and artificers. 
 
 In these dusty retreats, where tlie want of 
 London smoke is supplied by the smoke of Vir- 
 ginia tobacco, our chief citizens are accustomed 
 to pass the end and the beginning of every week. 
 Their boxes (as they are modestly called) are 
 generally built in a row, to resemble as much as 
 possible the streets in London. Those edifices 
 wiiich stand single, and at a distance fi'om the 
 road, have always a summer-house at the end oi 
 a small garden ; which being erected upon«^ 
 wall adjoining to the highway, commands a, 
 view of every carriage, and gives the owner an 
 opportunity of displaying his best wig to every 
 one that pf sses by. A little artificial fcimtain, 
 spouting water sometimes to the amazing height 
 of foiu- feet, and in which fi'ogs supply the want 
 of fishes, is one of the most exquisite ornaments 
 in these gardens. There are besides (if the spot 
 of gTound allows sufficient space for them) very 
 curious statues of Harlequin, Scaramouch, 
 Pierrot, and Columbine, which serve to remind 
 then* wives and daughters of what they have 
 seen at tlie play-house. 
 
 I went last Sunday, in compliance with a 
 most pressing invitation from a friend, to spend 
 the whole day with him at one of these little 
 seats, which he had fitted up for his retirement 
 once a week from busiiiej^s. It is pleasantly 
 situated about three miles from London, on the 
 side of a public road, from wliish it is separated 
 by a dry ditch, over which is a little bridge con- 
 sisting of two naiTow planks, leading to the 
 house. The hedge on the other side the road 
 cuts off all prospect whatsoever, except from the 
 garrets, from whence indeed you have a beauti- 
 ful vista of two men hanging in chains on Ken- 
 nigton common, with a distant view of St. 
 Paul's cupola enveloped in a cloud of smoke. I 
 set out on my visit betimes in tlie morning, 
 accompanied by my friend's book-keeper, who 
 was my guide, and carried oA'er with him the 
 London Evening Post, his mistress's hoop, and 
 a dozen of pipes, which they are afraid to trust 
 in the chair. When I came to the end of my 
 walk, I found my friend sitting at the door, in a 
 black velvet cap, smoking his morning pipe. 
 He welcomed me into the country ; and after 
 having made me observe the tiu-npike on my left 
 and the Golden Wheatsheaf on my right he 
 conducted me into his house, v.'here I was re- 
 ceived by his lady, who made a thousand apolo- 
 gies for being catched in such a dishabille. 
 
 The hall (for so I was taught to call it) had 
 its white wail almost hid by a cm-ious collection 
 of prints and paintings. On one side was a 
 large map of London, a plan and elevation of 
 the Mansion- House, with several lesser views of 
 the public buildings and halls ; on the other was 
 the Death of the Stag, by the happy poncU of 
 
58 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 34'. 
 
 Mr. Henry Overton, finely coloured : close by 
 the parlour-door, there hung a pair of stag's 
 horns, over which there was laid across a red 
 roccelo and an amber-headed cane. When I 
 had declared all this to be mighty pretty, I 
 was shown into the parlour, and was presently 
 asked, who that was over the chimney-piece. 
 I pronounced it to be a very striking likeness 
 ©f my friend, who was drawn bolt upright 
 in a full-bottomed periwig, a laced cravat, 
 with the fringed ends appearing through a 
 button-hole, a black livei*y-gown, a snuff- 
 coloured velvet coat with gold buttons, a red 
 velvet waistcoat trimmed with gold, one hand 
 otuck in the bosom of his shirt, and the other 
 holding out a letter, with the superscription — 
 
 To Mr. , Common- Councilman of 
 
 Farringdon Ward W^ithout. My eyes were 
 then directed to another figure in a scarlet 
 gown, who, I was informed, was my friend's 
 v/ife's great great uncle, and had been sheriff, 
 and knighted in the reign of King James the 
 Fii'st. Madam herself filled up a pannel on the 
 opposite side, in the habit of a shepherdess, 
 smelling to a nosegay, and stroking a ram with 
 gilt horns, 
 
 I was then invited by my friend to see what 
 he was pleased 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 side, with lilies and coxcombs, 
 supported by some old laths painted gi-een, with 
 bowls of tobacco-pipes on their tops. At the 
 end of this garden, he made me take notice of a 
 little square building surrounded with filleroy, 
 which, he told me, an alderman of great taste 
 had turned into a temple, by erecting some bat- 
 tlements and spires of painted wood on the front 
 of it ; but concluded with a hint, that I might 
 retire to it upon occasion. 
 
 After dinner, when my friend had finished 
 his pipe, he proposed taking a walk, that we 
 might enjoy a little of the country : so I was 
 obliged to trudge along the foot-path by the 
 road-side, while my friend went puffing and 
 blowing, with his hat in his hand, and his wig 
 half off his head. At last, I told him it was 
 time for me to return home, when he insisted 
 on going with me as far as the half-way house 
 to drink a decanter of stingo before we parted. 
 We here fell into company with a brother livery- 
 man of the same ward, and I left them both to- 
 gether in a high dispute about Canning ; but 
 not before my friend had made me promise to 
 repeat my visit to his country house the next 
 Sunday. 
 
 As the riches of a counti'y are visible in the 
 number of its inhabitants and the elegance of 
 their dwellings, we may venture to say, that the 
 present state of England is very flourishing and 
 prosperons ; and if the taste for building in- 
 creases with our opulence, for the next century. 
 
 we shall be able to boast of finer country seatD 
 belonging to our shopkeepers, artificers, and 
 other plebeians, than the most pompous descrip- 
 tions of Italy or Greece have ever recorded. We 
 read, it is true, of country seats belonging to 
 Pliny, Hortensius, Lucullus, and other Ro- 
 mans. They were patricians of great rank .ind 
 fortune ; there can, therefore, be no d()ubt of the 
 excellence of their villas. But who has ever 
 read of a Chinese bridge belonging to an Attic 
 tallow-chandler or a Roman pastry-cook ? or 
 could any of their shoemakers or tailors boast a 
 villa with its tin cascades, paper statues, and 
 Gothic roof-houses ! Upon the above principles, 
 we may expect that posterity will perhaps see a 
 cheesemonger's Apiarium at Brentford, a poul- 
 terer's Theriotrophium at Chiswick, and an 
 Ornithon in a fishmonger's garden at Putney. 
 
 As a patriot and an Englishman, I cannot 
 but wish that each successive century^ should 
 increase the opulence of Great Britain : but I 
 should be sorry that this abundance of wealth 
 should induce our good citizens to turn their 
 thoughts too much upon the country. At pre- 
 sent, we are deprived of our most eminent 
 tradesmen two days out of six. It is true, the 
 shopkeeper and the travelling part of his family, 
 consisting generally of himself, his wife, and his 
 two eldest daughters, are seldom sufficiently 
 equipped to take leave of London, till about 
 three o'clock on Saturday in the afternoon ; but 
 the whole morning of that day is consumed in 
 papering up cold chickens, bottling brandy 
 punch, sorting clean shifts, and night-caps for 
 the children, pinning baskets, and cording 
 trunks ; as again is the whole afternoon of the 
 Monday following, in unpinning, uncording, 
 locking up foul linen, and replacing empty bot- 
 tles in the cellar. I am afi'aid, therefore, if the 
 villas of our future tradesmen should become so 
 very elegant, that the shopkeepers will scai'ce 
 ever be visible behind their counters above once 
 in a month. 
 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 G. K. 
 
 No. 34.] Thursday, Sept. 19, 1754. 
 
 'Rcprehendcrc concr. 
 
 ._ QiUE gravis J£sopus, qua doctus Sosqus cgit. HoR. 
 
 Whene'er he bellows, who but smiles at Quin, 
 And laughs when Garhck skips like Harlequin ? 
 
 The French have distinguished the artifices 
 made use of on the stage to deceive the audience, 
 by the expression of jVh de t/watir, which we 
 may translate " the juggle of the theatre." When 
 these little arts are exercised merely to assist 
 nature, and set her off to the best advantage. 
 
No. 34.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 59 
 
 none can be so critically nice as to object to 
 them ; but "when tragedy by these means is 
 lifted into rant, and comedy distorted into buf- 
 foonery, though the deceit may succeed with the 
 multitude, men of sense will always be offended 
 at it. This conduct, whether of the poet or the 
 player, resembles in some sort the poor contri- 
 vance of the ancients, who mounted their heroes 
 upon stilts, and expressed the manners of their 
 characters by the grotesque figures of their 
 masks. 
 
 As the playhouses are now opened, I cannot 
 better introduce the remarks which I may some- 
 times take occasion to make on the theatrical 
 world, than by throwing together a few reflec- 
 tions on this " juggle of the theatre ;" which, at 
 present, I shall consider chiefly as it relates to the 
 actors. And I hope to merit the thanks of those 
 gentlemen who, while they are solicitous to ac- 
 quire new beauties, should at the same time 
 endeavoui" to unlearn their faults and imperfec- 
 tions. 
 
 We are indebted to the present times for a ju- 
 dicious reformation of the stage in point of act- 
 ing ; and (by the'bye) I could wish, that the 
 same good consequences had been produced with 
 respect to our poets. If a perfect tragedy may 
 be considered as the most difficult production of 
 human Avit, the same thing must hold in pro- 
 portion with respect to an exact representation 
 of it : for if it is necessary for the writer to work 
 up his imagination to such a pitch as to fancy 
 himself in the circumstances of the character he 
 draws, what less must the actor do, who must 
 look as the person represented TA^ould look, speak 
 as he would speak, and be in every point the 
 A'ery man ? The generation of players that im- 
 mediately preceded the present, prided them- 
 selves on what they called fine speaking : the emo- 
 tions of the soul w^ere disregarded for a distinct 
 delivery ; and with them, as Mr. Jolmson has 
 obsei'ved of some tragic writers, 
 
 Declamation roar'd, while passion slept 
 
 And, indeed, to this uninteresting taste for act- 
 ing we may partly attribute that enervate way of 
 writing so much in vogue among the Frenchified 
 play-Avrights of those times ; since nothing could 
 be so well suited to the mouths of those actors, 
 as golden lines, round periods, florid descriptions, 
 and a dispassionate amplification of sentiment. 
 
 The false majesty, with which our mimic he- 
 roes of the stage had been used to express them- 
 selves, was for a long time as distinguished a 
 mark of tragedy, as the plumed hat and full- 
 bottomed periwig ; and we may remember, for 
 example, Avhen every line in Othello (a charac- 
 ter remarkable for variety or i)assions) was 
 draAvn out in the aame pompous manner. But 
 as I mean to promote the art, rather than re- 
 prove the artists, I shall dwell on this no long- 
 er : for methinks I boar a veteran performer cal- 
 
 ling out to me in the voice of honest Jack Fal- 
 staff, " No more of that, if thou lovest me, 
 Hal." 
 
 It is sufficient to remai'k that, as the dignity 
 of the buskin would be degraded by talking in a 
 strain too low and familiar, the manner of elo^ 
 cution in a tragedy should not, on the other 
 ha,nd, be more remote fi'om our natural w^ay of 
 expressing ourselves, than blank verse (which is 
 the only proper measui-e for tragedy) is from 
 prose. Our present set of actors have, in gene- 
 ral, discarded the dead insipid pomp applauded 
 in their predecessors, and have wisely endeav- 
 oured to join with the poet in exciting pity and 
 terror. But as many writers have mistaken 
 i*ant for passion, and fustian for sublime, so our 
 players have perhaps too much given in to unna- 
 tural startings, roarings, and whinings. For 
 this reason our late writers (to accommodate 
 their pieces to the present taste) having placed 
 their chief pathos in exclamations and broken 
 sentences, have endeavoured to alarm us with 
 Ahs and Ohs, and pierce oiu' souls with inter- 
 jections. Upon the Avhole, it must be acknow- 
 ledged, that the stage is considerably improved 
 in the art of speaking. Every passion is now- 
 distinguished by its proper tone of voice ; I shall 
 therefore only add, that when I hear a player 
 laboriously placing an unnatural stress upon par- 
 ticular words, and panting with emphasis, I can- 
 not help comparing him to the pavier, who at 
 every thump of his rammer cries hern. 
 
 I have observed, that the tragedians of the last 
 age studied fine speaking : in consequence of 
 which, all their action consisted in little more 
 than strutting with one leg before the other, and 
 waving one or both arms in a continual see-saw. 
 Our present actors have perhaps run into a con- 
 trary extreme : their gestures sometimes resem- 
 ble those afflicted with St. Vitus's Dance ; their 
 whole frame appears to be convulsed : and I 
 have seen a player in the last act so miserably 
 distressed, that a deaf spectator would be apt to 
 imagine he was complaining of the cholic or the 
 tooth-ach. This has also given rise to that lui- 
 natural custom of throwing the body into va- 
 rious strange attitudes. There is not a passion 
 necessary to be expressed, but has produced dis- 
 positions of the limbs not to be found in any of 
 the paintings or sculptures of the best masters. 
 A graceful gesture and easy deportment is, in- 
 deed, worthy the care of every performer : but 
 when I observe him writhing his body into more 
 imnatural contortions than a tumbler at Sad- 
 ler's Wells, I cannot help being disgusted to see 
 him "imitate humanity so abominably. " Our 
 pantomime authors have already begun to re- 
 duce our comedies into gi'otesque scenes ; and if 
 this taste for attitude should continue to be po- 
 pular, I would recommend it to those ingenious 
 gentlemen, to adapt our best tragedies to the 
 same use, and entertain us with the like jealousy 
 
60 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 TNo. 35. 
 
 of OtheUo in dumb show, or the tricks of Har- 
 lequin Hamlet. 
 
 Before I dismiss this article, it may be expect- 
 ed that I should say something concerning the 
 behaviour proper for our ladies. We must allow 
 them on all occasions to roU the eye, stretch up 
 the neck, heave the chest, and with a thousand 
 little tricks set off their person, if not their part, 
 to the most advantage. The pomp of the old stage 
 has not yet been altogether reformed, either with 
 respect to our heroines or our heroes. A Aveeping 
 princess (though, perhaps, she is hurried Qn the 
 stage with grief and despair) cannot decently 
 make the entrance without being led in between 
 two mourning damsels in black ; and a heroine 
 must always be accompanied by one or more 
 pages, to smooth her train when ruffled by pas- 
 sion. The hero now seldom sweats beneath the 
 weight of a nodding plume of swan feathers, or 
 has his face half hid with an enoi-mous bush of 
 white horse-hair : I could also wish (if possible) 
 that the manager was saved the unnecessary ex- 
 pense of three yards of velvet for the trains of 
 his Amazons ; and that the chambermaids (as 
 ■well as the militia of the theatres) were dismiss- 
 ed, and the pages, together with the dirty lords 
 in waiting, blotted out of the mute Dramatis 
 Persona;. 
 
 Tlie mention of these particulars naturally 
 reminds m-e, how far tlie juggle of the theatre is 
 concerned in the affair of dress. Many Avill 
 agree with me, that almost the only disti-ess of 
 the last act in the Fair Penitent arises from the 
 pitiful appearance of Calista in weeds, with 
 every thing hung in black baize about her ; and 
 the players are afraid we should lose sight of 
 Hamlet's pretended madness, if the black stock- 
 ing, discovering a white one underneath, was 
 not rolled half way down the leg. A propriety 
 in di-ess is absolutely necessary to keep up the 
 general deception ; and a performer properly 
 habited, who by his whole deportment enters 
 deeply into the circumstances of the character 
 he represents, makes us for a while fancy every 
 thing before us real j but when by some ill- 
 judged piece of art, he departs from the simpli- 
 city of imitation, and *' oversteps the modesty 
 of nature," he calls us back to the theatre, and 
 excites passions very different fi'om those he 
 uims at. ^ 
 
 I cannot better illustrate what has been said 
 on this last subject, tlian by giving instances of 
 two artificci of this kind ; one of which is em- 
 ployed (as I conceive) to raise pity, and the 
 other terror. 
 
 When the Romeo of Drury-Lane comos to 
 die at Juliet's monument, we are surprised to 
 see him enter in a suit of black. This, I sup- 
 pose, is intended as a stroke of tlic pathetic ; but, 
 pot to dwell on the poverty of tlie artifice, it is 
 in this place a manifest violation of tlie poet's \ 
 
 meaning. Romeo ia supposed to come post 
 from Mantua — " Get me post horses, 1 will 
 hence to-night" — so that if our Roscius must be 
 so very exact in dressing the chai a ter, he should 
 appear at the tomb in a riding frock and boots. 
 But a mourning coat will excite pity, " and let 
 the devil wear black," (says our Hamlet- 
 Romeo,) " for I'll have a suit of sables." — The 
 same player, after having acted that noble scene 
 in the second act of IMacbeth, in so fine a 
 manner, that one would almost imagine both 
 the poet and the player must have been mur- 
 derers to represent one so well, goes out to ex- 
 ecute the supposed murder. A fter a short space 
 he returns as from the fact : but though the 
 expression in his face is still remarkably excel- 
 lent, one cannot but smile to obsem-e, that he has 
 been employing himself behind the scenes in 
 putting his wig awry, and untying one of the 
 ties to it. This doubtless is designed to raise 
 teiTor; but to every discerning spectator it must 
 appear most absurdly ridiculous : for Avho can 
 forbear laughing, when he finds that the player 
 would have us imagine, that the same deed, 
 which has thrown all that hoiTor and confusion 
 into his coimtenance, had also untwisted one of 
 the tails of his perivrig ? 
 
 I'^o. S5.] Thursday, Sept. 26, iToi. 
 
 Facundi caliccs quern nonfecere disertum ! Hon. 
 
 The fool sucks wisdom, as he porter sup?. 
 And cobblers grow fine speakers in their cups. 
 
 As I am willing to do every thma in my power 
 to celebrate so illustrious a body as the Robin 
 Hood Society, I have taken the first opportunity 
 of laying the following letter before the public. 
 
 TO MK. TOW.V. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 That part of your last paper, in which you 
 considered the art of speaking as far as it regards 
 theatrical performances, gives me reason to hope, 
 that you will not overlook the merits of the 
 Robin Hood Society, where that art is practised 
 in its gi-eatest perfection. You Avill do well to 
 recommend it to the gentlemen of the theatre to 
 attend those weekly meetings for their improve- 
 ment as soon as possible ; and 1 dare say you 
 will join with me in giving the same advice to 
 the younger part of our clergy and our lawyers, 
 as well as our members of parliament. The 
 stage, the pulpit, the bar, and the senate-house 
 cannot furnish us with such glorious examples of 
 the power of oratory, as aro to be met with in 
 this society ; where the most important ques- 
 tions in every branch of knowledge are discus- 
 sed, and whore the disputants aic all of them 
 
No. 33.-] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 61 
 
 equally versed in religion, law, politics, and the 
 drama. 
 
 The institution of this school of eloquence far 
 exceeds any thing that the ancients could boast. 
 JSvery sect, that was known among the Gre- 
 cians and Romans, has its votaries here also. I 
 have seen a tailor a Stoic, a shoemaker a Plato- 
 nist, and a cook an Epicurean. They aflfect to 
 entertain a profound veneration for Socrates, 
 often preferring him to any of the apostles : 
 though instead of declaring with this ^'ise phi- 
 losopher, that they know nothing, the members 
 of the Robin Hood Society profess to know 
 every thing. 
 
 r'or my own part, I confess myself so charm- 
 ed with their proceedings, that I constantly at- 
 tend them : and when I see all their members 
 assembled with each his pewter mug before him, 
 I cannot help preferring this social meeting to 
 any ancient sjTnposiam vrhatever : and when I 
 further observe tliem first take a swig, and then 
 speak with such amazing force of argument, I 
 am apt to conclude that truth, instead of being 
 hid in a well, as was said by an old philosopher, 
 must lie at the bottom of a tankard of porter. 
 
 There is no grace or excellence in oratory, but 
 is displayed in the Robin Hood Society to the 
 greatest advantage. Demosthenes being asked 
 what was the first quality in an orator, replied 
 —action ; what the second — action ; what the 
 third — action. Upon this principle one of the 
 members, for whom I have a vast respect, is the 
 greatest orator that evi'r lived. He never trou- 
 bles himself about the order or substance of what 
 he delivers, but waves his hand, tosses his head, 
 abounds in several new and beautiful gestures, 
 and from the beginning of his speech to the end 
 of it, takes no care but to set it off with action. 
 Tully tells us, that it is the business of an orator 
 " to prove, delight, and convince." Px'oof and 
 conviction our Society is always sure to give us ; 
 for else how could it ever come to pass, that so 
 many young men should have learned from 
 these disquisitions, that there is no God, that 
 the soul is mortal, that religion is a jest, and 
 many other truths, which tliey would othei'wise 
 never have, discovered. The nature of their 
 questions is also for the most part so entertain- 
 ing, that the disputes about them cannot fail of 
 giving delight : and there is a peculiarity in the 
 oratory of the place, which greatly conduces 
 to that end. The speakers do not always think 
 themselves obliged to drive in 'the dull direct 
 road to the point, but indulge themselves in a 
 larger scope, that allows room for novelty and 
 entertainment. When the question has been 
 concerning the veracity of the Bible, I have 
 known a gentleman get up, and beginning with 
 William the Conqueror, give the audience an 
 abstract of as many reigns as his five minutes 
 would allow him to despatch. I lately remem- 
 ber the question to have been, ' \V liether a bridge 
 
 from Black Friars to Southwark 77ould be of 
 public benefit," when a facetious gentleman em- 
 ploj'ed himself in denrionstrating the great utili- 
 ty of the bridge of the none, and the bridge of 
 a fiddle. In a word, our orators are at once se- 
 rious and comical ; and they make gravity and 
 mirth almost constantly attend each other, like 
 their own Robin Hood and Little John. The 
 solidity, and, at the same time, the smartness of 
 their speeches, are equally remarkable. They 
 pun with a grave face, tind make quibbles and 
 conundrums with the air of a philosopher. The 
 writings of different authors have been compared 
 to wines ; but the orations delivered here can be 
 resembled to nothing so properly as the liquors 
 of the Society; for while they are at once so 
 weighty and so sharp, they seem to be an equal 
 mixture of porter and lemonade. 
 
 It v/ould be endless to enumerate the advan- 
 tages resulting from this society. The wonder- 
 ful improvement it has already made in our 
 mechanics is very evident. It calls off our 
 tradesmen from the practice of honesty in their 
 common dealings, and sets them upon inquiries 
 concerning right and wrong, and the moral fit- 
 ness of things. The Spectator has told us of 
 the rhetoric of a toyman ; but you, Mr. Town, 
 might acquaint posterity of the eloquence of 
 bakers, barbers, carpenters, and blacksmiths : 
 you may every day hear discourses on religion 
 from the shopboard, and researches into philoso- 
 phy from behind the counter. When you took 
 notice of the want of learning in our people of 
 quality, you ought in justice to have acknow- 
 ledged the amazing erudition of our tradesmen. 
 The plebeians of Rome were mere brutes to our 
 common people ; and I am of opinion, that the 
 public room under that in which this weekly 
 meeting is held, instead of being furnished with 
 the busts of cur English poets, should be adorned 
 with the heads of the learned shoemakers, tal- 
 low-chandlers, bakers, &c. that constitute this 
 excellent society. 
 
 "We may venture to saj"-, that the Royal So- 
 ciety and the liobin Hood are the two greatest 
 ornaments of this nation ; and, as the former 
 now and then gives us an account of their trans- 
 actions, it were to be wished, that the fellows of 
 the latter would also from time to time oblige 
 us with a history of their proceedings. We 
 should then see by what means so many prose- 
 lytes have been made from bigotry and super- 
 stition ; by what degi'ees a young disputant 
 from a raw Christian ripens into a Deist, from 
 a Deist into a Freethinker, and from a Free- 
 thinker (by a very short step) into an Atheist. 
 We should also know the effect that the dispu- 
 tations at this weekly meeting have upon our 
 lives and conversations : and from thence judge 
 how much a design of this nature deserves 
 public encouragement. 1 have here flung to- 
 gether a short account of some of the former 
 
62 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 36. 
 
 members, and upon a review of it cannot but 
 lament, that it seems to be the peculiar fate of 
 great orators, such as Demosthenes and Tally 
 for example, to come to an unhappy end. 
 
 Mat Prig, a merchant's clerk, was converted 
 from Christianity, by the arguments which 
 were brought against Revelation. 
 
 Aaron Ben Saddai was converted fi'om the 
 ,1ewish faith, by the arguments brought against 
 Moses and the Patriarchs. 
 
 Will Positive was a strong Fatalist, and at the 
 same time a vehement advocate for man's free- 
 ^vill. At last he gave a proof of his free agency 
 by shooting himself through the head. 
 
 Jack Wildfire was convinced of the innocence 
 of fornication, used to declaim against the absurd 
 institution of matrimony, and at twenty-six 
 died a bachelor in the Lock Hospital. 
 
 Solomon Square stood up for the I'eligion of na- 
 ture, and the immutable rule of right and ivrong, 
 in preference to the laws of the community. 
 However, he was unfortunately detected in an 
 attempt to carry ofP a silver tankard from the 
 bar of the house, and was sent to propagate 
 morality in foreign parts. 
 
 Bob Booty was a strict Hobbian, and main- 
 tained, that men were in a natural state of war 
 with each other. He at last died a martyr to 
 these principles, and now hangs on a gibbet on 
 Hounslow heath. 
 
 John Dismal, after having argued one night 
 against the being of a God, and the immortality 
 of the soul, went home and was found the next 
 morning hanging in his garters. 
 
 Thomas Broadcloth, Citizen and Mercer, was 
 very much admired for his speeches upon trade. 
 After he had been in business for two years, he 
 became bankrupt, and was indicted for felony in 
 secreting his effects. 
 
 Richard Goosequill, attorney at law, was re- 
 markable for his patriotism and the love of his 
 country. He was convicted of bribery and cor- 
 ruption in a late election, in which he was em- 
 ployed as an agent. 
 
 Jeremy Crispin, Cordwainer, used constant- 
 ly to attend the club for edification, though he 
 •was forced from time to time to pawn his own 
 and his wife's clothes to raise the weekly six- 
 pence for his admittance. In the space of three 
 years he had been a Papist, a Quaker, an Ana- 
 baptist, a Jew, an Arian, a Socinian, a Maho- 
 metan, a Methodist, a Deist, and an Atheist. 
 His wife and four children have been sent to the 
 work-house. He is at present confined in Bed- 
 lam, and calls himself the President of the Ro- 
 bin Hood Society. 
 
 I am. Sir, 
 
 O. Your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 No. 36.] Thursday, Oct. S, 1754. 
 
 Non sic incerto imitantur fiaminc Syrtes, 
 
 Kec folia Hybemojam. tremejacta Xoto. Pbopert. 
 
 Our dress, still varjing.'nor to forms confined. 
 Shifts like the sands, the sport of ev'ry wind. 
 
 I HAVE somewhere seen a print, representing a 
 man and woman of every nation of the world, 
 drest according to the mode of their respective 
 countries. I could not help reflecting at the time 
 that the fashions, which prevail in England for 
 the space of a centuiy, would enable any of our 
 painters to fill a picture with as gi"eat a A-ariety 
 of habits ; and that an Englishman or English- 
 woman, in one part of the piece, would be no 
 more like an Englishman or Englishwoman in 
 the other, than a Frenchman resembles a Chi- 
 nese. Very extraordinary revolutions have al- 
 ready happened in the habits of this kingdom ; 
 and as dress is subject to unaccountable changes, 
 posterity may perhaps see without sui'prise our 
 ladies strut about in breeches, while our men 
 waddle in hoop petticoats. 
 
 In the days of Queen Elizabeth it was the 
 fashion for the ladies to conceal and wrap up as 
 much of their bodies as they could : TJieir necks 
 were encompassed with a broad ruff, which like- 
 wise spread itself over their bosoms: and their 
 sleeves "were continued down and fastened close 
 to their wrists, while only their feet were allow- 
 ed just to peep from beneath the modest fardin- 
 gale ; so that nothing was exposed to the imper- 
 tinent eye of man but their faces. Our modern 
 ladies have run into the contrary extreme, and 
 appear like so many Rope-dancers : they have 
 discarded as much of their clothes as ivith any 
 tolerable decency can be thrown oflF, and may be 
 said (like the Indian) to be all face : the neck 
 and bosom are laid bare, and disentangled from 
 the invidious vail of a handkerchief; the stays 
 are sunk half way down their waist, and the pet- 
 ticoat has risen in the same proportion from the 
 ankle. Nor is the lover only captivated by the 
 naked chai*ms, which meet his sight before ; but 
 our ladies, like the Parthians, have also learned 
 the art of wounding from behind, and attract 
 our attention no less by laying their shoulders 
 open to the view ; which (as a young physician 
 of my acquaintance once obsei-^'ed) makes them 
 look, as if they were prepared to receive a blister. 
 A naked lady is no longer the admiration only 
 of a masquerade : every public assembly will fur- 
 nish us vv'ith Iphigenias undrest for the sacrifice ; 
 and if the next summer should happen to be a 
 hot one, our ladies will perhaps imi)rove on the 
 thin vesture of the Spartan virgins, and anpcav 
 abroad in nothing but a gause shade and lawn 
 petticoat. If the men should take the hint from 
 the other sex, and begin to strip in their turn, I 
 tremble to think what may be the consequence; 
 
No. 36.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 63 
 
 for, if they go on in propoi'tion with the women, 
 we may soon expect to see our fine gentleman, 
 like the Highlanders, without breeches. 
 
 It would be endless to trace the strange revo- 
 lutions, that have happened in every part of the 
 female dress, within these few years. The hoop 
 has been known to expand and contract itself 
 from the size of a butter churn to the circumfer- 
 ence of three hogsheads : afone time it was sloped 
 from the waist in a pjTamidical form ; at 
 anotlier it was bent upwards like an inverted 
 bow, by which the two angles, when squeezed 
 up on each side, came in contact with the ears. 
 At present it is nearly of an oval form, and 
 scarce measui-es from end to end above tAvice 
 the length of the wearer. The hoop has, in- 
 deed, lost much of its credit in the female world, 
 and has suffered much from the innovation of 
 short sacks and negligees ; which, it must be 
 confessed, are equally becoming of the lady 
 of pleasure and the lady . of quality : for as 
 the men wiU agree, that next to no clothes 
 at all nothing is more ravishing than an easy 
 dishabille, oiu- ladies for that reason per- 
 haps come into public places, as if they were 
 just got out of bed, or as if they were ready to 
 go into it. This, while it is the fashion, must 
 be agreeable : but I must own, that I could 
 sooner approve of their encircling themselves in 
 so many ells of whalebone, than to see them 
 affect to appear with their clothes huddled on so 
 loosely and indecently. This manner of dress- 
 ing, or rather not dressing, was brought from 
 Paris ; but I would have my fair readers con- 
 sider, that as this loose method of dress is cal- 
 culated to hide any defects in the body, it is very 
 impolitic to suffer all that symmetry and elegant 
 turn of shape they are mistresses of, to be 
 smothered under it ; since these habits can be of 
 no more service to their persons, than paint 
 (that other Paris commodity) can add to the 
 natural red and white of their complexion, 
 though perhaps it may heighten the sallow vi- 
 sages of the French. 
 
 But of all the branches of female dress, no one 
 has undergone more altei'ations than that of the 
 head. The long lappets, the horse-shoe-cap, the 
 Brussels head, and the prudish mob pinned un- 
 der the chin, have all of them had their day. 
 The present mode has rooted out all these super- 
 fluous excrescences, and in the room of a slip of 
 cambric or lace, has planted a whimsical sprig 
 of spangles or artificial flowerets. We may re- 
 member when, for a while, the hair was tor- 
 tured into ringlets behind ; at present, it is 
 braided into a queiie (like those foi'merly worn 
 by the men, and still retaining the original 
 name of Ramilles), which, if it were not re- 
 vei'ted upwards, would make us imagine, that 
 our fine ladies were afflicted with the plica polo- 
 nica. 
 
 If the caps have pzisscd through many meta- 
 
 morphoses, no les-s a change has been brought 
 about in the other coverings contrived for thft 
 head. The dimiimtive high-crowned hat, the 
 bonnet, the hive, and the milkmaid's chip hat, 
 were rescued for a time from old women and 
 servant girls, to adorn heads of the fii-st fashion. 
 Nor was the method of cocking hats less tlactu- 
 ating, till they were at length settled to the pre- 
 sent mode ; by which it is ordered , that every 
 hat, whether of straw or silk, whether of the 
 chambermaid or mistress, must have their flaps 
 turned up perpendicularly both before and be- 
 hind. If the end of a lady's dress was not ra- 
 ther ornamental than useful, we should think it 
 a little odd, that hats, which seem naturally in- 
 tended to screen their faces from the hear or 
 severity of the weather, should be moulded into 
 a shape that prevents their answering either of 
 these purposes : but we must, indeed, allow it to 
 be highly ornamental, as the present hats worn 
 by the women are more bold and impudent than 
 the broad brimmed staring Kevauhullers worn 
 a few years ago by the men. These hats are also 
 decorated with two waving pendants of ribbon, 
 hanging down from the brim on the left side. I 
 am not so much offended at the flaming air 
 which these streamers carry with them, as I 
 am afraid lest it should spoil the charming eyes 
 of my pretty countrywomen, which are con- 
 stantly provoked to cast a glance at them ; and 
 I have myself often observed an obliging ogle 
 or ravishing leer intercepted by these mediums; 
 so that, when a lady has intended to charm he^' 
 lover, she has shocked him with a hideous 
 squint. 
 
 The ladies have long been severely rallied on 
 their too great attention to finery : but, to own 
 the truth, dress seems at present to be as much 
 the study of the male part of the world as the 
 female. We have gentlemen, who " will lie a 
 whole night (as Benedick says) carving the 
 fashion of a new doublet." They have theii' 
 toilettes, too, as well as the ladies, set out with 
 washes, perfumes, and cosmetics; and will 
 spend the whole morning in scenting their 
 linen, dressing their hair, and arching their eye- 
 brows. Their heads (as well as the ladies) have 
 undergone various mutations, and have worn as 
 many different kinds of wigs, as the block at 
 their barber's. About fifty years ago, they 
 buried their heads in a bush of hair ; " and the 
 beaux (as Swift says) lay hid beneath the pent- 
 house of a full bottomed periwig." But as they 
 then showed nothing but the nose, mouth, and 
 eyes, the fine gentlemen of our time not only 
 oblige us with their full faces, but have drawn 
 back the side curls quite to the tip of the ear. 
 
 As France appears to be the wardrobe of the 
 world, I shall conclude my paper with a piece 
 of secret history, which gives us some insight 
 into the origin of deriving all our fashions 
 from thence.— The celebrated Lord Foppington, 
 
64 
 
 THE C O N N O I S S E U K. 
 
 [No. 37. 
 
 among his other amours, had once an intrigue 
 with a milliner of Covent Garden, who, alter 
 some time, brought a lovely girl into the world, 
 and called her after his Lordship's surname, 
 Fashion. The milliner brought up the child in 
 her own house to the age of fifteen, at which 
 time she grew very pressing with Lord i'op- 
 pington to make some provision for his daugh- 
 ter. My lord, who was never much pleased with 
 this consequence of his amours, that he might 
 be rid of the girl for ever, put her into the hands 
 of a friend, who was going abroad, to place her 
 in a nunnery : but the girl, who had very little 
 of the vestal in her disposition, contrived to es- 
 cape from her conductor, and flew to Paris. 
 There her beauty and sprightliness soon pro- 
 cured her many friends ; and she opened a gen- 
 teel shop in her mother's business. Siie soon 
 made herself remarkable for contriving the most 
 elegant head-dresses, and cutting out ruffles with 
 the most ravishing slope : her fancy Avas, besides, 
 so inexhaustible, that she almost every day pro- 
 duced a great variety of new and beautiful pat- 
 terns. She had many adorers, and at last mar- 
 ried his Most Christian Majesty's tailor. This 
 alliance brought the dress of all Paris under 
 their jurisdiction ; and the young lady, out of a 
 natural love to her native country, proposed the 
 extending their care to the fine gentlemen and 
 ladies of London. In pursuance of this, Mon- 
 sieur, her husband, two or three times in the 
 year, transmits a suit of clothes entirely a la 
 Paris, as a pattern to Messieurs Regnier and 
 Lynch, of Leicester Fields and Pall Mall, while 
 his wife sends over a little w^ooden Mademoiselle 
 to her relations in Tavistock Street. T. 
 
 No. 37.] Thuusbat, Oct. 10, 1734. 
 
 Eja ! sudabis satis. 
 
 Si cum illo incceptas homine ; ea doquentia est! Ter. 
 
 By my troth, you will sweat for it, if you once begin with 
 this man : he has such amazing eloquence! 
 
 A CORRESPONDENT wrltes to m.e, that after hav- 
 ing considered the art of speaking in the theatre, 
 as also celebrated the practice of it in the llobin 
 Hood Society, my remarks will not be complete, 
 except I take notice of the extraordinary elo- 
 quence of the Clare Market Orator. He desires 
 me to remember, that this universal genius has, 
 from time to time, declared from his rostrum, 
 with a thundering elocution, ' that there is but 
 one orator in the world, and He is the man — 
 that Sir Robert Walpole, and all the great men 
 in the kingdom, have been his scholars— and 
 that bishops have come to his oratory to learn to 
 preach. ' 
 
 I have, indeed, observed with a good deal of 
 
 concern, that the orator lias of late discontinued 
 to oblige the public with hi.s Sunday evening 
 lectures as usual. Instead of seeing his Oratory 
 Chapel shut up, I was in hopes that every 
 parish-church in the kingdom would be opened 
 on the same principles. How much more salu- 
 tary Avere his tenets, setting forth the sufficiency 
 of reason, than the cold doctrine of our clergy 
 preaching up the necessity of faith ? how supe- 
 rior was his form of prayer to our whole liturgy, 
 and how much better adapted to particular occa- 
 sions?— * A prayer for a sinking bridge! — 
 prayer for the White Rose ! — prayer for Jack- 
 son's Journal ! — prayer for the heads on Temple 
 Bar!' — In these pious addresses he would first 
 invoke the Supreme Being in the most solemn 
 manner ; then suddenly slide into the familiar, 
 and pray — ' that we might not hear the croak- 
 ing of Dutch nightingales in the king's cham- 
 bers ;' — or on another occasion, ' that our clergy 
 might not study Shakspeare more than the gos- 
 pel, and that they might be rather employed on 
 the evangelists, than As you like it, or Much 
 ado about nothing.' 
 
 I cannot but likewise lament the loss of the 
 entertainment Avhich his advertisements used to 
 give us every Saturday in the newspapers. The 
 terms in which they were commonly expressed 
 were clear and elegant, and furnished the reader 
 with an admirable idea of the Doctor's manner 
 from the pulpit. For instance, when he told 
 you his text was from Isaiah, and quoted these 
 words—' Strt? 10 Jun ! No Ilnvr ! Down with 
 the Rmp !' — we might form a tolerable judg- 
 ment of the great reverence he paid the Bible ; 
 and v/hen he called his assembly, ' The Oratory 
 — P. Charles's Chapel,' we might guess at his 
 loyalty and patriotism. These were the advan- 
 tages which we derived from his Chapel ; and, 
 if the Oratory remains shut, I shall begin to 
 fear, that things will continue in their present 
 shocking state ; and that the scheme lately pro- 
 posed in one of my papers, for abolishing Chris- 
 tianity, will not take effect; at which I am 
 more particulaily concerned, as it will hinder 
 the advancement of this great man. For, if 
 such a revolution should happen in the church, 
 the orator's principles would be found so entire- 
 ly fundamental, that he would probably then 
 hold some honourable station equal to our present 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 The public, for these reasons, will doubtless 
 join with me in a petition, that this illustrious 
 divine would again resume his station in the 
 pulpit. At least I could wish, that some able 
 theologist, who has been long practised in de- 
 ciding on the most abstruse points of religion in 
 the Robin Hood Society, may be deputed, in the 
 absence of the orator, to officiate .ns his curate. 
 I would also recommend it to the members of 
 the above-mentioned Societj', to attend these 
 lectures regularly ; from whence they naay 
 
No. 38.2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 gather stronger arguments for their disputa- 
 tions, than from reading Collins, Chubb, Tin- 
 dale, Bolingbroke, or any otlier orthodox Free- 
 thinker whatever. Upon the whole, I cannot 
 conclude without observing, that such is the in- 
 gratitude of the age, that the singular merits of 
 our orator are not sufficiently regarded. He is, 
 indeed, deservedly caressed by the butchers of 
 Clare Market ; but had our orator been born at 
 Athens or Rome, he would certainly have been 
 deified as the god of butchers, have been 
 worshipped like Osiris under the figui'e of a 
 calf, or have had a statue erected to him in the 
 Forum or Market place, among the shambles. 
 
 Thus much I thought myself bound to say in 
 praise of the orator and oratory, as he has some 
 time ago done me the honour of a letter, which 
 I am very glad of this opportunity to communi- 
 cate to my readers. The private epistles of 
 Tully are very xmequal to his orations : but the 
 following letter is in the very style and spirit of 
 our orator's animated discoiu'ses fi-om the pulpit. 
 I shall therefore present it to the public exactly 
 as 1 received it, without presuming to alter or 
 suppress the least syllable. 
 
 TO MR. BALDWIN AND TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 1754, July 26. 
 
 The liberty of the press, as you practise it, 
 and yoiu* author, Mr. Town (i. e. Mr. Nobody, 
 for he dares not publish his name and abode, nor 
 confront one he abuses) is the greatest of grie- 
 vances ; it is the liberty of lying and slandering, 
 and desti-oying reputations to make your paper 
 sell ; reputation is dearer than life, and your 
 
 scribbler's blood shall answer your scandal : 
 
 You have published the Scoundrel's Dictionary, 
 put his name and your own into it ; he and you 
 have often bespattered the orator and oratory in 
 
 Clare Market the oratory is not in Clare 
 
 Market, which is in a different parish ; so that 
 you and he lye : * and butchers are [seldom 
 
 blotted out] never there : You both lye, too, 
 
 in .saying that it is calculated (intended) for 
 
 atheism and infidelity. Its religion is the 
 
 " obligation of man to resemble the attributes of 
 God to his power, by the practice of universal 
 right reason ; believing Christianity of Clu'ist 
 railed reason the wisdom of God. — This is the 
 reverse of atheism and infidelity and blas- 
 phemy." 
 
 The writer of the folloAving, -\vho signs him- 
 
 • This reminds me of a similar defence made by Ward 
 the doggrel-writer, whose genius for poetry was exactly 
 of a piece with that of our orator for prose compositions. 
 .Tacob, in his account of Ward, happened to say, that " of 
 late years he had kept a public-house in the city." This 
 Mr. Ward highly resented : and in a book called Apollo's 
 Maggot, declared it to be a Lye, protesting " that his 
 public-house was not in the citj', but in Moor-Fields," 
 
 self a Member of the Robin Hood Society, 
 threatens me, that in case I do not px'int hi3 
 letter immediately, the question, " whether Mr. 
 Tow-n be a greater fool or a scoundrel," shall be 
 debated at their next meeting. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I would have you to know, that the person 
 as sent you the account of our Club did not do 
 right. He represents us all as a pack of trades- 
 men and mechanics, and would have j^oii think 
 as how there are no gentlemen among us. But 
 that is not the case : I am a gentleman, and we 
 haA'e a great many topping people besides. 
 Though INIr. President is but a baker, and we 
 have a shoemaker, and some other handicrafts- 
 men, that come to talk : yet I can assm-e you 
 they know as much of religion an'd the good of 
 then- coxmtry (and other such matters) as any 
 of we gentlemen. But, as I said, we have a 
 good many topping folks beside myself: for 
 there is not a night but we have several young 
 lawyers, and counsellors, and doctors, and sur- 
 geons, and captains, and poets, and players, and 
 a great many Irishmen and Scotclimen (very 
 fine speakers) who follow no business ; besides 
 several foreigners, who are aU of them gi-eat 
 men in their own countrj'. And Ave have one 
 squire, who lives at t'other end of the town, and 
 always conies in his chariot. 
 
 And so, as I said, we have a good many tip- 
 top people, as can talk as well as any of your 
 play-folks or parsons : and as for my part every 
 body knows that I am a lord's gentleman, and 
 ncA'er w^as the man that wore a livery in my life. 
 I have been of the Club more or less, oif and on, 
 for these six years, and never let a question pass 
 me, Mr. President knows It : and though I say 
 it that should not say it, I can talk (and so cau 
 any of our Club) as well as the best of you poets 
 can wi'ite. And so as I said, I expect you will 
 put it in your paper, that we have a great many 
 gentlemen in our club besides myself. 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 T. J-VMES Wait. 
 
 No. 38.] Thursdav, Oct. 17, 1754-, 
 
 -Eqiios ut qui mcrcmifitr.- 
 
 ttoit. 
 
 To have and hold for better and for worse. 
 We buy a wife, just as we buy a horse. 
 
 At a certain coifee-house, near the Temple, the 
 bar is kept by a pretty coquet ; a piece of furni- 
 ture almost as necessary for a coffee-room in that 
 situation as the ncAVspapers. This lady, you 
 may be sure, has many admii-ers, who are lioW 
 and th«>n glad of an opportunity to relieve thetu* 
 K 
 
66 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. S8. 
 
 selves fi-om the severe study of the law by a 
 soft conversation with this fair one, and repeat- 
 ing on the occasion all the tender things they 
 can remember from plays, or wJiatever else Or- 
 geate or Capillaire can inspire. Among the 
 many pretenders to her favour there is one faith- 
 ful swain, who has long entertained a serious 
 passion for her. This tender hearted gentleman, 
 who is grown so lean with living upon love, 
 that one \,ould imagine " the blasts of January 
 Avould blow him through and through," com.es 
 every evening, and sits whole hours by the bar, 
 gazing at his mistress, and taking in large 
 draughts of love and hyson tea. Never was 
 swain in such cruel circumstances. He is forced 
 to bear with patience all the haughty insolence 
 of the goddess of bread and butter ; who, as she 
 knows him in her power, keeps him at a dis- 
 tance, though she behaves with the pertest fa- 
 miliarity to the other coxcombs, who are con- 
 tinually buzzing about her. At eleven he sneaks 
 off pale and discontented ; but cannot forbear 
 coming again the next evening, though he 
 knows how vilely be shall be used by his mis- 
 tress, and that he is laughed at even by the 
 waiters. 
 
 If all true lovers were obliged, like this un- 
 happy gentleman, to carry on his courtships in 
 public, we should be witness to many scenes 
 equally ridiculous. Their awkward desire of 
 pleasing influences every trivial gesture; and 
 when once love has got possession of a man's 
 heart, it shows itself down to the tips of his 
 fingers. The conversation of a languishing ina- 
 morato is made up chiefly of dumb signs, such 
 as sighs, ogles, or glances ; but if he oifers to 
 break his passion to his mistress, there is such a 
 stammering, faultering, and half-wording the 
 matter, that the language of love, so much talked 
 of by poets, is in truth no language at all. Who- 
 ever should break in upon a gentleman and lady, 
 while so critical a conversation is going forward, 
 would not foi"bear laughing at such an extraor- 
 dinary tete-a-tete, and would perhaps cry out with 
 Ranger, that ' nothing looks so silly as a pair of 
 your true lovei's.' 
 
 Since true and sincere love is sure to make its 
 votaries thus ridiculous, we cannot sufficiently 
 commend our present people of quality, who 
 have made such laudable attempts to deliver 
 themselves and posterity from its bondage. In 
 a fashionable wedding the man or woman are 
 7ieither of them considered as reasonable crea- 
 tures, who come together in order to ' comfort, 
 love, cherish, honour, or obey,' according to 
 their respective duties, but are regarded merely 
 as instruments of joining one estate to another. 
 Acie marries acre; and to increase and multiply 
 their fortunes, is in genteel matches the chief 
 consideration of man and wife. The courtship 
 is carried on by the council of each party ; and 
 they pay their addresses by billet-doux upon 
 
 parchment. The great convenience of expelling 
 love from matrimony is very evident : IVIanJed 
 persons of quality are never troubled with each 
 other's company abroad, or fatigued with dull 
 matrimonial discourses at home : my lord keeps 
 his girl, my lady has her gallant; and they both 
 enjoy all the fashionable privileges of wedlock 
 without the inconveniences. This would never 
 be the case, if there was the least spark of love 
 subsisting between them ; but they must be re- 
 duced to the same situation with those wretches, 
 who (as they have nothing to settle on each 
 other but themselves) are obliged to make up 
 the deficiencies of fortune by affection. But 
 while these miserable, fond, doating, unfashion- 
 able couples are obliged to content themselves 
 with love and a cottage, people of quality enjoy 
 the comforts of indilierence and a coach and six. 
 
 The late Maniage Act is excellently adapted 
 to promote this prudential proceeding with re- 
 spect to wedlock. It will in time inevitably 
 abolish the old system of founding matrimony 
 on affection ; and marrying for love will be 
 given up for the sake of marrying according to 
 act of Parliament. There is now no danger of 
 a handsome worthy young fellow of small for- 
 tune running away with an heiress; for it is 
 not sufficient to insinuate himself into the la<ly's 
 favour by a voluble tongue and a good person, 
 unless he can also subdue the considerate parents 
 or guardians by the merits of his rent-roll. As 
 this act promotes the method of disposing of 
 children by way of bargain and sale, it conse- 
 quently puts an end to that ridiculous courtship, 
 arising from simple love. In order therefore to 
 confirm (as far as possible) the happy conse- 
 quences of this act, I have been long endeavour- 
 ing to hit on some expedient, by which all the 
 circumstances preparatory to wedlock may be 
 carried on in a proper manner. A Smithfield 
 bargain being so common in metaphor, I had 
 once some thoughts of proposing to realize it, 
 and had almost completed a plan, by which all 
 the young persons (like servant girls at a statute 
 fair in the country) were to be brought to mar- 
 ket, and disposed of in one part of Smithfield, 
 while the sheep and horses were on sale in an- 
 other. 
 
 In the midst of these serious considerations, 
 I received a scheme of this nature from my good 
 friend Mr. Keith, whose chapel the late mar- 
 riage act has rendered useless on its original 
 principles. This reverend gentleman, seeing 
 that all husbands and wives are henceforward 
 to be put to sale, proposes shortly to open his 
 chapel on a more new and fashionable plan. As 
 the ingenious Messieurs Henson and Bcver 
 have lately opened in different quarters of the 
 town repositories for all horses to be sold by 
 auction ; Mr. Keith intends setting up a re- 
 pository for all young males and females to be 
 disposed of in marriage. From these studs (as 
 
No. 390 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 67 
 
 the doctor himself expresses it) a lady of beauty 
 may be coupled to a man of fortune, and an old 
 gentleman, who has a colt's tooth remaining-, 
 may match himself Avith a tight young filly. 
 
 The doctor makes no doubt but his chapel 
 will turn out even more to his advantage on this 
 new plan than on its first institution, provided 
 he can secure his scheme to himself, and reap the 
 benefits of it without interlopers from the fleet. 
 To prevent his design being pirated, he intends 
 petitioning the parliament, that as he has been so 
 great a sufferer by the marriage act, the sole 
 right of opening a repositoiy of this sort may be 
 vested in him, and that his place of residence in 
 May- Fail' may still continue the grand mart for 
 marriages. Of the first day of sale proper notice 
 will be given in the public papers ; and in the 
 meantime I am desired to communicate the fol- 
 lowing specimen to my readers. 
 
 Catalogue of Males and Females, to be disposed 
 of in Marriage to the best Bidder, at Mr. 
 Keith's Repository in 3Iay-Fair. 
 
 A Lady of qualitj', veiy high blood ; related 
 by the mother's side to a peer of France ; h«r 
 dam came from one of the oldest families in 
 Wales, and her great-great-gTeat-grandsire was 
 brought over with William the Conqueror. Fit 
 to go in a coach and six, and proper for any rich 
 tradesman, who is desirous to mend the breed. 
 Her lowest price to prevent ti'ouble is £500 per 
 ann. pin-money, and a proportionable jointure. 
 
 A Young Lady of £100,000 fortime— to be bid 
 for by none under the degi'ee of peers, or a com- 
 moner of at least treble the income. 
 
 A homely thing that can read, wi-ite, cast ac- 
 coimts and make an excellent pudding. — This 
 lot to be bid for by none but shop-keepers or 
 country parsons. 
 
 Three Maiden Ladies — Aged — to be bid for by 
 none but stout young fellows of six foot, sound 
 wind and limb, and Avithout blemish. 
 
 Foui' Widows, young and rich — to be bid for 
 by none but tilings of mettle and high blood. 
 
 The Daughter of a country Squire— the father 
 of this Lady came to town to sell a yoke of oxen 
 at Smithfield, and a load of hay in the Hay- 
 JNIarket. "\Mioe-\er buys them shall have the lady 
 into the bargain. 
 
 A Methodist Lady, relict of a Knight deceas- 
 ed witliin this twelvemonth — would be a good 
 bargain to any handsome young gentleman, who 
 would comfort her in the spirit. 
 
 A very pretty Young Woman, but a good deal 
 ill debt — would be glad to marry a Member of 
 Pai'liament, or a Jew. 
 
 A handsome Housekeeper, just come out of 
 the country — would do for any private gentle- 
 man. She has been used to go in a one-horse- 
 chair, and is fit for a citizen's sen'ice on a 
 Sunday. 
 
 A tall Irishman, warranted sound, lately in 
 the possession of a lady dowager. The reason of 
 his being sold is, that the owner (who is mar- 
 ried) has no further use for him. 
 
 A Blood of the first rate, very wild, and has 
 itm loose all his life, but is now broke, and will 
 prove very tractable. 
 
 A Flackney Writer, troubled with the farcy, 
 broken- winded, and very poor — w^ould be glad 
 to be released from his present master, a book- 
 seller, and bear the less gi-ievous yoke of mati-i- 
 mony. Whoever will take him into feedmg shall 
 have his Pegasus into the bargain. 
 
 A Young Ward, now in training at Eton 
 
 School. The guardian is willing to part with 
 
 him to any lady for a round sum of money. 
 
 If not sold, he will be sent into the country, and' 
 matched with his guai'dian's daughter. 
 
 Five Templars — all Irish — Xo one to bid for 
 these lots of less than £10,000 fortune. 
 
 Wanted — four dozen of young fellows, and 
 one dozen of yoimg women Avilling to marry to 
 advantage— to go to Nova Scotia. W. 
 
 No. S9.] Thursday, Oct. 24-, 1754'. 
 
 •Sepiilchri 
 
 Mitte supervacuos honores. 
 
 IIoR. 
 
 These but the trappings and the signs of woe. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 As I was passing the other night through a nar- 
 row little lane in the skirts of the city, I was 
 stopped by a grand procession of a hearse and 
 three mourning coaches drawn by six horses, ac- 
 companied with a great number of flambeaus 
 and attendants in black. I naturally concluded, 
 that all this parade was employed to pay the last 
 honours to some eminent person, whose conse- 
 quence in life required, that his ashes should re- 
 ceive all the respect "which his friends and re- 
 lations could pay them : but I could not help 
 smiling, wlien upon inquiry I was told, that the 
 corpse (on whom all this expense had been la- 
 vished) was no other than Tom Taster the cheese- 
 monger, who had lain in state all the week at his 
 house in Thames-street, and was going to be de- 
 posited with his ancestors in White- Chapel 
 burying-ground. — This illustrious personage 
 was the son of a butcher in White- Chapel, and 
 died, indeed, but in indifferent circumstances ; 
 his widow, however, for the honour of her 
 family, was resolved at all events to bury him 
 handsomely. 
 
 I have already taken notice of that ridiculous 
 affectation among the middling soi-t of people, 
 which induces them to make a figure beyond 
 their cu'ciunstances : nor is this vanity less ab- 
 siu'd, Avhich extends to the dust, and by wIucIa 
 
68 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No; 39- 
 
 the dead are made acccssarj' in robbing the living. 
 I have frequently known a greater sum expend- 
 ed at the funeral of a tradesman, than would 
 have kept his whole family for a twelvemonth ; 
 and it has more than once happened, that the 
 next heir has been flung into gaol for not being 
 able to pay the undertaker's bill. 
 
 This absurd notion of being handsomely buried 
 has given rise to the most contradictory customs, 
 that could possibly be contrived for the advantage 
 of death hunters. As funerals are at present 
 conducted, all distinction is lost among us ; and 
 there is no more difference between the duke 
 and the dancing-master in the manner of their 
 burial, than is to be found between their dust in 
 the grave. It is easy to account for the intro- 
 duction of the hearse and mourning-coach in our 
 funeral ceremonies ; though their propriety is 
 entirely destroyed by the promiscuous use of 
 them. Our ancient and noble families may be 
 supposed to have particular family-vaults near 
 their mansion-houses in the country, and in 
 which their progenitors have been deposited for 
 a^es. It is therefore very natural, that persons 
 of distinction, who had been used to be convey- 
 ed to their coxmtry-seats by a set of horses, 
 should be also transported to their gi'aves by the 
 same number ; and be attended with the same 
 magnificence at their deaths, which they had 
 been accustomed to in their lives. The spirit of 
 affecting the manners of the gTeat, has made 
 others vie with people of quality in the pomp of 
 their burials, A tradesman, who has trudged on 
 foot all his life, shall be caiTied after death, 
 scarce a hundred yards from his house, with the 
 equipage and retinue of a lord ; and the plodding 
 cit, whose ambition never soared beyond the 
 occasional one horse chair, must be dragged to 
 his long home by six horses. Such an ill-timed 
 ostentation of grandeur appears to me no less 
 ridiculous than the vanity of the highway-man, 
 who sold his body to the surgeons, that he might 
 hire a mourning-coach, and go to the gaUows 
 like a gentleman. 
 
 There is another custom, which was doubtless 
 first introduced by the great, but has been since 
 adopted by others, who have not the least title to 
 it. The herald's office was originally instituted 
 for the distinction and preservation of gentility ; 
 and nobody is allowed to bear a coat of arms, but 
 what belongs to the family, and who is entitled 
 to that honourable badge. From this considei-- 
 ation wo may account for the practice of hanging 
 the hearse round with escutcheons, on which 
 the arms of the deceased were blazoned, and 
 which served to denote whose ashes it conveyed. 
 For the same purpose an achievement was after- 
 wards fixed over the door of the late habitation 
 of the deceased. This ensign of death may 
 fairly be indulged, where the persons are cinio- 
 bled by their birth or station, and where it 
 sci'ves to remind the passer-by of any great or 
 
 good actions perfonned by the deceased, or to in- 
 t^pire the living with an emulation of their vir- 
 tues. But why, forsooth, cannot an obscm-e or 
 insignificant creature go out of the world, with- 
 out advertising it by the achievement ? For my 
 part, I generally consider it as a bill on an empty 
 house, Avhich serves the widow to acquaint us, 
 that the former tenant is gone, and that another 
 occupier is wanted in his room. 3Iany families 
 have, indeed, been very much perplexed in mak- 
 ing out their right to this mark of gentility, and 
 great profit has arisen to the herald's office by 
 the purchase of amas for this purpose. Many a 
 worthy tradesman of plebeian extraction has 
 been made a gentleman after his decease by the 
 courtesy of his undertaker ; and I once knew 
 a keeper of a tavern, who not being able to give 
 an account of his wife's genealogy, put up his 
 sign, the King's Anns, for an achievement at 
 her death. 
 
 It was the custom, in the time of the plague, 
 to fix a mark on those houses, in which any one 
 had died. This probably may have given rise 
 to the general fashion of hanging up an achieve- 
 ment. However this be, it is now designed as 
 a polite token, that a death has happened in the 
 family ; and might reasonably be understood as 
 a warning to keep people frominti'uding on their 
 gi'ief. No such thing is, indeed, intended by it; 
 I am therefore of opinion, that it ought every 
 where to be taken down after the first week. 
 Whatever outwai'd signs of mourning may be 
 preserved, no regard is ever paid to them with- 
 in : the same visitings, the same cardplayings, 
 are carried on as before, and so little respect is 
 shown to the achievement, that if it happens 
 (as it often does) to intersect one of the windows 
 in the gi*and apartment, it is occasionally re- 
 moved, whenever the lady dowager has a rout or 
 drum-major. 
 
 This naturally leads me to consider how much 
 ' the customary suits of solemn black,' and the 
 other * trappings and signs of woe, are become 
 a mere farce and matter of form only. When a 
 person of distinction goes out of the world, not 
 only the relations, but the whole household* 
 must be clothed in sable. The kitchen-wench 
 scours her dishes in crape, and the helper in the 
 stables rubs down his horses in black leather 
 breeches. Every thing must put on a dismal 
 appearance : even the coach must be covered and 
 lined with black. This last particular, it is 
 reasonable to imagine, is intended (like a death's 
 head on the toilet) to put the owner constantly 
 in mind, that the pomp of the world and all pm-- 
 suits are but vain and perishable. Yet what is 
 more common than for these vehicles to wait at 
 the doors of the theatres, the opera-house, and 
 other public places of diversion ? Those who 
 are carried in them, are as little affected by their 
 dismal appearance, ;is the horses that draw 
 them ; and I once saw witli great surjuisc a 
 
No. 40.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 69 
 
 hai'lequin, a scaramouch, a shepherdess, and a 
 black satin devil, get into a mourning-coach to 
 go to a jubilee masquei-ade. 
 
 If I should not be thought to lay too much 
 stress on the lesser formalities observed in 
 mourning, I might mention the admirable me- 
 thod of qualifying the melancholy hue of the 
 inourning-ring, by enlivening it with the bril- 
 liancy of a diamond. I knew a young lady, Avho 
 wore on the same finger a ring set round with 
 death's heads and cross marrow-bones for the loss 
 of a father, and another prettily embellished 
 with burning hearts pierced thi'ough with darts, 
 in respect to her lover. But what I most of all 
 admire is the ingenious contrivance, by which 
 persons spread the tidings of the death of their 
 relations to the most distant parts, by means of 
 black-edged paper and black sealing wax. If it 
 were possible to inspect the several letters that 
 bear about them these external tokens of grief, I 
 believe we should hardly ever find the contents of 
 the same gloomy complexion. A merry tale, or 
 an amorous billet-dour, would be much oftener 
 found to be conveyed under these dismal pass- 
 ports, than doleful lamentations or reflections on 
 mortality: and indeed these mock signs of woe 
 are so little attended to, that a person opens one 
 of these letters with no more concern, than is 
 felt by the postman who brings it. 
 
 We cannot suppose, that black edged paper was 
 ever intended to be defiled by vulgar hands, but 
 was contrived, like gilt paper, for the use of the 
 polite world only. But, alas ! we must always be 
 aping the manners of our betters. My agent sends 
 me letters about business upon gilt paper ; and a 
 stationer near the 'Change tells me, that he not 
 only sells a great quantity of mourning paper to 
 the citizens, but that he has lately blacked the 
 edges of the shop-books for several tradesmen. 
 My readers must have seen an elegant kind of 
 paper, imported from France for the use of our 
 fine ladies and gentlemen. An acquaintance of 
 mine has contrived a new sort of mourning 
 paper on the same plan : and as the margin of 
 the other is prettily adorned with flowers, true 
 lovers' knots, little Cupids, and amorous posies 
 in red ink, he intends that the margin of his 
 paper shall be dismally stamped in black ink 
 with the figures of tomb-stones, hour-glasses, 
 bones, skulls, and other emblems of death, to be 
 used by persons of quality, when in mourning. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 40.] Thursday, Oct. 31, 1754. 
 
 Periculosa; plenum opus alece. Hon. 
 
 Cursed be the wretch, enslaved to such a vice, 
 Who ventures hfe and soul upon the dice. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Sir, 
 
 i'ouK frequent ridicule of the several branches of 
 
 gaming has given me great pleasure : I could 
 only wish that you had completed the design by 
 drawing at large the portrait of a gamester. 
 This, since you omitted it, I have ventured 
 to undertake ; and while your papers on this 
 subject serve as a counter-treatise to that of 
 Hoyle on Whist, Hazard, &c. my rough draught 
 of the professors of those arts may tend to illus- 
 trate the work, and stand as properly in the 
 frontispiece as the Knave of Clubs at the door of 
 a cardmaker. 
 
 The whole tribe of gamesters may be ranked 
 under two divisions : Every man, who makes 
 cai'ding, dicing, and betting his daily pi'actice, is 
 either a dupe or a sharper, two characters 
 equally the objects of envy and admiration. The 
 dupe is generally a person of great fortune and 
 weak intellects. 
 
 Who will as tenderly be led by the nose, 
 
 As asses are. Shakspeare. 
 
 He plays, not that he has any delight in cards or 
 dice, but because it is the fashion ; and if whist 
 or hazard are proposed, he will no more refuse 
 to make one at the table, than among a set of 
 hard drinkers he could object drinking his glass 
 in turn, because he is not dry. 
 
 There are some few instances of men of sense, 
 as well as family and fortune, who haA^e been 
 dupes and bubbles. Such an unaccountable itch 
 of play has seized them, that they have sacrificed 
 every thing to it, and have seemed wedded to 
 seven's the m.ain, and the odd trick. There is 
 not a more melancholy object than a gentleman 
 of sense thus infatuated. He makes himself and 
 family a prey to a gang of villains more infa- 
 mous than highwaymen; and perhaps, when his 
 ruin is completed, he is glad to join with the 
 very scoundrels that destroyed him, and live 
 upon the spoils of others, whom he can draw 
 into the same follies that proved so fatal to him- 
 self. 
 
 Here we may take a survey of the cbaracter 
 of a sharper ; and that he may have no room 
 to complain of foul play, let us begin with his 
 excellences. You will, perhaps, be startled, 
 Mr. Town, when I mention the excellences of 
 a sharper ; but a gamester, who makes a decent 
 figm'e in the world, must be endued with many 
 amiable qualities, which would undoubtedly ap- 
 pear with great lustre, were they not eclipsed 
 by the odious character affixed to his trade. In 
 order to carry on the common business of his 
 profession, he must be a man of quick and lively 
 pai'ts, attended with a stoical calmness of tem- 
 per, and a constant presence of mind. He must 
 smile at the loss of thousands; and is not to be 
 discomposed, though ruin stares him in the 
 face. As he is to live among the great, he must 
 not want politeness and afi"ability ; he must be 
 submissive, but not servile ; he must be master 
 
70 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 41. 
 
 of an ingenuous liberal air, and have a seeming 
 openness of behaviour. 
 
 These must be the chief accomplishments of 
 our hero : but lest I should be accused of giving 
 too favourable a likeness of him, now we have 
 seen his outside, let us take a view of his heart. 
 There we shall find avarice the main spring, 
 that moves the whole macliine. Every gamester 
 is eaten up with avarice ; and when this passion 
 is in full force, it is more strongly predominant 
 than any other. It conquers even lust ; and 
 conquers it more effectually than age. At sixty, 
 we look at a fine woman with pleasure ; but when 
 cards and dice have engrossed our attention, 
 women and all their charms are slighted at five 
 and twenty. A thorough gamester renounces 
 Venus and Cupid for Plutus and Ames-ace, and 
 owns no mistress of his heart except the Queen 
 of Trumps. His insatiable avarice can only be 
 gratified by hypocrisy ; so that all those specious 
 virtues already mentioned, and which, if real, 
 might be turned to the benefit of mankind, must 
 be directed in a gamester towards the destruc- 
 tion of his fellow-creatures. His quick and 
 lively parts are only to instruct and assist him 
 in the most dexterous method of packing the 
 cards and cogging the dice ; his fortitude, which 
 enables him to lose thousands without emotion, 
 must often be practised against the stings and 
 reproaches of his own conscience ; and his libe- 
 ral deportment and affected openness is only to 
 recommend and conceal the blackest villany. 
 
 It is now necessary to take a second survey of 
 his heart; and as we have seen its vices, let us 
 consider its miseries. The covetous man, who 
 has not sufficient courage or inclination to in- 
 crease his fortune by bets, cards, or dice, but is 
 contented to hoard up his thousands by thefts 
 less public, or by cheats less liable to uncer- 
 tainty, lives in a state of perpetual suspicion and 
 terror; but the avaricious fears of the gamester 
 are infinitely greater. He has constantly to wear 
 a mask ; and like Monsieur St. Croix, coadjutor 
 to that famous empoisonneus, Madam Brin- 
 villier, if his mask falls off, he runs the hazard 
 of being suffocated by the stench of his own 
 poison. I have seen some examples of this sort 
 not many years ago, at White's. I am uncer- 
 tain, whether the wretches are still alive ; but 
 if they are, they breathe like toads underground, 
 crawling amidst old walls, and paths long since 
 unfrequented. 
 
 But supposing that the sharper's hypocrisy 
 remains undetected, in what state of mind must 
 that man be whose fortune depends upon the 
 insincerity of his heart, the disingenuousness of 
 liis behaviour, and the ialse bias of his dice? 
 What sensations must he supj)vess, when he is 
 obliged to smile, although he is provoked ; when 
 he must look serene in the height of de.spair ; 
 lind when he must act the Stoic, >vithout the 
 gonsolution of one virtuous sentiment, or one 
 
 moral principle? How unhappy must he be 
 even in that situation, from which he hopes to 
 reap most benefit ; — I mean, amidst stars, gar- 
 ters, and the various herds of nobility? Their 
 lordships are not always in a humour for play : 
 tliey choose to laugh ; they choose to joke ; in 
 the mean while our hero must patiently await 
 the good hour, and must not only join in the 
 laugh, and applaud the joke, but must humour 
 every turn and caprice, to which that set of 
 spoiled children, called bucks of quality, are 
 liable. Surely, his brother Thicket's employ- 
 ment, of sauntering on horseback in the wind 
 and rain till the Reading coach passes through 
 Smallberry Green, is the more eligible, and no 
 less honest occupation. 
 
 The sharper has also frequently the mortifica- 
 tion of being thwarted in his designs. Oppor- 
 tunities of fraud will not for ever present them- 
 selves. The false die cannot be constantly pro- 
 duced, nor the packed cards perpetually be placed 
 upon the table. It is then our gamester is in 
 the greatest danger. But even then, when he is 
 in the power of fortune, and has nothing but 
 mere luck and fair play on his side, he must 
 stand the brunt, and perhaps give away his last 
 guinea, as coolly as he would lend a nobleman a 
 shilling. 
 
 Our hero is now going off the stage, and his 
 catastrophe is very tragical. The next news we 
 hear of him is his death, achieved by his own 
 hand, and with his own pistol. An inquest is 
 bribed, he is buried at midnight, and forgot tin 
 before sun-rise. 
 
 These two portraits of a sharper, wherein I 
 have endeavoured to show different likenesses 
 in the same man, puts me in mind of an old 
 print, which I remember, at Oxford, of Count 
 Guiscard. At first sight he was exhibited in a 
 full-bottom wig, a hat and feather, embroidered 
 clothes, diamond buttons, and the full court- 
 dress of those days : but, by pulling a string, 
 the folds of the paper were shifted, the face only 
 remained, a new body came forward, and Count 
 Guiscard appeared to be a devil. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your most humble Servant, 
 
 31. N. 
 
 No. 41.] Thursday, Nov. 7, 1754. 
 
 Qui shidct optafam cursv contingere mctavi, 
 
 Multa iulit fecitquc piter. Ho8. 
 
 Gownsmen with jockeys hold an equal place, 
 Lcarn'd in the turf, and students of the race. 
 
 MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
 Dj;ak Coi:.six, 
 Tilt following letter, occasioned by the late raips 
 
No. 41.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 71 
 
 at Newmarket, and written by a fellow-com- 
 moner of King's College, Cambridge, to a friend 
 in London, fell into my hands by accident. The 
 writer, if we may judge by his style and man- 
 ner, is really, according to the modern phrase, a 
 genius. As I look upon his epistle to be a very 
 curious original, I cannot help demanding for it 
 a place in your paper, as well as for the remarks 
 which I have taken the liberty to subjoin to it. 
 
 To John Wildfire, Esq. to be left at Mrs. 
 Douglas's, Covent- Garden, London. 
 Dear Jack ! October 10, 1754. 
 
 I was in hopes I should have met you at 
 Newmarket Races ; but to say the truth, if your 
 luck had turned out so bad as mine, you did 
 better to stay away. Dick Riot, Tom Lowngeit, 
 and I, went together to Newmarket the first day 
 of the meeting. I was mounted on my little 
 bay mare, that cost me thirty guineas in the 
 North. I never crossed a better tit in my life ; 
 and if her eyes stand, as I dare say they will, 
 she will turn out as tight a little thing as any in 
 England. Then she is as fleet as the wind. 
 Why, I raced with Dick and Tom all the way 
 from Cambridge to New^market ; Dick rode his 
 roan gelding, and Tom his chesnut mare 
 (which, you know, have both speed), but I beat 
 them hollow. I cannot help telling you, that I 
 was dressed in my blue riding- fi'ock with plate 
 buttons, with a leather belt round my waist, my 
 jemmy turn-down boots made by Tull, my 
 brown scratch bob, and my hat with the narrow 
 silvex*-lace cocked in the true spoi-ting taste : so 
 that altogether I don't believe there was a more 
 knowing figure upon the course. I was very 
 flush too. Jack ; for Michaelmas-day happening 
 damn'd luckily just about the time of the races, 
 I had received fifty guineas for my quarterage. 
 As soon as I came upon the course, I met with 
 some jolly bucks from London. I never saw 
 them before ; however, we were soon acquaint- 
 ed, and I took up the odds : but I was damnably 
 let in, for I lost thirty pieces slap the first day. 
 The day or two after I had no remarkable luck 
 one way or the other ; but at last I laid all the 
 cash I had left upon Lord March's Smart, who 
 lost, you know ; but between you and me, I 
 have a gi-eat notion Tom Marshal rode boot3^ 
 However, I had a mind to push my luck as far 
 as I could ; so I sold my poor little mare for 
 twelve pieces, went to the coffee-house, and left 
 them all behind me at the gaming table ; and I 
 should not have been able to have got back to 
 Cambridge that night, if Bob Whip of Trinity 
 had not taken me up into his phaeton. We have 
 had a round of dinners at our rooms since ; and 
 I have been drunk every day to drive away care. 
 However, I hope to reci'uit again soon : Frank 
 Classic of Pembroke has promised to make me 
 out a long catalogue of Greek books ; so I will 
 write directly to old Square-toes, send him the 
 
 list, tell him I have taken them up, and draw on 
 him for money to pay the bookseller's bill. 
 I'hen I shall be rich again. Jack ; and perhaps 
 you may see me at the Shakspeare by the middle 
 of next week ; till when, 
 I am, 
 
 Dear Jack, yours, 
 
 T. Flareit. 
 
 I have often lamented the narrow plan of out 
 University Education, and always observe with 
 pleasure any attempts to enlarge and improve 
 it. In this light, I cannot help looking on New- 
 market as a judicious supplement to the Univer- 
 sity of Cambridge, and would recommend it to 
 the young students to repair duly thither twice 
 a year. By these means, they may connect the 
 knowledge of polite life with study, and come 
 from college as deeply versed in the genteel mys- 
 teries of Gaming, as in Greek, Latin, and the 
 Mathematics. Attending these solemnities 
 must, indeed, be of great service to every rank 
 of students. Those who are intended for the 
 church, have an opportunity of tempering the 
 severity of their character, by a happy mixture 
 of the jockey and clergjTnan. I have known 
 several who, by uniting these opposite qualifica- 
 tions, and meeting with a patron of their own 
 disposition, have rode themselves into a living in 
 a good sporting country ; and I doubt not, if the 
 excursions of gownsmen to Newmarket meet 
 with the encouragement they deserve, but we 
 shall shortly see the Beacon Course crowded 
 with ordained sportsmen in short cassocks. As to 
 the feEow-commoners, I do not see how they can 
 pass their time more profitably. The sole inten- 
 tion of their residence at the University is, with 
 most of them, to while away a couple of years, 
 which they cannot conveniently dispose of other- 
 wise. Their rank exempts them from the 
 common drudgery of lectures and exercises ; and 
 the Golden Tuft that adorns their velvet caps, 
 is at once a badge of honour and an apology for 
 ignorance. But as some of these gentlemen, 
 though they never will be scholars, may turn out 
 excellent jockeys, it is but justice to let them 
 carry some kind of knowledge away with them ; 
 and as they can never shine as adepts in Sir 
 Isaac Newton's philosophy, or critics on Homei 
 and Virgil, we should sufi"er them to make a 
 figure as arbiters of the course, and followers of 
 Aaron and Driver. 
 
 I am the more earnest on this occasion, be- 
 cause I look upon Races as a diversion peculi- 
 arly adapted to a University, and founded upon 
 classical principles. Every author, who has 
 mentioned the Ancient Games, includes the 
 Race, and describes it with great dignity. This 
 game was always celebrated with gi-eat pomp, 
 and all the people of fashion of those days were 
 present at it. In the twenty-third Iliad in 
 particular, there is not only a dispute at the 
 
72 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 42. 
 
 Race, but a bet proposed in as express tonns 
 ns at Newmarkft. The wager ofFored, in- 
 deed, is a goblet, which is not entirely in the 
 manner of our modern sportsmen, who rather 
 choose to melt down their plate into the current 
 specie, and bring their sideboards to the course 
 in their purses. I am aware also, that the 
 races celebrated by the ancients, were chariot 
 races ; but, even in these, our young students of 
 the university have great emulation to excel: 
 there are among them many very good coach- 
 men, who often make excursions in those noble 
 vehicles, with great propriety called Phaetons, 
 and drive with us much fury along the road, as 
 the charioteers in the ancient games flew to- 
 wards the goal. In a word, if we have not such 
 noble odes on this occasion as were produced of 
 old, it is not for want of a Theron, but a Pindar. 
 
 The advices which I have at several times re- 
 ceived, of the influence of the races at New- 
 market on the university, give me great pleasure. 
 It has not only improved the behaviour of the 
 students, but enlarged their plan of study. They 
 are now very deeply read in Bracken's Farriery 
 and the Complete Jockey, know exactly how 
 many stone they weigh, and are pretty compe- 
 tent judges of the odds. I went, some time ago, 
 to visit a fellow-commoner, and when I arrived 
 at his chambers, found the door open, but my 
 friend was not at home. The room was adorned 
 with Seymour's prints of horses, neatly framed 
 and glazed ; a hat and whip hung on one hook, 
 a pair of boots on another, and on the table lay 
 a formidable quarto, with the Sportman's Ca- 
 lendar, by Reginald Heber, Esq. I had the 
 curiosity to examine the book ; and, as the col- 
 lege is remarkable for the study of philosophy, I 
 expected to see Newton's Pi'incipia, or, perhaps, 
 Sanderson's Algebra ; but, on opening it, this 
 huge volume proved to be a pompous edition of 
 Gibson's Treatise on the Diseases of Horses. 
 
 These, indeed, are noble studies, will preserve 
 our youth from pedantry, and make them men 
 of the world. Men of genius, who are pleased 
 with the theory of any art, will not be contented 
 till they arrive at the practice. I am told, that 
 the young gentlemen often try the speed of the 
 Cambridge nags on the Beacon Course, and that 
 several hacks are a.t present in training. I have 
 often wondered, that the gentlemen who form 
 the club at Newmarket, never reflected on their 
 neighbourhood to Cambridge, nor established 
 (in honour Of it) a University Plate, to be run 
 for by Cambridge hacks, rode by young gentle- 
 men of the imiversity. A hint of this kind will 
 certainly be sufficient to have this laudable de- 
 sign put in practice the very next meeting. 
 And I cannot help reflecting, on this occasion, 
 what an unspeakable satisfaction it must be to 
 those persons of quality, who are constantly at 
 Newmarket, to see their sons da-rish the same 
 
 noble principles with themselves, and act in imi 
 tation of their example. 
 
 Go on, brave youths ! till in some future -nfc 
 
 Whips shall become the senatorial badge : 
 
 Till England see her jockey senators 
 
 IMcct all at Westminster in boots and sj>iir< ! 
 
 See the whole House, with mutual frenzy mml ; 
 
 Her patriots all in leathern breeches clad. 
 
 Of bets, not taxes, learnedly debate. 
 
 And guide with equal reins a steed and state. 
 
 W'arto.n's NEWMARKL!. 
 
 No. 42.] Thursday, Nov. U, 1751. 
 
 Scrmonum stct horws, ct graiia vivax. 
 
 Hoa. 
 
 What energy and grace adorn our tongue ! 
 Sweet as the Roman, as the Grecian strong ! 
 
 A FRIEND of mine lately gave me an account of 
 a set of gentlemen, who meet together once a 
 week, under the name of the English Club. 
 The title, with which they dignify their society, 
 arises from the chief end of their meeting, which 
 is to cultivate their mother tongue. They em- 
 ploy half the time of their assembling in hear- 
 ing some of our best classics read to them, which 
 generally furnishes them with conversation lor 
 the rest of the evening. They have instituted 
 annual festivals in honour of Spenser, Shak- 
 speare, Milton, &c. on each of which an oration, 
 interspersed with encomiums on the English 
 language, is spoken in praise of the author, who 
 (in the phrase of the almanack) gives the red 
 letter to the day. They have established a fund, 
 from which handsome rewards are allotted to 
 those Avho shall supply the place of any exotic 
 terms that have been smuggled into our lan- 
 guage, by homespun British words equally sig- 
 nificant and expressive. An order is also made 
 against importing any contraband phrases into 
 the club, by which heavy fines are laid on t))ose 
 who shall have any modish barbarisms found 
 upon them, whether they be foreign words, an- 
 cient or modern, or any cant terms coined by 
 The Town for the service of the current year. 
 
 The whole account, which I received from 
 my friend, gave me great satisfaction, and 1 
 never remember any society, that met together 
 on such commendable principles. Their pro- 
 ceedings, it must, however, be confessed, an 
 somewhat unfashionable ; for the English tongue 
 is become as little the general care as English 
 beef, or English honesty. Young gentlemen 
 are obliged to drudge at school for nine or ten 
 years, in order to scrape together as much Greek 
 and Eatin as they can forget during their tour 
 abroad ; and have commonly at the same time a 
 piivato master to give I hem French enough to 
 
No. 42.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR, 
 
 73 
 
 land them with some I'eputation at Calais. This 
 is, to be sure, very prudent as well as genteel. 
 Yet some people are perverse enough to imagine, 
 that to teach boys a foreign language, living or 
 dead, without at the same time grounding them in 
 their mother tongue, is a very preposterous plan of 
 education. The Romans, though they studied at 
 Athens, directed their studies to the benefit of their 
 own country, and though they read Greek, wrote 
 in Latin. There are at this day in France, acade- 
 niies established for the support and preservation 
 of the French language; and perhaps, if to the 
 present professorships of Hebrew and Greek, 
 there should be added a professorship of the Eng- 
 lish language, it would be no disgrace to our 
 learned universities. 
 
 When we consider, that our language is pre- 
 ferable to most, if not all others now in being, 
 it seems something extraordinary, that any at- 
 tention should be paid to a foreign tongue that 
 is refused to our own, when we are likely to get 
 so little by the change. But when we reflect 
 further on the remarkable purity to which some 
 late authors have brought it, we are still more 
 concerned at the present neglect of it. This 
 shameful neglect I take to be owing chiefly to 
 these two reasons ; the false pride of those who 
 are esteemed men of learning, and the ridiculous 
 affectation of our fine gentlemen, and pretenders 
 to wit. 
 
 In complaisance to our fine gentlemen, Avho 
 are themselves the allowed standards of polite- 
 ness, I shall begin with them first. Their con- 
 versation exactly answers the description which 
 Benedick gives of Claudio's : " their words are 
 a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange 
 dishes." These dishes too are all French ; and 
 I do not know, whether their conversation does 
 not a good deal depend on their bill of fare ; and 
 whether the thin meagre diet on which our fine 
 gentlemen subsist, does not in some measure 
 take away the power of that bold articulation, 
 necessary to give utterance to manly British ac- 
 cents : whence their conversation becomes so 
 " fantastical a banquet," and every sentence they 
 deliver is almost as heterogeneous a mixture as 
 a salmagundy. A fashionable coxcomb now 
 never complains of the vapours, but tells you 
 that he is very much enmiyee : — he does not af- 
 fect to be genteel, but degagee : — nor is he taken 
 with an elegant simplicity in a beautiful coun- 
 tenance, but breaks out in raptures on a je ne 
 scay quol, and a certain naivete. In a word, his 
 head as well as his heels is entirely French ; and 
 he is a thorough petit maitre in his language as 
 well as behaviour. But notwithstanding all 
 this, I do not know, whether the conversation 
 of our pretenders to wit is not still more bar- 
 barous. When they talk of humbug, &c. they 
 seem to be jabbering in the uncouth dialect of 
 the Huns, or the rude gabble of the Hottentots : 
 or if their words are at all allied to the language 
 
 of this country, it probably comes nearest to the 
 strange cant said to be in use among house- 
 breakers and highwaymen : and if their jargon 
 will bear any explanation, the curious are most 
 likely to meet with it in a polite vocabulary, 
 lately published under the title of the Scoundrel's 
 Dictionary. 
 
 Many, who are accounted men of learning, if 
 they do not join with fops and coxcombs to cor- 
 rupt our language, at least do very little to pro- 
 mote it, and are sometimes very indifferently 
 acquainted with it. There are many persons 
 of both our universities, who can decypher an 
 old Greek manuscript, and construe Lycophron 
 extempore, who scarce know the idiom of their 
 own language, and are at a loss how to despatch 
 a familiar letter with tolerable facility. These 
 gentlemen seem to think, that learning consists 
 merely in being versed in languages not general- 
 ly understood. But it should be considered, 
 that the same genius which animates the an- 
 cients, has dispensed at least some portion of its 
 heat to later ages, and pai'ticularly to the Eng- 
 lish. Those, who are really charmed with Ho- 
 mer and Sophocles, will hardly read Shak- 
 speare and Milton without emotion ; and if I 
 was inclined to carry on the parallel, I could 
 perhaps mention as many great names as Athens 
 ever produced. The knowledge of Greek, La- 
 tin, &c. is certainly very valuable; but this may 
 be attained without the loss of their mother 
 tongue : for these reverend gentlemen should 
 know, that languages are not like preferments 
 in the church, too many of which cannot be 
 held together. 
 
 This great neglect of our own tongue is one of 
 the principal reasons, that we are so seldom fa • 
 voured with any publications from either of our 
 universities, which we might expect very often, 
 considering the great number of learned men 
 who reside there. The press being thus deserted 
 by those who might naturally be expected to 
 support it, falls to the care of a set of illiterate 
 hh'elings, in whose hands it is no wonder if the 
 language is every day mangled, and should at 
 last be utterly destroyed. Writing is well 
 known to be at present as much a trade as any 
 handicraft whatever ; and every man who can 
 vamp up any thing for present sale, though 
 void of sense or syntax, is listed by the booksel- 
 ler as an author. But allowing all our present 
 writers to be men of parts and learning, (as 
 there are doubtless some who may be reckoned 
 so,) is it probable that they should exert their 
 abilities to the utmost, when they do not write 
 for fame, like the ancients, but as a means of 
 subsistence ? If Herodotus and Livy had sold 
 their histories at so much a sheet, and all the 
 other Greek and Latin Classics had written in 
 the same circumstances with many modern au- 
 thors, they would hardly have merited all that 
 applause they so justly receive at present. The 
 L 
 
74 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 TNo. 43. 
 
 plays of Sophocles and Euripides might perhaps 
 not have been much better than modern Tra- 
 gedies : Virgil might have got a dinner by lialf 
 a dozen Town Eclogues ; and Horace have wrote 
 Birth-day Odes, or now and then a lampoon on 
 the company of the Baiae. 
 
 A false modesty is another great cause of the 
 few publications by men of eminence and learn- 
 ing. However equal to the task, they have 
 not sufficient confidence to venture to the press, 
 but ai*e rather guilty of wilful injustice to 
 themselves and to the pul)lic. They are also 
 ashamed of appearing among the common herd 
 of authors. But the press, though it is often 
 abused, should by no means be accoimted scan- 
 dalous or dishonourable. Though a learned and 
 ingenious writer might not choose to be mus- 
 tered in the samie roll with or Mr. 
 
 Town, yet we have a Hooke, a Brown, an 
 Akenside, and many others, in whose company 
 it will be an honour to appear. I would not 
 willingly suppose, that they are afraid to hazard 
 the characters they now maintain, of being men 
 of learning and abilities ; for while we only takg 
 these things for granted, their reputations are 
 but weakly established. To rescue our native 
 language from the hands of ignorants and mer- 
 cenaries, is a task worthy those, who are ac- 
 counted ornaments of our seats of learning ; 
 and it is sui'ely more than common ingratitude 
 in those, who eat the bread of literature, to re- 
 fuse their utmost endeavoui's to support it. 
 
 No. 43.] Thursday, Nov. 21, 1754. 
 
 Spectaret popuhan ludis attentiils ipsis, 
 
 Ut sibi prcchentum mino spectacula plura. HoR. 
 
 Pit, box, and gallery I with joy survey. 
 
 And more observe the audience than the play. 
 
 A FEW years ago an ingenious player gave notice 
 in the bills for his benefit night, that the Pi'o- 
 logue should be spoken by the Pit, which he con- 
 trived to have represented on the stage. Another 
 time he dre^v in the whole house to act as Cho- 
 rus to a new farce ; and I remember, that in the 
 last rebellion the loyal acclamations of " God 
 save the King" might have been heard from 
 Drui'y-Lane to Charing- Cross. Upon these 
 and many other occasions the audience has been 
 known to enter into the immediate business of 
 the Drama ; and to say the truth, I never go in- 
 to the theatre, without looking on the spectators 
 as playing a part almost as much as the actors 
 themselves. All the company from the sttige- 
 hox to the upper galleiy know thoir cues very 
 well, and perform their parts with great spirit. 
 I begun the season with a few animadversions 
 on the chief faults to which our performers are 
 
 liable. To-day I shall beg leave to say a word 
 or two to the audience, as my reflections on the 
 theatre woidd otherwise be incomplete. Oh tliis 
 occasion I expect the thanks of the managers ; 
 and would recommend it to them to put my 
 thirty-foiu'th number into a frame and glass, 
 and hang it up in the Green- Room for the bene- 
 fit of the players ; and to dispose three or four 
 thousand of the present number into the several 
 parts of the house, as Bayes dispersed papei's to 
 insinuate the plot of his piece into the boxes. 
 
 The first part of the audience', that demands 
 GUI' attention, is so nearly allied to the actors, 
 that they always appear on the same level with 
 them : but while the performer endeavours to 
 carry on the business of the play, these gentle- 
 men behind the scenes serve only to hinder and 
 distui'b it. There is no pait of the house, from 
 which a play can be seen to so little advantage as 
 from the stage ; yet this situation is veiy con- 
 venient on many other considerations, of more 
 consequence to a fine gentleman. It looks par- 
 ticular : it is the best place to show a handsome 
 person or an elegant suit of clothes : a bow from 
 the stage to a beauty in the box is most likely to 
 attract oui' notice ; and a pretty fellow may per- 
 haps with tolerable management get the credit 
 of an intrigue with some of the actresses. But 
 notwithstanding all these advantages accruing 
 to our fine gentlemen, I could heai'tily wish they 
 would leave a clear stage to the performers ; or 
 at least that none should be admitted behind the 
 scenes, but such as ^vould submit to be of some 
 use there. As these gentleman are ready dressed, 
 they might help to swell the retinue of a mo- 
 narch, join the engagement in a ti-agedy-battle, 
 or do any other little office that might occur in 
 the play, which requu'es but little sense and no 
 memory. But if they have not any genius for 
 acting, and are still desirous of retaining their 
 posts by the side-scenes, they should be obliged 
 to take a musket, bayonet, pouch, and the rest 
 of the accoutrements, and stand on guaixl quietly 
 and decently with the soldiers. 
 
 The boxes arc often filled with persons, who 
 do not come to the theatre out of any regard to 
 Shakspeare or Garrick. but like the fine lady in 
 Lethe, "because every body is there." As these 
 people camiot be expet^ted to mind the play them- 
 selves, we can only desire them not to call off the 
 attention of others : nor interrupt the dialogue 
 on the stage by a louder conversation of their 
 own. The silent courtship of the eyes, ogles, 
 nods, glances, and courtesies fk'om one box to 
 another, may be allowed them the same as at 
 chui*ch ; but nothing more, except at corona- 
 tions, funeral processions, ami pantomimes. 
 Here I cannot help recommending it to the gen- 
 tlemen, who draw the pen from under their 
 right ears about seven o'clock, clap on a bag-wig 
 and sword, and drop into the boxes at tlie end of 
 
No. 43.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 75 
 
 the third act, to take theu- half-crown's worth 
 with as much decency as possible : as weU as the 
 bloods, who reel from the taverns about Covent- 
 Garden near that time, and tumble dinink into 
 the boxes. Before I quit this part of the house, 
 I must take notice of that division of the upper 
 boxes, properly distinguished by the name of the 
 flesh market. There is frequently as much art 
 used to make the flesh exhibited here look whole- 
 some, and (as Tim says in the farce) " all over 
 red and white, like the inside of a shoulder of 
 mutton," as there is by the butchers to make 
 their veal look white; and it is as often rank 
 carrion and fly-blown. If these ladies would 
 appear in any other quarter of the house, I 
 would only beg of them, and those who come to 
 market, to drive their bargains with as little 
 noise as possible : but I have lately observed, 
 with some concern, that these women begin to 
 appear in the lower boxes, to the destruction of 
 all order, and great confusion of all modest la- 
 dies. It is to be hoped, that some of their friends 
 will advise them not to pretend to appear there 
 any more than at court ; for it is as absurd to 
 endeavour the removal of their market into the 
 front and side boxes, as it would be in the 
 butchers of St. James's Market to attempt fix- 
 ing the shambles in St. James's Square. 
 
 I must now desire the reader to descend with 
 me, among laced hats and capuchins, into the 
 pit. The pit is the grand court of criticism : 
 and in the centre of it is collected that awful 
 body, distinguished by the title of The Town. 
 Hence are issued the irrevocable decrees ; and 
 here final sentence is pronounced on plays and 
 players. This court has often been very severe 
 in its decisions, and has been known to declare 
 many old plays barbarously murdered, and most 
 of oiu- modern ones yi'/o de se : but it must not 
 be dissembled, that many a cause of great con- 
 sequence has been denied a fair hearing. Parties 
 and private cabals have often been formed to 
 thwart the progress of merit, or to espouse ig- 
 norance and dullness; for it is not wonderful, 
 that the parliament of criticism, like all others, 
 should be liable to coiTuption. In this assem- 
 bly Mr. Town was first nominated Critic and 
 Censor General ; but, considering the notorious 
 biibery now prevailing, I think proper to de- 
 clare, (in imitation of Tom in the Conscious 
 Lovers) that I never took a single order for my 
 vote in all my life. 
 
 Those, who pay their two shillings at the door 
 of the middle gallery, seem to frequent the 
 theatre purely for the sake of seeing the play : 
 though these peaceful regions are sometimes dis- 
 turbed by the incursions of rattling ladies of 
 pleasure ; sometimes contain persons of fashion 
 in disguise, and sometimes critics in ambush. 
 The greatest fault I have to object to those who 
 fill this quarter of the theatre, is their frequent 
 and injudicious interruption of the business of 
 
 the play, by their applause. I have seen a bad 
 actor clapped two minutes together for ranting 
 or perhaps shrugging his shoulders, and making 
 wry faces ; and I have seen the natural course 
 of the passions checked in a good one, by these 
 ill-judged testimonies of their approbation. It 
 is recorded of Betterton to his honour, that he 
 thought a deep silence through the whole house, 
 and a strict attention to his playing, the strong- 
 est and surest signs of his being well received. 
 
 The inhabitants of the upper gallery demand 
 our notice as well as the rest of the theatre. 
 The trunk-maker of immortal memory was the 
 most celebrated hero of these regions ; but, 
 since he is departed, and no able-bodied critic 
 appointed in his room, I cannot help giving the 
 same caution to the upper gallery, as to the gentry 
 a pair of stairs lower. Some of the under come- 
 dians will, perhaps, be displeased at this order, 
 who are proud of these applauses, and rejoice to 
 hear the lusty bangs from the oaken towels of 
 their friends against the wainscot of the upper 
 gallery : but I think they should not be allowed 
 to shatter the pannels without amending our 
 taste ; since their thwacks, however vehement, 
 are seldom laid on with sufficient judgment to 
 ratify our applause. It were better, therefore, 
 if all the present twelve-penny critics of this 
 town, who pi-eside over our diversions in the 
 upper gallery, would content themselves with 
 the inferior duties of their office, viz. to take 
 care that the play begins at the proper time, 
 that the music between the acts is of a due 
 length, and that the candles are snuffled in tune. 
 
 After these brief admonitions concerning our 
 behaviour at the play, Avhich are intended as a 
 kind of Vade Mecum for the frequenters of the 
 theatre, I cannot conclude my paper more 
 properly than with an extract from the Tale of 
 a Tub, showing the judicious distribution of 
 our play-houses into boxes, pits, and galleries. 
 
 " I confess, that there is something very re- 
 fined in the contrivance and structure of our 
 modern theatres. For, first, the pit is sank be- 
 low the stage, that whatever weighty matter 
 shall be delivered thence, (whether it be lead or 
 gold) may fall plump into the jaws of certain 
 critics, (as I think they are called) which stand 
 ready open to devour them. Then, the boxes 
 are built round, and raised to a level with the 
 scene, in defei'ence to the ladies ; because that 
 large portion of wit, laid out in raising prurien- 
 ces and protuberances, is observed to run much 
 upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whining 
 passions, and little starved conceits, are gently 
 wafted up, by their own extreme levity, to the 
 middle region, and there fix and are frozen by 
 the frigid understandings of the inhabitants. 
 Bombastery and buffoonery, by nature lofty and 
 light, soar highest of all, and would be lost in 
 the roof, if the prudent architect had not witli 
 much foresight contrived for them a fburtii 
 
76 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 44. 
 
 place, called the twelve-penny gallery, and 
 there planted a suitable colony, who greedily in- 
 tercept them in their passage." O. 
 
 >«'«'«/v%/«'« 
 
 No. 44.] Thursday, Nov. 24, I754-. 
 
 •Bes nomims hujus honorem. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Let every Wapping Wife to Lady swell, 
 And each St. Giles's Miss be Ma'emoiselle. 
 
 I LATELY took a sui*vey of the female world, as 
 Censor- General ; and upon a strict review, was 
 very much surprised to find, that there is scarce 
 one woman to be met with, except among the 
 low^cst of the vulgar. The sex consists entirely 
 of ladies. Every Joan is listed into a lady ; and 
 the maid and the mistress are equally dignified 
 •with this polite title. The stage-coaches are 
 
 constantly filled with ladies. At Bai-tholo- 
 
 mew fair there is always a hop for the ladies 
 
 And if the ladies in the drawing-room are em- 
 ployed at whist, their last night's cards are made 
 use of in a rubber by the ladies in the steward's 
 room ; while the other ladies of the family are 
 staking their halfpeuce at put or all-fours in the 
 kitchen. In a word, whenever there is oc- 
 casion to speak of the female world, honourable 
 mention is always made of them by the respect- 
 ful appellation of the Ladies : as the young and 
 the old, the black and the brown, the homely 
 and the handsome, are all complaisantly included 
 under the general title of the Fair. 
 
 Since, therefore, the ladies of Great Britain 
 make up so numerous a body, I should be loath 
 to disoblige so considerable a sisterhood, and shall 
 devote this paper entii-ely to their service. I 
 propose at present to marshal them into their 
 respective ranks ; and upon a review, I find that 
 they may be justly distributed under these five 
 divisions ; viz. married ladies, maiden or young 
 ladies, ladies of quality, fine ladies, and lastly 
 (without aflfront to the good company) ladies of 
 pleasure. 
 
 I shall begin with the married ladies, as this 
 order will be found to be far the most numerous, 
 and includes all the married Avomen in town or 
 country above the degree of a chai'- woman, or 
 the trundler of a wheelbarrow. The plain old 
 English word wife has lohg been discarded in 
 cur conversation, as being only fit fo\' the broad 
 mouths of the vulgar. A well-bred ear is 
 startled at the very sound of wife, as at a coarse 
 and indelicate expression ; and I appeal to any 
 fashionable couple, whether they would not be 
 as much ashamed to be mentioned together as 
 man and wife, as they would be to appeal' to- 
 gether at court in a fardingale and trunk- 
 breeches. From Hyde- Park- Corner to Tcmple- 
 Bai- this monster of a wife has not been heard 
 
 of since the antiquated times of dame and your 
 worship ; and in the city every good housewife 
 is at least a lady of the other end of the town. 
 In the country you might as well dispute the 
 pretensions of every fox-liunter to the title of 
 esquire, as of his helpmate to that of lady j and 
 in every corporation town, whoever matches 
 with a burgess, becomes a lady by right of char- 
 ter. My cousin Village (from whom I have all 
 my rural intelligence) informs me, that upon 
 the strictest inquiry, there is but one wife in the 
 town where he now lives, and that is the par- 
 son's wife, who is never mentioned by the 
 countiy ladies but as a dowdy, and an old- 
 fasliioned creatui-e. Such is the gi*eat privilege 
 of matrimony, that every female is ennobled by 
 changing her surname : for as every unmarried 
 woman is a miss, every mai-ried one by the same 
 coui'tesy is a lady. 
 
 The next order of dignified females is com- 
 posed of maiden or young ladies ; which terms 
 are synonymous, and are indifferently applied to 
 females of the age of fourteen or threescore. 
 We must not, therefore, be surprised to hear of 
 maiden ladies, who are known to have had 
 several children, or to meet with young ladies, 
 that look like old dowagers. At the house of an 
 acquaintance where I lately visited, I was told 
 that we were to expect jMrs. Jackson and the 
 two INIiss Wrinkles. But what was my sur- 
 prise, when I saw on their arrival a blooming 
 female of tAventy-five accosted under the first 
 denomination, and the two nymphs, as I expect- 
 ed, come tottering into the room, the youngest 
 of them, to all appearance, on the verge of three- 
 score ! I could not help w^ishing, on this occa- 
 sion, that some middle term was invented be- 
 tween Miss and Mrs. to be adopted, at a certain 
 age, by all females not inclined to matrimony. 
 For surely nothing can be more ridiculous, than 
 to hear a gi'ey-haired lady, past her gi*and cli- 
 macteric, mentioned in tenns that convey the 
 idea of youth and beauty, or perhaps of a bib 
 and hanging-sleeA'CS. This indiscriminate appel- 
 lation imavoidably creates much confusion : I 
 knoAv an eminent tradesman who lost a very 
 
 good customer for innocently writing Mrs. 
 
 at the head of her biU : and I was lately at a 
 ball, where, trusting to a friend for a partner, I 
 was obliged to do penance with an old withered 
 beldam, who hobbled through several coimtry 
 dances with me, though she wiis ancient enough 
 to have been my grandmother. Excluding these 
 young ladies of fifty and sixty, this order of 
 females is very numerous ; for there is scarce a 
 girl in town or country, superior to a milk-maid 
 or cinder-wenoh, but is comprehended in it. 
 The daughters are indisputably yomig ladies, 
 though their papas may be tradesmen or mecha- 
 nics. For the present race of shopkeepers, &c. 
 have wisely provided, that their gentility shall 
 be preserved in the female part of the family. 
 
No. 15.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 77 
 
 Thus., although the son is called plain Jack, and 
 perhaps bound apprentice to his father, the 
 daughter is taught to hold up her head, make 
 tea in the little pai'loiu* behind the shop, and in- 
 herits the title of lady from her mamma. To 
 make these claims to dignity more sm-e, those 
 excellent seminaries of genteel education, called 
 boarding-schools, have been conti-ived; where, 
 instead of teasing a sampler, or conning a chap- 
 ter of the Bible, the young ladies are insti'ucted 
 to hold up their heads, make a courtesy, and to 
 behave themselves in every respect like pretty 
 little ladies. Hence it happens, that we may 
 often observe several of these . polite damsels in 
 the skirts of White- Chapel, and in every petty 
 country town ; nay, it is common to meet with 
 young ladies born and bred, who have submitted 
 to keep a chandler's shop, or had humility 
 enough even to go to service. 
 
 I proceed next to take into consideration what 
 is generally understood by ladies of quality. 
 These, in other words, may be more properly 
 called ladies of fashion: for, in the modish ac- 
 ceptation of the phrase, not so much regard is 
 had to their bii'th or station, or even to their 
 coronet, as to then* way of life. The dutchess, 
 who has not taste enough to act up to the cha- 
 racter of a person of quality, is no more respect- 
 ed in the polite Tvorld than a city knight's lady ; 
 nor does she derive any greater honour from her 
 title, than the hump-backed "won^an receives from 
 the vulgar. But ^vhat is more immediately ex- 
 pected from a lady of quality, will be seenimder 
 the next article ; for, to then* praise be it spoken, 
 most of oxrr modern ladies of quality affect to be 
 fine ladies. 
 
 To describe the life of a fine lady would be 
 only to set dow^n a perpetual roiuid of visiting, 
 gaming, dressing, and intriguing. She has been 
 bred up in the notion of making a figm*e, and of 
 recommending herself as a woman of spirit ; for 
 which end she is always foremost in the fashion, 
 and never fails gracing with her appearance 
 every public assembly, and every party of plea- 
 sure. Though single, she may coquet with every 
 single gentleman ; or if maiTied, she may admit 
 of gallantries without reproach, and even receive 
 visits from the men in her bed-chamber. To 
 complete the character, and to make her a very 
 fine lady, she should be celebrated for her wit 
 and beauty, and be parted from her husband : 
 for as matrimony itself is not meant as a re- 
 straint upon pleasure, a sepai-ate maintenance is 
 understood as a license to throw off even the 
 appearance of virtue. 
 
 From the fine ladies it is a very natural tran- 
 sition to the ladies of pleasure ; and, indeed from 
 what has already been said concerning fine la- 
 dies, one might imagine that, as they make plea- 
 sure their sole pursuit, they might properly be 
 entitled ladies of pleasiu'e. But this gay appel- 
 lation is reserved for the higher rank of prosti- 
 
 tutes, whose principal difference from the fine 
 ladies consists in their openly professing a trade, 
 which the others caiTy on by smuggling. A 
 lady of fashion, who refuses no favoiu's but the 
 last, or even grants that without being paid for 
 it, is not to be accounted a lady of pleasure, but 
 ranks in an order formerly celebrated under the 
 title of demi-reps. It is whimsical enough to 
 see the different complexions assumed by the 
 same vice, according to the difference of stations. 
 The married lady of quality may intrigue with 
 as many as she pleases, and still remain right 
 honourable : the draggle-tailed street-walker is 
 a common woman, and liable to be sent to Bride- 
 well; but the whore of high life is a lady of 
 pleasiu'e, and rolls in a gilt chariot. T. 
 
 No. 45.] Thursday, Dec. 5, 1754-. 
 
 Quicquid agunt homines, votum, titnor, ira, volupfus 
 Gaudia, disairsus, nostri farrago libeUi. Juv. 
 
 Vv'hate'er the busy bustling world employs, 
 Our wants and wishes, pleasures, cares, and joys. 
 These the historians of our tinies display. 
 And call it news, the hodge-podge of a day. 
 
 When I first resolved on appearing in my pre- 
 sent character, I had some thoughts of making 
 my public entry in the front of one or other of 
 our newspapers ; as I considered that the do- 
 mestic occiuTences, which compose a part of 
 their equipage, would make no bad figure in my 
 own retinue. Some reflections on the modish 
 methods of gaming would receive an additional 
 confinnation from a paragraph in the News, that 
 "last Tuesday a game at Whist was played at 
 White's for £1000 a corner," or that " the match 
 between his Grace the Duke of * * * * and 
 Lord * * * * was decided at Newmarket : " and 
 a dissertation on the luxiu-y of the present age 
 would be A'ery aptly illustrated by an exact ac- 
 coimt of the weight of the turtle, dressed a few 
 days before for the gentlemen of the above-men- 
 tioned Chocolate-house. 
 
 Indeed, I have always looked upon the works 
 of Mr. Jenoiu" in the Daily Advertiser as a 
 kind of supplement to the intelligence of ]Mr. 
 Town ; containing a more minute account of the 
 impoi-tant transactions of that class of mankind, 
 which has been figm-atively styled The World. 
 From these daily registers, we may not only 
 leai"n when any body is married or hanged, but 
 you have immediate notice whenever his Grace 
 goes to Newmarket, or her Ladyship sets out for 
 Bath : and but last week, at the same time that 
 the gentleiTjen of the law were told, that the 
 Lord Chancellor could not sit in the Court of 
 Chancery, people of fashion had the melancholy 
 news, that Signor Ricciarelli was not able to 
 sing. 
 
78 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 45. 
 
 Nor is that part of Mr. Jenoui*'s lucubra- 
 tions, which is allotted to advertisements less 
 amusing and entertaining : and many of these ar- 
 ticles might very properly come under my cog- 
 nizance. It is here debated, whether the prize 
 of eloquence should be given to Orator Macklin 
 or Orator Henley ; and whether IMr. Stephen 
 Pitts is not the best qualified to furnish gen- 
 tlemen and ladies' libraries with tea-chests in 
 Octavo, and close-stools in Folio. And besides 
 the public notices to persons of taste, of very 
 rare old Japan, and most curious and inimitable 
 Epargnes for desserts, as also the most rich and 
 elegant fancied silks to be sold by auction ; 
 many other advices no less interesting to the 
 Town, are here given. We are daily put in 
 mind, that Mrs. Philips at the Green Canister 
 still hopes for the favours of her former good 
 customers as usual : tbat next door to Haddock's 
 is sold an antidote against the poison imbibed at 
 that bagnio : that Dr. Rock infallibly cures a 
 certain epidemical distemper by virtue of the 
 King's patent : that a learned physician and sur- 
 geon will privately accommodate any gentleman 
 (as the doctor modestly expresses it in his own 
 Latin) P7'0 Morbus Venerea curandus: and that 
 y. Z. a regular-bred surgeon and man-midwife, 
 together with fifty others, will accommodate 
 gentlewomen that are under the necessity of ly- 
 ing-in privately. 
 
 But not only the public transactions of auc- 
 tioneers, brokers, and horse-dealers, but the most 
 private concerns of pleasure and gallantry may 
 be also carried on by means of this paper. As- 
 signations are here made, and the most secret 
 intrigues formed, at the expense of two shillings. 
 If a genteel young lady, who can do all l^nds of 
 work, wants a place, she will be sure to hear of 
 a master by advertising: any gentleman and 
 lady of unexceptionable character may meet with 
 lodgings to be let, and no questions asked : how 
 often has Romeo declared in print his un- 
 speakable passion for the chax'ming Peachy ! 
 How many gentlemen have made open profes- 
 sions of the strictest honour and secrecy ! And 
 how many ladies, drest in such a manner, and 
 seen at such a place, have been desired to leave 
 a line for A. B. Before the late Marriage Act 
 it was very usual for young gentlemen and la- 
 dies (possessed of every qualification requisite to 
 make the marriage state happy) to offer them- 
 selves as a good bargain to each other ; and men 
 took the same measures of advertising to get an 
 agreeable companion for life, as they do for an 
 agreeable companion for a post-chaise. As this 
 traffic in matrimony is now prohibited, it has 
 given occasion to the opening a new branch of 
 trade; and since husbands and wivas are hardly 
 to be got for love or money, several good-natured 
 females have set themselves up for sale to the 
 best bidder. The Daily Advertiser is therefore 
 become the universal register for new faces ; and 
 
 every day's advertisements have been lately 
 crowded with offers of young ladies, who would 
 be glad of the company of any elderly gentle- 
 man, to pass his leisuie hours with them, and 
 play at cards. 
 
 I look upon the common intelligence in our 
 public papers, with the long train of advertise- 
 ments annexed to it, as the best account of the 
 present domestic state of England, that can pos- 
 sibly be compiled: nor do I know any thing, 
 which would give posterity so clear an idea of 
 the taste and morals of the present age, as a 
 bundle of our daily papers. They would here 
 see what books are most read, what are our chief 
 amusements and diversions ; and when they 
 should observe the daily inquiries after eloped 
 wives and apprentices, and the frequent accounts 
 of trials in Westminster-Hall for perjury, adul- 
 tery, &c. they might form a tolerable notion 
 even of our private life. Among many other 
 reasons for lamenting that the firt of printing 
 was not more early discovered, I cannot but re- 
 gret that we have perhaps lost many accounts of 
 this nature, which might otherwise have been 
 handed down to us. With what pleasure should 
 w^e have perused an Athenian Advertiser, or a 
 Roman Gazetteer ! A curious critic or anti- 
 quary would place them on the same shelf with 
 the Classics, and would be highly pleased at dis- 
 covei'ing what days Tully went to his Tuscu-- 
 lum, or Pliny to his magnificent villa ; who was 
 the capital singer at the Grecian opera, and in 
 what characters Eoscius appeared with most 
 success. These pieces of intelligence would un- 
 doubtedly give gi'eat satisfaction ; and I am my- 
 self acquainted with a very learned gentleman, 
 who has assured me, that he has been as much 
 delighted at discovering that the Sosii were 
 Horace's booksellers, that the Hecyra of Te- 
 rence was damned, and other little pai-ticulars of 
 that nature, as with an account of the destruc- 
 tion of Carthage, or the death of Csesar. We 
 should also be glad to collect from their adver- 
 tisements what things were most in request at 
 Athens and Rome. Even our i>apers (which 
 perhaps are c^.lled Daily from their lasting but 
 a day) are, I fear, of too fugitive a nature to fall 
 under the inspection of posterity. To remedy, 
 in some measure, this inconvenience, I shall now 
 conclude my paper with a i'nw advertisements, 
 which, if they have not all actually been insert- 
 ed in our papers, are at least of the same natiu'o 
 with those that daily have a place there. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 To be spokti with every day at his house in llio 
 Old-Bailey, 
 
 BRYAN RAPAWAT, 
 
 Who swears oaths of all kinds and prices, and 
 Avill procure positive evidence at a day's warn- 
 ing in all sorts of causes. He will contract with 
 any attorney or quack-doctor, to swear by the 
 
No. 46.] 
 
 quartor ; and will supply affidavits, &c. on the 
 most reasonable terms. 
 
 *^* He will attend, during the business of 
 elections and double returns, in the lobby of the 
 House of Commons, and will jily next term at 
 Westminster- Hall. 
 
 WANTED, 
 
 A genteel black or negi'o G irl, very handsome .; 
 with a soft skin, good teeth, sweet breath, at 
 least five feet tlu-ee inches high, and not above 
 eighteen. Whoever has such a girl to disi>ose of, 
 may hear of a gentleman who will give fifty 
 guineas for her, by applying at the bar of the 
 Shakspeare's Head Tavern, Covent- Garden. 
 
 Note, At the same place any genteel white 
 Girl may hear of something to her advantage. 
 
 A person, that lives near Guildhall, is a very 
 gentle rider, rides about ten stone, chiefly for 
 health, and never on a Sunday but on an extra- 
 ordinary occasion, would be glad of a partner 
 much under the same cii'cumstances, in a very 
 genteel mare, and very good in her kind. 
 
 Several sums, from £10 to £10,000. 
 
 Wanted immediately, by a person in a large 
 and profitable business — Wanted directly, by a 
 person whose character will bear the strictest 
 inquiry — Wanted for a week only, or as long as 
 the lender chooses — upon undeniable security— 
 The borrower will give his bond and judgment, 
 make over his stock in trade, insure his life, &c. 
 — A handsome gratuity will be given — Interest 
 paid punctually — Strictest honour and secrecy 
 may be depended on. None but principals will 
 be treated with. 
 
 Direct for A. B. L. M. S. T. X. Y. &c. &c. 
 &c. 
 
 This day are published. 
 
 The Adventui*es of Dick Hazard. 
 
 The History of Mr. Joshua Trueman. 
 
 The History of WiU Ramble. 
 
 The History of James Ramble, Esq. 
 
 The Travels of Drake Morris. 
 
 The History of Jasper Banks. 
 
 Memoirs of the Shakspeare's Head. 
 
 The History of Frajik Hammond. 
 
 The IMarriage-Act, a Novel. 
 
 And speedily will be published. 
 
 The History of Sir Humphry Herald and Sir 
 Edward Haunch. — Memou's of Lady Vain- 
 love. — The Card. 
 
 Adventiu'es of Tom Doughty, Jack Careless, 
 Frank Easy, Dick Damnable, Molly Peirson, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Being a complete collection of Novels for the 
 amusement of the pref5ent winter. T. 
 
 THECONNOISSEUK. 79 
 
 No. 46.] Thursday, Dec. 12, 1754. 
 
 Fades non omnibus ima. 
 
 Nee diuersa tamen Ovid. 
 
 Where borrow'd tints bestow a lifeless grace, 
 None wear the same, yet none a diflFerent face. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Su 
 
 It is whimsical to obserA^e the mistakes that we 
 country gentlemen are led into at our first com- 
 ing to town. We are induced to think, and in- 
 deed truly, that your fine ladies are composed of 
 different materials from our rural ones ; since, 
 though they sleep all day and rake all night, they 
 still remain as fresh and ruddy as a parson's 
 daughter or a farmer's wife. At other times we 
 are apt to wonder, that such delicate creatures as 
 they appear, should yet be so much proof 
 against cold, as to look as rosy in January as 
 in June, and even in the shai'pest weather to be 
 very unwilling to approach the fire. I was at a 
 loss to account for this unalterable hue of their 
 complexions : but I soon found, that beauty was 
 not more peculiar to the air of St. James's than 
 of York ; and that this perpetual bloom was not 
 native, but imported from abroad. Not content 
 with that red and white which nature gave, 
 your belles ai'e reduced (as they pretend) to the 
 necessity of supplying the flush of health with 
 the rouge of vermillion, and giving us Spanish 
 wool for English beauty. 
 
 The very reason alleged for this fashionable 
 practice is such, as (if they seriously considered 
 it) the ladies woidd be ashamed to mention. 
 " The late hours they are obliged to keep, render 
 them such perfect frights, that they would be as 
 loath to appear abroad without paint as without 
 clothes." This, it must be acknowledged, is too 
 true : but would they suffer their fathers or their 
 husbands to wheel them down for one month to 
 the old mansion-house, they would soon be sen- 
 sible of the change, and soon perceive how much 
 the early walk exceeds the late assembly. The 
 vigils of the card-table have spoiled many a good 
 face ; and I have known a beauty stick to the 
 midnight rubbers, till she has gi'own as homely 
 as the queen of spades. There is nothing more 
 certain in aU Hoyle's cases, than that whist and 
 late hours will ruin the finest set of features : 
 but if the ladies would give up their routs for 
 the healthy amusements of the countiy, I will 
 venture to say their carmine would be then as 
 useless as their artificial nosegays. 
 
 A moralist might talk to them of the hei- 
 nousness of the practice ; since all deceit is cri- 
 minal, and painting is no better than looking a lie. 
 And should they ui'ge that nobody is deceived by 
 it, he might add, that the plea for admitting it is 
 then at an end : since few are yet arrived at that 
 
80 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 45. 
 
 height of French politeness, as to dress their 
 cheeks in public, and to profess wearing vermi- 
 lion as openly as powder. But I shall content 
 myself with using an argument more likely to 
 prevail ; and such, I trust, will be the assurance 
 that this practice is highly disagreeable to the 
 men. What must be the mortification, and 
 what the disgust of the lover, who goes to bed to 
 a bride as blooming as an angel, and finds her 
 in the morning as wan and as yellow as a corpse ? 
 For marriage soon takes off the mask ; and all 
 the resources of art, all the mysteries of the 
 toilet, are then at an end. He that is thus 
 wedded to a cloud instead of a Juno, may well 
 be allowed to complain, but without relief; for 
 this is a custom, which once admitted, so tar- 
 nishes the skin, that it is next to impossible ever 
 to retrieve it. Let me, therefore, caution these 
 young beginners, who are not yet discoloured 
 past redemption, to leave it off in time, and en- 
 deavour to procure and preserve by early hours 
 that unaffected bloom, which art cannot give, 
 and which only age or sickness can take away. 
 
 Our beauties were formerly above making use 
 of so poor an artifice : they trusted to the lively 
 colouring of nature, which was heightened by 
 temperance and exercise ; but our modern belles 
 are obliged to retouch their cheeks every day, to 
 keep them in repair. We were then as superior 
 to the French in the assembly, as in the field ; 
 but since a trip to France has been thought a 
 requisite in the education of our ladies as well 
 as gentlemen, our polite females have thought 
 fit to dress their faces, as well as their heads, a 
 la mode de Paris. I am told, that when au 
 English lady is at Paris, she is so surrounded 
 with false faces, that she is herself obliged (if 
 she would not appear singular) to put on the 
 mask. But who would exchange the brilliancy 
 of the diamond for the faint lustre of French 
 paste ? And, for my part, I would as soon ex- 
 pect that an English beauty at Morocco would 
 japan her face with lamp black, in complaisance 
 to the sable beauties of that country. Let the 
 French ladies whitewash and plaster their 
 fronts, and lay on their colours with a trowel ; 
 but these daubings of art are no more to be 
 compared to the genuine glow of a British 
 cheek, than the coarse strokes of the painter's 
 brush can resemble the native veins of the 
 marble. This contrast is placed in a proper 
 light in Ml*. Addison's fine epigram on Lady. 
 Manchester, which will serve to convince us of 
 the force of undissembled beauty : 
 
 When haughty Gallia's dames, that spread 
 O'er their pale cheeks a lifeless red, 
 Beheld this beauteous stranger there, 
 In native charms divinely fair. 
 Confusion in their looks they show'd, 
 And with unborrow'd blushes glow'd. 
 
 1 think, Mr. Town, you might easily prevail 
 
 on your fair readers to leave off this unnatural 
 practice if you could once thoroughly convince 
 them, that it impairs their beauty instead of im- 
 proving it. A lady's face, like the coats in the 
 Tale of a Tub, if left to itself, will wear well ; 
 but if you offer to load it with foreign orna- 
 ments, you destroy the original ground. 
 
 Among other matter of wonder on my first 
 coming to town, I was much surprised at the 
 general appearance of youth among the ladies. 
 At present there is no distinction in their com- 
 plexions between a beauty in her teens and a 
 lady in her grand climacteric : yet, at the same 
 time, I could not but take notice of the wonder- 
 ful A'ariety in the face of the same lady. I have 
 known an olive beauty on Monday grow very 
 ruddy and blooming on Tuesday ; turn pale on 
 W^ednesday ; come round to the olive hue again 
 on Thursday ; and, in a word, change her com- 
 plexion as often as her gown. I was amazed to 
 find no old aunts in this town, except a few un- 
 fashionable people, whom nobody knows; the 
 rest still continuing in the zenith of their youth 
 and health, and falling off, like timely fruit, 
 without any previous decay. All this was a 
 mystery that I could not unriddle, till on being 
 introduced to some ladies, I unluckily improved 
 the hue of my lips at the expense of a fair one, 
 who unthinkingly had turned her cheek ; and 
 found that my kisses were given (as is observed 
 in the epigram), like those of Pyramus, through 
 the wall. I then discovered, that this surpris- 
 ing youth and beauty was all counterfeit ; and 
 that (as Hamlet says) " God had given them 
 one face, and they had themselves another." 
 
 I have mentioned the accident of my carrying 
 off half a lady's face by a salute, that your 
 courtly dames may learn to put on their faces a 
 little tighter; but as for my own daughters, 
 while such fashions prevail, they shall still re- 
 main in Yorkshire. There I think they are 
 pretty safe ; for this unnatural fashion will 
 hardly make its way into the counti-y, as this 
 vamped complexion would not stand against the 
 rays of the sun, and would inevitably melt away 
 in a country dance. The ladies have, indeed, 
 been always the greatest enemies to their own 
 beauty, and seem to have a design against their 
 own faces. At one time the whole countenance 
 was eclipsed in a black velvet mask ; at another 
 it was blotted with patches ; and at present it is 
 crusted over with plaster of Paris. In those 
 battered belles, who still aim at conquest, this 
 practice is in some sort excusable ; but it is 
 surely as ridiculous in a young lady to give up 
 beauty for paint, as it would be to draw a good 
 set of teeth merely to fill their places with a row 
 of ivory. 
 
 Indeed, so common is this fashion among the 
 j'oung as well as the old, that when I am in a 
 group of beauties, I consider them as so many 
 pretty pictures ; looking about me with as little 
 
No. 47.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 81 
 
 emotion as I do at Hudson's ; and if any thing 
 fills me with admiration, it is the judicious ar- 
 rangement of the tints and the delicate touches 
 of the painter. Art very often seems almost to 
 vie with nature : hut my attention is too fre- 
 quently diverted by considering the texture and 
 hue of the skin beneath ; and the picture fails to 
 charm, while my thoughts are engi'ossed by the 
 wood and canvas. 
 
 I am. Sir, 
 Your humble Servant, 
 
 RUSTICUS. 
 
 No. 47.] Thursday, Dec. 19, 1754. 
 
 Hk mecum licet, hie, Jiivence, quicqiiid 
 
 In buccam tibi veiterit, loquaris. Mart. 
 
 Here, witlings, here with Macklin talk your fill. 
 On plays, or politics, or what you will. 
 
 It has hitherto been Imagined, that though we 
 have equalled, if not surpassed, the ancients in 
 other liberal arts, we have not yet been able to 
 arrive at that height of eloquence, which was 
 possessed in so amazing a manner by the Gre- 
 cian and Roman orators. "Whether this has 
 been owing to any peculiar organization of our 
 tongues, or whether it has proceeded from our 
 national love of taciturnity, I shall not take 
 upon me to determine : but I will now venture 
 to affirm, that the present times might furnish 
 us with a more surpi-ising number of fine speak- 
 ers, than have been set down by TuUy in his 
 treatise De Claris Oratoribus. Foreigners can 
 no longer object tons, that the northern coldness 
 of our climate has (as it were) pursed up our 
 lips, and that we are afraid to open our mouths : 
 the charm is at length dissolved ; and our peo- 
 ple, who before affected the gravity and silence 
 of the Spaniards, have adopted and naturalized 
 the volubility of speech, as well as the gay man- 
 ners, of the French. 
 
 This change has been brought about by the 
 public-spirited attempts of those elevated geni- 
 uses, who have instituted certain schools for the 
 cultivation of eloquence in all its branches. 
 Hence it is, that instead of languid discourses 
 from the pulpit, several tabernacles and meet- 
 ing-houses have been set up, where lay-preach- 
 ers may display all the powers of oratory in sighs 
 and gi-oans, and emulate a Whitfield or a Wes- 
 ley in all the figures of rhetoric. And not only 
 the enthusiast has his conventicles, but even the 
 free-thinker boasts his societies, where he may 
 hold forth against religion in tropes, metaphors, 
 and similes. The declamations Aveekly thun- 
 dered out at Clare- Market, and the subtle ar- 
 gumentations at the Robin Hood, I have for- 
 jnerly celebrated : it now remains to pay my 
 
 respects to the Martin Luther of the age, (as he 
 frequently calls himself,) the great orator Maek- 
 lin : who, by declaiming himself, and opening a 
 school for the disputations of others, has joined 
 both the above plans together, and formed the 
 British Inquisition. Here, whatever concerns 
 the \7orld of taste and litei'ature, is debated : 
 our rakes and bloods, who had been used to fre- 
 quent Covent- Garden merely for the sake of 
 whoring and drinking, now resort thither for 
 re^ison and argument ; and the piazza begins to 
 vie with the ancient portico, where Socrates dis- 
 puted. 
 
 But what pleases me most in Mr. Macklin's 
 institution is, that he has allowed the tongues 
 of my fair countrywomen their fuU play. Their 
 natural talents for oratory are so excellent and 
 numerous, that it seems more owing to the 
 envy than prudence of the other sex, that they 
 should be denied the opportunity of exerting 
 them. The remarkable tendency in our politest 
 ladies, " to talk, though they have nothing to 
 say," and the torrent of eloquence, that pours 
 (on the most trivial occasions) from the lips of 
 those females, called scolds, give abundant proofs 
 of that command of words, and flov/ of elo- 
 quence, which so few men have been able to at- 
 tain. Again, if action is the life and soul of an 
 oration, how many advantages have the ladies in 
 this particular ? The waving of a snowy ami, 
 artfully shaded with the enchanting slope of a 
 double ruffle, would have twenty times the force 
 of the stiff see-saw of a male orator : and when 
 they come to the most animated parts of the ora- 
 tion, which demand uncommon warmth and 
 agitation, we should be vanquished by the heav- 
 ing breast, and all those other channs, which 
 the modern dress is so weU calculated to display. 
 
 Since the ladies are thus undeniably endued 
 with these and many other accomplishments for 
 oratory, that no place should hitherto have been 
 opened for their exerting them is almost unac- 
 countable. The lower order of females have, 
 indeed, long ago instituted an academy of this 
 kind at the other end of the town, where oysters 
 and eloquence are in equal perfection ; but the 
 politer part of the female world have hitherto had 
 no further opportunity of exercising their abili- 
 ties, than the common occasions which a new cap 
 or petenlair, the tea or the card-table, have affoi'd- 
 ed them. I am therefore heartily glad, that a 
 plan is at length put in execution, which will en- 
 courage their propensity to talking, and enlarge 
 their topics of conversation : but I would more 
 particularly recommend it to all ladies of a cla- 
 morous disposition, to attend at Macklin's : that 
 the impetuous stream of eloquence, which, for 
 want of another vent, has long been poured on 
 their servants or husbands, may now be carried 
 off by another more agreeable channel. 
 
 I could not have thought it possible, that this 
 undei-taking would have subsisted two nights, 
 M 
 
82 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 48. 
 
 without setting all the female tongues from St. 
 James's to Temple-bar in motion. Uut the ladies 
 have hitherto been dumb ; and female eloquence 
 seems as unlikely to display itself in public as 
 "ver. Whether their modesty will not permit 
 them to open their mouths in the unhallowed 
 air of Coven t- Garden, I know not : but I am 
 rather inclined to think, that the questions pro- 
 posed have not been sufficiently calculated for 
 the female part of the assembly. They might 
 perhaps be tempted to debate, " whether Fanny 
 
 Murray or Lady were the properest to 
 
 lead the fashion ;" " to what lengths a lady 
 might proceed without the loss of her reputa- 
 tion ;" — or " whether the beautifying lotion or 
 the royal washball were the most excellent cos- 
 metics." It might also be expected, in complai- 
 sance to the fair sex, that the Inquisitor should 
 now and then read a dissertation on natural and 
 artificial beauty ; in which he might (with that 
 softness and delicacy peculiar to himself) analyze 
 a lady's face, and give examples of the ogle, the 
 simper, the smile, the languish, the dimple, &c. 
 with a word or two on the use and benefit of 
 paint. 
 
 But these points I shall leave to Mr. Mack- 
 lin's consideration : in the meantime, as it is not 
 in my power to oblige the public with a lady's 
 speech, I shall fill up the remainder of my paper 
 with an oration, which my coi'respondent is 
 desirous should appear in print, though he had 
 not sufficient confidence to deliver it at the In- 
 quisition. 
 
 QUESTION. 
 
 Whether the Stage might not be made more con- 
 ducive to virtue and morality ? 
 
 Mr. Inquisitor, 
 The ancient drama had, we know, a religious 
 as well as political view : and was designed to 
 inspire the audience with a reverence to the gods 
 and a love of their country. Our own stage, 
 upon particular occasions, has been made to 
 answer the same ends. Thus we may remember 
 during the last rebellion, besides the loyalty of 
 the fiddles in the orchestra, we were inspired 
 with the detestation of the Pope and Pretender 
 by the Nonjuror, the Jesuit Caught, Perkin 
 Warbeck, or the Popish Impostor, and such 
 other politico-religious dramas. 
 I But there is a species of the drama, Avhich has 
 i not yet been mentioned by any of the gentlemen 
 who have spoke to the question, and which is 
 very deficient in point of moral : I mean pan- 
 tomimes. Mr. Law has been very severe on 
 the impiety of representing heathen gods and 
 goddesses before a truly Christian audience : and 
 to this we may add, that Haiiequin is but a 
 wicked sort of a fellow, and is always running 
 after the girls. For my part 1 have often blush- 
 
 ed to see tills impudent rake endeavouring to 
 creep up Columbine's petticoats, and at other 
 times patting her neck, and laying his legs upon 
 her lap. Nobody will say, indeed, that there is 
 much virtue and morality in these entertain- 
 ments : though it must be confessed to the 
 honour of our neighbouring house here, that the 
 Necromancer and the Sorcerer, after having 
 played many unchristian pranks upon the stage, 
 are at last fairly sent to the devil. I would 
 therefore recommend it to our pantomime- 
 writers, that instead of the Pantheon, or lewd 
 comedies, they \vould take their subjects from 
 some old garland, moral ballad, or penny histo- 
 ry book. Supp«se, for example, they were to 
 give us tlie story of Patient Grizzle in dumb 
 show : setting forth, as how a noble lord fell in 
 love with her, as he was hunting ; — and there 
 you might have the scene of the spinning wheel, 
 and the song of the early horn ; — and as how, 
 after many trials of her patience, which they 
 might represent by machinery, this lord at last 
 married her ; — and then you may have a grand 
 temple and dance. The other house have already 
 revived the good old story of Fortunatus's wish- 
 ing cap ; and as they are fond of introducing 
 little children in their entertainments, suppose 
 they were to exhibit a pantomime of the 'i'hree 
 Children in the Wood ; — 'twould be vastly 
 pretty to see the pasteboard robin-red-breast let 
 down by wires upon the stage to cover the poor 
 innocent babes Avith paper leaves. But if they 
 must have fairies and genii, I would advise them 
 to take their stories out of that pretty little 
 book, called the Fairy Tales. I am sure, instead 
 of ostriches, dogs, horses, lions, monkeys, &c. 
 we should be full as well pleased to see the Wolf 
 and little Red Riding-Hood ; and we should 
 laugh vastly at the adventures of Puss in Boots. 
 I need not point out the excellent moral which 
 would be inculcated by representations of this 
 kind ; and I am confident they would meet with 
 the deserved applause of all the old women and 
 childreikin both galleries. O. 
 
 No. 48.] Thursday, Dec. 26, 1754. 
 
 -Age, Ubertate Becembri, 
 
 Quando ita vu{jores volu^unty utere.— Hon. 
 
 Come, let us, like our jovial sires of old. 
 
 With gambols and mince-pies our Christmas hold. 
 
 At this season of the year it has always been 
 customary for the lower part of the world to ex- 
 press their gratitude to their benefactors ; while 
 some of a more elevated genius among them 
 clothe their thoughts in a kind of holiday dress, 
 and once in the year rise into poets. Thus the 
 bellman bids goodnight io all his masters and 
 
No. 4«.J 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 83 
 
 mistresses in couplets ; the news-caiTier hawks 
 his own verses; and the very lamp-lighter 
 addresses his worthy customers in i-hyme. 
 As a. servant to the public, I should be want- 
 ing in the due respect to my readers, if I 
 also did not take this earliest opportunity of 
 paying them the compliments of the season, and 
 (in the phrase of their barbers, tailors, shoe- 
 makers, and other tradesmen) wish them a 
 merry Christmas, and a happy new year. 
 
 Those old-fashioned mortals, who have been 
 accustomed to look upon this season with extra- 
 ordinary devotion, I leave to con over the ex- 
 planation of it in Nelson : it shall at present be 
 my business to show the different methods of 
 celebrating it in these kingdoms. With the 
 generality Christmas is looked upon as a festival 
 in the most literal sense, and held sacred by good 
 eating and drinking. These, indeed, are the 
 most distinguishing marks of Christmas : the 
 revenue from the malt-tax, and the duty upon 
 wines, &c. on account of these twelve days, has 
 always been found to increase considerably : 
 and it is impossible to conceive the slaughter 
 that is made among the poultry and the hogs in 
 different parts of the country, to furnish the 
 prodigious number of turkeys and cliines, and 
 collars of brawn, that travel up, as presents, to 
 the metropolis on this occasion. The jolly cit 
 looks upon this joyous time of feasting, with as 
 much pleasure as on the treat of a new-elected 
 alderman, or a lord-mayor's day. Nor can the 
 country farmer rail more against the game act, 
 than many worthy citizens, who have ever 
 since been debarred of their annual hare ; while 
 their ladies can never enough regret their loss of 
 the opportunity of displaying their skill, in 
 making a most excellent pudding in the belly. 
 But these notable housewives have still the con- 
 solation of hearing their guests commend the 
 miuce-pies without meat, which we are assured 
 wex'e made at home, and not like the ordinary 
 heavy things from the pasti'y-cook's. These 
 good people would, indeed, look upon the absence 
 of mince-pies as the highest violation of Christ- 
 mas ; and have remarked with concern the dis- 
 regard that has been shown of late years to that 
 old English repast : for this excellent British 
 olio is as essential to Christmas, as pancake to 
 Shrove Tuesday, tansy to Easter, frumity to 
 Mid-lent Sunday, or goose to Michaelmas day. 
 And they think it no wonder that our finical 
 gentry should be so loose in their principles, as 
 well as weak in their bodies, when the solid, 
 substantial Protestant mince-pie has given place 
 among them to the Roman Catholic amulets, and 
 the light, puffy, heterodox ^^efs de religieuses. 
 
 As this season used formerly to be welcomed 
 in with more than usual jollity in the country, 
 it is probable that the Christmas remembrances, 
 with which the waggons and stage-coaches are 
 at this time loaded, first took their rise from the 
 
 laudable custom of distributing provisions at 
 this severe quarter of the year to the poor. But 
 these presents are now seldom sent to those who 
 are really in want of them, but are designed as 
 compliments to the great from their inferiors, 
 and come chiefly from the tenant to his rich 
 landlord, or from the rector of a fat living, as a 
 kind of tythe, to his patron. Nor is the old 
 hospitable English custom, of keeping open- 
 house for the poor neighbourhood, any longer 
 regarded. We might as soon expect to see plum- 
 porridge fill a tureen at the ordinary at White's, 
 as that the lord of a manor should assemble bis 
 poor tenants to make merry at the great house. 
 The servants now swill the Christmas ale by 
 themselves in the hall, while the squire gets 
 drunk with his brother foxhunters in the smok- 
 ing-room. 
 
 There is no rank of people so heartily rejoiced 
 at the arrival of this joyful season, as the order 
 of servants, join-neymen, and apprentices, and 
 the lower sort of people in general. No master 
 or mistress is so rigid as to refuse them a holi- 
 day ; and by remarkable good luck the same 
 circumstance, which gives them an opportunity 
 of diverting themselves, procures them money 
 to support it, by the tax which custom has im- 
 posed upon us in the article of Christmas boxes. 
 The butcher and the baker send their journey- 
 men and apprentices to levy contributions on 
 their customers, which are paid back again in 
 tlie usual fees to Mr. John and Mrs. Mary. 
 This serves the tradesman as a pretence to 
 lengthen out his bill, and the master and mis- 
 tress to lower the wages on account of the vails. 
 The Christmas box was formerly the bounty ot 
 well-disposed people, who were willing to con- 
 ti'ibute something towards rewarding the in- 
 dustrious, and supplying them with necessaries. 
 But the gift is now almost demanded as a right ; 
 and our journeymen, apprentices, &c. are grown 
 so polite, that instead of reserving their Christ- 
 mas-box for its original use, their ready cash 
 serves them only for present pocket-money ; and 
 instead of visiting their friends and relations, they 
 commence the fine gentlemen of the week. The 
 sixpenny hop is crowded with ladies and gentle- 
 men from the kitchen ; the syrens of Catherine- 
 street charm many a holiday gallant into their 
 snares ; and the play-houses ai'e filled with 
 beaux, wits, and critics, from Cheapside and 
 White-Chapel. The barrows are surrounded 
 with raw lads setting their halfpence against 
 oranges ; and the greasy cards and dirty crib- 
 bage- board employ the genteeler gamesters in 
 every ale-house. A merry Christmas has 
 ruined many a promising young fellow, who 
 has been flush of money at the beginning of the 
 week, but before the end of it has committed a 
 robbery on the till fcr more. 
 
 But in the midst of this general festivity there 
 are some so far from giving in to any extra- 
 
84 
 
 ordinary merriment, that they seem more gloomy 
 than usual, and appear with faces as dismal as 
 the month in which Christmas is celebrated. 
 I have heard a plodding citizen most giiev- 
 ously complain of the great expense of house- 
 keeping at this season, when his own and his 
 wife's relations claim the privilege of kindred to 
 eat him out of house and home ; then again, con- 
 sidering the present total decay of trade, and the 
 great load of taxes, it is a shame, they think, that 
 poor shopkeepers should be so fleeced and plun- 
 dered, under the pretence of Christmas-boxes. 
 But if tradesmen have any reason to murmur at 
 Christmas, many of their customers, on the other 
 hand, tremble at its approach ; as it is made a 
 sanction to every petty mechanic, to bi-eak in up- 
 on their joy, and disturb a gentleman's repose 
 at this time by bringing in his bill. 
 
 Others, who used to be very merry at this sea- 
 son, have within this year or two been quite dis- 
 concerted. To put them out of their old way, is 
 to put them out of humour ; they have there- 
 fore quarrelled with the almanack, and refuse to 
 keep their Christmas according to act of parlia- 
 ment. My cousin Village informs me, that this 
 obstinacy is very common in the country ; and 
 that many still persist in waiting eleven days for 
 their mirth, and defer their Christmas till the 
 blowing of the Glastonbury thorn. In some, 
 indeed, this cavilling with the calendar has been 
 only the result of close economy ; who, by evading 
 the expense of keeping Christmas with the rest 
 of the world, find means to neglect it, when the 
 general time of celebrating it is over. Many 
 have availed themselves of this expedient : and 
 I am acquainted with a couple, who ai'e eiu'aged 
 at the New Style on another account ; because it 
 puts them to double expenses, by robbing them 
 of the opportunity of keeping Christmas-day 
 and their wedding-day at the same time. 
 
 As to persons of fashion, this annual carnival 
 is worse to them than Lent, or the empty town 
 in the middle of summer. The boisterous mer- 
 riment, an awkward affectation of politeness 
 among the vulgar, interrupts the cotu'se of their 
 refined pleasui'es, and drives them out of town 
 for the holidays. The few who remain are very 
 much at a loss how to dispose of their time; for 
 the theatres at this season are opened only for 
 the reception of school-boys and apprentices, 
 and there is no public place where a person of ^ 
 fashion can appear, without being suiTounded 
 with the dirty inhabitants of St. Giles's, and the 
 brutes from the Wapping side of Westminster. 
 These unhappy sufferers are really to be pitied ; 
 and since Christmas-day has to persons of dis- 
 tinction a great deal of insipidity about it, 1 can- 
 not enough applaud an ingenious lady, who sent 
 cards round to all her acqimintance, inviting 
 them to a rout on that day ; which they declar- 
 ed was the happiest thought in the world, be- 
 cause Christmas-day is so like Sunday. 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 49. 
 
 No. 49.] THURsnAV, Jak. 2, 17j5. 
 
 Est hi consilio matrona aJmot-y^-elanis 
 Emeritd quce cessat icu : ienitnlUi vrima 
 IIuJus crit s posthan) aiatc atque arte minores 
 Ccnsebunt : tanquamjamce dtscrimen agatur, 
 Aul animcc tanta est qvcurendi curadecoris. Jlt. 
 
 Here ev»ry belle, fcr taste ind beauty known. 
 
 Shall meet to fix the fasftion of a gown : 
 
 Of caps and ruffles hold the grave debate. 
 As of their lives they would decide the fate. 
 Life, soul, and all, would claim th' attention less. 
 For life and soul is centred all— 
 
 TO MR. TOV.'N. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Contested elections and dtuble returns being 
 at present the general topic of discourse, a sub- 
 ject in which the ladies, methinks, are but little 
 concerned, I have a scheme to propose to you in 
 their behalf, which I doubt not but you, as their 
 professed patron, will use your eloquence to re- 
 commend, and your authority to ei-force. It has 
 long been a matter of real concern to every well- 
 wisher to the fair sex, that the men should be 
 allowed the free choice of representatives, to 
 whom they can make every real or protended 
 gi'ievance known, while the women are deprived 
 of the same privilege ; when in reality they have 
 many grievances utterly unknown and un- 
 thought of by the men, and which cannot be re- 
 dressed but by a female parliament. 
 
 I do not, indeed, pretend to the honour of first 
 projecting this scheme, since an assembly of this 
 natm'e has been proposed before : but as it ap- 
 pears to me so necessary, I would advise that 
 writs be immediately issued out for calling a pai- 
 liament of women; which for the future should 
 assemble every winter, and be dissolved every 
 third year. My reason for shortening the time 
 of their sitting proceeds from the reflection, that 
 full as much business will be done, at least as 
 many speeches will be made, by women in three 
 years, as by men in seven. To this assembly 
 every county and city in England shall send two 
 members ; but from this privilege I would utter- 
 ly exclude every borough, as we shall presently 
 see that they can have no business to transact 
 there. But as I would have their number at least 
 equal to that of the other parliament, the defi- 
 ciency should be supplied by the squares and 
 great streets at tlie court end of the town, each 
 of which should be represented by one of their 
 own inhabitants. In humble imitation of the 
 Houses of Lords and Commons, the ladies ol 
 peers (whether spiritual or temporal) should sit 
 here in their own right, the others by election 
 only; any woman to be qualified, whose hus- 
 band, or even whose father ( for I woidd by no 
 means exclude the unmarried Indies) is qualified 
 to be chosen into the other. In the same manner. 
 
No. 49.3 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 85 
 
 whatever entitles the husband or father to vote 
 at that election, should entitle his wife or daugh- 
 ter to vote at this. 
 
 Having settled this point, it now remains to 
 adjust the subjects which they are to treat of; 
 and these we shall find to be, indeed, of the last 
 importance. What think you. Sir, of the rise 
 and fall of fashions, of as much consequence to 
 them as the rise and fall of kingdoms is to us? 
 of the commencing a new acquaintance, equiva- 
 lent to our making a new alliance ? and adjust- 
 ing the ceremonial of a rout or ball, as interest- 
 ing as the preliminaries of a treaty or a congress ? 
 These subjects, and these alone, will sufficiently 
 employ them every sessions ; and as their judg- 
 ment must be final, how delightful will it be to 
 have bills brought in to dutermine how many 
 inches of the leg or neck may lawfully be ex- 
 posed, hovv many courtesies at a public place 
 amount to an acquaintance, and what are the 
 precise privileges of birth or fortune, that en- 
 title the possessors to give routs or drums, on 
 week-days or on Sundays. Whoever should 
 presume to transgress against these laws might 
 be punished suitably to their offences ; and be 
 banished from public places, or be condemned to 
 do penance in linsey-woolsey : or if any female 
 should be convicted of immodesty, she might be 
 outlawed ; and then (as these laws would not 
 bind the nymphs of Drury) we should easily 
 distinguish a modest woman, as the phrase is, if 
 not by her looks, at least by her dress and ap- 
 pearance ; and the victorious Fanny might then 
 be suffered to strike bold strokes without rival- 
 ry or imitation. If a man, too, should be found 
 so grossly offending against the laws of fashion, 
 as to refuse a member a bow at a play, or a sa- 
 lute at a wedding, how suitably would he be 
 punished by being reprimanded on his knees in 
 such an assembly, and by so fine a woman as 
 we may suppose the speaker would be ? Then, 
 doubtless, would a grand committee sit on the 
 affair of hoops ; and were they established in 
 their present form by proper authoritj^, doors 
 and boxes might be altered and enlarged accord- 
 ingly. Then should we talk as familiarly of the 
 visit bill as of the marriage bill ; and with what 
 pleasure should we peruse the regulations of the 
 committee of dress ? Every lover of decorum 
 would be pleased to hear, that refractory females 
 were taken into custody by the usher of the 
 black fan. The double return of a visit would 
 occasion as many debates as the double return 
 for a certain county ; and at the eve of an elec- 
 tion, how pretty would it be to see the ladies of 
 the shire going about mounted on their white 
 palfreys, and canvassing for votes. 
 
 Till this great purpose is attained, I see not 
 how the visible enormities in point of di'ess, and 
 failures in point of ceremony, can effectually be 
 prevented. But then, and not before, I shall 
 hope to see politeness and good breeding dis- 
 
 tingnished from formality and affectation, and 
 dresses invented that will improve, not diminish 
 the charms of the fair, and rather become than 
 disguise the wearers. 
 
 I am, Sir, yours, &c. 
 
 Timothy Canvass. 
 
 I am much obliged to my correspondent for 
 his lettei', and heaj'tily wish that this scheme was 
 carried into execution. The liberties daily taken 
 in point of dress demand proper restrictions. 
 The ancients settled their national habit by law : 
 but the dress of our own country is so very fluc- 
 tuating, that if the great grandmothers of the 
 pi-esent generation were to arise they would not 
 be able to guess at their postenty from their 
 dress, but would fancy themselves in a strange 
 country. As these affairs fall more immediate- 
 ly under the cognizance of the ladies, the female 
 world in general would soon be sensible of the 
 advantages accruing from a female parliament; 
 and though ladies of fashion might probably 
 claim some peculiar liberties in dress by their 
 privilege, it might naturally be expected that this 
 wise assembly would at least keep the rest of the 
 sex in order ; nor suffer enormous hoops to 
 spread themselves across the whole pavement, to 
 the detriment of all honest men going upon busi- 
 ness along the street ; nor permit the chand- 
 ler's wife to retail half- quarterns from behind 
 the counter, in a short stomacher and without 
 a handkerchief. 
 
 I am aware that a considerable objection may 
 be brought against this scheme; to wit, that a 
 female parliament (like those of the men) may 
 be subject to coi'ruption, and made dependent on 
 a coui't. The enormous Elizabeth rutf, and the 
 awkward Queen of Scots mob, are fatal instances 
 of the evil influence which courts have upon 
 fashions ; and as no one can tell the power which 
 a British queen might have over the councils of 
 a female parliament, future ages might perhaps 
 see the stays bolstered out into hump-backs, or 
 the petticoats let down to conceal a bandy leg, 
 from the same servile complaisance which warp- 
 ed the necks of Alexander's courtiers. 
 
 But though a parliament on the foregoing 
 scheme has not yet taken place, an institution of 
 the like nature has been contrived among the 
 order of females who (as I mentioned in a 
 former paper) advertise for gentlemen to play at 
 cards with them. The reader may remember, 
 that some time ago, an advertisement appeared 
 in the public papers, from the Covent- Garden 
 Society; in which it was set forth, that one of 
 their members was voted common. This very 
 society is composed of those agreeable young 
 ladies, whose business it is to play at cards 
 with those gentlemen, who have good nature 
 and fortune sufficient to sit down contented 
 with being losers. It is divided, like the upper 
 and lower Houses of Parliament, into Litdiea 
 
86 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 50, 
 
 and Commons. The upper order of card- 
 players take their seats according to the rank of 
 those who game at high stakes witli them; 
 while the Commons are made up of the lower 
 sort of gamblers within the hundreds of Drury 
 ajid Covent- Garden. Every one is obliged to 
 pay a certain tax out of her card-money ; and 
 the revenue arising from it is applied to the 
 levying of hoop -petticoats, sacks, petenlairs, 
 caps, handkerchiefs, aprons, &c. to be used out 
 nightly according to the exigence and degree of 
 the members. M.'my revolutions have happened 
 in this society since its institution : a commoner 
 in the space of a few weeks has been called up to 
 the House of Ladies; and another, who attii'st 
 sat as peeress, has been suddenly degraded, and 
 voted common. 
 
 More particulars of this society have not come 
 to my knowledge ; but their design seems to be, 
 to erect a commonwealth of themselves, and to 
 rescue their liberties from being invaded by those 
 who have presumed to tyrannize over them. If 
 this practice of playing their own cards, and 
 shuffling for themselves, should generally pre- 
 vail among all the agreeable j'oung gamesters of 
 Covent- Garden, I am concerned to think what 
 will become of the venerable sisterhood of 
 Douglas, Haddock, and Noble, as well as the 
 fraternity of Harris, Derry, and the rest of those 
 gentlemen, who have hitherto acted as groom- 
 porters, and had the principal direction of the 
 game. From such a combination it may greatly 
 be feared, that the honourable profession of pimp 
 will in a short time become as useless as that of 
 a Fleet-parson. 
 
 No. 50.] Thursday, Jan. 9, 1735. 
 
 Pacipit humones odium, lucisque videndce, 
 
 Ui sibi consiscani mccrenfi pecfore lethum. Li'crbt. 
 
 O deaf to nature, and to Heaven's command ! — 
 Against tliyself to lift the murdering hand ! 
 O damn'd despair! — to shun the living Ught, 
 And plunge thy guilty soul in endless night ! 
 
 The last sessions deprived us of the only surviv- 
 ing member of a society, which (during its short 
 existence) was equal both in principles and i)rac- 
 tJce to the Mohocks and Hell- Fire- Club of tre- 
 mendous memory. This society was composed 
 of a iitw broken gamesters and desperate young 
 rakes, who threw the small remains of their 
 bankrupt fortunes into one common stock, and 
 thence assumed the name of the Last Guinea 
 Club. A short life and a merry one was their 
 favourite maxim ; and they determined, when 
 their finances should be quite exhausted, to die 
 as they had lived, like gentlemen. Some of tlieir 
 members had the luck to get a reprieve by a good 
 
 run at cards, and others by snapping up a rich 
 heiress or a dowager ; while the r«st, who were 
 not cut ofF in the natural way by duels or the 
 gallows, very resolutely made their quietus with 
 laudanum or the pistol. The last that remained 
 of this society had very calmly prepared for his 
 own execution ; he had cocked his pistol, de- 
 liberately placed the muzzle of it to his temple, 
 and was just going to pull the trigger, when he 
 bethought himself that he could employ it to 
 better purpose upon Hounslow Heath. This 
 brave man, however, had but a very short res- 
 pite, and was obliged to suffer the iguomiay of 
 going out of the world in the vulgar way, by a 
 halter. 
 
 The enemies of play will perhaps consider 
 those gentlemen, who boldly stake their whole 
 fortunes at the gaming-table, in the same view 
 with these desperadoes ; and they may even go 
 so far as to regard the polite and honourable as- 
 sembly at White's as a kind of Last Guinea Club. 
 Nothing, they will say, is so fluctuating as the pro- 
 perty of a gamester, who (when luck runs against 
 him) throws away whole acres at every cast of 
 the dice, and whose houses are as unsure a pos- 
 session, as if they were built with cards. Many, 
 indeed, have been reduced to their last guinea at 
 this genteel gaming-house ; but the must inve- 
 terate enemies to White's must allow, that it is 
 but now and then, that a gamester of quality, 
 who looks upon it as a toss-up whether there 
 is another world, takes his chance, and des- 
 patches himself, when the cdds are against him 
 in this. 
 
 But however free the gentlemen of AV^hite's 
 may be from any imputation of this kind, it 
 must be confessed, that suicide begins to prevail 
 so generally, that it is the most gallant exploit, 
 by which our modern heroes choose to signalize 
 themselves ; and in this, indeed, they behave 
 with uncommon prowess. From the days of 
 Plato down to these, a suicide has always been 
 compared to a soldier on guard deserting his 
 post ; but 1 should rather consider a set of these 
 desperate men, who rush on certain death, as a 
 body of troops sent out on the forlorn hope. They 
 meet every face of death, however horrible, 
 with the utmost resolution : some blow their 
 brains out with a pistol ; some expire, like So- 
 crates, by poison ; some fall, like Cato, on the 
 point of their own swords ; and others, who 
 have lived like Nero, aflect to die like Seneca, 
 and bleed to death. The most exalted geniuses I 
 ever remen)berto have heard of, %vere a party of 
 reduced gamesters, who bravely resolved to pledge 
 each other in a bowl of laudanum. I was also 
 lately informed of agentlemau, who went among 
 his usual companions at the gaming-table the day 
 before he made away with himself, and coolly 
 questioned them which they thought the easiest 
 and gentcelest method of going out of the world ; 
 for there is as much difference between a raciui 
 
No. 50.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 87 
 
 person and a man of quality in their manner of | 
 destroying themselve?, as in their manner of 
 living. The poor sneaking wretch, starving in a 
 garret, tucks himself up in his list garters ; a se- 
 cond, crossed in love, drowns himself like a blind 
 puppy, in Rosamond's Pond ; and a third cuts 
 his throat with his own razor. But the man of 
 fashion almost always dies by a pistol ; and even 
 the cobbler of any spirit goes off by a dose or two 
 extraordinary of gin. 
 
 But this false notion of courage, however 
 noble it may appear to the desperate and aban- 
 doned, in reality amounts to no more than the 
 resolution of the highwayman, who shoots him- 
 self with bis own pistol, when he finds it impos- 
 sible to avoid being taken. All practicable 
 means, therefore, should be devised to extirpate 
 such absurd bravery, and to make it appear eve- 
 ry way horrible, odious, contemptible, and ridi- 
 culous. From reading the public prints a foreign- 
 er might be naturally led to imagine, that we 
 are the most lunatic people in the whole world. 
 Almost every day informs us, that the coroner's 
 inquest has sat on the body of some miserable 
 suicide, and brought in their verdict lunacy ; but 
 it is very well known, that the inquiry has not 
 been made into the state of mind of the deceased, 
 but into his fortune and family. The law has 
 indeed provided that the deliberate self-murderer 
 should be treated like a brute, and denied the 
 rites of burial ; but among hundreds of lunatics 
 hy purchase, 1 never knew this sentence exe- 
 cuted but on one poor cobbler, who hanged him- 
 self in his own stall. A pennyless poor dog, 
 who has not left enough to defray the funeral 
 charges, may perhaps be excluded the church- 
 yard : but self-murder by a pistol genteelly 
 mounted, or the Paris-hilted sword, qualifies 
 the polite owner for a sudden death, and entitles 
 him to a pompous burial, and a monument set- 
 ting forth his virtues in Westminster Abbey. 
 Every man in his sober senses must wish, that 
 the most severe laws that could possibly be con- 
 trived were enacted against suicides. This 
 shocking bravado never did (and I am confident 
 never will!) prevail among the more delicate 
 and tender sex in our own nation : though history 
 informs us that the Roman ladies were once so 
 infatuated as to thi'ow off the softness of their 
 nature, and commit violence on themselves, tiU 
 the madness was curbed by exposing their naked 
 bodies in the public streets. This, I think, 
 would afford a hint for fixing the like marks 
 of ignominy on our male suicides; and I would 
 have every lower wretch of this sort dragged at 
 the cart's tail, and afterwards hung in chains at 
 his own door, or have his quarters put up in 
 terrorem in the most public places, as a rebel to 
 his Maker. But that the suicide of quality 
 might be treated with more respect, he should 
 be indulged in having his wounded corpse and 
 shattered brains lie (as it were) in state for some 
 
 days ; of which dreadful spectacle we may con- 
 ceive the horror from the following picture 
 drawn by Dryden : — 
 
 The slayer of himself too saw I there ; 
 The gore congeal'd was clotted in his hair; 
 With eyes half clos'd, and mouth wide ope he lay. 
 And grim as when he breath 'd his sullen soul away.". 
 Dryden's Fables, 
 
 The common murderer has his skeleton pre- 
 served at Surgeon's Hall, in order to deter othei*s 
 from being guilty of the same crime ; and I 
 think it would not be improper to have a chai'- 
 nel-house set apart to receive the bones of these 
 mox'e unnatural self-murderers, in which monu- 
 ments should be erected giving an account of 
 their deaths, and adoi'ned with the glorious en- 
 signs of their rashness, the rope, the knife, the 
 sword, or the pistol. 
 
 The cause of these frequent self-murders 
 among us has been generally imputed to the pe- 
 culiar temperature of our climate. Thus a dull 
 day is looked upon as a natural order of execu- 
 tion, and Englishmen must necessarily shoot, 
 hang, and drown themselves in November. 
 That our spirits are in some measure influenced 
 by the air cannot be denied ; but we are not 
 such mere barometers, as to be driven to despair 
 and death by the small degi'ee of gloom, that our 
 winter brings with it. If we have not so much 
 sunshine as some countries in the world, we have 
 infinitely more than many others ; and I do not 
 hear that men despatch themselves by dozens in 
 Russia or Sweden, or that they are unable to 
 keep up their spirits even in the total darkness of 
 Greenland. Our climate exempts us from many 
 diseases, to which other more southern nations 
 are naturally subject ; and I can never be per- 
 suaded, that being born near the North pole is a 
 physical cause for self-murder. 
 
 Despair, indeed, is the natural cause of these 
 shocking actions ; but this is commonly despair 
 brought on by wilful extravagance and debauch- 
 ery. These first involve men in difficulties, and 
 then death at once delivers them of their lives 
 and their cares. For my part, when 1 see a 
 young profligate wantonly squandering his for- 
 tune in bagnios or at the gaming-table, I can- 
 not help looking on him as hastening his own 
 death, and in a manner digging his own grave. 
 As he is at last induced to kill himself by mo- 
 tives arising from his vices, I consider him as 
 dying of some disease which those vices natu- 
 rally produce. If his extravagance has been 
 chiefly in luxurious eating and drinking, I ima- 
 gine him poisoned by his wines, or surfeited by 
 a favourite dish ; and if he has thrown away his 
 estate in bawdy houses, I conclude him destroy- 
 ed by rottenness and filthy disease. 
 
 Another principal cause of the frequency of 
 suicide is the noble spirit of free-thinking, Avhich 
 has diffused itself among all ranks of people. 
 
88 
 
 The libertine of fashion has too refined a taste 
 to trouble himself at all about a soul or an here- 
 after : but the vulgar infidel ia at wonderful 
 pains to get rid of his Bible, and labours to per- 
 suade himself out of his religion. For this pur- 
 pose he attends constantly at the disputing socie- 
 ties, where he heai-s a great deal about free-will, 
 free-agency, and predestination, till at length he 
 is convinced that man is at liberty to do as he 
 pleases, lays his misfortunes to the charge of 
 Providence, and comforts himself that he was 
 inevitably destined to be tied up in his own gar- 
 ters. The courage of these heroes proceeds from 
 the same principles, whether they fall by their 
 own hands, or those of Jack Ketch : the suicide 
 of whatever rank looks death in the face without 
 shrinking ; as the gallant rogue affects an easy 
 imconcern under Tyburn, throws away the 
 psalm-book, bids the cart drive oiF with an oath, 
 and swings like a gentleman. 
 
 If this madness should continue to grow more 
 and more epidemical, it will be expedient to have 
 a biU of suicides distinct from the common bill 
 of mortality, brought in j'early ; in which should 
 be set down the number of suicides, their me- 
 thods of destroying themselves, and the likely 
 causes of their doing so. In this, I believe, we 
 should find but few martyi-s to the weather ; 
 but their deaths would commonly be imputed to 
 despair, produced by some causes similar to the 
 following. In the little sketch of a bill of suicide 
 underneath, I have left blanks for the date of the 
 year, as well as for the number of self-murder- 
 ers, their manner of dj'ing, &c. which would 
 natiu*aUy be filled up by the proper persons, if 
 ever this scheme should be put into execution. 
 
 Bill of Suicide for the year 
 
 Of Newmarket Races 
 
 Of Kept Mistresses 
 
 Of Electioneering 
 
 Of Lotteries 
 
 Of French Claret, French Lace, PVench 
 Cooks, and French Disease .... 
 
 Of White's 
 
 Of Chinese Temples, &c 
 
 Of a Country Seat 
 
 Of a Town House 
 
 Of Fortune-hunting 
 
 Of a Tour through France and Italy 
 
 Of Lord Bolingbroke 
 
 Of the Robin Hood Society .... 
 
 Of an Equipage 
 
 Of a Dog Kennel 
 
 Of Covent Garden 
 
 Of Plays, Operas, Concerts, Masque- 
 rades, Routs, Drums, &c. 
 
 Of keeping the best Company 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 51. 
 
 No. 51.] Thursday, Jatt. 16, 1765. 
 
 Adde quod ahsinnunt vires, pcrvntque Inhore : 
 Adde quod tdcrius sitr mutu degitur atas. 
 Labilur interea res, et vadimoniajlunt, 
 Ijanguent qfficia, atquc cegrolatjama vaciUans. 
 
 Llceet. 
 When haughty mistresses our souls enthral. 
 They waste our strength, our fortune, fame, and all. 
 Mortgage on mortgage loads the bankrupt cull. 
 Who gives up wealth and honour for a trull. 
 
 SixcE pleasure is almost the only pursuit of a 
 fine gentleman, it is very necessary, for the 
 maintaining his consequence and character, that 
 he should have a girl in keeping. Intriguing 
 with women of fashion, and debauching trades- 
 men's daughters, naturally happen in the com- 
 mon course of gallantry ; but this convenient 
 female, to fill up the intervals of business, is the 
 principal mark of his superior taste and quality. 
 Every priggish clerk to an attorney, or pert 
 apprentice, can throw away his occasional guinea 
 in Covent Garden ; but the shortness of their 
 finances will not permit them to persevere in 
 debauchery with the air and spirit of a man of 
 quality. The kept mistress (which those half- 
 reprobates dai-e not think of) is a constant part 
 of the retinue of a complete fine gentleman j and 
 is, indeed, as indispensable a part of his equi- 
 page, as a French valet de cliambre, or a four- 
 wheeled post-chaise. 
 
 It was fonnerly the fashion among the ladies 
 to keep a monkey. At that time every woman 
 of quality thought herself obliged to follow the 
 mode ; and even the merchants' wives in the city 
 had their fashionable pugs to play tricks and 
 break china. A girl in keeping is as disagreeable 
 to some of our men of pleasure, as pug was to 
 some ladies ; but they must have one to spend 
 money and do mischief, that they may be reckon- 
 ed young fellows of spirit. Hence it happens 
 that many gentlemen maintain girls, who in 
 fact, are little more than their nominal mistress- 
 es ; for they see them as seldom, and behave to 
 them with as much indifference, as if they were 
 their wives ; however, as the woman in a manner 
 bears their name, and is maintained by them, 
 they may appear in the world with the genteel 
 character of a keeper. I have known several 
 gentlemen take great pains to heighten their 
 reputation in this way ; and turn off a first 
 mistress, merely because she -was not sufficiently 
 known, for the sake of a celebrated Avoman of the 
 town, a dancer, or an actress \ and it is always 
 the first step of an Englishman of fashion after 
 his arrital at Paris, to take one of the Filles 
 d'Opera under his protection. It was btit the other 
 day, that Florio went abroad, and left his girl to 
 roll about the town in a chariot, with an urdimited 
 order on his banker; and almost as soon as he 
 got to France, took a smart girl off the stage, to 
 
No. 51.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 S9 
 
 make as genteel a fi^ire at Paris. In short, as 
 a gentleman keeps running liorses, goes to 
 White's, and gets into parliament, for the name 
 of the thing ; so must he likewise have his kept 
 misti-ess, because it is the fashion : and I was 
 mightily pleased with hearing a gentleman once 
 boast, that he lived like a man of quality — 
 '' For," says he, " I have a post-chaise and 
 never ride in it ; I have a wife and never see her, 
 and I keep a mistress and never lie vv-ith her." 
 
 But, if these sort of keepers "U'ho never care a 
 farthing for their mistresses, are to be laughed 
 at, those who are really fond of their dulcineas 
 are to be pitied. The most hen-pecked husband 
 that ever bore the grievous yoke of a shrew, is 
 not half so miserable, as a man who is subject to 
 the humours and unaccountable caprice of a cun- 
 ning slut, who finds him in her power. Her be- 
 haviour will continually give him new occasion 
 of jealousy ; and pei-haps, she will really dispense 
 her favours to every rake in town, that will bid 
 up to her price. She will smile when she wants 
 money ; be insolent ^vhen she does not ; and in 
 short leave no artifice untried, to plague his 
 heart, and drain his pocket. A friend of mine 
 used constantly to rail at the slavish condition of 
 maiTied men, and the tyranny of petticoat go- 
 vernment : he therefore prudently resolved to 
 .ive an uncontrolled bachelor, and for that rea- 
 son pitched upon a country girl, who should 
 serve him as a handmaid. Detej-mining to keep 
 her in a very snug and retired manner, he had 
 even calculated how much she would save him 
 in curtailing his ordinary expenses at taverns 
 and bagnios : but this scheme of economy did not 
 last long ; for the artful jade soon contrived " to 
 wind her close into his easy heart," and inveigled 
 him to maintain her in all the splendour and 
 eclat of a first-rate lady of pleasure. He at first 
 treated her with all the indifference of a fashion- 
 able husband : but as soon as she foimd herself 
 to be entire mistress of his affections, it is sur- 
 prising to think what pains she took to bring 
 him to the most abject compliance with all her 
 whimsies, and to tame him to the patient thing 
 he now is. A frown on his part would frequent- 
 ly cost him a brocade, and a tear from her was 
 sure to extort a new handkerchief or an apron. 
 
 Upon any slight quarrel O she would leave 
 
 him that moment : and though the baggage 
 
 had more cunning than to hazard an intrigue 
 with any one else, she would work upon his jea- 
 lousy by continually twitting him with— She 
 knew a gentleman, who would scorn to use her 
 
 so barbaroiisly, — and she would go to him, if 
 
 she could be sure she was not with chUd. — This 
 last circumstance was a coup de reserve, which 
 never failed to bring about a reconciliation : nay, 
 I have kno-\vn her make great use of breeding 
 qualms upon occasion ; and tilings were once 
 come to such an extremity, that she was even 
 forced to have recourse to a sham miscarriage to 
 
 prevent their separation. He has often been 
 heard to declare, that if he ever had a child by 
 her, it should take its chance at the Foundling 
 Hospital. He had lately an opportunity of put- 
 ting this to a trial : but the bare hinting such a 
 barbarous design thi'ew the lady into hysterics. 
 However, he was determined that the babe, as 
 soon as it was born, should be put out to nurse, 
 — he hated the squall of children. Well ! madam 
 was brought to bed : she could not bear the dear 
 infant out of her sight ; and it would kill her not 
 to suckle it herself. The father was therefore 
 obliged to comply ; and an acquaintance caught 
 him the other mornings stirring the pap, holding 
 the clouts before the fire, and (in a word) dwin- 
 dled into a mere nurse. Such is the transfor- 
 mation of this kind keeper, whose character is 
 still more ridiculous than that of a fondlewife 
 among husbands. The amours, indeed, of these 
 fond souls, commonly end one of these two 
 Avays : they either find themselves deserted by 
 their mistress, when she has effectually ruined 
 their constitution and estate ; or, after as many- 
 years cohabitation as ^vould have tired them of 
 a wife, they grow so doatingly fond of their whore, 
 that, by marriage, they make her an honest wo- 
 man, and perhaps a lady of quality. 
 
 The most unpardonable sort of keepers are 
 married men and old men. I will give the rea- 
 der a short sketch of each of these characters, and 
 leave him to judge for himself. 
 
 Cynthio, about two years ago, was married to 
 Clarinda, one of the finest women in the world. 
 Her temper and disposition were as agi-eeable as 
 her person, and her chief endeavoxir was to 
 please her husband. But Cynthio's foUy and 
 vanity soon got the better of his constancy and 
 gratitude ; and it was not six months after his 
 mari'iage, before he took a girl he Tvas formerly 
 acquainted with into keeping. His dear Polly 
 nses him like a dog : and he is cruel enough to 
 revenge the ill treatment he receives from her 
 upon his wife. He seldom visits her, but when 
 his wench has put him out of humoiu" ; and once, 
 though indeed unloioivingiy, communicated to 
 her a filthy disease, for which he vras obliged to 
 his mistress. Yet is he still so infatuated as to 
 doat on this vile hussy, and wishes it in his 
 poTver to annul his marriage, and legitimate his 
 bastirds by Polly. Though it is palpable to every 
 one but Cynthio, that Polly has no attraction 
 but the name of mistress, and Clarinda no fault 
 but being his wife. 
 
 Sir Thrifty Gripe is arrived at his grand cli- 
 macteric, and has just taken a girl into keeping. 
 Till very lately, the multiplication table was his 
 rule of life, and ' a penny saved is a penny got,' 
 Avas his favourite maxim. But he has sud- 
 denly deserted "Wingate for Rochester, and the 
 'Change for Co vent- Garden. Here he met 
 with the buxom Charlotte, who at once opened 
 his heart and his purse, and soon began to scat- 
 N 
 
90 
 
 ter his guineas in paying her debts, and supply- 
 ing her fresh expenses. Her equipage is as 
 genteel and elegant as that of a diitchess ; and the 
 wise men in the alley shake their heads at Sir 
 Thrifty as the greatest spendthrift in town. Sir 
 Thrifty was formerly man'ied to a merchant's 
 daughter, who brought him a fortune of 20,000/. ; 
 but, after she had two sons by him, he sent her 
 into the North of Wales to live cheap, and pre- 
 vent the probable expense of more children. His 
 sons were obliged to an uncle for education ; and 
 Sir Thrifty now scarce allows them enough to 
 support them. His mistress and he almost al- 
 ways appear together at public places, where she 
 constantly makes a jest of him, while the old 
 dotard dangles at her elbow, like January by the 
 side of May. Thus Sir Thrifty lives, cursed by 
 his own sons, jilted by his mistress, and laughed 
 at by the rest of the world. 
 
 It is very diverting to observe the shifts to 
 which persons in middling or low life are re- 
 duced, in order to bear this new incumbrance 
 with which they sometimes choose to load them- 
 selves. The extravagance of a girl has put 
 many a clerk on defrauding his master, sent 
 many a distressed gentleman's watch to the 
 pawnbrokers, and his clothes to Monmouth 
 street, as well as the poor gentleman himself to 
 the gaming-table, or perhaps to Hounslow 
 Heath. I know a templar, who always keeps 
 a girl for the first month after he receives his 
 allowance ; at the end of which his poverty 
 obliges him to discard her, and live on mutton- 
 chops and porter for the rest of the quarter : 
 and it was but lately, that my mercer discovered 
 his apprentice to be concerned with two others 
 in an association for maintaining one trull com- 
 mon to the whole three. 
 
 This review of one of the chief sources of ex- 
 travagance, in the higher and middling walks of 
 life, will help us in accounting for the frequent 
 mortgages and distresses in families of fashion, 
 and the numerous bankruptcies in trade. Here 
 also I cannot help obsei'ving, that, in this case, 
 the misbehaviour of the women is in a great 
 measure to be charged to the men : for how can 
 it be ej^ected that a lady should take any plea- 
 sure in discharging the domestic duties of a wife, 
 when she sees her husband's affections placed 
 abroad. Nothing, indeed, can be advanced in 
 vindication of loose conduct in the fair sex ; but, 
 considering our modern morals, it is surely not 
 much to be wondered at, when the husband 
 openly affronts his family by keeping a wench, 
 if the wife also takes care to provide herself a 
 gallant. O. 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 52. 
 
 No. 52.] Thuksdav, Jan. 2V,, 1755. 
 
 Quam si pusllantm insereres clioro. 
 Mire sagaces faileret hospites 
 Discritnen obscurum, solutii 
 
 Criniims, ambiguoque vuHu. Hon. 
 
 In form so delicate, so soft his skin, 
 So fair in feature, and so smooth his chin, 
 Quite to unman him nothing wants but this ; 
 Put him in coats, and he's a very Miss. 
 
 —— Kon ilia colo calathisve Mincrvce 
 Feetnineus assueta inanus. \"ibo. 
 
 See the she-rake her softer sex disown : 
 
 The breeches more become her than the gown. 
 
 I AM persuaded that my readers will agree with 
 me in thinking, that the writers of the following 
 letters ought to change clothes ; since, as the 
 case stands at present, the one seems to be a 
 pretty miss in breeches, and the other a blood in 
 petticoats. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Rocks, deserts, wilds, wastes, savages, and 
 barbarians, make up the sum total of the odious 
 country. I am just returned from a visit there ; 
 and would not pass another three weeks in the 
 same way to be lord of the manor. 
 
 Having received frequent invitations from Sir 
 Sampson Five-bars, and having heard much of 
 the beauty of his three sisters, in an evil hour I 
 took a resolution to sacrifice this Christmas to 
 him at his seat in \Viltshire. I flattered myself 
 with the hopes, that the novelty and oddness of 
 the scene would serve me at least to laugh at ; 
 and that if the rustics were not mere stocks 
 and stones, my clothes and discourse would 
 have taught them to talk and dress like human 
 creatures. Need I tell you, that I was disap- 
 pointed? Sir Sampson is what the country 
 people call a hearty man : he has the shape and 
 constitution of a porter, and is sturdy enough to 
 encounter Bronghton without mufflers ; " when 
 he speaks, thunder breaks ;" he hunts almost 
 every morning, and takes a toast and tankard 
 for his breakfast. You may easily imagine, that 
 what was pleasure to him must be torture to me ; 
 and, indeed, 1 would as soon draw in a mill, or 
 carry a chair for my diversion, as follow any of 
 their horrid country amusemeuts. But Sir 
 Sampson, out of his abundant good-nature, in- 
 sisted on lending me a gun, and showing me a 
 day's sport of shooting. For this purpose he 
 loaded me with a huge gun, threw a bag and 
 pouch across my shoulders, and made me look 
 for all the world like Robinson Crusoe. After 
 I had followed him over three or four "ploughed 
 fields, a servant, whowasAvith us, hallooed out, 
 mark ! when the baronet's gun went off so sud- 
 denly, that it threw me Into a swoon, z^nd at 
 
No. 52.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 91 
 
 last I could hardly be convinced, that Sir Samp- 
 son had shot nothing but a partridge. 
 
 After this you will conclude, that I was not 
 to be prevailed on to hunt. Once, indeed, Miss 
 Fanny did tempt me to accompany her on a 
 morning ride; but even of this I heartily re- 
 pented. Miss Fanny, I found, valued neither 
 hedge nor ditch, has the strength of a char-wo- 
 man, and, in short, is more like Trulla in Hudi- 
 bras, or Boadicea in the play, than a woman of 
 fashion. Unluckily, too, the horse I rode was 
 skittish and unruly ; so that while I was scamp- 
 ering after Miss Fanny, a sudden start b]*ought 
 me to the ground. I received no hurt ; but the 
 fall so fluttered my spirits, that Miss Fanny was 
 obliged to take me up behind her. When we 
 arrived at the house, I was in the utmost con- 
 fusion ; for the booby sen-ants stood gaping and 
 gi'inning at ray disti'ess, and Sir Sampson him- 
 self told me, with a laugh as honible as Cali- 
 ban's, that he would lend me one of his maids to 
 carry me out airing every morning. 
 
 Besides these and fifty other mortifications, 1 
 could scai'ce get any rest during the whole time 
 I remained there : every other morning I was 
 constantly waked by the hungi*y knight, just re- 
 turned from the chace and bawling for dinner. 
 My breakfast was what they called their after- 
 noon tea, at which I alwayo assisted the ladles; 
 fill" I should infallibly have perished, had I staid 
 in thtf hall amidst the jargon of toasts and the 
 fumes of tobacco. I thought, indeed, my time 
 might be much more agreeably employed in the 
 parlour ; but even here my disappointment was 
 grievous past expression. These fair ones, for 
 such they were, were hale indeed and ruddy ; 
 and having been always cooped up, like turkeys 
 in a pen, were really no better than belles sau- 
 vnges, being totally ignorant of the genteel airs 
 and languishing delicatesse of women of fashion. 
 Their clothes were huddled on merely with a 
 view to cover their nakedness ; and they had no 
 notion, that their eyes were given them for any 
 other purpose than to see, and (what is more 
 strange) to read, forsooth ! For my part, Mr. 
 Town, unless a woman can use her eyes to more 
 advantage, I should as soon fall in love with my 
 lap-dog or my monkey ; and what constitutes 
 the diflFerence between a lady and her cookmaid, 
 but her taste in dress? Mobs and handker- 
 chiefs answer the end of covering, but the main 
 purpose of dress is to reveal. I really almost 
 begin to think, that these awkward creatures 
 were so stupid and unaccountable, as to have no 
 design upon me. To complete the oddity of their 
 characters, these girls are constant at church, 
 but never dreamed of promoting an intrigue 
 there : employ their whole time there in praying, 
 never heard of such things as cut fans, and are 
 fe<» attentive to the queer old put of a preacher, 
 that they scarce look or listen to any one else. 
 After service too the doctor is alwavs taken home 
 
 to dinner, and is as constant at table on Sunday 
 as a roast sirloin and a plum-pudding. 
 
 But even with these unaccountable females, I 
 thought I could have passed my evenings tolera- 
 bly, if I could have got them to cards, which 
 have the charming faculty of rendering all 
 women equally agreeable. But these, I found, 
 they were almost wholly unaccustomed to. I 
 once, indeed, heard the dear cards mentioned, 
 and "vvas in hopes of something like an assembly. 
 But what was my mortification, when, instead 
 of seeing half a dozen card-tables, &c. set out, 
 and whist, brag, or lansquenet going forward, I 
 saw these sti'ange women place themselves at a 
 huge round table with country girls and cherry- 
 cheek'd bumpkins, to play, according to annual 
 Christmas custom, at Pope Joan and Snip-snap- 
 snorum ! 
 
 It would be endless to recount the miseries I 
 suffered in those three weeks. Even the neces- 
 saries of life were denied me ; and I could scarce 
 have been more at a loss among the Hottentots. 
 Would you think it, Sir? though this house had 
 a family in it, and a family of females too, not a 
 drop of Benjamin wash, nor a dust of almond- 
 powder could be procured there, nor indeed in 
 all the parish ; and I was forced to scrub my 
 hands with filthy wash-ball, which so ruined 
 their complexion, that lying in dog-skin gloves 
 will not recover them this fortnight. Add to 
 this, that I never could dress for want of po- 
 matum, so that my hair was always in diske- 
 velle ; and I am sure I should not have been 
 known at the dilettanti. At length. Sir, my snuff 
 and salts werepretty nigh exhausted ; and to add 
 to my distress, I lost my snuff-box. These los- 
 ses were irreparable there ; not all the country 
 afforded such snuff and salts as mine; 1 could 
 as soon live without food as without either ; and 
 not a box could I touch but one of Deard's, and 
 of my own choosing. So I hurried up to town, 
 and being just recovered from the fatigue of my 
 journey, 1 send you this, in hopes that my wo- 
 ful experience will deter all my friends from fol- 
 lowing a chace as mad and hare-brained as any 
 of Sir Sampson's ; since it is impossible to exist 
 a day there with tolerable ease, and neither wit 
 nor beauty are worth one pinch, unless they are 
 improved by a town education. 
 
 Sir, yours, &c. 
 
 Dii.i,Y Dimple, 
 
 My other correspondent, by the familiarity 
 of her address, must be, I am sure, a woman of 
 fashion : 
 
 Dear Town, 
 
 Did I know your christian name I would call 
 you by it, to show you at first setting out, that 
 I know the world, and was born and bred in 
 high life. 
 
 The design of this npistle is to express to yo J 
 
92 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 53. 
 
 the uneasiness that some of us women of spirit 
 feel at being incumbered with petticoats, and to 
 convince you, by our way of life, that had we 
 been men, we should have been bucks of the first 
 liead. Be assured, however, that such of us as 
 are unmarried are strictly virtuous. We have, 
 indeed, been accused of copying the di-ess of the 
 nymphs of Drury. And can any thing be in- 
 vented more becoming ? Fanny, it must be 
 owned, has taste. What so smart as a cocked 
 hat ? and who but sees the advantages of short 
 petticoats, unless it be some squire's awkward 
 daughter, who never yet heard of a Poloneze, 
 and never accidentally shows her leg without 
 blushing ? 
 
 It is true, their similitude in dress now and 
 then occasions some droll mistakes. In the park 
 the joke has been sometimes carried so far, I 
 have been obliged to call the sentry : and how 
 did a young templar start and stare, when having 
 just made an appointment with him, he saw me 
 step into a chair adorned with coronets ! 
 
 If you frequent Ranelagh, you must undoubt- 
 edly have seen or heard me there. I am always 
 surrounded with a crowd of fellows ; and my 
 voice and laugh is sure to be the loudest, especi- 
 ally while Beard is singing. One is my dear 
 lord, another my sweet colonel : and the rest I 
 call Tom, or Dick, or Harry, as I would their 
 footman. At the play I always enter in the first 
 act. All the eyes of the house are turned upon 
 me. I am quite composed. Before I am set- 
 tled the act is over ; and to some I nod or cour- 
 tesy, with others I talk and laugh, till the cur- 
 tain falls. 
 
 What would I give to change my sex ! Entre 
 nous, I have a strong inclination to see the world 
 in masquerade. If you love me, keep it secret, 
 and should you hear of any prank more wild 
 and buckish than usual, conclude it to be played 
 by me in men's clothes. 
 
 Yours as you mind me, 
 
 Harriot Hare-Brain. 
 
 No. 53.] Thursday, Jan. 30, 1755. 
 
 -Aconita bibuntur. 
 
 Drams are our bane, since poisons lurk within, 
 And some by cordials fall, and some by gin. 
 
 Nothing is more natural than for the quacks of 
 all professions to recommend their wares to 
 those persons who are most likely to stand in 
 need of them. Thus Mrs. Giles very properly 
 acquaints the fair sex, that she sells her fine 
 compound for taking off superfluous hairs at a 
 guinea an ounce : and ladies of quality are con- 
 stantly informed, where they may be furnished 
 with t)ie ncAvest bi'ocades, or tlie choicest variety 
 
 of Chelsea China figui'es for deserts. It is very 
 necessary, th:it the beau monde should be ac- 
 quainted, that Eau de Luce may be had here 
 in England, the same as at Paris ; but I must 
 own, I was very much surprised at seeing re- 
 peated advertisements in the papers from the 
 " Rich Cordial Warehouse," introduced by au 
 address " to the people of fashion." I cannot 
 but look upon this as a libel on our persons of 
 distinction, and I know not whether it may not 
 be construed into scandalum .magnatum ,- as it 
 tacitly insinuates, that our Right Honourables 
 are no better than dram-drinkers. 
 
 There is a well knovm story of the famous 
 Rabelais, that having a mind to impose on the 
 curicsity of his landlord, he filled several vials 
 with an innocent liquor, and directed them with 
 — Poison for the King, — Poison for the Dau- 
 phin, — Poison for the Prime Minister, and for 
 all the principal courtiers. The same might be 
 said of these rich cordial liquors ; which how- 
 ever they may recommend themselves to the 
 people of fashion by their foreign titles and ex- 
 traction, are to be considered as poisons in mas- 
 querade : and instead of the pompous names of 
 Eau d'Oa, Eau divine, and the like, I would 
 have labels fixed on the bottles (in imitation of 
 Rabelais) with — Poison for my Lord Duke, — 
 Poison for the Viscount, — Poison for the Coun- 
 tess. 
 
 We live, indeed, in so polite an age, that no- 
 thing goes down with us, but what is either 
 imported from France and Italy, or dignified 
 with a foreign appellation. Our dress must be 
 entirely a la mode de Paris ; and I will venture 
 to insure great success to the Monsieur tailor, 
 who tells us in the public papers, that he has 
 just beeri to France to see the newest fashions. 
 A dinner is not worth eating, if not served up 
 by a French cook : our ^vines are of the same 
 countiy ; and the dram-drinkers of fashion are 
 invited to comfort their spirits with rich cordials 
 from Chamberry, NeuUly, and VIslc de Rhc. A 
 plain man must undoubtedly smile at the allur- 
 ing names, whioh are given to many of these ; 
 nor is it possible to guess at their composition 
 from their titles. The virtues, as well as the 
 intent, of Viper Water may be Avell known ; but 
 who would imagine, that Flora Granater, or 
 Belle de Nuil should be intended only to signify 
 a dram ? For my own part I should rather 
 have taken Marasquino for an Italian fiddler, 
 and have concluded that Jacomonoodi was no 
 other than an Opera-singer. 
 
 But dram-drinking, however different in tha 
 phrase, is the same in practice, in every station 
 of life ; and sipping rich cordials is no less de- 
 testable, than, in the vulgar idiom, bunging your 
 eye. What signifies it, whether we muddle with 
 Eau de Millejh-urs or plain aniseed, or whether 
 we fetch our drams from the Rich Cordiul 
 Warehouse, or the Blackamoor and Still ? The 
 
No. 54.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 93 
 
 lady of St. James's, who paints her face with 
 frequent applications of Coffee or Chocolate 
 Water, looks as hideous as the trollop of St. 
 Giles's, who has laid on the same colours hy re- 
 peated half quarterns of Gin Royal. There are 
 many customs among the great, which are also 
 practised by the lower sort of people ; and if 
 persons of fashion must wrap up their drams in 
 the disguise of a variety of specious titles, in this 
 too they are rivalled hy the vulgar. JVIadam 
 Gin has been christened by as many names as a 
 German princess ; every petty chandler's shop 
 will sell you Sky-blue, and every night-cellar 
 furnish you with Holland Tape, three yards a 
 penny. Nor can I see the difference between 
 Oil of Venus, Spirit of Adonis, and Parfait 
 Amour, for the use of our quality, and what 
 among the vulgar is called Cupid's Eye-water, 
 Strip me naked, and Lay me down softly. 
 
 To those elegant and genteel appellations it is 
 indeed, chiefly owing, that drams are not con- 
 fined merely to the vulgar, but are in esteem 
 among all ranks of people, and especially among 
 the ladies. Many a, good woman, who would 
 start at the very mention of strong waters, can- 
 not conceive there can be any harm in a cordial. 
 And as the fair sex are more particularly subject 
 to a depression of spirits, it is no wonder that 
 they should convert their apothecaries' shops in- 
 to ricli cordial warehouses, and take drams by 
 way of physic ; as the common people make gin 
 serve for meat, drink, and clothes. The ladies 
 perhaps may not be aware, that every time they 
 have recourse to their Hartshorn or Lavender 
 Drops, to drive away the vapours, they in effect 
 take a Dram ? and they may be assured, that 
 their Colic, Surfeit, and Plague Waters, are to 
 be ranked among spirituous liquors, as well as 
 the common stuff at the gin-shop. The College 
 of Physicians, in their last review of the London 
 Dispensatory, for this very reason expelled the 
 Strong Water, generally known by the soothing 
 name of Hysteric Water ; because it was a lure 
 to the female sex to dram it by authority, and 
 lo get tipsy secundiim artem. 
 
 If any of my fair readers have at all given into 
 this pernicious practice of dram-drinking, I 
 must intreat them to leave it off betimes, before 
 it has taken such hold of them as they can never 
 sliake off. For the desire of drams steals upon 
 them, and grows to be habitual, by impercepti- 
 ble degrees : as those v/ho are accustomed to 
 tf;ke opiates, are obliged to increase the dose 
 gradually, and at last cannot sleep without it. 
 The following letter may serve to convince them 
 of the deplorable situation of a lady, who covers 
 her drinking under the pi*etence of mending her 
 constitution. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I have the misfortune to be married to a poor 
 ckly creature, who laboui's under a comi-lica- 
 
 tion of disorders, and which nothing can relieve 
 but a continued course of strong liquors ; though, 
 poor woman ! she would not else touch a dram 
 for the world. Sometimes she is violently 
 troubled with the tooth-ach, and then she is 
 obliged to hold a glass of rum in her mouth, to 
 numb the pain, at other times she is seized with 
 a racking fit of the colic, and nothing will so 
 soon give her ease as some right Holland's gin. 
 She has the gout in her constitution ; and when- 
 ever she feels a twitch of it, the only thing is 
 sheer brandy to keep it from her head ; but this 
 sometimes is too cold for her, and she is forced 
 to drive it out of her stomach with true Irish 
 usquebaugh. She is never free from the 
 vapours, notwithstanding she is continually 
 drinking hartshorn and water ; and ever since 
 she miscarried, she is so hysterical in the night 
 time, that shenever lies Avithout a cordial-water 
 bottle by her bedside. I have paid the apothe- 
 cary above fifty pounds for her in one year ; and 
 his bill is laced down Avith nothing but drops, 
 peppermint water, and a cordial draught re- 
 peated. 
 
 Her very diet must always be made hearten- 
 ing, otherwise it will do her no good. Tea 
 Avould make her low-spirited, except she was to 
 qualify every dish with a large spoonful of rum. 
 She has a glass of mountain with bitters an 
 hour before dinner, to create an appetite ; and 
 her stomach is so poor, that vrhen she is at table, 
 she must force every bit down with a glass of 
 Madeira. We usually have a tiff of punch to- 
 gether in the evening ; but the acid would gripe 
 her, and the water keep her awake all the night, 
 if it was not made comfortable with more than 
 an equal portion of spirit. 
 
 But notwithstanding the grievous complaints 
 she hourly labours under, she is very hale : and 
 her complexion is, to all appearance, as healthy 
 and florid as a milk-maid's : except, indeed, that 
 her nose and forehead are subject to red pimples, 
 blotches, and breakings out, which the apothe- 
 cary tells me are owing to a kind of phlogistic 
 humour in her blood. For my part, considering 
 the quantity of combustibles she continually 
 pours down, I should imagine the fire in her 
 stomach would kindle a flame in her counte- 
 nance ; and I should not wonder, if she looked 
 as horrible, as those who hang their face over a 
 bowl of Bui-nt Brandy at snap-dragon. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 T. Timothy Nog g an. 
 
 No. 54.] Thursdat, Feb. 6, 1755. 
 
 Lusit amahUiter, donee jam scevus apertam 
 In rabiem verti cccpitjocus. HoR, 
 
 Frolics, for men of spirit only fit. 
 Where rapes are jests, and murder is sheer wit. 
 The noblest exploit of a man of the towxi, the 
 
94 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 54. 
 
 hitfhest proof and utmost effort of his genius and 
 pleasantry, is the frolic. This piece of humour 
 consists in playing the most wild and exti-ava- 
 gant pranks that wanioimess and debauchery 
 can suggest ; and is the distinguishing character- 
 istic of the buck and blood. 
 
 These facetious gentlemen, whenever cham- 
 paigne has put them in spirits, sally out, " flown 
 with insolence and vvine," in quest of adven- 
 tures. At such a time, the more harm they do, 
 trifc more they show their wit; and their frolics, 
 like the mirth of a monkey, are made up of 
 mischief. 
 
 The frolic formerly signified nothing more 
 than a piece of innocent mirth and gayety ; but 
 the modern sense of the word is much more 
 lively and spirited. The Mohocks and the mem- 
 bers of the Hell- Fire Club, the heroes of the last 
 generation, were the first who introduced these 
 elevated fi'olics, and struck out mighty good jokes 
 from aU kinds of violence and blasphemy. The 
 }>rosent race of bucks commonly begin their frolic 
 In a tavern, and end it in the round-house ; and 
 during the course of it, practise several mighty 
 pretty pleasantries. There is a great deal of hu- 
 mour in what is called beating the rounds, that 
 is, in plain English, taking a torn' of the princi- 
 pal bawdy-houses ; breaking of lamps and skir- 
 mishes with watchmen are very good jests ; and 
 the insulting any duU sober fools, that are quiet- 
 ly trudging about their business, or a rape on 
 a modest woman, are particularly facetious. 
 Whatever is in violation of all decency and order, 
 is an exquisite piece of v/it ; and in short, a frolic 
 and playing the devil bear the same explanation 
 in a modern glossary. 
 
 It is surprising how much invention there is 
 in these exploits, and how wine inspires these 
 gentlemen with thoughts more extraordinary 
 and suWime, than any sober man could ever have 
 devised. I have known a whole company start 
 fr(»m their chairs, and begin tilting at each other 
 merely for their diversion. Another time, these 
 exalted geniuses have cast lots which should be 
 thrown out of the window ; and at another, 
 make a bonfire of their clothes, and run naked 
 into the streets. I remember a little gentleman, 
 not above five feet high, who was resolved, 
 merely for the sake of the frolic, to lie with the 
 tall woman ; but the joke ended in his receiving a 
 sound cudgelling from the hands of his Thalestris. 
 It was no longer ago than last winter, that a 
 party of jovial Templars set out an hour or two 
 after midnight on a voyage to Lisbon, in order 
 to get good Port. They took a boat at Temple 
 Stairs, and prudently laid in by way of provi- 
 sions, a cold venison pasty and two bottles of 
 raspberry brandy; but when they imagined 
 themselves just arrived at Gi'avesend, they found 
 themselves suddenly overset in Chelsea Reach, 
 and very narrowly escaped being drowned. The 
 most innocent frolics of these men of humour 
 
 are carried on in a literary way by advertise- 
 ments in the newspapers, with which they often 
 amuse the town ; and alarm us with bottle con- 
 jurers, and persons who will jump down their 
 own throats. Sometimes they divert them- 
 selves by imposing on their acquaintance with 
 fictitious intrigues, and putting the modest wo- 
 men to the blush by describing them in the pub- 
 lic papers. Once, I remember it was the frolic 
 to call together all the wet nurses that wanted a 
 place ; at another time, to summon several old 
 women to bring their male tiibby cats, for 
 which they were to expect a considerable price ; 
 and not long ago, by the proffer of a curacy, they 
 drew aU the poor parsons to St. Paul's coffiee- 
 house, where the bucks themselves sat in another 
 box, to smoke their rusty wigs and brown cas- 
 socks. 
 
 But the highest ft'olic that can possibly be put 
 in execution, is a genteel murder ; such as run- 
 ning a waiter through the body, knocking an old 
 feeble watchman's brains out with his own staff, 
 or taking away the life of some regular scoun- 
 drel, who has not spirit enough to whore and 
 drink like a gentleman. The noblest frolic of 
 this kind I ever remember, happened a few 
 years ago at a country town. While a party of 
 bucks were making a riot at an inn, and tossing 
 the chairs and tables and looking-glasses into the 
 street, the landlady was indiscreet enough to 
 come up stairs, and interi'upt their merriment 
 with her impertinent remonsti'ances ; upon 
 which, they immediately thi-ew her out of the 
 window after her own furniture. News was 
 soon brought of the poor woman's death, and 
 the whole company looked upon it as a very droU 
 accident, and gave orders that she should be 
 charged in the bill. 
 
 These wild pranks are instances of great spirit 
 and invention : but, alas ! the generality of man- 
 kind have no taste for humour. Few people care 
 to have a sword in their ribs for the sake of the 
 joke, or to be beat to mummy, or shot through 
 the head, for the diversion of the good company. 
 They sometimes imagine the jest is carried too 
 far, and are apt to apply the words of the old 
 fable, " it may be sport to you, but it is death to 
 us." For these reasons, a set of these merry 
 gentlemen are as terrible to the ordinary part of 
 the world as a troop of banditti ; and an affair, 
 which has been thought very high fun in I'all 
 Mall or Covent Garden, has been treated irj 
 a very serious manner at W^estminster Ilall 
 or the Old Bailey. Our legislature has been 
 absurd enough to be very careful of the lives 
 of the lowest among the people ; and the coun- 
 sel for a highwayman would sooner plead 
 distress as an excuse for discharging his pistol, 
 than mere wantonness and frolic. Nor do the 
 governments abroad entertain a better opinion 
 of this sort of humour ; for it is but a few years 
 since, a gentleman on his travels, who was 
 
No. 35..] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 95 
 
 completing a town education by the polite tour, 
 shot a waitei- through the head, but the joke was 
 so ill received, that the gentleman was hanged 
 within four-and-twenty hours. It would be 
 advisable, therefore, for these gentlemen, since 
 the taste of the age is so incorrigible, to lay aside 
 this high-seasoned humour. For their pistol, 
 as it were, recoils upon themselves ; and since 
 it may produce their own deaths, it would be 
 more prudent not to draw their wit out of their 
 scabbards. 
 
 Our ladies of quality, who have at length 
 adopted French manners with French fashions, 
 and thrown off all starchness and reserve with 
 the ruff and the fardingale, are very fond of a 
 frolic. I have, indeed, lately observed with 
 great pleasure, the commendable attempts of the 
 other sex to shake off the shackles of custom ; 
 and I make no doubt but a libertine lady will 
 soon become a very common character. If their 
 passion for gaming continues to increase in the 
 same proportion that it has for some time past, 
 we shall very soon meet with abundance of 
 sharpers in petticoats ; and it will be mentioned, 
 as a very familiar incident, that a party of female 
 gamblers were seized by the constables at the 
 gaming tiible. I am also informed, that it is 
 grown very common among the ladies to toast 
 pretty fellows : and that they often amuse them- 
 selves with concerting schemes for an excellent 
 frolic. A frolic is, indeed, the most convenient 
 name in the world to veil an intrigue ; and it is 
 a great pity that husbands and fathers should 
 ever object to it. I can see no harm in a lady's 
 going disguised to mob it in the gallery at the 
 play-house ; and could not but smile at the 
 pretty innocent wanton, who carried the joke so 
 far as to accompany a strange gentleman to a 
 bagnio ; but when she came there, was surprised 
 to find that he was fond of a frolic as -well as 
 herself, and offered her violence. But I parti- 
 cularly admire the spirit of that lady, who had 
 such true relish for a frolic, as to go with her 
 gallant to the masquerade, though she knew he 
 had no breeches under his domino. 
 
 I most heartily congratulate the fine ladies 
 and gentlemen of the age on the spirit with 
 which they pursue their diversions ; and I look 
 upon a bold frolic as the peculiar privilege of a 
 person of fashion ; and ladies undoubtedly see a 
 great deal of pleasantry in an intrigue, and 
 mimic the dress and manners of the courtezans 
 very happily and facetiously ; while the gentle- 
 men, among many other new fancies, have made 
 the old blunder of the Merry Andrew appear 
 no longer ridiculous, and are mightily pleased 
 with the comical humours of a murder. The 
 frolics now in vogue will probably continue to 
 be the amusements of the polite world for a 
 long time ; but whencA'er the fashion is about to 
 vary, I beg leave to propose the frolic recom- 
 mended, if I remember right, to the Duke of 
 
 Wharton, by JJr. Swift. *< When you are tired 
 of your other frolics, I would have you take up 
 the frolic of being good ; and my word for it, 
 you will find it the most agreeable frolic you 
 ever practised in your life." O. 
 
 No. 55.] Thursday, Feb. 13, 1755. 
 
 Nil obstat. Cois tibi pene videre est 
 
 Ut nudam, ne crure malo, ne sit pede turpi : 
 Meiiri possis oculo latus. HoR. 
 
 The taper leg, slim waist, and lovely side. 
 Nor stays nor envious petticoats shall hide ; 
 But full in sight the tempting bosom swell, 
 While bucks with wonder view the naked belle. 
 
 There once prevailed among us a sect called 
 the Adamites, whose doctrine, like that of our 
 present Moravians, was calculated to comfort 
 the flesh as well as the spirit; and many things, 
 generally accounted indecent and immodest, 
 were with them regarded as principles of reli- 
 gion. The chief article maintained by this sect 
 was, that it was proper, like our great forefather 
 Adam, to go naked ; and the proselytes to this 
 faith came abroad in the public streets in open 
 day-light without any clothing. But this pri- 
 mitive simplicity did not agree with the notions 
 of those degenei-ate days ; and the Adamites 
 were looked upon as an intolerable nuisance. 
 Their religion, like all others, was soon attended 
 with persecution : and some of the converts 
 were dragged naked at the cart's tail, some set 
 in the stocks, and others sent to Bridewell. 
 
 Since that remarkable period the male part cf 
 our species has been decently covered ; but the 
 female world has made several bold attempts to 
 throw off the incumbrance of clothes. Caps, 
 handkerchiefs, tuckei's, and modesty-pieces, have 
 been long discarded ; and the ladies have conti- 
 nued every year to shed some other part of their 
 dress as useless and unornamental. But these 
 are only half assertions of the female rights and 
 natural liberty in comparison to the project, 
 which, it is thought, will be ripe for execution 
 by summer. A set of ladies of the first fashion 
 have agreed to found a sect of — EVITES— who 
 are to appear in public with no other covering 
 than the original fig-leaf. The primitive sim- 
 plicity of appearance will be restored ; and 
 though some may be censorious enough to 
 imagine, that their confidence arises from very 
 different principles, it may very justly be said of 
 our ladies of quality, as of our first parents be- 
 fore the fall, " They are naked, and are not 
 ashamed." My country readers, and all those 
 who live at a distance fi'om the polite world may 
 perhaps look upon this scheme as merely fantas- 
 tical and imaginary ; but nothing is more true. 
 The inilllners are at this time all very busy in 
 
m 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 55. 
 
 making up artificial fig-leaves, and adorning 
 them according to the difterent fancies of the 
 wearers. There is more taste displayed in con- 
 triving an elegant fig-leaf, than has hitherto 
 been exerted in forming a .genteel swordknot. 
 Some have bunches of the gayest coloured ri- 
 bands dangling loosely from the stalk, others 
 tassels of gold and silver lace, and a few, design- 
 ed for ladies of the highest distinction, bunches 
 of diamonds. This and the pompon, which it 
 is said has been lately Avorn merely as a type of 
 a fig-leaf, will make up the common dress of the 
 whole female world : but if ever the weather 
 should be too severe for the ladies to appear (as 
 Bayes expresses it) in jyuris naturalibus, they are 
 to wear flesh-coloured' silks with pompons and 
 fig-leaves as usual. 
 
 There ai'e perhaps persons who, as they still 
 retain some of the leaven of decency in their 
 composition, will be startled at this project. I 
 must own, however, that it does not appear to 
 me to be in the least extraordinary or surpris- 
 ing : for considering the present dress of our 
 women of fashion, there remains no further step 
 to be taken, except absolute nakedness. The 
 stays and petticoat have been so xmmercifully 
 pruned and cut away in order to discover latent 
 beauties, that if those of the present mode were 
 to fall into the hands of our distant posterity, 
 they would conclude, that the present race of 
 women must have been a generation of pigmies ; 
 for they could never possibly conceive, that they 
 were of common size, and wore by way of dress 
 any garments so little calculated either for use or 
 ornament. If one might judge by ajipearauces, 
 the little modesty that is left in the polite world 
 seems to be among the men ; and one is almost 
 tempted to look for the rakes and persons of in- 
 trigue in the other sex. I was pi'esent a few 
 nights ago at the representation of the Chances ; 
 and when I looked round the boxes, and observ- 
 ed the loose dress of all the ladies, and the gi'eat 
 relish with which they received the high-sea- 
 soned jests in that comedy, I was almost appre- 
 hensive, that the old stoi*^ of the outrage of the 
 Romans on the Sabine women would be invert- 
 ed, and that the ladies would rise up and commit 
 a rape on the men. 
 
 But notwithstanding all that may be said 
 against this project for establishing nakedness, 
 it is not without example. Among the Hotten- 
 tots, a very wise and polite nation, the ladies .at 
 this day go quite naked, except a loose mantle 
 thrown over their shoulders, and a short apron 
 before instead of a fig-leaf. It is also well 
 known, that the Spartans allowed their unmar- 
 ried women to wear a sort of loose robe, which 
 at every motion discovei'ed their chamns through 
 several openings contrived for that purpose. 
 There ■would certainly be no harm in extending 
 this liberty to the whole sex ; and I a'u not in 
 the least inclined to listen to the malignant insi- | 
 
 nuations, that when a maiTied woman endea- 
 vours to look particularly tempting, it is not 
 merely to please her husband, but to captivate a 
 gallant. It may, perhaps, be further objected, 
 that our northern climate is too cold to strip in : 
 but this little inconvenience is amply compen- 
 sated, by the security the ladies will create to 
 themselves by taking such extraordinary liber- 
 ties, and carrying matters so very far, that it 
 will be indecent even to reprehend them. 
 
 There is, however, a very large part of the 
 sex, for whom I am greatly concerned on this 
 occasion. I mean the old and the ugly. What- 
 ever the belles may get by this fashion, these 
 poor ladies will be great sufferers. Their faces 
 are already more than is agreeable to be shown ; 
 but if they expose sickly skins, furrowed and 
 pursed up like a washerwoman's fingers, the 
 sight will become too disgusting. During the 
 present mode I have observed, that the display 
 of a yellow neck or clumsy leg has created but 
 few admirers : and it is reasonable to conclude, 
 that when the new fashion begins to prevail 
 universally, although our men of pleasure will 
 be glad to see the young and beautiful ladies, 
 whom they would desire to take into their arms, 
 stripping as fast as possible, yet they are not so 
 fond of primitive and original simplicity, as to 
 be captivated by a lady, who has none of the 
 charms of Eve, except her nakedness. 
 
 Some persons of more than ordinary penetra- 
 tion will be apt to look on this project in a politi- 
 cal light, and consider it as a scheme to counter- 
 work the marriage act. But as the chief ladies 
 who concerted it are already provided with 
 husbands, and are known to be very well affect- 
 ed to the government, this does not appear pro- 
 bable. It is more likely to be an artifice of the 
 beauties to make their superiority incontestable, 
 by drawing in the dowdies of the sex to suffer 
 by such an injimous contrast. However this 
 may be, it is very certain, that the most lovely 
 of the sex are about to employ the whole artil- 
 lery of their charms against us, and indeed seem 
 resolved to shoot us flying. On this occasion it 
 is to be hoped, that the practice of painting, 
 which is now so very fashionable, will be en- 
 tirely laid aside : for whoever incrusts herself in 
 paint can never be allowed to be naked ; and it 
 is surely more elegant for a lady to be covered 
 even with silk and linen, than to be daubed, like 
 an old wall, with plaster and rough-cast. 
 
 After this account of the scheme of our mod- 
 ish females now in agitation, which the reader 
 may depend uipon as genuine, it only remains lo 
 let him know how I came by my intelligence. 
 The parliament of women, lately proposed, is 
 now actually sitting. Upon their first meeting, 
 after the preliminaries were adjusted, the whole 
 house naturally resolved itself into a committee 
 on -the aflfaii-s of dress. The fig-leaf bill, the 
 purport of which is contained in this paper, was 
 
No. 56.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 97 
 
 brought in bj' a noble Countess, and occasioned 
 some very warm debates. Two ladies in par- 
 ticular made several remarkable speeches on this 
 occasion : but they were both imagined to speak, 
 like our male patriots, more for their own pri- 
 vate interest than for the good of the public. 
 For one of these ladfes, who insisted very ear- 
 nestly on the decency of some sort of covering, 
 and has a very beautiful face, is shrewdly sus- 
 pected not to be so much above all rivalry in the 
 turn and proportion of her limbs : and the 
 other, who was impatient to be undressed with 
 all expedition, was thought to be too much in- 
 fluenced by her known partiality to a favourite 
 mole, which now lies out of sight. The bill, 
 however, was passed by a considerable majority, 
 and is intended to be put in force by Midsum^ 
 mer day next ensuing. W. 
 
 No. 56.] Thursday, Feb. 20, 1755. 
 
 Necte tribus nodis terms, AmaryHi, colores : 
 Necte, AmarylU, modo, et Veneris, die, vincida necto. 
 Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin. 
 Limus ut hie durescit, ct hcec ut cera liqucscii, 
 Viio eodemque ignis sic nostra Daphnis amove. 
 
 YlRClL. 
 
 Three colours weave in three-fold knots, and cry, 
 " In three-fold bond this true-love's knot f tie." 
 As the same fire makes hard this cake of clay. 
 In which this waxen image melts away. 
 Thus, god of love, be my true shepherd's breast 
 Soft to my flame, but hard to all the rest. 
 Ye songs, spells, philters, amulets, and charms. 
 Bring, quickly bring my Daphnis to my arms. 
 
 The idle superstitions of the vulgar are no 
 where so conspicuous as in the affairs of love. 
 When a raw girl's brain is once turned with a 
 sweetheart, she converts every trifling accident 
 of her life into a good or bad omen, and makes 
 every thing conspire to strengthen her in so 
 pleasing a delusion. Virgil represents Dido, as 
 soon as she has contracted her fatal passion for 
 iEneas, as going to the priests to have her for- 
 tune told. In like manner the lovesick girl 
 runs to the cunning-man, or crosses the gipsy's 
 hand w^ith her last sixpence, to know when she 
 shall be man-ied, how many children she shall 
 have, and whither she shall be happy with her 
 husband. She also consults the cards, and finds 
 out her lover in the Knave of Hearts. She 
 learns how to interpret dreams, and every night 
 furnishes her with meditation for the next day. 
 If she happens to bring out any thing in con- 
 versation which another person was about to 
 say, she comforts herself that she shall be mar- 
 ried first ; and if she tumbles as she is running 
 up stairs, imagines she shall go to church with 
 her sweetheart befofe the week is at an end. 
 
 But if in the course of their amour she gives the 
 dear man her hair wove in a ti'ue lover's knot, 
 or breaks a crooked ninepence with him, she 
 thinks herself assured of his inviolable fidelity. 
 
 It would puzzle the most profound antiquary 
 to discover, what eould give birth to the strange 
 notions cherished by fond nj-mphs and swains. 
 The god of love has moi'e superstitious votaries, 
 and is ■worshipped with more unaccountable 
 rites than any fabulous deity whatever. No- 
 thing, indeed, is so whimsical as the imagina- 
 tion of a person in love. The dying shepherd 
 carves the name of his mistress on the trees, 
 while the fond maid knits him a pair of garters 
 with an amorous posy ; and both look on what 
 they do as a kind of charm to secure the affec- 
 tion of the other. A lover will rejoice to give 
 his mistress a bracelet or a top-knot, and she 
 perhaps will take pleasure in working him a 
 pair of ruffles. These they will regard as the 
 soft bonds of love ; but neither would on any 
 account run the risk of cutting love by giving or 
 I'eceiving such a present as a knife or a pair of 
 scissoi's. But to wear the picture of the beloved 
 object constantly near the heart, is universally 
 accounted a most excellent and never-failing 
 preservative of affection. 
 
 Some few years ago there was publicly ad- 
 vertised, among the other extraordinary medi- 
 cines whose wonderful qualities are daily related 
 in the last page of our newspapers, a most eifica- 
 cious love-powder ; by which a despairing lover 
 might create affection in the bosom of the most 
 cruel mistress. Lovers have, indeed, always 
 been fond of enchantment. Shakspeare has re- 
 presented Othello as accused of winning his 
 Desdemona by "conjuration and mighty ma- 
 gic;" and Theocritus and Virgil have both in- 
 troduced women into their pastorals, using 
 charms and incantations to recover the affections 
 of their s^veethearts. In a word, Talismans, 
 Genii, Witches, Fairies, and all the instruments 
 of magic and enchantment were first discovered 
 by lovers, and employed in the business of love. 
 
 But I never had a thorough insight into all 
 this amorous sorcery till I received the fol- 
 lowing letter, which was sent me from the 
 country a day or two after Valentine's day ; 
 and I make no doubt, but all true lovers most 
 religiously performed the previous rites men- 
 tioned by my correspondent. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Dear Sir, Feb. 17, 1755. 
 
 You must know I am in love with a very 
 clever man, a Londoner ; and as I wanttoknow 
 whether it is my fortune to have him, I have 
 tried all the tricks I can hear of for that pur- 
 pose. I have seen him several times in coffee 
 grounds with a sword by his side ; and he was 
 once at the bottom of a tea-cup in a coach and 
 O 
 
98 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 57, 
 
 six, with two footmen behind it. I got up last 
 May morning, and went into the fiehla to hear 
 the cuckoo ; and when I pulled off ray left shoe, 
 I found a hair in it exactly the same colour with 
 his. But I shall never forget what I did last 
 Midsummer Eve. I and my two sisters tried 
 the Dumb Cake together : you must know, two 
 must make it, two bake it, two break it, and 
 the third put it under each of their pillows (but 
 you must not speak a word all the time) and 
 then you will dream of the man you are to have. 
 This we did ; and to be sure I did nothing all 
 night but dream of Mr. Blossom. The same 
 night, exactly at twelve o'clock, I sowed hemp- 
 seed in our back yard, and said to myself, 
 " Hemp-seed I sow. Hemp-seed I hoe, and he 
 that is my true love come after me and mow." 
 Will you believe me ? I looked back, and saw 
 him behind me, as plain as eyes could see him. 
 After that, I took a clean shift, and turned it, 
 and hung it upon the back of a chair ; and very 
 likely my swct^lieart w^ould have come and 
 turned it right again (for I heard his step) but 
 I was frightened, and could not help speaking? 
 which broke the charm. I likewise stuck up 
 two Midsummer-men, one for myself and one 
 for him. Now if his had died awaj', we should 
 never have come together : but I assure you his 
 blowed and turned to mine. Our maid Betty 
 tells me, that if I go backwards without speak- 
 ing a word into the garden upon Midsummer 
 Eve, and gather a rose, and keep it in a clean 
 sheet of paj>er, without looking at it till Christ- 
 mas-day, it will be as fresh as in June ; and if 
 I then stick it in my bosom, he that is to be my 
 husband will come and take it out. If I am 
 not married before the time come about again, I 
 will certainly do it; and only mind if Mr. 
 Blossom is not the man. 
 
 I have tried a great many other fancies, and 
 they have all turned out right. Whenever I go 
 to lie in a strange bed, I always tie my garter 
 nine times round the bed-post, and knit nine 
 knots in it, and say to myself, " This knot I 
 knit, this knot I tie, to see my love as he goes 
 by, in his apparel and array, as he walks in eve- 
 ry day." I did so last holidays at my uncle's, 
 and to be sure I saw Mr. Blossom draw my 
 curtains, and tuck up my clothes at my bed's 
 feet. Cousin Debby was married a little while 
 ago, and she sent me a piece of Bride- Cake to 
 put under my pillow ; and I had the sweetest 
 dream — I thought we were going to be married 
 together. I have, many is the time, taken great 
 pains to pare an apple whole, and afterwards 
 Hung the peel over my head ; and it always falls 
 in the shape of the first letter of his surname or 
 christian name. I am sure Mr. Blossom loves 
 me, because I stuck two of the kernels upon my 
 forehead, while I thought upon him and the 
 lubberly squire my papa wants me to have : ]Mr. 
 
 Blossom's kernel stuck on, but the other dropl 
 off directly. 
 
 Last Friday, Mr. Town, was Valentine's 
 day; and I'll tell you what I did the night be- 
 fore. I got five bay-leaves, and pinned four of 
 them to the four corners of my pillow, and the 
 fifth to the middle ; and then, if I dreamt of my 
 sweetheart, Betty said we should be manned 
 before the year was out. But to make it more 
 sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk, 
 and filled it up with salt : and when I went to 
 bed, eat it shell and all, without speaking or 
 drinking after it, and this was to have the same 
 effect with the bay-leaves. We also wrote our 
 lovers' names upon bits of paper, and rolled 
 them up in clay, and put them into water; and 
 the first that rose up was to be our Valentine. 
 Would you think it? Mi". Blossom was my 
 man ; and I lay a-bed and shut my eyes all the 
 morning, till he came to our house ; for I would 
 not have seen another man before him for aU 
 the world. 
 
 Dear Mr. Town, if you know any other ways 
 to try our fortune by, do put them in your pa- 
 per. My mamma laughs at us, and says there 
 is nothing in them ; but I am sure there is, for 
 several misses at our boarding-school have tried 
 them, and they have all happened true : and I 
 am sure my own sister Hetty, who died just 
 before Christmas, stood in the church-porch last 
 Midsummer Eve to see all that were to die that 
 year in our parish ; and she saw her own ap- 
 parition. 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 
 T. Arabella Whimsey. 
 
 No. 57.] Thursday, Feb. 27, 1755. 
 
 Dulce Sodalitium ! 
 
 Now til is is Worshipful Society !- 
 
 Martial. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 There is no phrase in the whole vocabulary of 
 modern conversation, which has a more vague 
 signification than the words " Good Company." 
 People of fashion modestly explain it to mean 
 only themselves ; and, like the old Romans, look 
 on all others as Barbarians. Thus a star or a 
 riband, a title or a place, denotes good company ; 
 and a man rises in the esteem of the polite circle 
 according to his rank or his rent-roll. This 
 way of reasoning is so well known and so ge- 
 nerally adopted, that we are not surprised to 
 hear polite persons complain, at their return 
 from the play, that the house was very much 
 crowded, but that there was no company : 
 though, indeed, I could not help smiling at a 
 lady's saying she preferred St. James's Church to 
 
No. 57.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 99 
 
 St. Geoi'ge's, because the pews were commonly 
 filled with better company. 
 
 I propose at present to consider this compre- 
 hensive term, only as it respects a society of 
 friends, who meet in order to pass their time in 
 an agreeable manner. To do this the more ef- 
 fectually, I shall take a cursory view of the se- 
 veral methods now in vogue, by which a set of 
 acquaintance endeavoured to amuse each other. 
 The reader will here meet with some very ex- 
 traordinary inventions for this purpose ; and 
 when he has fixed his choice, may try to intro- 
 duce himself into that company he likes best. 
 
 There is a gi'eat demand for wit and humour 
 in some parts of this metropolis. Among many, 
 he is reckoned the best company, w^ho can enli- 
 ven his conversation with strokes of facetious- 
 ness, and (in Shakspeare's words) " set the table 
 in a roar." But as wit and humour do not al- 
 ways fall to the share of those who aim at shin- 
 ing in conversation, our jokers and witlings have 
 wisely devised several mechanical ways of gain- 
 ing that end. I knoAv one, who is thought a 
 very facetious fellow by the club of which he is 
 a member, because, every night, as soon as the 
 clock strikes twelve, he begins to crow like a 
 cock. Another is accounted a man of immense 
 humour, for entertaining his friends with a bm*- 
 lesque hornpipe ; and a third has the reputation 
 of being excellent company by singing a song 
 and at the same time playing the tune upon the 
 table with his knuckles and elbows. Mimicry 
 is in these societies an indispensable requisite in 
 a good companion. Imitations of the actors and 
 other well known characters are very much ad- 
 mired ; to which they have given the appellation 
 of taking off. But the mimic is by no means 
 limited to an imitation of the human species ; for 
 an exact representation of the brute creation will 
 procure him infinite applause. Very many of 
 these wits may be met with in different quarters 
 of the town ; and it is but a week ago, since 1 
 was invited to pass the evening with a society, 
 which, after a display of their several talents, I 
 found to consist of a dog, a cat, a monkey, an 
 ass and a couple of dancing bears. 
 
 I cannot help looking with some veneration on 
 the wit exerted in societies of this sort, since it 
 has the extraordinary quality of never creating 
 either disgust or satiety. They assemble every 
 night, tell the same stories, repeat the same jokes, 
 sing the same songs ; and they are every night 
 attended with the same applause and merriment. 
 Considering how much their wit is used, it is 
 surprising that it should not be worn out. Some- 
 times, however, one of the society makes a new 
 acquisition, which is immediately thrown into 
 the common stock of humour, and constantly 
 displayed as part of the entertainment of the 
 evening. A gentleman of this cast lately showed 
 me with gi-eat joy the postscript of a letter, in 
 which his correspondent promised him huge fun 
 
 the next time he should see him, for he had got 
 two new stories, and three or four excellent 
 songs fi'om one of the actors. 
 
 These are certainly very agreeable methods of 
 passing the evening, and must please all persons, 
 who have any relish for wit and humour. But 
 these powers of entertaining are not every where 
 the standard of good company. There are places 
 in which he is the best company, who drinks 
 most. A boon companion lays it down as a rule, 
 that " talking spoils conversation." A bumper 
 is his argument ; and his first care is to promote 
 a brisk circulation of the bottle. He shows his 
 esteem for an absent friend by toasting him in a 
 bumper extraordinary ; and is frequently so good 
 and loyal a subject, as to drink his majesty's 
 health in half-pints. If he is desired to sing a 
 catch, he still keeps the main point in view, and 
 gives a song wrote in so ingenious a style, that 
 it obliges the company to toss off a glass at the 
 end of every stanza. If he talks, it is of " healths 
 five fathom deep," or a late hard bout with ano- 
 ther set of jolly fellows ; and he takes care, by a 
 quick round of toasts, to supply the want of 
 other conversation. 
 
 I have ever thought the invention of toasts 
 very useful and ingenioxis. They at once pro- 
 mote hard drinking, and serve as a kind of me- 
 morial of every glass that has been drank : they 
 also furnish those with conversation, ^vho have 
 nothing to say; or at least, by banishing all 
 other topics, put the whole company on a level. 
 Besides all this, three or four rounds of toasts, 
 where many are met together, must unavoidably 
 lift them all into good company. These are no 
 small advantages to society : not to mention the 
 wit and morality contained in many toasts. 
 
 Toasts are doubtless very useful and entertain- 
 ing ; but the wisest institution ever made in 
 drinking societies, is the custom of appointing 
 what is called an absolute toast master. The 
 gentleman inv^ested with this dignity is created 
 king of the company ; and, like other absolute 
 monarchs, he commonly makes great use of his 
 power. It is particularly his office to name the 
 toast, to observe that every man duly tosses off 
 his bumper, and is in every respect good com- 
 pany. He is also to coiTect all misdemeanors, 
 and commonly punishes an offender by sconcing 
 him a bumper ■. that is, in the language of hard 
 drinkei's, not unmercifully denying him his due 
 glass ,but obliging him to add another to it of 
 perhaps double the quantity. For offences of 
 a very heinous nature, the transgressor is offered 
 a decanter of water, or a tankai-d of small beer. 
 The privilege of inflicting a bumper is exerted 
 almost every moment ; for there is hardly any 
 sort of behaviour, which does not produce this 
 punishment. I have known a man sconced for 
 drinking, for not drinking, for singing, for talk- 
 ing, for being silent, and at length sconced dead 
 drunk, and made very good company. 
 
100 
 
 But none of these qualifications above-men- 
 tioned constitute good company in the genteel 
 part of the world. Polite assemblies neither 
 aim at wit and humour, nor make the least pre- 
 tence to cultivate society. Their whole evenings 
 are consumed at the card-table, without the 
 least attempt at any other conversation, but the 
 usual altercations of partners between the deals. 
 Whist has destroyed conversation, spoiled socie- 
 ty, and " murdered sleep." This kind of good 
 company is as ridiculous, and more insipid, than 
 either the society of witlings or hard drinkers. 
 Tossing off bumpers is as rational, and an em- 
 ployment infinitely more joyous, than shuffling a 
 pack of cards a whole night: and puns, jokes, 
 and mimicry, however stale and repeated, fur- 
 nish the company with conversation of as much 
 use and variety, as the odd trick and four by 
 honoui's. 
 
 Such are the agreeable evenings passed at 
 White's, and the other coffee-houses about St. 
 James's. Such is the happiness of assemblies, 
 routs, drums, and hurricanes ; and without 
 gaming, what insipid things are even masque- 
 rades and ridottos ! At such meetings the man 
 who is good company, plays the game very well, 
 knows more cases than are in Hoyle, and often 
 possesses some particular qualifications, which 
 would be no great recommendation to him any 
 where else. Instead of meeting together, like 
 other companies, with a desire of mutual de- 
 light, they sit down with a design upon the 
 pockets of each other ; though, indeed, it is no 
 Avonder, when one has stripped another of two 
 or three thousand pounds, if the successful 
 gamester thinks the person he has fleeced very 
 good company. 
 
 By what has been said, it appears that the 
 notion of good company excludes all useful con- 
 versation : which, in either of the above-men- 
 tioned societies, would undoubtedly be despised 
 as stupid and pedantic. The witlings have too 
 lively a genius, and too warm an imagination, 
 to admit it. The boon companions can join no- 
 thing but love to a bottle : and among game- 
 sters, it would, like sleep, be mere loss of time, 
 and hinderance of business. Yet an accom- 
 plished member of either of these societies is 
 called good company : which is just as proper 
 an expression, as, according to Serjeant Kite, 
 Carolus is good Latin for Queen Anne, or a 
 stout beating. But a set of people, who assem- 
 ble for no other purpose than to game, have, in 
 particular, so very bad a title to the denomina- 
 tion of good company, that they appear to me 
 to be the very worst. O. 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 58 
 
 No. 58.] Thursday, March 6, 1755. 
 
 Quicunqtie hnpudicus, adulter, ganeo, quique alienum eei 
 grandc conflavcrat, quo Jlagitium aut /acinus rediTneret ; 
 pra-tcrca, omnes, uiid/que parricidx, sacrilegi, convict i 
 judiciiSyaiU pro factis judicium timentes : ad hoc, quis 
 manus atque lingua perjurio et sanguine civili alebat ; 
 postremb, omnes, quos Jlagitium, egestas, consents animus 
 exagitabat. Sallu.st. 
 
 Would you, like Catiline's, an armj' choose, 
 Go ransack White's, the tavenis, and the stews ; 
 Press every buck and blood renown 'd for drinking. 
 For wenching, gambling, fighting, and free-thiuking. 
 
 A MISFORTUNE, which happened to me the other 
 day, sufficiently convinced me of the inconve- 
 niences arising from the indiscriminate power 
 lodged in our press-gangs ; who pay no more 
 regard to those, who plead protection from the 
 badge of literature, than a bailiff's follower. I 
 would not have the reader think, that 1 was 
 pressed myself: — but my Devil (that is, the 
 messenger of the printing house) was carried off, 
 as he was going with the copy of a Connoisseur 
 to press. Learning appears to me to be of so 
 much importance, that (in my opinion) the per- 
 sons of the lowest retainers to it, should be 
 sacred from molestation : and it gives me con- 
 cern, though a very loyal subject, that even a 
 ballad-singer, or the hawker of bloody news, 
 should be interrupted in their litei^ary vocations. 
 I have in vain endeavoured to recover my ma- 
 nuscript again : for, though I cannot but think 
 any one of my papers of almost as much conse- 
 quence to the nation as the fitting out a fleet, 
 the ignorant sailoi's were so I'egardless of its in- 
 estimable contents, that after much inquiry I 
 detected them (with my Devil in conjunction) 
 lighting their pipes with it, at a low alehouse by 
 Puddle- Dock. 
 
 This irretrievable loss to the public, as well as 
 myself, led me to consider, whether some othor 
 method might not be thought of, to raise suffi- 
 cient forces for the fleet and army, without dis- 
 turbing poor labourers and honest mechanics in 
 their peaceful occupations. I have at length, 
 with great pains and expense of thought, hit 
 upon a scheme, which will effectually answer 
 that end : and without further preface shall lay 
 it before the public. 
 
 I would propose, that every useless member 
 of the community should be made of service to 
 his country, by being obliged to climb the ropis 
 or carry a musket; and every detrimental one 
 should be prevented from injuring his fellow- 
 subjects, and sent to annoy the common enemy. 
 To begin with the coimtry. There is no occa- 
 sion to rob the fields of their husbandmen, or 
 fetch our soldiers, as the Romans took their dic- 
 tator, from the plo\igh. It is well known, that 
 every county can supply us with nmnerous re- 
 
No. 58.^ 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 101 
 
 criiits, if we were to raise them out of that idle 
 body called country Squires : many of Avhom 
 are born only for the destruction of game, and 
 disturbance of their neighbours. They are mere 
 vegetables, which gi'ow up and rot on the same 
 spot of ground : except a few perhaps, wbo are 
 transplanted into the Parliament House. Their 
 whole life is hurried away in scampering after 
 foxes, leaping five-bar gates, trampling upon the 
 farmers' corn, and swilling October. As they 
 are by their profession excellent marksmen, and 
 have been used to carry a gun, they might em- 
 ploy their powder to moi'e purpose in fetching 
 down a Frenchman than a pheasant : and most 
 of them might be incorporated among the 
 cavalry, or formed into light-bodied troops and 
 mounted on their own hunters. They might 
 also be of great use in marauding, or getting in 
 forage ; and if they would follow an enemy with 
 the same alacrity and defiance of danger, as they 
 follow a fox, they might do prodigious execution 
 in a pursuit. The greatest danger would be, 
 that if a fox should perchance cross them in 
 their march, they would be tempted to run from 
 their colours for the sake of a chase ; and we 
 should have them all desert, or (in the language 
 of fox himters) gone away. 
 
 If the country is infested with these useless 
 and obnoxious animals, called Squii'es, this me- 
 tropolis is no less overrun with a set of idle and 
 mischievous creatures, w^hich we may call town 
 Squires. We might soon levy a very numerous 
 army, were we to enlist into it every A^agrant 
 about town, who, not having any lawful calling 
 from thence takes upon himself the title of 
 gentleman, and adds an Esq. to his name. A 
 very large corps too might be formed from the 
 Students at the Inns of Court, who, under the 
 pretence of following the law, receive as it were 
 a sanction for doing nothing at all. With these 
 the several tribes of play-house and coffee-house 
 Critics, and that collective body of them called 
 the Town, may be allowed to rank : and though 
 no gi'eat exploits can be expected from these in- 
 valids, yet (as they are of no other use what- 
 ever) they may at least serve in the anny, like 
 FalstafTs nien as " food for povrder." 
 
 But a very formidable ti'oop might be com- 
 posed of that part of them, distinguished by the 
 name of Bloods. The fuiy of their assaults on 
 di'awers and watchmen, and the spirit displayed 
 in storming a bagnio, would be of infinite ser- 
 vice in the field of battle. But I would recom- 
 mend it to the general to have them strictly 
 disciplined ; lest they should shoot some of their 
 own comrades, or perhaps run away, merely for 
 the sake of the joke. Under proper regulations 
 such valiant gentlemen would certainly be of 
 use. I had lately some thoughts of recommend- 
 ing to the justices to list the bloods among those 
 brave, resolute fellows employed as thief-takers. 
 But they may now serve nobler purposes in the 
 
 army : and what may we not expect from such 
 intrepid heroes, who, for w^ant of opportunity 
 to exert their prowess in warlike skirmishes 
 abroad, have been obliged to give vent to their 
 courage by breaking the peace at home ? 
 
 Every one will agree Tvith me, that those men 
 of honour, w^ho make fighting their business, 
 and cannot let their swords rest quietly in their 
 scabbards, should be obliged to draw them^ in the 
 service of his Majesty, ^\^lat might we not 
 expect from these furious Drawcansirs, if, in- 
 stead of cutting one another's thi-oats, their skill 
 in arms was properly tiuned against the enemy ! 
 A very little discipline would make them ad- 
 mirable soldiers : for (as Mercutio says) they 
 are already " the very butchers of a silk button." 
 I hav6 known one of these dueUists, to keep his 
 hand in, employ himself every morning in 
 thrusting at a brt of paper stuck against the 
 wainscot ; and I have heard another boast, that 
 he could snuff a candle with his pistol. These 
 gentlemen are, therefore, very fit to be employed 
 in close engagements : but it will be necessary 
 to keep them in continual action ; for otherwise 
 they would breed a kind of a civil war among 
 themselves, and rather than not fight at all, tmn 
 their weapons upon one another. 
 
 Several Irish brigades, not inferior to those of 
 the same country in the service of the French 
 king, may be formed out of those able-bodied 
 men, which are called fortune-himters. The 
 attacks of the dauntless hei-oes have, indeed, 
 been chiefly levelled at the other sex : but em- 
 plojTnent may be found for these amorous 
 knight-errants, suitable to their knoAvn firmness 
 and intrepidity ; particularly in takilig places 
 by storm, where there is a necessity for ravish- 
 ing virgins and committing outrages upon the 
 women. 
 
 But among the many useless members of 
 society, there are none so unprofitable as the 
 fraternity of gamesters. I therefore think, that 
 their time would be much better employed in 
 handling a musket, than in shuffling a pack of 
 cards, or shaking the dice box. As to the sharp- 
 ers, it is a pity that the same dexterity which 
 enables them to palm an ace or cog a die, is not 
 used by them in going through the manual exer- 
 cise in the military way. These latter might, 
 indeed, be employed as marines, or stationed in 
 the West Indies ; as many of them have ah-eady 
 crossed the seas, and are perfectly well acquaint- 
 ed with the plantations. 
 
 The last proposal which I have to make on 
 this subject, is to take the whole body of Free- 
 thinkers into the service. For this purpose I 
 would impress all the members of the Robin 
 Hood Society ; and, in consideration of his great 
 merit I would further advise, that the Clare- 
 Market Orator should be made Chaplain to the 
 reo^iraent. One of the favourite tenets of a Free- 
 thinker is, that all men are in a natural state of 
 
102 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 59. 
 
 warfare with each other : nothing, therefore, is 
 so proper for him, as to be actually engaged in 
 war. As he has no squeamish notions about 
 what will become of him hereafter, he can have 
 no fears about death ; I would, therefore, always 
 have the Freethinkers put ujion the most dan- 
 gerous exploits, exposed to the greatest heat of 
 battle, and sent upon the forlorn hope. For 
 since they confess that they are born into the 
 world for no end whatever, and that they shall 
 be nothing after death, it is but justice that they 
 should be annihilated for the good of their 
 country. \V. 
 
 No. 59.] Thursday, March 13, 1755. 
 
 ■ Monstra evenerunt mihi ! 
 Intro at in jEdes ater alienas canis! 
 Anguisper impluvium decidit de tegulisi 
 Gallina cecinit ! 
 
 Ter. 
 
 What unlucky prodigies have befallen us! A strange 
 black dog came into the house ! A snake fell from the 
 tiles through the sky-light ! A hen crowed ! 
 
 MR, VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Dear Cousin, March S, 1755. 
 
 I WAS greatly entertained with your late reflec- 
 tions on the several branches of magic employed 
 in the affairs of love. I have myself been very 
 lately among the seers of visions and dreamers of 
 dreams ; and hope you will not be displeased at 
 an account of portents and prognostics full as ex- 
 travagant, though they are not all owing to the 
 same cause, as those of your correspondent Miss 
 Arabella Whimsey. You must know. Cousin, 
 that I am just returned from a visit of a fort- 
 night to an old aunt in the North, where I was 
 mightily diverted with the traditional supersti- 
 tions which are most religiously preserved in the 
 family, as they have been delivered down (time 
 out of mind) from their sagacious grandmothers. 
 
 When I arrived, I found the mistress of the 
 ^jouse very busily employed with her two daugh- 
 ters in nailing a horse-shoe to the threshold of 
 the door. This, they told me, was to guard 
 against the spiteful designs of an old woman, who 
 was a witch, and had threatened to do the family 
 a mischief, because one of my young cousins laid 
 two straws across, to see if the old hag could 
 walk over them. The young lady herself assur- 
 ed me, that she had several times heard Goody 
 Cripple muttering to herself; and to be sure she 
 was saying the Lord's prayer backwards. Be- 
 sides the old woman had very often asked them 
 for a pin : but they took care never to give her 
 any thing that was sharp, because she should 
 not bewitch theni. They afterwards told me 
 many other particulars of this kind, the same as 
 are mentioned with infinite humour by the 
 Spectator ; and to confirm them, they assured 
 
 me, that the eldest miss, when she was little, 
 used to have fits, till the mother flung a knife at 
 another old witcli (whom the devil had car- 
 ried otf in a high wind) and fetched blood from 
 her. 
 
 When I was to go to bed, my aunt made a 
 thousand apologies for not putting me in the best 
 room in the house ; which (she said) had never 
 been lain in, since the death of an old wa.sher- 
 woman, who walked every night, and haunted 
 that room in particulai*. They fancied that the 
 old woman had hid money somewhere, and 
 could not rest till she had told somebody; 
 and my cousin assured me, that she might have 
 had it all to herself; for the spirit came one 
 night to her bed-side, and wanted to tell her, 
 but she had not courage to speak to it. I learned 
 also, that they had a footman once, who hanged 
 himself for love : and he walked for a gi-eat 
 while, till they got the parson to lay him in the 
 Red Sea. 
 
 I had not been here long, when an accident 
 happened, which very much alarmed the whole 
 family. Towzer one night howled most terri- 
 bly ; which was a sure sign, that somebody be- 
 longing to them would die. The youngest Miss 
 declared, that she had heard the hen crow that 
 morning ; which was another fatal prognostic. 
 They told me, that just before uncle died, Tow- 
 zer howled so for several nights together, that 
 they could not quiet him : and my aunt heard 
 the death-watch tick as plainly, as if there had 
 been a clock in the room : the maid too, who 
 sat up with him, heard a bell toll at the top of 
 the stairs, the very moment the breath went out 
 of his body. During this discourse, I overheai'd 
 one of my cousins whisper the other, that she 
 was afraid their mother would not live long ; 
 for she smelt an ugly smell like a dead carcass. 
 They had a dairy maid, who died the very week 
 after a hearse had stopped at their door on its 
 way to church : and the eldest Miss, when she 
 was but thirteen, saw her own brother's ghost, 
 (who was gone to the West Indies,) walking in 
 the garden ; and to be sure, nine months after, 
 thev had an account, that he died on board the 
 ship, the very same day, and hour of the day, 
 that Miss saw his apparition. 
 
 1 need not mention to you the common inci- 
 dents which were accounted by them no less 
 prophetic. If a cinder popped from the fire, 
 they were in haste to examine whether it was a 
 purse or a coffin. They were aware of my 
 coming long before I arrived, because they had 
 seen a stranger on the grate. The youngest M iss 
 will let nobody use the poker but herself; be- 
 cause, when she stirs the rire, it always burns 
 bright, which is a sign she will have a bright 
 husband ; and she is no less sure of a good one, 
 because she generally has ill luck at cards. Nor 
 is the candle less oracular than the fire: for the 
 squire of the parish cumc one night to pay them 
 
No. 60.:] 
 
 a visit, when the tallow winding-sheet pointed 
 towards him ; and he broke his neck soon after 
 in a fox chase. My aunt one night observed 
 with great pleasure a letter in the candle; and 
 she hoped it would be from her son in London. 
 We knew when a spirit was in the room by the 
 candle burning blue: but poor cousin Nancy 
 was ready to cry one time, when she snuffed it 
 out, and could not blow it in again, though her 
 sister did it at a whiff, and consequently tri- 
 umphed in her superior virtue. 
 
 We had no occasion for an almanack or the 
 weatlier-glass, to let us know whether it would 
 rain or shine. One evening I proposed to ride 
 out with my cousins the next day to see a gen- 
 tleman's house in the neighbourhood ; hut my 
 aunt assured us it would be wet, she knew very 
 well from the shooting of her corn. Besides, 
 there was a gi'eat spider crawling up the chim- 
 ney, and the blackbird in the kitchen began to 
 sing ; which were both of them as certain fore- 
 runners of rain. But the most to be depended 
 on in these cases is a tabby cat, which usually 
 lies basking on the parlour hearth. If the cat 
 turned her tail to the fire, we were to have a 
 hard frost : if the cat licked her tail, rain would 
 certainly ensue. They wondered what sti-an- 
 ger they should see ; because puss washed her 
 foot over her left ear. The old lady complained 
 of a cold, and her daughter remarked, it would 
 go through the family ; for she observed, that 
 poor Tab had sneezed several times. Poor Tab, 
 however, once flew at one of my cousins ; for 
 which she had like to have been destroyed, as 
 the whole family began to think that she was no 
 other than a witch. 
 
 It is impossible to tell you the several tokens, 
 by which they know whether good or ill luck 
 will happen to them. Spilling of salt, or laying 
 knives across, are every where accounted ill 
 omens; but a pin with the head turned towards 
 you, or to be followed by a strange dog, I found 
 were very lucky. I heard one of my cousins 
 tell the cook maid, that she boiled away all 
 her sweethearts, because she had let her dish- 
 water boil over. The same young lady one 
 morning came down to breakfast with her cap 
 the wrong side out ; which her mother observ- 
 ing, charged her not to alter it all the day, for 
 fear she should turn luck. 
 
 But above all, I could not help remarking the 
 various prognostics, which the old lady and her 
 daughters used to collect from almost every part 
 of the body. A white speck upon the nails made 
 them as sure of a gift, as if they had it already in 
 their pockets. The eldest sister is to have one 
 husband more than the youngest, because she has 
 one wrinkle more in her forehead ; but the other 
 will have the advantage of her in the number of 
 children, as was plainly proved by snapping 
 their finger joints. It would take up too much 
 room to set down every circumstance, which I 
 
 103 
 
 observed of this sort during my stay with them : 
 I shall therefore conclude my letter with the se- 
 veral remarks on the other parts of the body, as 
 far as I could learn them from this prophetic 
 family : for as I was a relation, you know, they 
 had less reserve. 
 
 If the head itches, it is a sign of rain. If the 
 head aches, it is a profitable pain. If you have 
 the tooth-ache, you do not love true. If your eye- 
 brow itches, you will see a stranger. If your 
 right eye itches, you will cry ; if yom* left, you 
 will laugh. If your nose itches, you will shake 
 hands with, or kiss a fool, drink a glass of wine, 
 run against a cuckold's door, or miss them all 
 four. If your right ear or cheek burns, your 
 left friends are talking of you ; if your left, your 
 right friends are talking of you. If your elbow 
 itches, you will change your bedfellow. If your 
 right hand itches, j^ou will pay away money ; if 
 your left, you will receive. If your stomach 
 itches, you will eat pudding. If your back itches, 
 butter wiU be cheap when grass grows there. If 
 your side itches, somebody is wishing for you. 
 If your gartering place itches, you will go to a 
 strange place. If your knee itches, you will 
 kneel in a strange church. If your foot itches, 
 you will tread upon strange ground. Lastly, if 
 you shiver, somebody is walking over your 
 grave. 
 
 I am, dear Cousin, 
 
 T. *" Yours, &c. 
 
 No. 60.] Thursday, March 20, 1755. 
 
 Htsc ego mecum 
 
 C&mp-essis agito labris, uM, quid datur oti. 
 niudo CharUis. 
 
 Let not a word escape the lips— but hist — 
 And think in silence on the rules of whist. 
 
 Hon. 
 
 Whoever has had occasion often to pass through 
 Holborn, must have taken notice of a pastiy- 
 cook's shop with the following remarkable in- 
 scription over the door ; Kidder's Pastry School. 
 I had the curiosity to inquire into the design of 
 this extraordinary academy, and found it was 
 calculated to instruct young ladies in the art 
 and mystery of tarts and cheesecakes. The 
 scholars were, indeed, chiefly of the lower class, 
 except a fewnotable young girls from the city, 
 with two or three parson's daughters out of the 
 country, intended for service. As housewifely 
 accomplishments are now quite out of date 
 among the polite world, it is no wonder that Mr. 
 Kidder has no share in the education of our 
 young ladies of quality : and I appeal to any 
 woman of fashion, whether she would not as 
 soon put her daughter 'prentice to a washer- 
 woman, to learn to clear-starch and get up fine 
 linen, as to send her to the pastry-school to be 
 
104 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. Co. 
 
 instructed in raised crust and puiF paste. The 
 good dames of old, indeed, were not ashamed to 
 make these arts their study ; but in this refined 
 age we might sooner expect to see a kitchen- 
 wench thumbing Hoyle's Treatise on Whist, 
 than a fine lady collecting receipts for making 
 puddings, or poring over the Complete Art of 
 Cookery. 
 
 The education of females is at present happily 
 elevated far above the ordinary employments of 
 domestic economy : and if any school is wanted 
 for the improvement of young ladies, I may 
 venture to say, it should be a school for whist. 
 Mr. Hoyle used, indeed, to wait on ladies of 
 quality at their own houses to give them lectures 
 on this science : but as that learned master has 
 left off teaching, they can have no instructions 
 but from his incomparable treatise ; and this, I 
 am afraid, is so abstruse, and abounding with 
 technical terms, that even those among the qua- 
 lity, who are tolerably well grounded in the 
 science, are scarce able to unravel the perplexity 
 of his cases, which are many of them as intri- 
 cate as the hardest proposition in Euclid. A 
 school for whist would, therefore, be of excel- 
 lent use ; where young ladies of quality might 
 be gradually instructed in the various branches 
 of lurching, renouncing, finessing, winning the 
 ten-ace, and getting the odd trick, in the same 
 manner as common misses are taught to write, 
 read, and work at their needle. 
 
 There seems to be a strange neglect in the 
 education of females, that, though great pains 
 are taken with them to make them talk French, 
 they are yet so ignorant of the English language, 
 that before they come to their teens they can 
 scarce tell what is meant by lurching, revoking, 
 fussing the cards, or the most common terms, 
 now in use at all routs and assemblies. Hence 
 it often happens, that a young lady is almost 
 ripe for a gallant, and thoroughly versed in the 
 arts of the toilet, before she is initiated into the 
 mysteries of the card- table. I would therefore 
 propose, that our demoiselles of fashion should 
 be taught the art of card-playing from their 
 cradles ; and liave a pack of cards put into their 
 hands, at the usual time that the brats of vulgar 
 people are employed, in thumbing their horn- 
 book. The mind of man has been often com- 
 pared (before it has received any ideas) to a 
 white piece of paper, which is capable of retain- 
 ing any impression afterwards made upon it. 
 In like manner, I would consider the minds of 
 those infants, which are born into a well-bred 
 family, as a blank pack of cards, ready to be 
 marked with the pips and colours of the suits : 
 at least, I am confident that many of them, after 
 they are gi'own up, have laid in very few ideas 
 beyond them. What, therefore, IMr. Locke 
 recommends, that we should chexit children into 
 learning their letters, by making it seem a pas- 
 time, should be put in practice in every polite 
 
 nursery; and the little ladies may be taught to 
 distinguish ace, deuce, tray, &c. as soon as they 
 could great A, little a, and the other letters of 
 tlie criss-cross row : as to the four honours, 
 tliey will readily learn them by the same method 
 that other children get the names of dogs, 
 horses, &c. by looking at their pictures. After 
 this, in order to complete her education, little 
 Miss (when of a proper age) should be sent to 
 the whist school, or have lessons from private 
 masters at home. She may now be made to get 
 by heart the laws of the game, read a chapter in 
 Iloyle, and be catechised in laying and taking 
 the odds ; and, in process of time, she may be 
 set to solve any of Hoyle's hardest cases, or any 
 of the propositions in his doctrine of chances ; 
 for which (as Mr. Hoyle himself teUs us), no 
 more knowledge of ai'ithmetic is required, than 
 what is sufficient to reckon the tricks, or score 
 up the game. 
 
 All sciences appear equally abstruse to the 
 learner at his first setting out : but I will ven- 
 ture to say, that the science of whist is more 
 complex than even algebra or the mathematics. 
 The Ass's bridge in Euclid is not so difficult to 
 be got over, nor the Logarithms of Napier so 
 hard to be unravelled, as many of Hoyle's cases 
 and propositions ; as an instance of which, take 
 
 the following most obvious and easy one. A 
 
 and B are partners against C and D. A and B 
 have scored 3, and want to save their Lurch. C 
 and D are at short can'ye : and consequently 
 both sides play for two points. C has the deal, 
 and turns up the Knave of Hearts. C asks his 
 partner D, who refuses. B has the lead, and 
 runs his strong suit. Spades, two rounds with 
 Ace and King. A discards his weakest suit. 
 Diamonds. Then B forces his pai'tner. A leads 
 a strong Club, which B refuses. A forces B, 
 wlio, by leading Spades, plays into A's hand, 
 who returns a Club, and so they get to a Saw 
 between them. After this A leads through C's 
 Honoiu's. B finesses the Ten, and plays a 
 Spade, which A trumps. Now B, by laying 
 behind C's King and Knave of Trumps, makes 
 the Ten-ace with Ace and Queen ; and A 
 having the long Trump, brings in his thirteenth 
 Club. Consequently A and B get a slam against 
 their adversaries C and D, and score a single 
 game towards the rubbers. 
 
 Since, therefore, this science is attended with 
 so much difficulty, the necessity of a school for 
 Avhist is very evident : and if the plan of edu- 
 cation, above pi'oposed, was put into execution, I 
 will ventiu^ to pronounce, that yoiuig ladies, who 
 can now scarce be ti'usted at any game beyond 
 one-and-thirty Bone-Ace, or beat the Knave 
 out of doors Avith the maid-servants, would be 
 qualified, at twelve years old, to make one at 
 any card-tjxble in town ; and would even beat 
 their mammas, who have not had the same ad- 
 vantage of education. Many a husband, and 
 
No. 61.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 105 
 
 reany a parent, I am sure, have had reason to 
 lament, that their wives and daughters have not 
 had the happiness of so early an instruction in 
 this branch of female knowledge : and I make 
 no doubt, but several boarding-schools will be 
 set up, where young ladies may be taught Whist, 
 Brag, and all kinds of card-work. How many 
 ladies, for want of such a school, are at present 
 shut out from the best company, because they 
 know no more of the game, than what is called 
 White- Chapel play ! In order, therefore, to 
 remedy this deficiency as far as possible, I would 
 further recommend it to Mr. Hoyle, or some 
 other eminent artist (in imitation of Messieurs 
 Hart and Dukes, who profess to teach grown 
 gentlemen to dance), to advertise that grown 
 gentlewomen may be taught to play at whist in 
 the most private and expeditious manner; so 
 that any lady, who never before took a card in 
 hand, may he enabled in a very short time to 
 play a rubber at the most fashionable routs and 
 assemblies. " W. 
 
 No. 61.] Thursday, March 27, 1755. 
 
 CcElum ipsum petimus stultitia. 
 
 E'en Heaven we covet by preposterous rules, 
 And form t' ourselves a paradise of fools. 
 
 HoR. 
 
 It is observed by the French, that a cat, a priest, 
 and an old woman, are sufficient to constitute a 
 I'eligious sect in England. So universally, it 
 seems, are learning and genius diffused through 
 this island, that the lowest plebeians are deep 
 casuists in matters of faith as well as politics ; 
 and so many and wonderful are the new lights 
 continually breaking in among us, that we daily 
 make fresh discoveries, and strike out unbeaten 
 paths to future happiness. The above observa- 
 tion of our neighbom's is, in truth, rather too 
 full : for a priest is so far from necessary, that 
 a new species of doctrine would be better re- 
 ceived by our old women, and other well-dis- 
 posed good people, from a layman. The most 
 extraordinary tenets of religion are very suc- 
 cessfully propagated under the sanction of the 
 leathern apron instead of the cassock : every 
 corner of the town has a barber, mason, bi-ick- 
 layer, or some other handicraft teacher ; and 
 there are almost as many sects in this metx'O- 
 polis, as there are parish churches. 
 
 As to old women, since the passions of fe- 
 males are stronger in youth, and their minds 
 weaker in age, than those of the other sex, their 
 readiness in embracing any principles of reli- 
 gion, pressed on them with particular eai-nest- 
 ness and vehemence, is not very wonderful. 
 They hope, by the most rigid demeanour in the 
 decline of life, to make amends for that un- 
 
 bounded loose given to their passions in theii 
 younger years. The same violence, however, 
 commonly accompanies them in religion, as 
 formerly actuated them in their pleasures ; and 
 their zeal entirely eats up their charity. They 
 look with a malevolent kind of pity on all who 
 are still employed in worldly undertakings, 
 " carry prayer-books in their pockets," and 
 piously damn all their relations and acquaint- 
 ance with texts of Scripture. I know an old 
 gentlewoman of this cast, who has formed her- 
 self as a pattern of staid behaviour; and values 
 herself for having given up at threescore the 
 vanities of sixteen. She denounces heavy judg- 
 ments on all frequenters of public diversions, 
 and forebodes the worst consequences from every 
 party of pleasure. I have known her foretell the 
 ruin of her niece from a country dance : nay, 
 she can perceive irregular desires flaming from 
 a gay coloured top-knot, and has even descried 
 adultery itself lurking beneath the thin veil of 
 a worked apron, or beaming from a diamond 
 girdle-buckle. 
 
 But we might, perhaps, suffer a few good old 
 ladies to go to heaven their own way, if these 
 sects were not pernicious on many other ac- 
 counts. Such strange doctrines are very apt to 
 unsettle the minds of the common people, who 
 often make an odd transition from infidelity to 
 enthusiasm, and become bigots from arrant free- 
 thinkers : their faith, however, it may be well 
 imagined, is not a saving faith ; as they are 
 worked up to an adoration of the Creator, from 
 the same slavish principle that induces the In- 
 dians to worship the Devil. It is amazing how 
 strongly fear operates on these weak creatures, 
 and how easily a canting, whining rascal can. 
 mould them to his purpose. I have known 
 many a rich tradesman wheedled and threatened 
 out of his subsistence, and himself and unhappy 
 family at last lectured into the work-house. 
 Thus do these vile hypocrites turn a poor con- 
 vert's head to save his soul ; and deprive him of 
 all happiness in this world, under pretence of 
 securing it to him eternally in the next. 
 
 Nothing can do religion more injury than 
 these solemn mockeries of it. Many of these sects 
 consist almost entirely of battered prostitutes, 
 and persons of the most infamous charactej*. 
 Reformation is their chief pretence : where- 
 fore, the more abandoned those are of whom they 
 make proselytes, the more they pride themselves 
 on their conversion. I remember a debauched 
 young fellow, who pretended a sudden amend- 
 ment of his principles, in order to repair his 
 shattered fortune. He turned Methodist, and 
 soon began to manifest a kind of spiritual fond- 
 ness for a pious sister. He wooed her according 
 to the directions of the rubric, sent her sermons 
 instead of billet-doux, " gi-eeted her with a holy 
 kiss," and obtained his mistress by appearing in 
 every respect a thorough devotee. But, alas ! the 
 P 
 
100 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. Gl. 
 
 good gentleman could never be prevailed on to 
 comply with religious ordinances, or appear any 
 more at church or meeting, after the perform- 
 ance of the marriage ceremony. The lowest of 
 the vulgar also, for their peculiar ends, frequent- 
 ly become sectaries. They avail themselves of a 
 mock conversion to redeem their lost characters, 
 and, like criminals at Rome, make the church a 
 sanctuary for villany. By this artifice they re- 
 commend themselves to the charity of the weak 
 but well-meaning christians, and often insi- 
 nuate themselves as servants into Methodist 
 families. 
 
 Le Sage, with his usual humour, represents 
 Gil Bias as wonderfully charmed with the 
 seeming sanctity of Ambrose de Lamela, when 
 he took him into his service : and Gil Bias is 
 even not offended at his remissness the very first 
 night, when his new servant tells him, that it 
 was owing to his attending his devotions. But 
 it soon appears, that his sly valet had been em- 
 ployed in concerting the robbery of his master. 
 A due attention to religion is so rare a quality 
 in all ranks of people, that I am far from 
 blaming it in servants ; but Avhen I see their re- 
 ligion showing itself in laziness, and observe 
 them neglecting their common business, under 
 the pretext of performing acts of supererogation, 
 I am apt to question their sincerity, and to take 
 every servant of that kind for a mere Saint Am- 
 brose. An old Moravian aunt of mine, of whom 
 I have formerly made worthy mention, would 
 never have any servants, who did not belong to 
 the society of the United brethren. But so little 
 did the good lady's endeavours to preserve virtue 
 and a spirit of devotion in her house succeed, 
 that the generality of the men fell into evil cour- 
 ses, and most of the pious sisterhood left the 
 family Avith big bellies. 
 
 I would not be thought ;.to deny my fellow- 
 subjects full liberty of conscience, and all the 
 benefits of the Toleration Act ; yet I cannot help 
 regarding these weak, if not ill-meant divisions 
 from the established chm-ch, as a dangerous kind 
 of fi'ee-thinking : not so shocking, indeed, as the 
 impious avowal of atheism and infidelity, but 
 often attended with the same bad consequences. 
 A religion founded on madness and enthusiasm, 
 is almost as bad as no religion at all : and what 
 is worse, the unhappy errors of particular sects 
 expose the purest religion in the world to the 
 scoiFs of unbelievers. Shallow witlings exercise 
 their little talents for ridicule on matters of re- 
 ligion, and fall into atheism and blasphemy in 
 order to avoid bigotry and enthusiasm. The 
 weakness of the sectaries strengthens them in 
 their ridiculous notions, and produces many 
 other evils, as will appear from the following 
 short history. 
 
 In the glorious reign of Queen Elizabeth there 
 resided in these kingdoms a worthy lady called 
 Religioii. She was remarkable for the sweet- 
 
 ness of her temper ; which was cheerful with- 
 out 'evity, and grave without moroseness. She 
 was also particularly decent in her dress as well 
 as behaviour, and preserved with uncommon 
 mildness the strictest regtilarity in her family. 
 Though she had a noble genius, and led a very 
 sober life, yet in those days she kept the best 
 company, was greatly admired by the Queen, 
 and was even intimate with most of the maids 
 of honour. What became of her and her family 
 is not known ; but it is very cei'tain, that they 
 have at present no connection with the polite 
 world. Some affirm, that the line is extinct ; 
 though I have indeed been told, that the late 
 Bishop Berkeley and the present Bishops of 
 
 ■^ and are descended from the principal 
 
 branches of it, and that some few of the 
 family are resident on small livings in the coun- 
 try. 
 
 We are told by a certain fashionable author, 
 that there were formerly two men in a mad- 
 house at Paris, one of whom imagined himself 
 the Father, and the other the Son. In like 
 manner, no sooner did the good lady Religion 
 disappear, but she was personated by a crazy old 
 beldam called Superstition. But the cheat was 
 instantly discovered ; for instead of the mild dis- 
 cipline, with which her predecessor ruled her 
 family, she governed entirely by severity, racks, 
 wheels, gibbets, sword, fire, and faggot. Instead 
 of cheerfulness she introduced gloom, was per- 
 petually crossing herself with holy water, and, 
 to avert the terrible judgments of which she was 
 hourly in fear, she compiled a new almanack, in 
 wliich she wonderfully multiplied the number 
 of red letters. After a miserable life she died 
 melancholy mad, but left a will behind her, in 
 which she bequeathed a very considerable sum 
 to build an hospital for religious lunatics ; 
 which, I am informed, will speedily be built on 
 the same ground, where the foundery, that 
 celebrated Methodist meeting-house, now stands. 
 
 Superstition left behind her a son called Athe- 
 ism, begot on her by a Moravian teacher at one 
 of their Love- Feasts. Atheism soon showed 
 himself to be a most profligate abandoned fellow. 
 He came very early upon town, and Avas a re- 
 markable blood. Among his other frolics he 
 turned author, and is said to have written in 
 concert with Lord Bolingbroke. After having 
 squandered a large fortune, he turned gamester, 
 then pimp, and highwapnan ; in which last oc- 
 cupation he was soon detected, taken, and thrown 
 into Newgate. He behaved A-ery impudently 
 in the condemned hole, abused the ordinary 
 whenever that gentleman attended him, and en- 
 couraged all his fellow- prisoners, in the Newgate 
 phrase, to die hard. When he came to the 
 gallows, instead of the psalm, he sung a bawdy 
 catch, threw away the book, and bid Jack Ketch 
 tuck him up like a gentleman. Many of Iiis 
 relations were present at the execution, and 
 
No. 62.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 107 
 
 shook their heads, repeating the words of Mat 
 in the Beggar's Opera, " Poor fellow ! we ar« 
 soiTy for you, but it is what we inast all come 
 to." O. 
 
 No. 62.] Thursday, April S, 1755. 
 
 .Qualem Caefis vult esse saccrdos. 
 
 Jvv. 
 
 What female, though to Papal modes they run. 
 Would brook the life and manners of a nun ? 
 
 Having lately infoi-med my readers, that the 
 Female Parliament is now sitting, I shall pro- 
 ceed to lay before them the substance of a debate 
 that happened in the Committee of Religion, 
 and which was unexpectedly occasioned by a 
 Motion that was made by Miss Graveairs. 
 This Committee had long been looked upon as 
 useless, but for form sake continued to meet, 
 though it was adjourned immediately : but one 
 day, there being more members present than 
 usual, tlie Chair-woman was no sooner in tlie 
 chair, than the lady above mentioned addressed 
 her in tLe following speech. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 It is with no less surprise than concern, that 
 1 reflect on the danger to which the greater part 
 of my sex, either through ignorance or choice, 
 are now exposed ; and I have the strongest rea- 
 sons to believe that nothing but the vigorous and 
 timely resolutions of this wise assembly can pre- 
 vent them from changing their religion, and be- 
 coming Roman Catholics. What subject can 
 be more interesting and important to us, 
 whether we consider ourselves as a Committee 
 of Religion, a Parliament of Women, or an 
 Assembly of Protestants ? Was such a design 
 to be carried into execution, the free use of our 
 tongues would be taken away ; Ave should never 
 be suffered perhaps to speak to the other sex, 
 but through grates and bars ; and this place of 
 our assembly would be probably the abode of 
 nuns and friars. But lest you should think me 
 thus alarmed without reason, I shall now lay 
 before you the gi-ounds of my complaint ; that, 
 if it is not too late, we may prevent the evil, or, 
 if it is, we may guai'd against it. 
 
 My fears are grounded on those remarks, that 
 have long been made on the di-ess of the sex. 
 Constant as the men have styled us to the love 
 of change, little have they imagined, that Po- 
 pery was invariably the object, to which every 
 innovation was designed to lead. So long ago 
 as when, to the honour of our sex, a Queen was 
 upon the thi'one, it was the fashion, as we may 
 leai'n from Pope,* for the ladies to wear upon 
 
 * Upon her breast a sparkling cross she wore. 
 
 Rape OF Til F, Lock. 
 
 their breasts a flaming cross. The same fashion 
 has been transmitted to the present times. 
 What, IMadam, is this but dowm-ight Popery ? 
 Tn the catholic coimti'ies they are contented with 
 erecting crucifixes in their roads and chm-ches ; 
 but alas ! in this protestant kingdom crosses are 
 alike to be seen in places saci'ed and profane, the 
 court, the playhouse : and (pardon me ladies !) 
 this venerable assembly itself is not without 
 them. I am apt to suspect, this hetei-odox in- 
 troduction of the cross into the female dress 
 had a higher original than the days of Queen 
 Anne, whose affection for the church Avas very 
 well know^n. It seems rather to Iiave been im- 
 ported among us, together Avith the Jesuits, by 
 the popish consorts of the first or second 
 Charles : or perhaps the ladies first Avorc it in 
 complaisance to the English Pope Joan, Queen 
 Mary. I'his much is certain, that at the same 
 time our pious reformer Queen Elizabeth ex- 
 pelled the cross from our altars, she effectually 
 secured the necks of our ladies from this super- 
 stition by the introduction of the Ruff. 
 
 The next part of our dress that I shall men- 
 tion Avhich saA'ours of popery, is the capuchin. 
 This garment in truth has a near I'esemblauce 
 to that of the friar, Avhose name it bears. Our 
 grandmothers had already adopted the hood; 
 their daughters by a gradual advance introduced 
 the rest ; but far greater improvements Avere 
 still in store for us. We all of us remember, for 
 it is not above tu^ years ago, hoAV all colom's 
 Avere neglected for that of piU'ple, In purple 
 Ave glowed from the. hat to the shoe ; and in such 
 request Avere the ribbons and silks of that favou- 
 rite colom', that neither the miUiner, m.ercer, 
 nor dyer himself could ansAver the demand. 
 Who but must think, that this arose from Popish 
 principles ? And though it may be urged, that 
 the admired Fanny, Avho first inti'oduced it, is 
 no uun, yet you may all remember that the 
 Chuj'ch of Rome herself has been styled tlie 
 Scailet, or, as some render it, the Purple Whore. 
 
 But to proA'e indisputably our manifest 
 approaches to Popery, let me now refer you to 
 that fashionable black, Avhich, sony I am to see 
 it, is Avore by the far greater part cA^en of this 
 assembly, and which indeed is Avith great pro- 
 priety styled the Cardinal. For Avere his holi- 
 ness the Pope to be introduced among us, he 
 Tvould almost fancy himself in his OAvn conclave; 
 and Avere I not too Avell acquainted Avith my 
 sisters' principles, I myself should be induced 
 to think, that to those in such gi-aA'e attire no- 
 thing but a cloister and a grate Avas AA^nnting. 
 As to those of gayer colours, you need not to be 
 told, that there are white and grey friars abroad, 
 as Avell as black : and as the English are so re- 
 markable for improving on their originals, we 
 shall not be tl)en surprised at tlie variety of 
 colours til at appear among us. 
 
 It has been Avhispered too, that some of my 
 
108 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 63. 
 
 Gisters have been so fond of the monkish auste- 
 rities, as to have their heads shaved. This I do 
 not aver of my own knowledge ; but if it is so, 
 they still condescend to wear artificial locks ; 
 though it would be not at all strange, if they 
 also should soon be laid aside, as they are already 
 prepared for it by leaving off their caps. 1 shall 
 only desire you still further to reflect, how 
 fashionable it is for the ladies to shine with 
 borrowed faces ; and then I believe you will 
 readily allow, that their votaries, the men, are 
 in great danger also of being seduced to popery ; 
 since do they not already, by the compliments 
 they pay to a painted face, address an image and 
 adore a picture ? 
 
 What has now been said will induce you, I 
 hope, to pay a proper regard to the following 
 Resolutions, which I humbly move, may be 
 agreed to by this Committee, and represented to 
 the House. 
 
 Resolved, 
 
 That it is the opinion of this Committee, that 
 
 in order to prevent the growth of popery, no 
 
 garments shall for the future be imported of 
 
 popish make, or distinguished by popish names. 
 
 Resolved, 
 That in order to enforce a due obedience, every 
 one shall be obliged to practise the austerities of 
 the sect they imitate ; so that, for example, the 
 Cardinals shall be compelled to lead a single life, 
 and the Capuchins to go bare-foot. 
 
 Lastly, 
 It is recommended that, as a further sanction 
 to the bill proposed, every offender, who shall be 
 deemed in<:orrigible, shall be banished from all 
 routs, and transported to her country seat for 
 seven winters. 
 
 This motion was strongly seconded by Lady 
 Mend'em, who urged in its support, that to her 
 certain knowledge many of the sex very fre- 
 quently assembled at one another's houses, and 
 particularly on the Sabbath, where mass books 
 were actually laid before them, and the warm- 
 est adoration paid to some pictures or painted 
 images, which, she was told, resembled some 
 Kings and Queens that had been long canoniz- 
 ed : and the offerings, that were constantly 
 made at their shrines, would (she said) be found, 
 on a moderate computation, to exceed those that 
 were formerly made at the tomb of Thomas a 
 13ecket. She added, that, after the catholic 
 custom, they always fasted on those nights, or, 
 if they supped at all, it was only on fish. 
 
 The chief speaker on the other side of the 
 question was Lady Smart, one of the represen- 
 tatives for Grosvenor- Square, who, by the way, 
 was strongly suspected of being a prejudiced 
 person, her enemies not denying that she had 
 
 charms, which could almost sanctify error it- 
 self. Nobody, she said, could suspect the sei 
 of inclining to popery, who observed the aver- 
 sion they all discovered to a single life. The 
 uses of the obnoxious garments were allowed to 
 be many ; the names at least were innocent : 
 and the cry against them she was sure, could 
 only be raised by the old and the ugly ; since 
 nothing could be so fantastic, as not to become 
 a pretty woman. 
 
 Her ladyship was joined by the beauties pre- 
 sent ; but they being few, their objections were 
 over-ruled, and the motion was carried. The 
 next day, the house, on receiving the report, 
 after some debate, agreed to the resolutions, and 
 a bill was ordered to be prepared and brought in 
 accordingly. Though, at the same time they 
 were of opinion, nein. con. that if the Fig-leaf 
 Bill took place, these restrictions would be quite 
 needless. 
 
 No. 63.] Thursday, Aprii. 10, 17o5. 
 
 Et nati natorum, et qui nasceniur ab Ulis. 
 
 ViRG. 
 
 From a long line of grandams draws his blood. 
 
 And counts his great great grandsires from the flood. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, ^ Cambridge, April 4. 
 
 If you are a ti'ue sportsman, and have the 
 honour of the turf at heart, you must have ob- 
 served with the utmost concern a late account 
 in the newspapers, that " White-nose died at 
 Doncaster of a mortification in the foot." An 
 article of this nature, and at such a time, must 
 strike a damp on all gentlemen breeders ; and 
 for my part I cannot help looking on the present 
 races at Newmarket, as funeral games in honoui* 
 of the memory of White-nose. The death of a 
 stallion of such consequence is a public calamity 
 to all knowing ones in the kingdom ; nor does 
 such an accident bring with it the least consola- 
 tion ; especially since it is not the fashion to pit 
 the lives of horses, as well as men, against each 
 other. 
 
 Italian grey-hounds, Dutch lap-dogs, mon- 
 keys, and maccaws, have been honoured with 
 monuments and epitaphs; but a race-horse as 
 much surpasses these insignificant animals, as 
 White-nose was superior to a pack-horse ; and 
 I cannot but think, that an obelisk (with a 
 proper inscription drawn up by Messieurs He- 
 ber and Pond) should be erected near DevUV 
 Ditch or Choak-jade on Newmarket Heath, in 
 honour to his memory. With what astonish- 
 ment might we then read of his powerful deep 
 rate, by which all the horses that run against 
 him were no where? With what rapture should 
 
No. 63.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 105 
 
 we then recount his rapid victories in the field, 
 (more surprising than those of the Duke of 
 Marlborough) by which he won Tewksbury, 
 won Chipping- Norton, won Lincoln, won 
 York, &c. ! But, above all, we should admire 
 the noble blood which flowed in his veins, and 
 with reverence contemplate the illustrious names 
 of his great, great, great, great, grandsires and 
 grandams. There is not the least flaw in the 
 blood of ^Vhite-nose's family: and his epitaph 
 .'might conclude, in imitation of that famous one 
 on the Duke of Newcastle's monument, " that 
 all the Sons were remarkable stallions, and all 
 the Daughters excellent breeders." 
 
 The pedigrees of our race-horses have been 
 always preserved with as much care and exact- 
 ness, as the Tree of Descent among the family 
 of a Spanish grandee or Polish nobleman : nor 
 does the Welshman derive greater honour from 
 proving himself the fiftieth cousin to Cadwalla- 
 dcr or Charactacus, through a long line of David 
 Ap Shenkins, Ap Morgan, Ap Powels, Ap 
 Prices, than the horse by being half-brother to 
 the Godolphin Barb, or full cousin by the dam's 
 side to the Bloody- Shoulder'd Arabian. The 
 Romans were no less curious in the breed of 
 their horses, and paid the greatest honours to 
 those that beat the whole Cii'cus hollow. They 
 even erected monuments to their memory, of 
 which Lipsius gives us the following I'emarka- 
 hle instance. Clarissime lapis veins, qxiem Romce 
 olim vidi et exscripsi. In medio vir esc, qui dextra 
 haculum sinistra jmlndum tenet: extrinsecus duo 
 sitnt assilieyites eqiii cum gemina vtscripiione : — 
 Aquilo, Nepos Aquilonis vicit cxxx. secundus 
 tulit Ixxxviii. terlias iulit xxxvi. — Altera,— -Hir- 
 pinus, Nepos Aquilonis vicit cxiv. secundus tulit 
 Ivi. tertias tvlit xxxvi. Habes itaque ipsmn hie 
 Hii-pinium, atque adeo ejus Avum Aquilonem. 
 I could wish that the same honours were paid 
 to our horses: I would at least propose, that 
 the names, pedigrees, and a list of the plates w^on 
 by victorious horses, should be inscribed on the 
 posts of all courses, where they have made them- 
 selves famous. These memorials might serve 
 to perpetuate the renown of our racers, and 
 would furnish posterity with a more complete 
 history of the Turf than the Sportsman's Ca- 
 lendar. 
 
 You will undoubtedly observe, Mr. Town, 
 that in the extract concerning horses, with 
 which I have just presented you from Lipsius, 
 a man is also mentioned ; the account of w^hom 
 would, if modernized, run in the following 
 terms. " In the middle of the monument stood 
 a man, with a whip in his right hand, and a 
 feed of corn in his left." Hence it appears, that 
 the Romans intended to do honour to the cha- 
 rioteer as well as horses ; and it is a pity, that 
 we do not also imitate them in this particular, 
 and pay equal respect to our Jockeys. The 
 chariot-race weis not more celebrated among the 
 
 ancients, than the horse-race is at present ; and 
 the Circus at Rome never drew together so noble 
 an assembly as the modera course. Nor do I 
 see any reason, why Thei'on should be more ap- 
 plauded for carrying off the prize at Elis or Pisu, 
 than Tom Marshal for winning the plate at 
 York or Newmarket. The charioteers of old 
 were, indeed, composed of the greatest princes 
 and persons of the first rank, who prided them- 
 selves on their dexterity in managing the reins, 
 and driving their own chariots. In this they 
 have been imitated by several of our modern 
 gentry ; who value themselves on being excellent 
 coachmen ; and it is with infinite pleasure, that 
 I have lately observed persons of fashion at all 
 races affect the dress and manner of grooms. 
 And as gentlemen, like the ancient charioteers, 
 begin to enter the race them.selves, and ride 
 their own horses, it is probable, that we shall 
 soon see the best Jockeys among the first of our 
 nobility. 
 
 That the encomiums of the horse shall so fre- 
 quently be enlarged on, without entering into 
 the praises of the Jockey, is indeed something 
 Avenderful ; when we consider how much the 
 beast is under his direction, and that the strength 
 and fleetness of Victorious or Driver would be 
 of no use v/ithout the skill and honesty of the 
 rider. Large sums have been lost by a horse 
 running, accidentally without doubt, on the 
 wrong side of the post ; and we knowing-ones, 
 Mr, Town, have frequently seen great dexterity 
 and management exerted, in contriving that one 
 of the best hoi^ses in the field should be distanced. 
 The Jockej' has, indeed, so great a share in the 
 success of the race, that everj' man, who has 
 ever betted five pounds, is acquainted with his 
 consequence; and does not want to be told, that 
 the victoi'y depends at least as often on the luder 
 as the horse. 
 
 I cannot help agreeing with Lady Pentweazle 
 in the farce, that, " if there was as much care 
 taken in the breed of the human species, as there 
 is in that of dogs and of horses, we should not 
 have so many puny half-formed animals as Ave 
 daily see among us :" and every thorough sports- 
 man very well knows, that as much art is requir- 
 ed to bring up a Jockey, as the beast he is to ride. 
 In every respect the same care must be had to 
 keep him in wind, and he must be in like man- 
 ner dieted, put in sweats, and exercised, to 
 bring him down to a proper weight. Bluch 
 depends upon the size of the man as well as 
 horse : for a rider of the same dimensions with 
 a grenadier would no more be fit to come upon 
 the tiu"f as a Jockey, than an awkward thing 
 taken out of the shafts of a dray could ever 
 appear at the starting-post as a race-horse. — 
 This is obvious to every one ; and I could not 
 help smiling at what my landlord at the White 
 Bear said the other day to a little fellow-com- 
 moner of St. John's, (who would fain be thought 
 
110 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 64. 
 
 a knowing-one) by way of compliment ; " My 
 worthy master," said the landloi-d, " it is a 
 thousand pities you should be a gownsman, 
 when you would have made such a special post- 
 boy or Jockey." 
 
 My chief inducement to write to you at pre- 
 sent, Mr. Town, was to desire you to use your 
 endeavours to bring the Jockey into equal esteem 
 with the animal he bestrides : and to beg, that 
 you would promote the settling an established 
 scheme for the preservation of his breed. In 
 order to this I would humbly propose, that a 
 stud for the Jockeys should be immediately built 
 near the stables at Newmarket : and that their 
 genealogies should be duly registered ; that the 
 breed should be crossed as occasion might rtquire, 
 and that the best horsemen, and of the lightest 
 weights, should intermarry with the full sisters 
 of those who had won most plates : and in a 
 word, the same method used for the improve- 
 ment of the Jockeys as their horses. I have here 
 SftOt you an exact pedigree of a famous Jockey, 
 taken with all that care just now prescribed; 
 and I doubt not, if my scheme was universally 
 put in execution, but we should excel all other 
 nations in our horsemen, as we ah'eady do in our 
 horses. 
 
 TO RIDE THIS SKA SON, 
 
 An able Jockey, fit to start for Match, Sweep- 
 stakes, or King's Plate ; Avell sized ; can mount 
 twelve stone, or strip to a feather ; is sound wind 
 and limb, and free from blemishes. He was got 
 by Yorkshire Tom, out of a full sister to Dept- 
 ford Nan. His dam was got by the noted IMat- 
 chim Tims. His Grandam was the Gennan 
 Princess ; and his great Grandam was daughter 
 to Flanders Moll. His Sire won the king's 
 Plate at York and Hambleton, the Lady's Sub- 
 scription purse at Nottingham, the Give-and- 
 Take at Lincoln, and the Sweepstakes at New- 
 market. His Grandsire beat Dick Rogers at 
 Epsom and Burford, and Patrick M'Cuutt'em 
 over the Cm-ragh at Kildare. His great Grand- 
 sire, and gi'eat gi*eat Grandsire rode for King 
 Charles the Second ; and so noble is the blood 
 which flows in this Jockey's veins, that none of 
 his family were ever distanced, stood above five 
 feet five, or weighed more then twelve stone. 
 
 W. 
 
 No. 64..] Thursday, Ai-ril 17, 17o5. 
 
 Canes legates misere, 
 
 Ut sese eripercnt hmninum contumcUis. Pnr.Dn. 
 
 Hounds, pointers, mastiffs, lap-dogs sue for Iicl)), 
 With many a doleful howl, and piteous yelp. 
 
 Rktu r king the other n ight from the cofFee-liouso, 
 
 where I had just been reading the* votes, I 
 found myself on a sudden oppressed with drow- 
 siness, that seemed to promise me as sound a re- 
 pose in my great chair, as my dog already enjoyed 
 by the fire-side. I willingly indulged it ; and 
 had hardly closed my eyes, before I fell into the 
 following dream. 
 
 Methought the door of my room on a sudden 
 flew open, and admitted a great variety of dogs 
 of all sorts and sizes, from the mastiff to the lap- 
 dog. I was surprised at this appearance ; but 
 my amazement was much increased, when I saw 
 a large grey-hound advancing towards me, and 
 hear<l him thus address me in a human voice. 
 
 Yon cannot. Sir, be ignorant of the panic that 
 prevails among all our species, on account of a 
 scheme now on foot for our destruction. That 
 slaughter, which was formerly made among the 
 wolves of this land, and in which our ancestors 
 bore so large a share, is now going to be revived 
 among us. I, for my own part, have no hopes of 
 escaping, as you will easily judge when you hear 
 my case. IMy master owes his subsistence to bis 
 labour, and with his wages can just maintain 
 me and his three children. In return, 1 now 
 and then aff'ord him a comfortable meal, by kill- 
 ing him a rabbit in the squire's warren, or pick- 
 ing him up a hare on a Sunday morning. The 
 other services I render him are of equal impor- 
 tance to him, and pleasure to myself. I am his 
 constant companion to the field in the morning, 
 and back again at night : he knows that his 
 clothes and his wallet are safe in my keeping ; 
 and he is sure to be roused on. any m.idnight 
 alarm, when I am in the house. 
 
 It is with horror I reflect on the numbers of 
 my relations, who wiU swing their last, and 
 against whom this law seems, indeed, to be le- 
 velled. Is it not enough, that our merits are 
 neglected, and thought inferior to those of a slow- 
 footed race, who inhabit a spacious kennel in the 
 squire's jTird, and who are as many hours in 
 killing a hai-e, as we are minutes ? Yet they are 
 kept by the gi'eat, attended by the noble, and 
 every day treated with horse-flesh : while I live 
 among the poor, am threatened by the rich, and 
 now probably shall be destroyed by public au- 
 thority. 
 
 I cannot deny, but the favour of the ladies is 
 frequently extended to a small and degenerate 
 race, who though they bear our name, may very 
 properly be styled the fribbles of our species. 
 'Tis time, they are of foreign extraction, which 
 alone is sufficient merit ; and seem, indeed, to be 
 as much preferred by the beau monde to our 
 English greyhounds, as their count rj-men in the 
 Haymai-ket are to our English singers. But 
 though this breed is so diminutive, that I my- 
 
 * A bill had been broiiglit into parliament for laying 
 tax upon dogs. 
 
No. 64.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 Ill 
 
 self have coursed one of them for a hare, yet I 
 will venture to pronounce, that, be the tax what 
 it will, not a Fido in the land will be sacrificed 
 to the laws. 
 
 Our request to you is to display our merits to 
 the woi'ld, and convince mankind of the inno- 
 cence of our intentions, and the hardships that 
 we already labour under. Though I have en- 
 larged on my own case, I have the honour to 
 address you in the name of all my brethren ; 
 such of them, I mean, as think themselves en- 
 dangered by this scheme for om- destruction. 
 At the same time we desire you to apprize the 
 public of the hazard they may rim, by coming 
 to an open rupture ; since, in such a case, the 
 mastiffs and the bull-dogs are determined to join 
 their forces, and will sell their lives at the dear- 
 est rate. 
 
 This last resolution was confirmed by a 
 general growl. After which I was thus accost- 
 ed by another of the company of the pointing 
 breed. 
 
 Little did I think, that the pains I have 
 taken, and the blows I have suffered, to perfect 
 me in the art I profess, would have been thus 
 requited. Having lost the best of masters by an 
 accident from his gun, which I can scarce ever 
 think of without a howl, I have now, like my 
 friend Smoker, the misfortune to live with a 
 poor man. A misfortune I now call it, since, 
 ' alas ! he will not be able to save me from the 
 halter, by paying my ransom. He too, I am 
 afraid, will be reduced to beggary, since at 
 present, I and hi's gun are his chief support. 
 if he is deprived of me, and thereby prevented 
 from what the rich maliciously term poaching, 
 his best resource will be to dispatch himself with 
 his gun before he sun'enders it, or to hang him- 
 self with the same rope that ties up me. When 
 I was a puppy, I was every day fed in the 
 kitchen, and caressed in the parlour ; and I have 
 now a brother, that always points for the best of 
 company. What though our race has been fre- 
 quently reproached ? What though we, together 
 -with, the spaniels, have been accused, I do not 
 say wrongfully, of crouching to our enemies, 
 and licking the hand that beats us ? Is not this 
 every day practised among your species ? And 
 is it not countenanced by the greatest examples ? 
 In fawning and flattering we are by no means 
 singular; and crouching and cringing are not 
 confined to the brute species. 
 
 I very heartily second the request of my 
 friend, and I doubt not, but the arguments you 
 win use in our behalf will be able to divert the 
 storm that threatens us. This you may be 
 assured of, that if my life is spared through yo\ir 
 means, it shall be devoted to your service ; and 
 you shall sup as often as you please, on a brace 
 of birds. 
 
 This speech was attended with a bark of 
 applause j and I was next accosted by a lap-dog, 
 
 who, after dolefully shaking his ears, began the 
 following harangue. 
 
 Though I am aware that many of my species 
 will remain unhui't by this scheme devised for 
 our destruction, yet I have on my own account 
 great reason to be alarmed. I was born, indeed, 
 in a noble family in St. James's Square, but un- 
 fortunately was within these three months re- 
 signed over to my present mistress, an old maid, 
 who has been through her w^hole life as frugal of 
 her money as her favours. She is, indeed, so 
 very saving, that I have more than once been 
 beat for lapping up her breakfast cream ; and it 
 was but last week, that I was severely corrected 
 for devotu'ing a sheep's heart, for which she had 
 been to market herself. Such a mistress will 
 undoubtedly sacrifice me to this cruel tax ; and 
 though you may perhaps imagine the loss of life 
 in these circumstances is not much to be re- 
 gretted, yet death is a terrible remedy, and a 
 living dog is better than a dead lion. But if 
 some of our species must perish, sm'ely a regard 
 should be had to national merit ; and the storm 
 should first fall on those foreign intruders, who 
 by the flatness of their noses are supposed to be 
 of Dutch extraction. If the ladies also have 
 any regard for the honour of their country, or 
 any love remaining for us, it becomes them to 
 take our case into consideration. And I make 
 no doubt, since the female parliament is now 
 sitting (if you. Sir, would but draw up a 
 petition in our favour), as the other sex have 
 taken necessary precautions for the preservation 
 of the game, the ladies would in their turn bring 
 in a bill for the preservation of lap-dogs. 
 
 Various were the arguments that many others 
 used in their own behalf. The mastiff insisted 
 on the protection he afforded us, and the terror 
 he struck into thieves and house-breakers. 
 King Charles's black favoui'ites came fawning 
 upon me, and hoped that their breed might be 
 preserved in deference to the taste of so witty a 
 monarch.^ I could not help smiling at the argu- 
 ment made use of by a bull-dog from Norfolk ; 
 who declared, that he was so instrumental to 
 the mii'th of the county, that he firmly believed 
 they would never part with him ; but begged 
 at the same time, that, if sentence must pass, it 
 might be changed into banishment, and that 
 Spain (where bull-feasts are held in so much 
 honour) might be the place of his transporta- 
 tion. 
 
 The eloquence and gesture of my four-footed 
 visitors had such an influence OA^er me, that I 
 was just going to answer them in the manner 
 they could wish, when my OAvn dog on a sudden 
 jumped into my lap, and roused me from my 
 dream. 
 
112 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 JSJo. 65.] TnuasnAv, April 24, 1755. 
 
 [No. 65. 
 
 Nee tamen indignum si vobis cura placcndi, 
 
 Chm comptos habeant scecula nostra vivos. Ovid. 
 
 Blame not the belles, since modem times can show 
 Tliat ape of female foppery, call'd a beau. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As no one has a greater respect for the fair sex 
 than myself, I was highly pleased with a letter 
 inserted some time ago in your paper, ridiculing 
 the detestable use of paint among the ladies. 
 This practice is, indeed, too general ; and for 
 my own part, when I meet a blooming fresh- 
 coloured face in town, I no more take it for the 
 real face belonging to the lady, than I imagine 
 Queen Anne's portrait delineated on a sign post 
 to be her majesty's flesh and blood. 
 
 But this fashion is not confined to the ladies. 
 I am ashamed to tell you, that we are indebted 
 to Spanish wool for many of our masculine 
 ruddy complexions. A pretty fellow lackers his 
 pale face with as many varnishes as a fine lady ; 
 and it is well known, that late hours at *;he 
 card-table, amusements at Haddock's, immo- 
 derate draughts of Champagne, and sleeping all 
 night upon a bulk, will strip the most healthy 
 complexion of its roses. Therefore, to repair 
 the loss, they are obliged to substitute the un- 
 wholesome disguise of art for the native hue of 
 a vigorous constitution. 
 
 I must leave it to you, Mr. Town, or your 
 ingenious correspondent, to enlarge upon this 
 subject, and will only just appeal to the ladies, 
 whether a smooth fair face is a proper recom- 
 mendation of a man to their favour ; and whe- 
 ther they do not look upon those of the other 
 sex as a contemptible sort of rivals, who aspire 
 to be thought charming and pretty? As many 
 females are also conscious, that they themselves 
 endeavour to conceal by art the defects of na- 
 ture, they are apt to suspect those of our sex, 
 who are so very solicitous to set off their per- 
 sons : and, indeed, I fear it will be found upon 
 examination, that most of our pretty fellows, 
 who lay on carmine, are painting a rotten post. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 
 W. Manly. 
 
 Many of my readers, will, I dare say, be 
 hardly persuaded, that this custom could have 
 ever prevailed as a branch of male foppery ; but 
 it is too notoi-ious, that our fine gentlemen, in 
 many other instances besides the article of paint, 
 affect the softness and delicacy of the fair sex. 
 "J'he male beauty has his washes, perfumes, and 
 cosmetics ; and takes as much pains to set a glo>;s 
 on his complexion, as the footman in japanning 
 
 his shoes. He has his dressing-room, and 
 (which is still more ridiculous) his toilette too; 
 at which he sits as many hours repairing hit' 
 battered countenance as a decayed toast dressing 
 for a birth-night. I had once an opportunity of 
 taking a survey of one of these male-toilettes; 
 and, as such a curiosity may, perhaps, prove 
 entertaining to many of my readers, I here shall 
 give a description of it. 
 
 Having occasion one morning to wait on a 
 very pretty fellow, I was desired by the valet de 
 chambre to walk into the dressing-room, as his 
 master was not stirring. I was accordingly 
 shown into a neat little chamber, hung round 
 with India paper, and adorned with several lit- 
 tle images of pagods, and bramins, and vessels 
 of Chelsea China, in which were set various 
 coloured sprigs of artificial flowers. But the 
 toilette most excited my admiration; where I 
 found every thing was intended to be agreeable 
 to the Chinese taste. A looking-glass, enclosed 
 in a whimsical frame of Chinese paling, stood 
 upon a japan table, over which was spread a 
 coverlid of the finest chintz. I could not but 
 observe a number of boxes of different sizes, 
 which were all of them japan, and lay regularly 
 disposed on the table. I had the curiosity to 
 examine the contents of several ; and in one 1 
 found lip-salve, in another a roll of pig-tail, and 
 in another the ladies' black sticking-plaster; but 
 the last which I opened very much surprised me, 
 as I saw nothing in it but a number of little 
 pills. I likewise remarked, on one part of the 
 table, a tooth-brush and sponge, with a pot of 
 Delescot's opiate ; and on the other side, water 
 for the eyes. In the middle stood a bottle of 
 Eau de Luce, and a roll of perfumed poma- 
 tum : almond -pastes, powder-puffs, hair-combs, 
 brushes, nippers, and the like, made up the rest 
 of this fantastic equipage : but, among many 
 other whimsies, I could not perceive for what a 
 very small ivory comb could be designed, till the 
 valet informed me, that it was a comb for the 
 eye-brows. 
 
 It must be confessed, that there are some men 
 of such a delicate make and silky constitution, 
 that it is no wonder, if gentlemen of such a lady- 
 like generation have a natural tendency to the re- 
 finements and softness of females. These tender 
 dear creatures are generally bred up immediately 
 under the wing of their mammas, and scarce fed 
 with any thing less innocent than her milk. They 
 are never permitted to study, lest it should hurt 
 their eyes, and make their heads ache ; nor suf- 
 fered to use any exercises, like other boys, lest a 
 fine hand should be spoiled by being used too 
 roughly. While other lads are flogged into the 
 five declensions, and at length lashed through 
 a whole school, these pretty masters are kept at 
 home to improve in whip-syllabubs, pastry and 
 face-painting. In consequence of which, when 
 otlior young fellows begin to appear like men, 
 
No. 66.2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 113 
 
 these dainty creatures come into the world with 
 all the accomplishments of a lady's woman. 
 
 But if the common foibles of the female world 
 are ridiculous even in these equivocal half-men, 
 these neuter somethings between male and fe- 
 male, how awkwardly must they sit upon the 
 more robust and masculine part of mankind ? 
 What indeed can be more absurd than to see a 
 huge fellow Avith the make of a porter, and fit 
 to mount the stage as a champion at Brough- 
 ton's amphitheatre, sitting to varnish his broad 
 face with paint and Benjamin-wash ? For my 
 part, I never see a great looby ainaing at delica- 
 tesse, but he seems as strange and uncouth a figure 
 as Achilles in petticoats. This folly is also to be 
 particularly condemned, when it appears in the 
 more solemn characters of life, to which a gra- 
 vity of appearance is essential ; and in which 
 the least marks of foppery seem as improper, as 
 a physician would seem ridiculous prescribing in 
 a bag-wig, or a serjeant pleading at the King's 
 Bench in his own hair instead of a night-cap 
 periwig. As I think an instance or two of this 
 kind would show this folly in the most striking 
 light, I shall here subjoin two characters, in 
 whom, as it is most improper, it Tvill consequent- 
 ly appear most ridiculous. 
 
 John Hardman is upwards of six feet high, 
 and stout enough to beat two of the sturdiest 
 chairmen that ever came out of Ireland. Nature, 
 indeed, seems to have intended John himself to 
 carry a chair ; but fortune has enabled him to 
 appear in whatever character he likes best, and 
 he has wisely discovered, that none will sit so 
 easy on him as that of a pretty fellow. It is 
 therefore his study to new-mould his face and 
 person : he throws his goggle eyes into leers, 
 languishes, and ogles ; and endeavours to dra^v 
 up his hideous mouth, w^hich extends fi"om one 
 ear to the other, into a simper. His voice, 
 which is naturally of a deeper base than a 
 hurdy-gurdy, is in a manner set to a new tune ; 
 and his speech, which is very much tinctured 
 with the broad dialect of a particular county, 
 is delivered with so much nicety and gentleness, 
 that every word is minced and clipped in order 
 to appear soft and delicate. When he walks he 
 endeavours to move his unwieldy figure along in 
 the pert trip, or easy shambling pace of our 
 pretty fellows ; and he commonly canies a thin 
 jemmy stick in his hand, which natui'ally re- 
 minds us of Hercules with a distaff. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Jessamy, (who took 
 orders, only because there was a good living in 
 the family) is known among the ladies by the 
 name of the beau-parson. He is, indeed, the 
 most delicate creature imaginable ; and differs so 
 much from the generality of the clergy, that I 
 believe the very sight of a plum-pudding would 
 make him swoon. Out of his canonicals, his 
 constant dress is what they call parson's-blue 
 lined with white, a black satin waistcoat, velvet 
 
 breeches, and silk stockings : and his pumps are 
 of dog-skin, made by Tull ; and it is said, that 
 he had a joint of one of his toes cut off, whose 
 length being out of all proportion prevented his 
 having a handsome foot. His very grizzle is 
 scarce orthodox : for, though it would be open 
 schism to wear a bag, yet his wig has always a 
 bag-front, and is properly cropped behind, that 
 it may not eclipse the lustre ; of his diamond 
 stock-buckle. He cannot bear the thoughts of 
 being sea-sick : or else he declares he would 
 certainly go abroad, where he might again re- 
 sume his laced clothes, and appear like a gentle- 
 man in a bag- wig and sword. T. 
 
 No. 66.] Thursday, May 1, 1755. 
 
 Dctrahere et vettem, nitidus qua qutsqueper ora 
 Cederet. Hon. 
 
 Where all, their beauties to full view display 'd. 
 May undisguised appear in Masquerade. 
 
 Ajioxg the many exotic diversions, that have 
 been transplanted into this country there is no 
 one more cultivated, or w^hich seems to have 
 taken deeper root among us, than that modest 
 and rational entertainment the masquerade. 
 This, as well as the opera, is originally of Italian 
 growth, and Avas brought over hither by the 
 celebrated Heidegger; who on both accounts 
 justly acquired among his own countrymen the 
 honom-able title of Sur-Intendant des Plaisirs 
 d" Angle terrc. 
 
 I have called the masquerade a modest and ra- 
 tional entertainment. As to the first no one 
 can have the least scruple about its innocence, if 
 he considers, that it is always made a part of tlie 
 education of oiu' polite females ; and that the 
 most virtuous woman is not ashamed to appear- 
 there. If it be objected, that a lady is expose 1 
 to hear many indecencies from the men, (as the 
 mask gives them a privilege to say any thing, 
 though ever so rude) it may be answered, that 
 no lady is obliged to take the affront to herself ; 
 because, as she goes disguised, the indignity is 
 not offered to her in her own proper person. 
 Besides, according to Dryden, 
 
 She cannot blush, because they cannot see. 
 
 As to the rationality of this entertainment, eA-ery 
 one will agi'ee with me, that these midnight 
 orgies are full as rational as sitting up all night 
 at the card-table. Nor is it more strange, that 
 five or six hundred people should meet together 
 in disguises purposely to conceal themselA'es, than 
 that the same number should assemble at a rout, 
 where most of the company are Avholly unac- 
 quainted with each other. 
 
 But we can never enough admire the Avit and 
 humour of these meetings ; Avhich greatly con^ 
 Q 
 
114 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUIt 
 
 [No. 66. 
 
 sist in exlubiting the most fantastic appearances, 
 that the most whimsical imagination can possi- 
 bly devise. A common person may be content 
 with appearing as a Chinese, a Turk, or a 
 Friar; but the true genius will ransack earth, 
 air, and seas, reconcile contradictions, and 
 call in things inanimate, as Avell as animate, 
 to his assistance ; and the more extravagant 
 and out. of nature his dress can be contrived, 
 the higher is the joke. I remember one 
 gentleman above six foot high, who came to 
 the masquei'ade drest like a child in a white 
 frock and leading strings, attended by another 
 gentleman of a very low stature, who officiat- 
 ed as his nurse. The same witty spark took 
 it into his head at another time to personate 
 Fame, and w^as stuck all over Avitli peacock's 
 feathers by way of eyes : but when he came to 
 fasten on his Avings, they were spread to so enor- 
 mous a length, that no coach or chair was spa- 
 cious enough to admit him ; so that he was forced 
 to be conveyed along the streets on a chaii'man's 
 horse, covered with a blanket. Another gentle- 
 man, of no less humour, A^ery much svu'prised 
 the company by caiTying a thatched house about 
 him ; which was so contrived, that no part of 
 him could be seen, except his face, which was 
 looldng out of the casement : but this joke had 
 like to have cost him dear, as another wag was 
 going to set fire to the building, because he found, 
 by the leaden policy affixed to the front, that the 
 tenement was insured. In a word, dogs, mon- 
 keys, osti'iches, and all kinds of monsters, are as 
 frequently to be miet with at the masquerade, as 
 in the Coven t- Garden pantomimes : and I once 
 saw with great delight a gentleman (who per- 
 sonated one of Bayes' recruits) prance a minuet 
 on his hobby-horse, with a dancing bear for his 
 partner. 
 
 I have said before, that the masquerade is of 
 foreign extraction, and imported to us from 
 abroad. But as the English, though slow at in- 
 vention, are remarkable for improving on what 
 has already been invented, it is no wonder that 
 we should attempt to heighten the gusto of this 
 entertainment, and even carry it beyond the li- 
 cense of a foreign carnival. There is something 
 too insipid in our fine gentlemen stalking about 
 in dominos ; and it is rather cruel to eclipse the 
 prettyfacesof our fine ladies with hideous masks; 
 for which reason it has been judged requisite 
 to contrive a masquerade upon a new plan, and 
 in an entire new taste. We all remember, when 
 (a few years ago) a celebrated lady endeavoured 
 to introduce a new species of masquerade among 
 us, by lopping off the exuberance of dress ; and 
 she herself first set the example, by stripping to 
 the character of Iphigenia undrest for the sacri- 
 fice. I must own it is a matter of some surprise 
 to me, (considering the propensity of our modern 
 ladies to get rid of their clothes,) that other 
 Iphigenias did not immediately start up," and 
 
 that nuns and vestals should be suffered ever 
 after to be seen among the masks. But this pro- 
 ject, it seems, was not then sufficiently ripe for 
 execution, as a certain awkward thing, called 
 bashfulness, had not yet been banished from the 
 female world: and to the present enlightened 
 times was reserved the honour of introducing 
 (however contradictory the term may seem) a 
 naked masquerade. 
 
 What the above mentioned lady had the hardi- 
 ness to attempt alone, wUl (I am assured) be set 
 on foot by our persons of fashion, as soon as 
 the hot days come in. Ranelagh is the place 
 pitched upon for their meeting ; where it is pro- 
 posed to have a masquerade ^l Fresco, and the 
 whole company are to display all their charms 
 in jmris naturalibus. The pantheon of the Hea- 
 then Gods, Ovid's Metamoi'phoscs, and Titian's 
 prints, will supply them with a sufficient va- 
 riety of undi-est characters. One set of ladies, 
 I am told, intend to personate water-nymphs 
 bathing in the canal : three sisters, celebrated for 
 their charms, design to appear together as the 
 three Graces: and a certain lady of quality, who 
 most resembles the goddess of beauty, is now 
 practising from a model of the noted statue of 
 Vemis de Medicis, the most striking attitude for 
 that character. As to the gentlemen, they may 
 most of them represent \cry suitably the half- 
 brutal forms of Satji's, Pans, Fauns, and Cen- 
 tam's : our beaux may assume the semblance of 
 the beardless Apollo, or (which would be more 
 natural) may admire themselves in the person of 
 Narcissus ; and oui- bucks might act quite in 
 character, by running about stark-naked with 
 their mistresses, and committing the maddest 
 freaks, like the priests and priestesses of Bac- 
 chus celebi-ating the Bacchanalian mysteries. 
 
 If this scheme for a naked masquerade should 
 meet with encom*agement, (as there is no doubt 
 but it must) it is proposed to improve it still 
 fui'ther. Pei*sons of fashion cannot but lament, 
 that there are no diversions allotted to Simday, 
 except the cai'd-table, and they can never enough 
 I'egret, that the Sunday evening tea-drinkiugs 
 at Ranelagh were laid aside, from a supersti- 
 tious regard to religion. They therefore intend 
 to have a pai'ticulai* sort of masquerade on that 
 day ; in which they may show their taste by 
 ridiculing all the old women's tales contained 
 in that idle book of fables the Bible, while the 
 vulg.ar are devoutly attending to them at church. 
 This, indeed, is not without a parallel : we have 
 had an instance already of an Eve : and by bor- 
 i-owing the sei'pent in Orpheus and Eurydice, 
 we might have the whole story of the Fall of 
 Man exhibited in masquerade. 
 
 It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that this 
 project has ali'eady taken place among the low- 
 est of the people, who seem to have been the first 
 conti'ivers of a naked masq uerade : and last 
 summer I remember an article in the news- 
 
No. 67-] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 115 
 
 papers, that " several persons of both sexes were 
 assembled naked at Pimlico, and being carried 
 before a magistrate were sent to Bridewell.' 
 This, indeed, is too refined a pleasure to be 
 allowed the vulgar ; and every body will agree 
 with me, that the same act, which at the Green 
 Lamps or Fimlico appears low and criminal, 
 may be extremely polite and commendable in the 
 Haymarket or at Ranelagh. W. 
 
 No. 67.] Thursday, May 8, 1755. 
 
 imitatores, sermtn pecus ! 
 
 Dull imitators ! like the servile hack. 
 Still slowly plodding in the beaten track. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sib, 
 
 Bayes in the Rehearsal frequently boasts it as 
 his chief excellence, that he treads on no man's 
 heels, that he scorns to follow the steps of others ; 
 and when he is asked the reason of inserting 
 any absurdity in his play, he answers, because 
 it is new. The poets of the present time run 
 into the contrary error : they are so far from 
 endeavouring to elevate and surprise by any 
 thing original, that their whole business is imi- 
 tation J and they jingle their bells in the same 
 road with those that went before them, Avith all 
 the dull exactness of a packhorse. 
 
 The generality of our writers wait till a new 
 walk is pointed out to them by some leading ge- 
 nius ; when it immediately becomes so hackneyed 
 and beaten, that an author of credit is almost 
 ashamed to appear in it among such bad com- 
 pany. No sooner does one man of parts suc- 
 ceed in any particular mode of writing, but he 
 is followed by a thousand dunces. A good elegy 
 makes the little scribblers direct their whole 
 bent to subjects of grief ; and for a whole win- 
 ter, the press groans Avith melancholy. One 
 novel of reputation fills all the garrets of Grub- 
 street with whole reams of histories and adven- 
 tures, where volume is spun out after volume, 
 without the least wit, humour, or incident. In 
 a word, as Bayes obviated all objections to his 
 nonsense, by saying it was new, if a modern 
 writer was asked why he chose any particular 
 manner of writing, he might reply, because it is 
 the fashion. 
 
 True genius will not give in to such idle exti'a- 
 vagant flights of imagination as Bayes's ; it will 
 not turn funerals into banquets, or introduce 
 armies in disguise ; but still it will not confine 
 itself to the narrow track of imitation. I can- 
 not help thinking, that it is more owing to this 
 servile spirit in the authoi-s of the present times, 
 than to their want of abilities, that we cannot 
 now boast a sot of eminent writers : and it is 
 
 worthy observation, that whenever any age has 
 been distinguished by a great number of excel- 
 lent authors, they have most of them cultivated 
 different branches of poetry from each other. 
 This was the case in the age of Augustus, as 
 appears from the works of Virgil, Horace, 
 Ovid, &c. : and to come dovm as late as possi- 
 ble, this is evident from our last famous set of 
 authors, who flom-ished in the beginning of this 
 century. We admire Swift, Pope, Gay, Boling- 
 broke, Addison, Ssc. but we admire each for his 
 particular beauties, separate and distinguished 
 from the rest. 
 
 These loose thoughts were thrown together 
 merely to introduce the following little poem, 
 which I think deserves the attention of the 
 public. It was written by a very ingenious 
 gentleman, as a letter to a friend, who was about 
 to publish a volume of miscellanies ; and con- 
 tains all that original spirit, which it so elegantly 
 recommends. 
 
 To 
 
 Since now, all scruples cast away. 
 Your works are rising into day. 
 Forgive, though I presume to send 
 This honest counsel of a friend. 
 Let not your verse, as verse now goes. 
 Be a strange kind of measured prose ; 
 Nor let your prose, which sure is worse. 
 Want nought but measure to be verse. 
 Write from your own imagination. 
 Nor curb your muse by imitation : 
 For copies show, howe'er exprest, 
 A barren genius at the best, 
 
 But, imitation's all the mode, 
 
 Yet, where one hits, ten miss the road. 
 
 The mimic bard with pleasure sees 
 Mat. Prior's unaffected ease : 
 Assumes his style, affects a story. 
 Sets every circumstance before ye. 
 The day, the hour, the name, the dwelling. 
 And mars a curious tale in telling : 
 Observes how easy Prior flows. 
 Then runs his numbers_down to prose. 
 
 Others have sought the filthy stews 
 To find a dirty slip-shod muse. 
 Their groping genius, while it rakes 
 The bogs, the common sewers, and jakes. 
 Ordure and filth in rhyme exposes. 
 Disgustful to our eyes and noses : 
 
 With many a dash that must offend us. 
 
 And much ***** 
 ******** 
 * * * * Hiatus non dejlcndus. 
 O Swift ! how wouldst thou blush to sec. 
 Such are the bards who copy thee ? 
 
 This Milton for his plan wiU choose ! 
 Wherein resembling Milton's Muse ? 
 Blilton like tluinder rolls along. 
 In all the majesty of song ; 
 While his low mimics meanly creep. 
 Not quite awake, nor quite asleep : 
 Or, if their thunder chance to roll, 
 'Tis thunder of the mustard bowU 
 
116 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 68. 
 
 The stiff" expression, phrases strange, 
 The epithet's prejiostorous change. 
 Forced numbers, rough and unix)lite. 
 Such as the judging ear affright. 
 Stop in mid verse. Ye mimics vile ! 
 Is't thus ye copy Milton's style ? 
 His faults religiously ye trace. 
 But borrow not a single grace. 
 
 How few, say whence can it proceed ? 
 "Who copy Milton, e'er succeed. 
 But all their labours are in vain : 
 And wherefore so ? The reason's plain. 
 Take it for granted, 'tis by those 
 Milton's the model mostly chose. 
 Who can't write verse, and won't write prose. 
 
 Others, who aim at fancy, choose 
 To woo the gentle Spenser's Muse. 
 This poet fixes for his theme 
 On allegory, or a dream ; 
 Fiction and truth together joins 
 Through a long waste of flimsy lines ; 
 Fondly believes his fancy glows. 
 And image upon image grows ; 
 Thinks his strong muse takes wond'rous flights. 
 Whene'er she sings of peerless wights. 
 Of dens, of palfreys, spells, and knights : 
 Till allegory, Spenser's veil 
 T' instruct and please in moral tale. 
 With hira's no veil the truth to shroud. 
 But one impenetrable cloud. 
 
 Others, more daring, fix their hope 
 On rivalling the fame of Pope. 
 Satire's the word, against the times. 
 These catch the cadence of his rhymes. 
 And borne from earth by Pope's strong wings. 
 Their muse aspires, and boldly flings 
 Her dirt up in the face of kings. 
 In these the spleen of Pope we find. 
 But where the greatness of his mind ? 
 His numbers are their whole pretence. 
 Mere strangers to his manly sense. 
 
 Some few, the fav'rites of the muse. 
 Whom with her kindest eye she views ; 
 Round whom Apollo's brightest rays 
 Shine forth with undiminish'd blaze ; 
 Some few my friend, have sweetly trod 
 In Imitation's dangerous road. 
 Long as Tobacco's mild perfume 
 Shall scent each happy curate's room, 
 Oft as in elbow chair he smokes. 
 And quaffs his ale, and cracks his jokes. 
 So long, O Brown,* shall last thy praise, 
 Crown'd with tobacco-leaf for bays ; 
 And whosoe'er thy verse shall see. 
 Shall fill another pipe to thee. 
 
 No. 68.] Thursday, May 10, 1755. 
 
 Nunc ft campus, et arece, 
 
 Lenesquc sub noctc?n susiim 
 Compositd repeiantur liord. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 * Isaac Hawkins Brown, Esq. author of a Piece callctl 
 the Pipe of Tobacco, a most excellent imitation of six dif- 
 ferent authors. 
 
 Now Venus in Vauxhall her altar rears. 
 While fiddles drown the music of the spheres ; 
 Now girls hum out their loves to every tree, 
 " Young jockey is the lad, the lad for me." 
 
 The vai'ioiis seasons of the yeai* produce not a 
 greater alteration in the face of nature, than in 
 the polite manner of passmg our time. The 
 diversions of winter and summer ai-e as different 
 as the dog-days and those at Christmas ; nor do 
 I know any genteel amusement, except gaming, 
 that prevails during the whole year. As the 
 long days are now coming on, the theatrical gen- 
 try, who contribute to dissipate the gloom of our 
 winter evenings, begin to divide themselves into 
 strolling companies ; and are packing up their 
 tragedy wardrobes, together with a sufficient 
 quantity of thimder and lightning, for the de- 
 light and amazement of the country. In the 
 meantime, the several public gardens near this 
 metropolis are trimming their trees, levelling 
 their walks, and burnishing their lamps, for our 
 reception. At Vauxhall the artificial ruins are 
 repaired ; the cascade is made to spout with sev- 
 eral additional streams of block-tin ; and they 
 have touched up all the pictures, Avhich Avere 
 damaged last season by the fingering of those 
 curiovis Connoisseiu's, who could not be satisfied 
 without feeling whether the figures were alive. 
 The magazine at Cuper's, I am told, is furnish- 
 ed Avith an extraordinary supply of gunpowder 
 to be shot off in squibs and sky-rockets, or 
 whirled away in blazing suns and Catherine 
 wheels : and it is not to be doubted, in case of a 
 war, but that Neptune and all his Tritons will 
 assist the British navy ; and as we before took 
 Porto- Bello and Cape- Breton, we shall gain new 
 victories over the French fleet every night, upon 
 that canal. 
 
 Happy are they, who can muster up sufficient, 
 at least to hire tickets at the door, once or twice 
 in a season ! Not that these pleasures are confined 
 to the rich and the great only : for the lower 
 sort of people have their llauelaghs and theii- 
 Vauxhalls as well as the quality. Peri'ot's in- 
 imitable grotto may be seen for only calling for 
 a pot of beer j and the royal diversion of duck- 
 hunting may be had into the bargain, togethei' 
 with a decanter of Dorchester, for your sixpence 
 at Jenny's Whim. Every skittle-alley half a 
 mile out of town is embellished with green ar- 
 bours and shady retreats ; where the company is 
 generally entertained with the melodious scrap- 
 ing of a blind fiddler. And who can resist the 
 luscious temptation of a fine juicy ham, or a de- 
 licious buttock of beef stuffed with piu*sley, ac- 
 companied with a foaming decanter of sparkling 
 home-brewed, which is so invitingly painted at 
 the entrance of almost every village ale-house i* 
 
 Our northern climate will not, indeed, allow 
 us to indulge ourselves in all those pleasures of a 
 garden, which are so feelingly described by our 
 
 i 
 
No. 68.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 117 
 
 poets. We dare not lay om-selves on the damp 
 ground in shady groves, or by the purling 
 stream ; but are obliged to fortify our insides 
 against the cold by good substantial eating 
 and drinking. For this reason the extreme cost- 
 liness of the provisions at om* public gardens has 
 been gi-ievously complained of by those gentry, 
 to whom a supper at these places is as necessary 
 a part of the entertainment, as the singing or the 
 fire works. Poor Mr. John sees, with a heavy 
 heart, the profits of a whole week's card-money 
 devoured in tarts and cheesecakes by Mrs. 
 Housekeeper, or Mrs. Lady's O^vn Woman; 
 and the substantial cit, who comes from behind 
 the counter two or three evenings in the summer, 
 can never enough regret the thin wafer-like 
 slices of beef and ham, that taste of nothing but 
 the knife. 
 
 I was greatly diverted last Saturday evening 
 at Vauxhall, with the shrewd remarks made on 
 this very head by an honest citizen, whose wife 
 and two daughters had I found, prevailed on 
 him to caiTy them to the garden. As I thought 
 there was something cui'ious in their behaviour, 
 I went into the next box to them, where I had 
 an opportimity of seeing and over-hearing every 
 thing that passed. 
 
 After some talk, — " Come, come," said the 
 old don, " it is high time, I think, to go to sup- 
 per." To this the ladles readily assented ; and 
 one of the Misses said, " Do let us have chick, 
 papa." " Zounds !" said the father, " they are 
 half-a-croAvn a-piece, and no bigger than a spar- 
 row." Here the old lady took him up. " You 
 are so stingy, Mr. Rose, there is no bearing you. 
 When one is out upon pleasui-e, I love to appear 
 like somebody : and what signifies a few shil- 
 lings once and away, when a body is about it ?" 
 This reproof so effectually silenced the old gen- 
 tleman, that the youngest Miss had the coui-age 
 to put in a word for some ham likewise : accor- 
 dingly the waiter was called, and despatched by 
 the old lady with an order for a chicken and a 
 plate of ham. When it was brought, our honest 
 cit twirled the dish about three or four times, 
 and sur^'eyed it with a very settled countenance ; 
 then taking up the slice of ham, and dangling it 
 to and fro on the end of his foi*k, asked the 
 waiter how much there was of it. "A shilling's 
 worth, Sir," said the fello^v. — " Prithee," said 
 the don, " how much dost thou think it weighs ? — 
 An ounce ? — A shilling an oimce ! that is sixteen 
 shillings per pound ! — A reasonable profit truly ! 
 — Let me see— suppose now the whole ham 
 ' weighs thirty pounds : — at a shilling per ounce, 
 that is, sixteen shillings per poimd, why your 
 master makes exactly twenty-four pounds of 
 every ham ; and if he buj^s them at the best 
 hand, and salts them^ and cui'es thenx himself, 
 they don't stand him in ten shillings a-piece. " 
 The old lady bade him hold his nonsense, declar- 
 ed herself ashamed for him, and asked if people 
 
 must not live : then taking a coloured handker- 
 chief from her own neck, she tucked it into his 
 shirt-collar, (whence it htuig like a bib) and 
 helped him to a leg of the chicken. The old 
 gentleman, at every bit he put into his mouth, 
 amused himself with saying,— " There goes two 
 pence — there goes three pence — there goes a 
 groat. — Zounds, a man at these places should 
 not have a swallow as wide as a tom-tit." 
 
 This scanty repast, we may imagine, was 
 soon despatched ; and it was with much diffi- 
 culty our citizen was prevailed on to suifer a 
 plate of beef to be ordered. This too Avas no 
 less admired, and underwent the same comraents 
 with the ham : at length Avhen only a very small 
 bit was left, as they say, for manners in the 
 dish, oiu- don took a piece of an old newspaper 
 oiit of his pocket, and gravely wi-apping up the 
 meat in it, placed it carefully in his letter-case. 
 " I'll keep thee as a cui'iosity to my dying day ; 
 and I'll show them to my neighboiu" Horseman, 
 and ask him if he can make as much of his 
 Gteaks." Then rubbing his hands, and shrug- 
 ging up his shoulders — " Why now," says he •' to- 
 mori'ow night I may eat as much cold beef as I 
 can stuff in any tavern in London, and pay no- 
 thing for it." A dish of tai'ts, cheesecakes, and 
 custards next made their appearance at the re- 
 quest of the young ladies, who paid no sort of 
 regard to the father's remonstrance, " that they 
 were fom* times as dear as at the pastry-cook's." 
 
 Supper being ended, madam put her spouse in 
 mind to call for wine. — " We must have some 
 whie, my dear, or we shall not be looked upon, 
 you know." "Well, weU," says the don, 
 " that's right enough. But do they sell their 
 
 liquor too by the ounce? Here, drawer, 
 
 what wine have you got ?" The fellow, who 
 by this time began to smoke liis guests, answer- 
 ed — ■" We have exceeding good French wine of 
 all sorts, and please your honour. Would your 
 honoui" have a bottle of Champagne, or Burgun- 
 dy, or Claret, or" — " No, no, none of your wishy- 
 washy outlandish rot-gut for me ;" interrupted 
 
 the citizen. " A tankai'd of the Alderman 
 
 beats all the red claret wine in the French king's 
 cellar. — But come, bring us a bottle of somid 
 old Port : and, dy'e hear ? let it be good. " 
 
 While the waiter was gone, the good man 
 most sadly lamented that he could not have his 
 pipe ; which the wife would by no means allow, 
 " because," she said, " it was ungenteel to smoke, 
 where any ladies were in company." When the 
 w^ine came, our citizen gravely took up the 
 bottle, and holding it above his head, " Ay, ay,'* 
 said he, " the bottom has had a good kick. — And 
 mind how confoundedly it is pinched on the 
 sides. — Not above five gills, I warrant. — An old 
 soldier at the Jerusalem would beat t\voof them. 
 — But let us see how it is brewed." He then 
 pom'ed out a glass ; and after holding it up be- 
 fore the candle, smelling to it, sipping it twico 
 
118 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 69. 
 
 or thrice, and smacking with his lips, drauk it 
 off: but declaring that second thoughts were 
 best, he filled another bumper : and tossing that 
 off, after some pause, with a very important ah*, 
 ventured to pronounce it drinkable. The ladies, 
 having also drank a glass roiind, affirmed it was 
 very good, and felt warm in the stomach : and 
 even the old gentleman relaxed into such good 
 humour by the time the bottle was emptied, that 
 out of liis own free Avill and motion he most 
 generously called for another pint, but charged 
 the waiter " to pick out an honest one." 
 
 While the glass was thus circulating, the fa- 
 mily amused themselves by making obsei-vations 
 on the garden. The citizen expressed his won- 
 der at the number of lamps, and said it must 
 cost a great deal of money every night to light 
 them all : the eldest Miss declared, that for her 
 part she liked the dark walk best of all, because 
 it was solentary ; little Miss thought the last song 
 mighty pretty, and said she would buy it, if she 
 could but carry home the tune : and the old lady 
 observed, that there was a great deal of good com- 
 pany indeed ; but the gentlemen were so rude, 
 that they perfectly put her out of countenance 
 by staring at her through their spy-glasses. In 
 a word, the tarts, the cheesecakes, the beef, the 
 chicken, the ounce of ham, and every thing, 
 seemed to have been quite forgot, till the dismal 
 moment approached, that the reckoning was 
 called foi*. As this solemn business concerns all 
 the gentlemen, the ladies kept a profound si- 
 lence ; and when the terrible account w^as 
 brought, they left the pay-master undisturbed, to 
 enjoy the misery by himself; only the old lady 
 had the hardiness to squint at the sum total, 
 and declared " it was pretty reasonable consider- 
 ing." 
 
 Our citizen bore his misfortunes with a to- 
 lerable degree of patience. He shook his head 
 as he run over every article, and swore he wotild 
 never buy meat by the ounce again. At length, 
 when he had carefully summed up every figure, 
 he bade the drawer bring change for sixpence : 
 then pulling out a leathern purse fi'om a snug 
 pocket in the inside of his waistcoat, he drew out 
 slowly, piece by piece, thu'teen shillings ; which 
 he regularly placed in two I'ows upon the table. 
 When the change was brought, after counting it 
 very carefully, he laid down four half-pence in 
 the same exact order : then calling the waiter, 
 — " There," says he, " there's your damage^ 
 
 thirteen and two pence And harkye, there's 
 
 three-pence over for yourself. " The remaining 
 penny he put into his coat-pocket : and chinking 
 it — " This," says he, " will serve me to-morrow 
 to buy a paper of tobacco." 
 
 The family now prepared themselves for 
 going : and as there were some slight drops of 
 rain, madam buttoned up the old gentleman's 
 coat, that he might not spoil his laced waistcoat ; 
 and made him flap his hat, over which she tied 
 
 his pocket handkerchief to save his wig, and as 
 the coat itself (she said) had never been worn 
 but three Sundays, she even parted with her 
 own cardinal, and spread it the wrong side out 
 over his shoulders. In these accoutrements he 
 sallied forth, accompanied by his wife with her 
 upper petticoat thrown over her head, and his 
 daughters with the skirts of their gowns turned 
 up, and their heads muffled up in coloured hand- 
 kerchiefs. I followed them quite out of the gar- 
 den : and as they were waiting for theii* hack to 
 draw up, the youngest Miss asked, " When shall 
 we come again, papa!" " Come again?" (says 
 he) " What a pox, would you ruin me ? Once in 
 one's life is enough ; and I tliink I have done 
 very handsome. Why, it would not have cost 
 me above four-pe^ce half-penny to have spent 
 my evening at Sot's Hole ; and what with the 
 cursed coach-hire, and all together, here's almost 
 a pound gone, and nothingto show for it." — '*Fie, 
 Mr. Rose, I am quite ashamed for you," replies 
 the old lady. " You are always grudging me 
 and jowi' girls the least bit of pleasure : and you 
 cannot help grumbling, if we do but go to Little 
 Hornsey to drink tea. I am sui'e, now they are 
 women grown up, they ought to see' a little of 
 the world ; — and they shall." The old don was 
 not willing to pui'sue the argument any fm*thcr; 
 and the coach coming up, he Avas glad to put an 
 end to the dispute by saying, — ''Come, come, let 
 us make haste, wife ; or we shall not get home 
 time enough to have my best wig combed out 
 again ; and to-morrow, you know, is Sunday." 
 
 W. 
 
 No. 69.] Thursday, May 22, 1755. 
 
 Dignior est vestro milla puella chore. I'ibijli. 
 
 Behold a train of female wits aspire, 
 "With men to mingle in the Muses' quire. 
 
 In a visit which I paid the other day to a lady 
 of gi'eat sense and taste, I was agreeably siu*- 
 prised by having two little voliunes put into my 
 hands, which have been lately published under 
 the title of " Poems by Eminent Ladies." 
 These volumes are, indeed, (as the author of the 
 pref^ice has remarked) " the most solid compli- 
 ment that can possibly be paid to the fair sex." 
 I never imagined, that our nation could boast so 
 many excellent poetesses, (whose works are an 
 honour to their country,) as were here collected 
 together : and it is with the liighest satisfaction 
 I can assure my female readers in particular 
 that I have found a groat number of very ele- 
 gant pieces among the compositions of these la- 
 dies, which cannot be sui'passed (I had almost 
 said, equalled) by the most celebrated of our 
 male- writers. 
 
 The pleasiu'e, which I received fi-om n.nli.i ; 
 
No. 69.]' 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 ng 
 
 these poems, made sucli an impression on my 
 mind that, at night, as soon as I fell asleep, my 
 fancy presented to me the following dream. I 
 was transported I know not how, to the regions 
 of Parnassus : and found myself in the court of 
 Apollo, surrounded by a great number of our 
 most eminent poets. A cause of the utmost im- 
 portance was then depending ; and the debate 
 was, whether the English ladies, who had dis- 
 tinguished themselves in poetrj', should be allow- 
 ed to hold the same rank, and have the same 
 honours paid them, with the men. As the mo- 
 derns were not pennitted to plead in their own 
 suit, Juvenal was retained on the side of the 
 male poets, and Sappho undertook the defence of 
 the other sex. The Roman Satirist, in his 
 speech at the bar, inveighed bitterly against 
 women in general, and particularly exclaimed 
 against their dabbling in literature : but when 
 Sappho came to set fortli the pretensions which 
 the ladies justly had to poetry, and especially in 
 love affairs, Apollo could no longer resist the 
 importunity of the Muses in favour of their own 
 sex. He therefore decreed that all those fe- 
 males, who thought themselves able to manage 
 Pegasus, should immediately show their skill 
 and dexterity in riding him. 
 
 Pegasus was accordingly brought out of the 
 stable, and the Muses furnished him with a side- 
 saddle. AU the ladies, who had courage enough 
 to venture on his back, were prepared to mount : 
 but as a great dispute arose among some of the 
 competitors about precedency, (each of them 
 claiming a right to ride first,) it was at length 
 agreed, that they should get into the saddle 
 according to seniority. 
 
 Upon this a lady advanced ; who, though she 
 had something rather extravagant in her an- and 
 deportment, yet she had a noble presence, that 
 commanded at once awe and admiration. She 
 was dressed in an old fashioned habit, vei-y fan- 
 tastic, and trimmed Avith bugles and points ; 
 such as was worn in the time of King Charles 
 the First. This lady, I was informed, was the 
 Dutchess of Newcastle. Wlien she came to 
 mount, she sprung into the saddle with sui-pris- 
 ing agility ; and giving an entire loose to the 
 reins, Pegasus directly set up a gallop, and ran 
 away with her quite out of sight. However, it 
 was acknowledged, that she kept a fii-m seat, 
 even v/hen the horse went at his deepest rate ; 
 and that she wanted nothing but to ride with a 
 curb-bridle. When she came to dismoxmt, 
 Shakspeare and Milton very kindly offered their 
 hand to help her down, which she accepted. 
 Then Euterpe came up to her w^ith a smile, and 
 begged her to repeat those beautiful lines against 
 melancholy, which (she said) were so extremely 
 picturesque. The Dutchess, with a most pleas- 
 ing air, immediately began — 
 
 Dull melancholy 
 
 She'll make you start at every noise you hear. 
 And visions strange shall to your eyes appear. 
 
 Her voice is low, and gives a hollow sound ; 
 
 She hates the light, and is in darkness found ; 
 
 Or sits by blinking lamps, or tapers small, 
 
 AVhich various shadows make against the wall. 
 
 She loves nought else, but noise which discord makes : 
 
 As croaking frogs, whose dwelling is in lakes ; 
 
 The raven hoarse, the mandrake's hollow groan. 
 
 And shrieking owls, that fly i' th' night alone ; 
 
 The tolling bell, which for the dead rings out ; 
 
 A mill, where rushing waters run about. 
 
 She loves to walk in the still moon-shine night, 
 
 And in a thick dark grove she takes delight ; 
 
 In hollow caves, thatch 'd houses, and low cells. 
 
 She loves to live, and there alone she dwells. 
 
 There leave her to herself alone to dwell, « 
 
 While you and I in mirth and pleasure swell. 
 
 All the while that these lines were repeating, 
 Milton seemed very much chagrined ; and it 
 was whispered by some, that he was obliged for 
 many of the thoughts in his L' Allegro and II 
 Penseroso to tliis lady's * Dialogue between 
 Mirth and Melancholy. 
 
 The celebrated Orinda, Mrs. Katherine Phi- 
 lips, was next placed in the saddle, amid the 
 shouts and applauses of the Lords Roscommon 
 and OiTery, Cowley, and other famoiis wits of 
 her time. Her di-ess was simple, though of a 
 very elegant make : it had no profuse ornaments, 
 and approached very nearly to the cut and 
 fashion of the present age. Though she never 
 ventured beyond a canter or a hand-galloi), she 
 made Pegasus do his paces with so much ease 
 and exactness, that Waller himself owned he 
 could never bring him under so much command. 
 After her Mrs. Killigrew, assisted by Dryden, 
 and several other ladies of that age took their 
 turns to ride : and every one agi'eed, that (mak- 
 ing some allowance for theii* sex) they could not 
 be excelled by the most experience(i riders among 
 the men. 
 
 A bold masculine figure now pushed forwaid 
 in a thin, airy, gay habit, which hung so loose 
 about her, that she appeared to be half undress- 
 ed. WTien she came up to Pegasus, she clapped 
 her hand upon the side saddle, and with a spring 
 leaped across it, saying she should never ride 
 him but astride. She made the poor beast frisk 
 and caper, and curvet, and play a thousand 
 tricks, while she herself was quite imconcerned, 
 though she showed her legs at every motion of 
 the horse, and many of the Muses turned their 
 heads aside blushing. Thalia, indeed, was a 
 good deal pleased with her frolic ; and Erato de- 
 clared, that next to her favourite Sappho she 
 should always prefer this lady. Upon inquir- 
 ing her name, I found her to be the free-spirited 
 ]Mrs. Behn. When she was to dismoimt, Lord 
 Rochester came up, and caught her in his arms ; 
 and repeating part of her f Ode to Desire, 
 
 * Poems by Eminent Ladies. Vol. II. page 199. 
 N. B. This lady, it is supposed, wrote before Milton 
 t Poems by Eminent Ladies. Vol, I. page 167. , 
 
120 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 70. 
 
 To a myrtle bower 
 
 He led her nothing loth. Milton. 
 
 I had now the pleasure to see many ladies of 
 our own times, whose names I was very well 
 acquainted with, advance towards Pegasus. 
 Among the rest 1 could not but wonder at the 
 astonishing dexterity, with which the admired 
 Mrs. Leapor of Brackley guided the horse, 
 though she had not the least assistance from any 
 body. Mrs. Barber of Ireland was assisted in 
 getting upon the saddle by Swift himself, who 
 even condescended to hold the stirrup while she 
 mounted. Under the Dean's direction she made 
 the horse to pace and amble very prettily ; not- 
 withstanding which some declared that she was 
 not equal to her friend and country-woman 
 Mrs. Grierson. 
 
 Another lady, a native of the same kingdom, 
 then briskly stepped up to Pegasus, and despis- 
 ing the weak efforts of her husband to prevent 
 her, she boldly jumped into the saddle, and 
 whipping and cutting rode away furiously bel- 
 ter skelter over hedge and ditch, and trampled 
 on every body who came in her road. She took 
 particular delight in driving the poor horse, who 
 kicked and winced all the while, into the most 
 filthy places ; where she made him fling about 
 the dirt and mire, with which she bespattered 
 almost every one that came near her. Some- 
 times, however, she would put a stop to this mad 
 career ; and then she plainly convinced us, that 
 she knew as well how to manage Pegasus as any 
 of the females, who had tried before her. Being 
 told that this lady was no other than the cele- 
 brated biographer of her own actions Mrs. Pil- 
 kington, I had the curiosity to take a nearer view 
 of her ; when stepping up towards her, and of- 
 fering my assistance to help her down, me- 
 thought she returned my civility with such an 
 uncourteous slap on the face, that (though I 
 awaked at the instant) I could not help fancying 
 for some time, that I felt my cheek tingle with 
 the blow. W. 
 
 No. 70.] Thursday, May 29, 1755. 
 
 — Cansamhanc justam esse in animum inducife, 
 Ui aliqua pars laboris minuatur mihi. Ter. 
 
 Write, correspondents write, where'er you will ; 
 'Twill save me trouble, and my paper fiU. 
 
 My publisher having acquainted me, that he in- 
 tends to close the volume with this nimiber, I 
 shall take the opportunity to throw together sev- 
 eral letters, which I have received in the coui'se 
 of this work, and to balance with all my corres- 
 pondents ; at the same time assuring them, that 
 I should be very glad to open a fresh account 
 with them in my next volume. * 
 
 * This alludes to the division of volumes in tlic second 
 edition of this work. 
 
 In the infancy of this undertaking I was hon- 
 oured with a verj'- kind billet from a brother of 
 the quill ; the terms of which I am sorry it was 
 not in my power to comply with. It was as 
 follows : 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 I can be of great assistance to you, if you 
 want any help. I will write for you every 
 other week, or oftener if you choose it. As a 
 specimen of my powers, I have sent you an es- 
 say, which is at your service. It is short, but a 
 very good one. Yours at command, 
 
 T. Turnpenny. 
 P. S. Please to send by the bearer a guinea. 
 
 The contents of the postcript I naturally re- 
 ferred to the considei-ation of my publisher, who 
 consequently had a right to determine on the 
 goodness of my friend's essay: but, whatever 
 was the reason, I heard no more of it. The 
 commerce between bookseller and author is, in- 
 deed, of very great service, especially to the lat- 
 ter : for though I myself must imdoubtedly be 
 excepted out of the number, yet it must be con- 
 fessed, that the most famous wits have owed 
 their support to this pecuniary intercourse. 
 Meat and di-ink, and the other conveniences of 
 life, are as necessary to an author as pen, ink, 
 and paper ; and I remember to have seen in the 
 possession of IMr. Tonson a curious manuscript 
 of the great Dryden himself, wherein he peti- 
 tions his bookseller to advance a sum of money 
 to his tailor. 
 
 The next letter comes likewise from an au- 
 thor, who complains of an evil, which does not, 
 indeed, often affect many of our fraternity ! I 
 mean the custom of giving money to servants. 
 
 Dear IMr. Town, 
 
 I have been happy all this winter in having 
 the run of a nobleman's table, who was pleased 
 to patronise a work of mine, and to wliich he 
 allowed me the honour of prefixing his name 
 in a dedication. We geniuses have spirit, you 
 know, far beyond our pockets ; and (besides the 
 extraordinary expense of new clothes to appear 
 decent) I assure you I have laid out every far- 
 thing, that I ever received from "his lordship's 
 bounty, in tips to his servants. After every dinner 
 I was forced to run tlie gauntlet throxigh a long 
 line of powdered pickpockets ; and could not but 
 look upon it as a very ridiculous circumstance, 
 that I should be obliged to give money to a fel 
 low wlio was dressed much finer than myself. 
 In such a case, I am apt to consider the sliowy 
 waistcoat of a foppish footman or butler out of 
 livery, as laced down with the shillings and half- 
 crowns of the guests. 
 
 I would therefore beg of you, Mr. Town, to 
 recommend the poor author's case to the consi- 
 deration of the gentlemen of the cloth ; humbly 
 
No. 70..] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 121 
 
 praying, that they would be pleased to let lis go 
 scot-free as ^vell as the clergy : for though a good 
 meal is in truth a A-ery comfortable thing to us, 
 it is enough to blunt the edge of our appetites^ to 
 consider that we must afterwards pay so dear 
 for our ordinary. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 Jeffery Bareboxes, 
 
 By some of my papers I find I have drawn 
 upon me the censure, not only of the free-think- 
 ers, but of the 3Ioi-avians, Methodists, and 
 other numerous sectaries, which have lately start- 
 ed up in opposition to om* established religion. 
 Tlie following letter occasioned by my sixty-first 
 number, beai's about it so many marks of an ori- 
 ginal, that it certainly comes from one of their 
 teachers, who (as his style smells so much of the 
 craft) is undoubtedly some inspired shoemaker, 
 or enlightened bricklayer. I have therefore 
 printed it without any alteration, except in the 
 spelling. 
 
 3IR. COXXOISSEUR. 
 
 I have taken the pains, as usual, to read your 
 paper, and as you receive letters, I thought pro- 
 per, among the rest, to send one also, to let you 
 know, that I did not know that a cat was capa- 
 ble of constituting a religious society before. A 
 priest may, it is true ; and so may another 
 rational creature, and perhaps an old woman 
 also. But, Sh", you argue, that what a French 
 fool or lunatic says on this head, is true ; but you 
 make more out, I observe, from the old woman 
 and the leathern apron, than you do of the cat. 
 For, if old women will, or do constitute a reli- 
 gious society, I understand fi'om the foundation 
 you seem to argue, that you are as much an old 
 woman as they. For to argue or reason from 
 an eld woman's story, and for all your learning, 
 and policy, and cunningness, and judgment you 
 seem to have, you have but little of yourself : 
 and as you seem to ridicule religion, and com- 
 pare it to atheism or lunacy, I would beg the 
 favour to know Sir, what religion you are of : 
 but by your talk, I fear you ai"e of none at all. 
 
 This new doctrine. Sir, that you revile, is the 
 real gospel, which you will find so, if you hear 
 it, and compare it with the scriptiares, if you 
 believe any scripture at all. For you say, Sir, 
 that the most extraordinary tenets of religion 
 are A-ery successfully propagated rmder the sanc- 
 tion of leathern aprons instead of cassocks. 
 Well, and suppose it is : you acknowledge it is 
 received by well-disposed people ; and if it is, 
 then it is plain you ridicule it, you are not one of 
 tJiese well-disposed. But, Sir, this new doc- 
 trine, as you call it, is not only propagated under 
 the sanction of leathern aprons, by barbers, 
 bricklayers, and the like, but by many of the 
 
 clergy now in the established chiurh : and if you 
 often went to hear them, but not as a critic to 
 cai*p at what is there spoken, you would imder- 
 stand more what this new doctrine meant, and 
 whether it drives men to enthusiasm, and the 
 like, or no. 
 
 Sir, what you touch on the iMoravians, I wiU 
 not say any thing about or against ; for perhaps 
 it is too true. But, Su-, I would advise you to 
 know a little more of religion experimentally 
 for yourself, before you pretend to condemn 
 others. And, Sir, if you are informed, that 
 there will be a mad-house built on the ground 
 Avhere the Foundei*y stands, or the 31ethodists' 
 3Ieeting-house, as you call it, perhaps there may 
 be as many criticising lunatics in it, as religious 
 ones ; and very likely more. Sir, I beg you 
 would take cai'e you don't bother your brains 
 too much about other people's aifairs, lest I 
 should have the pain, not the pleasure, of seeing 
 you there. 
 
 I have just given you a sketch of the ridicul- 
 ing the new doctrine, and wish you could find 
 some better employ, if so be it "was with a leath- 
 ern apron before you ; for I think it would be- 
 come you better than this point does. Sir, I 
 hope you vrill excuse my fi'eedom with you, as 
 others must yours with them. 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 
 Wish kg Harm. 
 
 The last letter, which I shall add, comes fi'om 
 an unknown correspondent, w^ho has ali'eady 
 obliged me more than once, if I may judge from 
 the hand- writing. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Some time ago you archly remarked, that 
 there was not one woman left, but that the 
 whole sex was elevated into ladies. You might 
 at the same time have taken notice of the won- 
 derful increase among the other sex in the order 
 of gentlemen. 
 
 Besides those who are universally acknow- 
 ledged of this rank from their birth and situa- 
 tion in life, the courtesy of England also enti- 
 tles all persons who carry arms to that dignity ; 
 so that his Majesty's three regiments of guards 
 are composed entirely of gentlemen ; and every 
 priggish fellow, who can clap a queue to his 
 peruke, and hang a s"word a^vkwardly dangling 
 by his side, from thence assumes the importance 
 as weU as name of a gentleman. Idleness and 
 ignorance being too often the disgrace of those 
 who are gentlemen born and bred, many invest 
 themselves with that dignity, though with no 
 other qualifications. If the pride, poverty, or 
 neglect of parents, has prevented their son from 
 being bound 'prentice, or if the idle rascal has 
 shown his indentures a light pair of heels, in 
 either case Tom is of no trade and consequently 
 a gentleman. I know at'this time a man, who 
 R 
 
122 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 71, 
 
 came from Ireland last summer witli a hayfork, 
 but before winter raised himself to the rank of 
 a gentleman : and every day I go to Windmill- 
 street, I see a very honourable gentleman betting 
 large sums of money, whom I formerly remem- 
 ber Marker of the Tennis court. Add to this, 
 that all attorneys' clerks, 'prentices, and the like, 
 are gentlemen every evening ; and the citizen, 
 (who drudges all the rest of the week behind 
 the counter) every Sunday, together with his 
 laced waistcoat and ruffles, puts on the gentle- 
 man. Every author, IVIr. Town, is a gentle- 
 man, if not an esquire, by his profession ; and 
 all the players, from King Richard to the Lieu- 
 tenant of the Tower, are gentlemen. 
 
 The body of gentlemen is still more numer- 
 ous ; but I have not leisure at present to climb 
 up to garrets, or dive into cellars after them : 
 I shall only observe, that many of the above 
 mentioned members of this order die with the 
 same reputation that they lived, and go out of 
 the woi-ld like Squire Maclean, or Gentleman 
 Harry. 
 
 Your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 *^.* Befoi'e I dismiss this new edition of my 
 works, I think it my duty to return thanks to 
 my kind readers for their candid reception of 
 these Papers, as they were separately published, 
 though 1 cannot but be sensible, that either 
 through haste, inadvertence, or other avoca- 
 tions, they unavoidably abounded with many 
 faults, from which 1 have endeavoured to clear 
 them as much as possible in their present form. 
 Mr. Faulkner of Dublin is very welcome, there- 
 fore, to his Irish edition, printed literatim from 
 my folio ; and in which, I dare say, the very 
 errors of the press are most religiously preserved. 
 
 I cannot but regret, indeed, that there is still 
 wanting one principal ornament to these little 
 volumes: I mean the dedication. Not that 
 there are wanting persons highly deserving of 
 all the pi'aises which the most obsequious and 
 most devoted author could possibly lavish on 
 them : for in all ages, and in all nations, these 
 have always abounded. Latin authors, for ex- 
 ample, have never failed to pay their compli- 
 ments to the illustrious family of the Issimi ; 
 such as the laudatissimi, the emiyientissimi, the com- 
 mendaiissinii, the famigo-atissimi, the doctissiini, 
 the nobilisdmi, S^-c. and among our own writers 
 no less respect has been shown to the numerous 
 race of the most famous, the most ingenious, 
 the most learned, the most eminent, &c. It is 
 but justice that those who ofter the incense 
 should "live by the altar." Yet, notwith- 
 standing I gave notice to any rich citizen, no- 
 bleman, or others, that my dedication should be 
 disposed of to the best bidder, I have received 
 no overtures on that head. In the city this 
 course of exchange has not yet been established ; 
 and among people of quality, the market has 
 
 been over-stocked, and flattery is become a 
 mere drug ; while some of them, who have 
 taken up the trade themselves, have, perhaps, 
 considered me as a rival or interloper in the 
 business. 
 
 It remains only, to give an account of the au- 
 thors concerned in this work. I am sorry that 
 I do not know the names of any of the volun- 
 teers, to whom I have been greatly indebted : 
 and as to those who have engaged for the 
 drudgery of the Aveck, various conjectures have 
 been formed about them. Some are sure, that 
 the papers signed T. arc written by Mr. Such- 
 a-one,— because it is the first letter of his name ; 
 and others, by another, — because it is not : O is 
 
 the mark of the Honourable , or Lord 
 
 ; they know it by the style : and W 
 
 must be the work of a certain famous wit, and 
 no other, — Aut Erasmus, AuL Diabolus. But to 
 put the matter out of all doubt, and to satisfy 
 the curiosity of my i-eaders, all I am at liberty 
 at present to divulge is, that none of the papers 
 (to my knowledge) were written by the Hon- 
 ourable , or Lord , or , 
 
 Esquire ; but.that those which are marked with 
 a T, and those with an O, and those with a W, 
 (as well as those which hereafter may perhaps 
 be signed N,) are furnished by the ingenious 
 and learned gentleman, who has subscribed his 
 name to this paper. T, O, "\V, N. 
 
 No. 71.] Thursday, June 5, 1755. 
 
 Est bi-cvitate opus, ut cimat senfentia, vcu se 
 hnpcdiat verbis lassas onerantibus aurcs : 
 Et scrmone opus est, modo iristi, scrpe jocose. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 I write as I would talk ; am short and clear ; 
 Not clogg'd with words that load the wearied ear 1 
 A grave, dull essay now and then goes dowji j 
 But folks expect to laugh with Mr. Town. 
 
 Ajioxg the several degrees of authors, there arc 
 none, perhaps, who have more obstacles to sur- 
 mount at their setting out, than the writers of 
 periodical essays. Talk with a modern critic, 
 and he will toll you, that a new paper is a vain 
 attempt after the inimitable Spectator and 
 others ; that all the proper subjects are already 
 pre-occupied, and that it is equally impossible to 
 find out a new field for observation, as to dis- 
 cover a new world. With these prejudices the 
 public are prepared to receive us; and while 
 they expect to be cloyed with the stale repetition 
 of the same fare, though tossed up in a different 
 manner, they sit down with but little relish for 
 the entertainment. 
 
 That the Spectator first led the way, roust 
 undoubtedly be acknowledged : but that his fol- 
 lowers must for that reason be always supposed 
 to tread in his steps, can by no means be allow* 
 
No. 71.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 123 
 
 ed. In the high road of life there ai*e several 
 extensive walks, as well as bye-paths, which we 
 may strike into, without the necessity of keep- 
 ing the same beaten track with those that have 
 gone before us. New objects for ridicule will 
 continually present themselves; and even the 
 same characters will appear different by being 
 differently disposed, as in the same pack of cards, 
 though ever so often shuffled, there will never 
 be two hands exactly alike. 
 
 After this introduction, I hope to be pardoned, 
 if 1 indulge myself in speaking a word or two 
 concerning my own endeavours to entertain the 
 public. And first, whatever objections the reader 
 may have had to the subjects of my papers, I 
 shall make no apology for the manner in which 
 I have chose to trer.t them. The dread of fall- 
 ing into (what they are pleased to call) collo- 
 quial barbarisms, has induced some unskilful 
 writers to swell their bloated diction with un- 
 couth phrases and the affected jargon of pedants. 
 For my own part, I never go out of the com- 
 mon way of expression, merely for the sake of 
 introducing a more sounding word with a Latin 
 termination. The English language is suffi- 
 ciently copious and expressive without any fur- 
 ther adoption of new terms ; and the native 
 words seem to me to ha^-e far more force than 
 any foreign auxiliaries, however pompously 
 ushered in ; as British soldiers fight oui* battles 
 better than the troops taken into our pay. 
 
 The subjects of my essays have been chiefly 
 such as I thought might recommend themselves 
 to the public notice by being new and uncom- 
 mon. For this reason I purposely avoided the 
 worn-out practice of retailing scraps of morality, 
 and affectmg to dogmatize on the common duties 
 of life. In this point, indeed, the Spectator is 
 inimitable ; nor could I hope to say any thing 
 new upon these topics after so many excellent 
 moral and religious essays, which are the prin- 
 cipal ornament of that work. I have therefore 
 contented myself with exposing vice and folly 
 by painting mankind in their natural colours, 
 without assuming the rigid air of a preacher, or 
 the moroseness of a philosopher. I have rather 
 chose to undermine our fashionable excesses by 
 secret sapping, than to storm them by open 
 assault. In a word, upon all occasions I have 
 endeavoured to laugh people into a better beha- 
 viour : as I am convinced, that the sting of re- 
 proof is not less sharp for being concealed ; and 
 advice never comes with a better face, than Avhen 
 it comes with a laughing one. 
 
 Thei'e are some points in the course of this 
 work, which perhaps might have been treated 
 with a more serious air. I have thought it my 
 duty to take every opportunity of exposing the 
 absurd tenets of our modern Free-thinkers and 
 Knthusiasts. The Enthusiast is, indeed, much 
 more difficult to cure than the Free-thinker ; 
 because the latter, with all liis bravery, cannot 
 
 but be conscious that he is wrong ; whereas the 
 former may have deceived himself into a belief, 
 that he is certainly in the right ; and the more 
 he is opposed, the more he considers himself as 
 "patiently suffering for the truth's sake." 
 Ignorance is too stubborn to yield to conviction : 
 and on the other hand those, whom " a little 
 learning has made mad," are too proud and self- 
 sufficient to hearken to the sober voice of reason. 
 The only way left us, therefore, is to root out 
 superstition, by making its followers ashamed, of 
 themselves : and as for our Free-thinkers, it is 
 but right to tui-n their boasted weapons of ridi- 
 cule against them ; and as they themselves 
 endeavour to banter others out of every serious 
 and virtuous notion, we too (in the language of 
 the psalmist) should "laugh them to scorn, 
 and have them in derision." 
 
 It is with infinite pleasure, that I find myself 
 so much encouraged to continue my labours, by 
 the kind reception which they have hitherto met 
 with from the public : and Mr. Baldwin, with 
 no less pleasure, infonns me, that as there are 
 but few numbers left of the folio edition, he in- 
 tends to collect them into two pocket volumes. 
 The reader cannot conceive, how much I already 
 pride mj'^elf on the charming figure, which my 
 works will make in this new form : and I shall 
 endeavour to render these volumes as complete 
 as I possibly can, by several considerable addi- 
 tions and amendments. Though contracted 
 into the small space of a twelves volume, I still 
 hope to maintain my former dignity ; like the 
 devils in Milton's Pandaemonium. 
 
 To smallest forms 
 
 Reduced theii shapes immense, and were at large. ■*. 
 
 The Spectator has very elegantly compared 
 his single papers, as they came out, to " chen-ies 
 on a stick," of the dearness of which the pur- 
 chasers cannot complain, who are willing to 
 gratify their taste v/'iih choice fruit at its earliest 
 production. I have considered my own papers 
 as so many flowers, which joined together, 
 would make up a pretty nosegay ; and though 
 each of them, singly taken, may not be equally 
 admired for their odours, they may receive an 
 additional fragi-ance by a happy union of their 
 sweets. 
 
 The learned decor&tion in the front of my 
 papers, though perhaps it has sometimes put my 
 scholarship to a stand, I could by no means dis- 
 pense Avith : for such is the prevalence of cus- 
 tom, that the m.ost finished essay without a 
 motto would appear to many people as maimed 
 and imperfect, as a beautiful face without a nose. 
 But custom has imposed upon us a new task of 
 giving translations to these mottos : and it has 
 been the usual method to copy them promiscu- 
 ously from Dryden to Francis ; though (as 
 Donham has remarked of translation in general) 
 " the spirit of the original is evaporated in the 
 
124 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 72. 
 
 transfusion, and nothing is left behind but a 
 mere caimt mortuum." A motto, as it stands in 
 the original, may be very apposite to the subject 
 of the essay, though nothing to the purpose in 
 the common translation ; and it frequently de- 
 rives all its elegance fi'om a humorous applica- 
 tion in a diffei-ent sense to what it bears in the 
 author, but of which, not the least trace can 
 appear in the version. For this reason, I have 
 determined to give entire new translations, or 
 rather imitations, of all the mottos and quota- 
 tions, adapted to the present times. And these, 
 I flatter myself, will reflect an additional beauty 
 on my work ; as some of them admit of epi- 
 grammatic turns, ^vhile others aff"ord room for 
 lively and picturesque allusions to modern man- 
 ners. In this dress, they wOl at least appear 
 more of a piece with the essays themselves ; and 
 not like the patch- work of random translations. 
 In the mean time, I shall only add, that if any 
 nobleman, gentleman, or rich citizen, is ambi- 
 tious to have his name prefixed to either of these 
 volumes, he is desired to send in proposals, to- 
 gether with a list of his virtues and good quali- 
 ties, to the publisher ; and the dedications shall 
 be disposed of to the best bidder. 
 *^,* None but principals will be treated with. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 72.] Thursday, June 12, 1755. 
 
 Versus inopes rerum nugceque canorce. Hor. 
 
 What though our songs to wit have no pretence, 
 The fiddle stick shall scrape them into sense. 
 
 The managers of our public gardens, willing to 
 make their summer diversions as complete as 
 possible, are not content with laying out beau- 
 tiful Avalks, and providing an excellent band of 
 music, but are also at much expense to amuse us 
 with the old English entertainment of ballad- 
 singing. For this end, they not only retain the 
 best voices that can be procured, but each of 
 them also has a poet in ordinary, who is allow- 
 ed a stated salary, and the run of the gardens. 
 The productions of these petty laureats naturally 
 come within my notice as critic : and, indeed, 
 whether I am at VauxhalJ, Ranelagh, Mary- 
 bone, or even Sadler's Wells, I indulge myself 
 in many remarks on the poetry of the place ; 
 and am as attentive to the songs as to the cas- 
 cade, the fire-works, or Miss Isabella Wilkin- 
 son. 
 
 Ballads seem peculiary adapted to the genius 
 of our people ; and are a species of composition, 
 in which we are superior to all other nations. 
 Many of our ol<l English songs have in them an 
 afl^ecting simplicity ; and it is remarkable, that 
 our best writers have not been ashamed to cul- 
 tivate this branch of poetry. Cowley, Waller, 
 Roscommon, Rowe, Gay, Prior, and many 
 
 others, have left behind them A'ery elegant bal- 
 lads : but it must be confessed, to the honour of 
 the present age, that it was reserved for our mo- 
 dern writers to bring this kind of poetry to per- 
 fection. Song-AiTiting is now reduced to certain 
 rules of art ; and the ballad-maker goes to work 
 by a method as regular and mechanical, as a car- 
 penter or a blacksmith. 
 
 Swift, in his Voyage to Laputa, describes a 
 machine to write books in all arts and sciences : 
 I have also read of a mill to make verses ; and 
 remember to have seen a curious table, by the 
 assistance of which the most illiterate might 
 amuse themselves in composing hexameters and 
 pentameters in Latin : inventions wonderfully 
 calculated for the promotion of literature. 
 Whatever gentlemen of Grub-street or others 
 are ambitious to enlist themselves as hackney 
 sonnetteers are desired to attend to the follow- 
 ing rules, drawn from the practice of our mo- 
 dern song writers ; a set of geniuses excellent in 
 their manner, and avIio will probably be here- 
 after as much known and admired as garden- 
 poets, as the celebrated Taylor is now famous 
 under the denomination of water-poet. 
 
 I must beg leave positively to contradict any 
 reports, insinuating that our ballad makers are 
 in possession of such a machine, mill, or table, 
 as aboA'e mentioned : and believe it to be equally 
 false, that it is their practice to hustle certain 
 quaint tei'ms and phrases together in a hat, and 
 take them out at random. It has, indeed, been 
 assei'ted on some just gi'ound, that their pro- 
 ductions ai'e totally void of sense and expression, 
 that they have little rhjnne and less reason, 
 and that they are, from beginning to end, no- 
 thing more than nonsensical rhapsodies to a new 
 tune. This charge I do not mean to deny : 
 though I cannot but lament the deplorable want 
 of taste, that mentions it as a fault. For it is 
 this very circumstance, which I, wlio am pro- 
 fessedly a Connoisseur, particularly admire. It 
 is a received maxim with all composers of music 
 that nothing is so melodious as nonsense. Man- 
 ly sense is too harsh and stubborn to go through 
 the numberless divisions and sub-divisions of 
 mo<lern music, and to be trilled forth in crotchets 
 and demiquavers. Fur this? reason, thought is 
 so cautiously sprinkled over a modern song ; 
 which it is the business of the singer to wai-ble 
 into sentiment. 
 
 Our ballad-makers for the most part slide into 
 the familiar style, and affect that easy manner of 
 wilting which (according to Wycherly) is easily 
 written. Seeing the dangerous consequence of 
 meaning, in words adapted to music, they are 
 very frugal of sentiment : and indeed they hus- 
 band it so well, that the same thoughts are 
 adapted to every song. The only variation re- 
 quisite in twenty ballads is, that the last line of 
 the stanza be different. In this ingenious Une 
 the wit of the whole song consists ; and the au- 
 
No. 73.J 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 125 
 
 tUor, whethei' he shall die if he has not the lass 
 of the mill, or deserves to be reckoned an ass, 
 turns over his dictionai'y of rhymes for words of 
 a similar sound, and every verse jingles to the 
 same word, with aU the agreeable variety of a 
 set of bells eternally ringing the same peal. 
 
 The authors of love songs formerly wasted a 
 great deal of poetry in illustrating their own 
 passion and the beauty of their mistress ; but 
 our modern poets content themselves with fall- 
 ing in love with her name. There cannot be a 
 greater misfortune to one of these rhymers than 
 a mistress with a hard name : such a misfortune 
 sends them all over the world, and makes them 
 run through all arts, sciences, and languages for 
 con-espondent terms ; and after all, pei'haps the 
 name is so harsh and untractable, that our poet 
 has as much difiiculty to bring it into vei'se, as 
 the celebrators of the Duke of Marlborough 
 were puzzled to reduce to rhyme the uncouth 
 names of the Dutch towns taken in Queen 
 Anne's wars. Valentine, in Love for Love, 
 when he talks of turning poet, orders Jeremy to 
 get the maids together of an evening to Crambo : 
 no contemptible hint to our ballad-makers, and 
 which, if properly made use of, would be of as 
 much service to them as Byshe's Art of Poetry. 
 
 Fearing lest this method of song-writing 
 should one day grow obsolete, in order to pre- 
 serve to posterity some idea of it, I have put to- 
 gether the following dialogue as a specimen of 
 the modern manner. I must, however, be in- 
 genuous enough to confess, that 1 can claim no 
 further merit in this elegant piece than that of 
 compiler. It is a cento from our most celebrat- 
 ed new songs; from which I have carefully 
 culled all the sweetest flowers of poetry, and 
 bound them up together. As all the lines are 
 taken from different songs set to different tunes, 
 I would humbly propose, that this curious per- 
 formance should be sung jointly by all the best 
 voices, in the manner of a Dutch concert, where 
 evei'y man sings his own tune. I had once 
 some thoughts of affixing marginal references to 
 each line, to inform the reader by note, at what 
 place the song, whence it is taken, was first 
 sung. But I shall spare myself that trouble by 
 desiring the reader to look on the whole piece as 
 arising from a coalition of our most eminent 
 song-writers at Vauxhall, Ranelagh, Marybone, 
 and Sadler's Wells: assuring him, that this 
 short dialogue contains the pith and marrow, or 
 rather (to borrow an expression from the Fine 
 Lady in Lethe) the quinsetence and emptity of 
 all our modern songs. 
 
 A PASTORAL DIALOGUE, 
 
 BETWEEN 
 CORYDON AND SUSAN. 
 Sus. Ah ! whither so fast would my Corydon go ? 
 
 Step in, you've nothing else to do. 
 Cvr. They say I'm in love, but I answer no no ; 
 So I wish I may die if I do. 
 
 Once my heart play'd a tune that went pitty pattie. 
 
 And I sigh 'd but I could not tell why. 
 Now let what will happen, by Jove I'll be free. 
 Sus. O fie, shepherd, fie, shepherd, fie. 
 
 Cor. Though you bid me begone back again. 
 Yet, Sukey, no matter for that, 
 The women love kissing as well as the men. 
 Sus. Why, what a pox would you be at ? 
 
 You told me a tale of a cock and a bull ; 
 Upon my word he did. 
 
 Cor. 
 Sm. 
 
 I swear I meant nothing but playing the fool 
 Very fine ! very pretty indeed ! 
 
 Cor. Come, come, my dear Sukey, to church let us go; 
 
 No more let your answer be no. 
 Sus. The deuce sure is in him to plague a maid so : 
 
 I cannot deny you, you know. , 
 
 CHORUS BY BOTH. 
 
 No courtiers can be so happy as we. 
 Who bill like the sparrow and dove. 
 
 I love Sue, and Sue loves me. 
 Sure this is mutual love. 
 
 No. 73.] Thursdat, June 19, 1755. 
 
 -Secernere saa-a profanis. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Wherever God erects a house of prayer, 
 
 The devil always has a chapel there. Defoe. 
 
 Walking the other day in W^estminster Abbey, 
 among the many ostentatious monuments erect- 
 ed to kings and warriors, I could not help ob- 
 serving a little stone, on which was this pom- 
 pous inscription — Eterncs memo7-ice sacrum — Sa- 
 cred to the eternal memory of . The name 
 
 of the person to whom immortality was thus 
 secured, is almost obliterated ; and perhaps, 
 when alive, he was little known, and soon for- 
 got by the small circle of his friends and ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 1 have been used to look upon epitaphs as a 
 kind of flattering dedications to the dead ; in 
 which is set down a long catalogue of virtues, 
 that nobody knew they were possessed of while 
 living, and not a word of their vices or follies. 
 The veracity of these posthumous encomiums 
 may, indeed, be fairly suspected, as we are gen- 
 erally told, that the disconsolate widow, or 
 weeping son, erected the monument in testimo- 
 ny of their afiliction for the loss of the kindest 
 hasband, or most affectionate father. But what 
 dowager, who enjoys a comfortable jointure by 
 her good man's decease, would refuse to set her 
 hand to it on his tomb-stone, that he was the 
 best of husbands, though perhaps they had parted 
 beds? or what heir Vi^ould be so base and ungrate- 
 ful, as not to give a iew good words to a crabbed 
 parent after his death, in return for his estate. 
 
 By the extravagant praises which are indis- 
 criminately lavished on the ashes of every person 
 
126 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 73. 
 
 alike, wc entirely pervert the original intent of 
 epitaphs, which were contrived to do honour and 
 justice to the virtuous and the good. But by 
 the present practice the reputations of men are 
 equally confounded with their dust in the grave, 
 where there is no distinction between the good 
 and the bad. The law has appointed seai'chors 
 to inquire, when any one dies, into the cause of 
 his death ; in the same manner I could wish, 
 that searchers were appointed to examine into 
 his way of living, before a character be given of 
 him upon the tomb-stone. 
 
 The flatteries that are paid to the deceased are 
 undoubtedly owing to the pride of their survi- 
 vors, which is the same among the lowest as the 
 highest set of people. When an obscure grocer or 
 tallow-chandler dies at his lodgings at Islington, 
 the newspapers are stuffed with the same parade 
 of his virtues and good qualities, as when a duke 
 goes out of the world ; and the petty overseer of 
 a little hamlet has a painted board stuck up at 
 the end of his wickei'ed turf, with a distich set- 
 ting forth the godliness of his life, in humble 
 imitation of the nobleman, who reposes under a 
 grand mausoleum erected to his memory, with 
 a long list of his titles and heroic deeds. 
 
 The great, indeed, have found means to sepa- 
 rate themselves even in their graves from the vul- 
 gar, by having their ashes deposited in chuixhes 
 and cathedrals, and covered by the most superb 
 monuments; but the false pomp of the monument, 
 as well as the gross flattery of the inscription, 
 often tends only to make the deceased ridiculous. 
 In my late visit to Westminster Abbtfr, I could 
 not but remark the difference of taste which has 
 prevailed in setting up these edifices for the dead. 
 In former times, it was thought sufficient to 
 clap up the bust or statue of the deceased, set 
 round, perhaps, with the emblems of their me- 
 rits, their employment, or station of life. Thus, 
 if any lady was remarkable for her virtue and 
 piety, it was pointed out by two or three little 
 chubby-faced cherubims, crying for her death, 
 or holding a crown over her head. The war- 
 rior was spread along in full length, in a com- 
 plete suit of armour, with the trophies of war 
 hung round about him : and the bishop was laid 
 flat upon his back, with his coifed head rest- 
 ing on a stone Bible, and his hands joined to- 
 gether in the posture of praying. 
 
 If Socrates, or any other of the ancient idnlo- 
 sophers, could revive again, and be admitted 
 into Westminster Abbey, he would now be 
 induced to fancy himself in a pantheon. The 
 modej'u taste, not content with introducing Ro- 
 man temples into our churches, and represent- 
 ing the virtues under allegorical images, has 
 ransacked all the fabulous accounts of the hea- 
 then theology to strike out new embellishments 
 for our Christian monuments. We are not in 
 the least surprised to see IMercury attending the 
 tomb of an orator, and Pallas or Hercules sup- 
 
 porting that of a wanior. If there is not a stop 
 l)ut to this taste, we may soon expect to see our 
 churches, instead of being dedicated to the ser- 
 vice of religion, set apart for the recei)tion of the 
 heathen gods. A deceased admiral will be re- 
 presented like Neptune, with a trident in his 
 hand, drawn in a shell by dolphins, preceded by 
 tritons, and followed by nereids, lashing the 
 marble waves with their tails. A gejieral will 
 be habited like Mars, bearing a helmet and 
 spear in polished stone ; and a celebrated 
 toast will be stuck up naked, like the Venus dc 
 Medicis, cut in alabaster. Our])ious forefathers 
 were content with exhibiting to us the usual 
 emblems of death, the hour-glass, the skull, and 
 the cross marrow-bones. These emblems, if 
 not very elegant, were at least not indecent ; 
 but now the Three Fatal Sisters, mentioned in 
 the heathen mythology, must be introduced 
 spinning, drawing, and cutting the thread of 
 life. Could one of the last century see a winged 
 figure blowing the trumpet on the top of a mo- 
 dern monument, he would be apt to mistake it 
 for an archangel, and be naturally put in mind 
 of that awful time, 'when the trumpet shall 
 sound, and the dead shall rise.' But the design, 
 we are told, is very different; and this winged 
 messenger is no other than the ancient person- 
 age of Fame, who is proclaiming the virtues of 
 the defunct round the world. 
 
 It has been recommended, on a different ac- 
 count, to have a separate place, distinct from our 
 churches, for the reception of our monuments. I 
 could wish to see such a scheme put in execution : 
 for the present absurd mixture of the several 
 objects of Pagan and Christian belief, as repi-e- 
 sented on the tombs lately set up in compliance 
 with the modern taste, must be shocking to 
 every serious beholder. Should any one pro- 
 pose to take down from St. Paul's cathedrid 
 those paintings of Sir James Thornhni rej)re- 
 senthig the transactions of St. Paul, and in 
 their place to set up Titian's pictures of the 
 amours of the heathen gods and goddesses, every 
 one would be shocked at the impiety of the pro- 
 posal. But the fashion of introducing heathen 
 deities into our monuments is not much less ab- 
 surd ; and as INIilton has been blamed for his 
 frequent allusions to the heathen theology in his 
 sacred poem, surely we are more to be condemn- 
 ed, for admitting the whole class of their ficti- 
 tious deities into the house of God itseli'. A re- 
 formation in this point is no less necessary, than 
 from the Popish superstitions ; and these pro- 
 fane images, though not the objects of our idola- 
 try, have no more pretence to be set up in the 
 Temple of the living Lord, than those of the 
 canonized saints of the Roman Catholics. 
 
 Modern taste is continually striking out new 
 improvements. Wcmay therefore conclude, that 
 when our statuaries have travelled through the 
 ancient Pantheon, and c.\Laustod all the subjects 
 
No. 74.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 127 
 
 of the Grecian and Roman mythology, we shall 
 have recourse to the supei'stitions of other na- 
 tions for the designs of our monuments. They 
 will then probably be adorned with -Egyptian 
 hierogljT)hics, and the tomb of some future hero 
 may be built according to the model of the pro- 
 phet's tomb at Mecca. It is not to be doubted, 
 but that the Chinese taste, which has already 
 taken possession of our gardens, our buildings, 
 and our furniture, will also soon find its way 
 into our churches : and hoAv elegant must a 
 monument appear, which is erected in the Chi- 
 nese taste, and embellished with dragons, bells, 
 pagods, and mandarins. O. 
 
 No. 74.] Thursdav, June 26, 1755. 
 
 -Non ita ItomuU 
 
 Prcescriptum et intonsi Cafonis 
 AuspicUs, vetervmque noiTnS. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Rome boasts her sons, a race of stubborn fools. 
 To virtue train 'd by grey-beard Cato's rules. 
 Such rigid pride our modest youth disclaim. 
 Great in their crimes, and glorious in their shame. 
 
 There is no method of reproof more in vogue, 
 than the fashion of drawing invidious parallels 
 between the present times and the past. The 
 grumbling politician rails over his coffee at the 
 present ministry, and reminds you, with a sigh, 
 of the golden days of Queen Bess : while, in 
 matters of less consequence, the critic shakes his 
 head at Mr. Town, and mentions Bickerstaff. 
 But the moralists are above all others devoted to 
 this practice. These vt^ise gentlemen are conti- 
 nually looking backAvards, and condemning what 
 lies immediately before them by retrospect. 
 They are for ever harping on this jarring chord, 
 and have scarce more words in their mouths 
 than the solemn sentences said to be delivered by 
 Friar Bacon's Brazen Head, Time is — Time 
 was — Time is past. 
 
 No comparisons of this sort are so frequently 
 repeated, and so much insisted on, as those 
 drawn between the ancients and moderns. If 
 an eloquent member of the House of Commons 
 is cruelly suspected of bellowing for a place, 
 nothing rings in his ears but Tully and Demos- 
 thenes. If a gentleman, or perhaps a nobleman, 
 with a heavy mortgage upon his estate, disen- 
 cumbers it by selling his interest at a county 
 election, he is immediately upbraided with one 
 Roman, that was not ashamed to follow the 
 plough tail, and another, who could refuse large 
 bribes, and content himself with a cottage and 
 turnips. If a lady makes an unfortunate slip, 
 she is told again and again of Lucretia, and 
 fifty other school-boy tales of honour and chas- 
 tity. In a word, there is not one fashionable 
 frailty, but has some stubborn antiquated virtue 
 
 set in opposition to it ; and our unhappy metro- 
 polis is every day threatened with destruction, 
 for its degeneracy fi'om the rigid maxims of 
 Rome or Sparta. 
 
 In the midst of all these severe reflections, it 
 gives me infinite pleasure, that I can with jus- 
 tice take notice of the incontestable superiority 
 of the moderns in point of modesty. The arro- 
 gance of the ancients was so remarkable, tliat, 
 in their idea of a perfect character they included 
 every public and private virtue. They aimed at 
 a strict observance of all the duties of life ; and 
 if some old Romans had been styled gods while 
 living, it would not have been such gross flat- 
 tery as was afterwards practised in honouring 
 the emperors with an Apotheosis. Their inflex- 
 ible honesty was their perpetual boast, and their 
 virtue was their pride. Tliis high idea of a 
 perfect character among the ancients naturally 
 m-ged them to lift themselves to an invidious 
 superiority above the rest of the world : while 
 the modest moderns, by taking all the vices, in- 
 stead of the virtues, into their notion of a fine 
 gentleman, endeavour to let themselves down to 
 a level with the lowest of their species, and have 
 laid the surest foundation for humility. Fine 
 gentlemen are so far from being proud, that they 
 are never guilty of any thing, which gives them 
 the least reason to be so : and our fine ladies 
 have none of the disgusting haughtiness of 
 virtue, though indeed they are seldom known to 
 be ashamed. 
 
 It is impossible to devise any one method of 
 lowering the good opinion a man might possibly 
 conceiA'e of himself, that has not been put in 
 practice. No fine gentleman ever aimed at ac- 
 quiring any excellence ; and if any natiual per- 
 fections might give some little occasion for pride, 
 the greatest pains have been taken to destroy 
 them. Good parts have been often drowned in 
 taverns, and a strong constitution sweated away 
 in bagnios ; and in the mean time learning has 
 been totally neglected, lest improvement should 
 bring on pedantry and literary pride. The most 
 shining parts in the character of a fine gentle- 
 man are, that he drinks deep, dresses genteelly, 
 rides well, can shoe his own horse, and is pos- 
 sessed of some other qualifications, which nobody 
 can ever suspect, that a mind, the least given to 
 ambition, would ever labour to acquire. For my 
 part I am so far from agreeing with our satirist, 
 that the love of fame is the universal passion, 
 that when I observe the behaviour' of our fine 
 gentlemen, I am apt to think it proceeds from 
 the lowest and humblest turn of mind. Indeed, 
 their singular modesty appears to me the only 
 means of accounting for their actions, which 
 commonly tend to place them in the meanest and 
 most contemptible light. 
 
 Nothing but this invincible modesty, and fear 
 of seeming to aim at excellence, could ever 
 give rise to certain habits, not only ridiculous, 
 
128 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 75. 
 
 but ungraceful. Good eyes, for instance, are 
 universally acknowledged to give lustre to the 
 whole countenance; yet fashion and humility 
 have blinded the whole town. The beau draws 
 his eyes out of his pocket, and the beauties kill 
 us through spying-glasses. It has been known 
 to be the vogue for persons of fashion to lose 
 the use of their legs, and limp along as if they 
 were crippled : this practice I daily expect to be 
 revived ; for I take it for granted, that the tall 
 staves now carried about must naturally dwindle 
 into crutches. An inarticulate lisp even now 
 infects the delivery in polite conversation. It is 
 not at all unfashionable to pretend deafness ; and 
 unless the ladies object to it, I do not despair of 
 seeing the time, when the whole modish world 
 shall affect to be dumb. 
 
 This humble way of thinking has been carried 
 so far, that it has even introduced a new species 
 of hypocrisy. Fine gentlemen, fearing lest 
 their good qualities should in their own despite 
 overbalance their bad ones, claim several vices, 
 to which they have no title. There is something 
 very admirable and ingenious in this disposition 
 among our young people, who not only candidly 
 discover all their frailties, but accuse themselves 
 of faults, which they never intended to commit. 
 I know a young fellow, who is almost every 
 morning complaining of the head-ache, and 
 cursing the last night's Champagne at the St. 
 Alban's, when 1 am well assured he passed his 
 evening very soberly with his maiden aunts in 
 Cheapside. I am also acquainted with another 
 gentleman, Avho is very fond of confessing his in- 
 trigues, and often modestly takes shame to him- 
 self for the great mischief he does among the 
 women ; though I well know, he is too bashful 
 even to make love to his laundress. He some- 
 times laments publicly the unlucky consequen- 
 ces of an amour, and has more than once, been 
 discovered to send pill-boxes and gallipots di- 
 rected for himself, to be left at the bar of neigh- 
 bouring coffee-houses. The same humble turn 
 of mind induces the frugal to appear extrava- 
 gant ; and makes many a religious young fellow 
 deny his principles, brave his conscience, and 
 affect the character and conversation of an athe- 
 ist. To say the truth, the generality of the gay 
 world are arrant hypocrites in their vices, and 
 appear to be worse than they really are. Many 
 of our pretended bloods are, in fact, no more 
 drunkards, whoremasters, or infidels, than a 
 bully is a man of courage ; and are as little sin- 
 cere in their boasts of vice, as statesmen or 
 beauties in their mutual professions of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 That part of the female world, which com- 
 poses the order of fine ladies, have as much hu- 
 mility as their counterparts, the fine gentlemen. 
 There is something so charming in the fair sex, 
 that we should almost adore them, if they did 
 not lay aside all the pride of reputation, and by 
 
 some good-natured familiarities reduce them- 
 selves to an equality with us. It is, indeed, 
 wonderful to observe, with what diligence our 
 polite ladies pare off the excellences from their 
 characters. When we see them almost as naked 
 as the Graces, it is natural to suppose them as 
 warmly devoted to Venus ; and when we hear 
 them talk loosely and encourage double mean- 
 ing in conversation, we are apt to imagine their 
 notions of honour not very strict or severe. But 
 after all, this is frequently mere hypocrisy, and 
 the effect of humility. Many a lady, very 
 wanton in appearance, is in reality very modest ; 
 and many a coquet has lost her reputation with- 
 out losing her virtue. I make no doubt, but 
 that several ladies of suspicious characters are 
 not so bad as they seem, and that there are hon- 
 ourable persons among the gayest of our women 
 of quality. 
 
 To return whence I set out, the extraordinary 
 modesty of the moderns, so averse to the aiTo- 
 gant pride of the ancients, claiming all virtues 
 and good qualities whatsoever, is the only key to 
 their behaviour. Vice, or at least the appear- 
 ance of vice, becomes absolutely requisite to pass 
 through the world with tolerable decency, and 
 the character of a man of spirit. As Sir John 
 Brute says, ' they were sneaking dogs, and afraid 
 of being damned in those days;' but we are bet- 
 ter informed, and fear nothing but the appear- 
 ance of too much virtue. To secure the nobili- 
 ty, gentry, and others from so shocking an im- 
 putation, a friend of mine Avill speedily present 
 the world with a curious piece, compiled from 
 the practice and principles of the present times, 
 entitled, A New Treatise on Ethics ; or a Sys- 
 tem of Immoral Philosophy. In this work he 
 has treated at large of modern modesty, shown 
 the excellence and utility of immorality, and 
 considered drinking, Avhoring, fighting, and 
 gaming, as the four cardinal vices, or in other 
 words, the principal constituents of bucks, 
 bloods, and fine gentlemen. O, 
 
 No. 7;i.] Thursday, JrLv 3, 1755. 
 
 Kon ill corpus eras sine pec/ores. Ilf-B. 
 
 Without a mind a man is but an ape, 
 A mere brute body in a human shape. 
 
 Good-nature is to the mind, what beauty is to 
 the body ; and an agreeable disposition creates a 
 love and esteem for us in the rest of mankind, 
 as a handsome person recommends us to the 
 good graces of the fair sex. It may be further 
 observed, that any little defect in point of figure 
 is sooner overlooked, than a sourness in the tem- 
 per ; and we conceive f» more lasting disgust at a 
 
No. 75.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 129 
 
 morose churlishness of manners, than at a hump- 
 back or a pair of bandy legs. Good-nature is, 
 indeed, so amiable a qualification, that every 
 man would be thought to possess it : and the la- 
 dies themselves would no more like to be ac- 
 cused of a perverse turn of mind, than of an un- 
 happy cast of features. Hence it proceeds, that 
 those unfortunate stale virgins, usually called 
 old maids, have both these heavy censures thrown 
 upon them ; and are at once condemned as ugly 
 and ill-natured- 
 Some persons are (according to the strict im- 
 port of the phrase itself) born good-natured. 
 These fortunate people are easy in themselves, 
 and agreeable to all about them. They are, as 
 it were, constitutionally pleasing; and can no 
 more fail of being affable and engaging in con- 
 versation, than a Hamilton or a Coventry can 
 be otherwise than beautiful or charming. Yet 
 it is the duty even of those, who are naturally 
 endowed " with the soft pai'ts of conversation," 
 to be careful not to deprave or abuse them. They 
 must not rely too confidently on their native 
 sweetness of disposition : for we should no more 
 esteem a man, who discovered a negligence of 
 pleasing, than Ave should admire a beauty, who 
 was an intolerable slattern. Nor on the other 
 hand, should they let their good-nature run to 
 an excess of compliment and extravagant civility ; 
 for an engaging temper has been as often spoiled 
 by this troublesome politeness, as a fine shape 
 has been squeezed into frightful distortions by 
 tight stays, and a fine complexion entirely ruin- 
 ed by paint. 
 
 But if this care is requisite even in those few, 
 who are blessed with this native complacency 
 and good humour, how necessary is it for the 
 generality of mankind to labour at rectifying the 
 irregularities in their temper ? For this purpose 
 it would be fully sufficient, if they would em- 
 ploy half the art to cultivate their minds, that 
 is daily used to set off their persons. To this 
 important end, not only the female delicacies of 
 paint and essence are called in as auxiliaries to 
 the embroidered suits and French perukes, but 
 this anxiety to supply any personal defect has 
 set the invention of artificers to work with so 
 much earnestness, that there is scarce any exter- 
 nal blemish, which may not be removed or con- 
 cealed : and however unkindly nature may have 
 dealt with you, you may by their assistance be 
 made a model for a statuary, or a pattern for a 
 painter to study. If you want an inch in height, 
 your shoemaker can supply it : and your hosier 
 can furnish you with a pair of calves, that may 
 put an Irishman to the blush. An irregularity 
 in your shape can be made invisible by your 
 tailor, or at least by the artist near the Hay- 
 market, who daily gives notice, that he makes 
 steel stays for all those who are inclined to be 
 crooked. There are various beautifying lotions 
 and cosmetics, that will cure spots and freckles 
 
 in the complexion ; and combs and unguents, that 
 will change red hair to the finest brown. Do 
 you Avant an eye ? Taylor w^ill fill the vacant 
 socket with as bright a piercer, as the family of 
 the Pentweazles can boast. Or is your mouth 
 deficient for want of teeth ? Paul Jullion (to use 
 his own phrase) will rectify your head, and will 
 fix a set in your gums as even and as white as 
 ever adorned the mouth of a chimney-sweeper. 
 These, and many other inventions no less cu- 
 rious and extraordinary, have been devised : and 
 there are no operations, however painful, which 
 have not been submitted to with patience to con- 
 quer personal deformities. I know a gentleman, 
 who went through the agony of having his leg 
 broke a second time, because it had been set 
 awry : and I remember a lady, who died of a 
 cancer in her breast, occasioned by the applica- 
 tion of repelling plasters to keep back her milk, 
 that the beauty of her neck might not be des- 
 troyed. I most heartily wish the same resolu- 
 tion was discovered in improving the disposition. 
 Tully, in that part of his Offices w^here he speaks 
 of grace, tells us " that it is destroyed by any 
 violent perturbations either of the body or mind." 
 It is a pity that mankind cannot be reconciled ta 
 this opinion ; since it is likely they Avould spare 
 no pains in cultivating their minds, it it tended 
 to adorn their persons. Yet it is certain, that a 
 man makes a worse figure with an ignoi'ant. 
 pate, than an unpowdered peruke ! and that 
 knowledge is a gi'eater ornament to the head, 
 than a bag or a smart cocked hat ; that anger 
 sits like a blood-shot in the eyes, Avhile good na- 
 ture lights them up with smiles, and makes every 
 feature in the face charming and agreeable. 
 
 The difficulty of being convinced that we 
 want this social turn, is the grand reason that 
 so little pains are taken to acquire and perfect it. 
 Would a man once be persuaded of any irregu- 
 larity in his temper, he Avould find the blemishes 
 of the mind more easily corrected and amended, 
 than the defects and deformities of the body : but 
 alas ! every man is in his OAvn opinion sensible 
 and good humoured. It is, indeed, possible to con- 
 vince us, that we have a bad complexion or an 
 awkward deportment, which we endeavour to 
 amend by Avashes and a dancing master : but 
 Avhen the mind is accused, self-adulation, the most 
 fatal species of flattery, makes us cajole ourselves 
 into_ a belief, that the fault is not in our own 
 disposition, but in that of our companions ; as the 
 mad inhabitants of Moorfields conclude all, that 
 come to visit them, out of ''their senses. This 
 foolish flattery it is, that makes us think our- 
 selves inflexibly in the right, Avhile we are ob- 
 stinately wrong, and prevents our receiving or 
 communicating any pleasure in society. A 
 Avhimsical person complains of the fickleness 
 of his acqviaintance, and constantly accuses 
 them of fancy and caprice : and there never was 
 an instance of a positive untoward man, that 
 S 
 
130 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 76. 
 
 did not continually rail at the perverseness and 
 obstinacy of the rest of the world. A modern 
 buck damns you for a sullen fellow, if you re- 
 fuse a pint bumper, and looks upon you as a 
 sneaking scoundrel, if you decline entering into 
 any of his wild pranks, and do not choose to lie 
 all night in the round-house. The untractable 
 humorist, while he disgusts all that are about 
 him, conceives himself to be the person affront- 
 ed, and laments that there is no harmony in the 
 conversation, though he is himself the only one 
 that plays out of tune. It is true, indeed, that 
 *the eye sees not itself:" but when this blind 
 partiality is carried so far, as to induce us to be- 
 lieve those guilty of the folly, who make us sen- 
 sible of it, it is surely as absurd as to imagine, 
 that the hair-lip or carbuncled nose, a man sees 
 in the glass, belongs to the figure in the mirror, 
 and not to his own face. 
 
 Perfection is no more to be expected in the 
 minds of men than in their pei'sons : natural 
 defects and irregularities in both must be over- 
 looked and excused. But then equal attention 
 should be paid to both ; and we should not be 
 anxious to clothe the person, and, at the same 
 time let the mind go naked. "VVe should be 
 equally assiduous to obtain knowledge and vir- 
 tue, as to put on lace and velvet ; and when our 
 minds are completely dressed, we should take 
 care that good-nature and complacency influence 
 and direct the whole : ivhich -will throw the 
 same grace over our virtues and good qualities, 
 as fine clothes receive from being cut according 
 to the fashion. In order to acquire these good 
 qualities, we should examine ourselves impar- 
 tially, and not erect ourselves into judges, and 
 treat all the rest of mankind like criminals. 
 Would it not be highly ridiculous in a person of 
 quality to go to court in a ruff cloak, a pair of 
 trunk-hose, and the habit worn in the days of 
 Queen Elizabeth, and while he strutted about 
 in this antiquated garb, to accuse all the rest of 
 the world of being out of the fashion. 
 
 I cannot conclude better than with a passage 
 from Swift's Tale of a Tub, where the strict 
 analogy between the clothing of the mind and 
 the body is humorously pointed out. " Man," 
 says he, " is a Micro-coat. As to his body there 
 can be no doubt ; but examine even the acquire- 
 ments of his mind, you will find them all con- 
 tribute in their order towards furnishing out an 
 exact dress. To instance no more ; is not Re- 
 ligion a cloak, Honesty a pair of shoes worn out 
 in the dirt. Self-love a surtout, Vanity a shirt, 
 and Conscience a pair of breeches, which though 
 a cover for lewdness as well as nastiness, is 
 easily slipt down for the service of both." 
 O. 
 
 No. 76.] Thursday, July 10, 1755. 
 
 Voineris hue et folds honos, hue omnis aratri 
 Cessit amor : recoquunt patrios fornacibus eiisrs : 
 Classica jamque sormnt : it bello tessera signum. 
 
 VlRG. 
 
 The scythe neglected, and forgot the plough. 
 The rustic knits his politician brow : 
 His graiidsire's rusty sword he longs to wield, 
 While guns, drums, trumpets, call him to the field. 
 
 The British Lion, who has for a long time past 
 been a passive couchant beast, or at most been 
 heard to gro\vl and grumble, now begins to roar 
 again. His tremendous voice has roused the 
 whole nation, and the meanest of the people 
 breathe nothing but war and revenge. The en- 
 croachments of the French on our colonies are 
 the general topic of conversation, and the popu- 
 lar cry now runs, New England for ever ! 
 Peace or war has been the subject of bets at 
 White's as well as the debates at the Robin- 
 Hood j and "a fleet roasting, new world's new 
 dress, the colonies in a rope," &c. -vvere last 
 Sunday the subject of a prayer and lecture at 
 the Oratory in Clare- Market. The theatres 
 also, before they closed the season, eritertained 
 us with several warlike dramas. The Press- 
 Gang was exhibited at Covent- Garden ; and at 
 Drury-lane, the same sea that rolled its canvas 
 billows in pantomime at the beginning of the 
 season to carry Harlequin to China, was again 
 put in motion to transport our sailors to North 
 America. At present the streets ring with the 
 martial strains of our ballad-singers, who are 
 endeavouring like Tyrtoeus of old, to rouse their 
 fellow-countrymen to battle ; while all the po- 
 lite world are hurrying to Portsmouth to see 
 mock-fights, and be regaled with pickled-pork 
 and sea-biscuit on board the Admiral. 
 
 This posture of affairs has occasioned politics, 
 w^hich have been long neglected as studies useless 
 and impertinent, to become once more fashiona- 
 ble. Religion and politics, though they natur- 
 ally demand our constant attention, are only 
 cultivated in England by fits. Christianity 
 sleeps among us, unless roused by the apprehen- 
 sions of a plague, an earthquake, or a Jew-Bill ; 
 and we are alarmed for a Avhile at the sudden 
 news of an invasion or a rebellion ; but as soon 
 as the danger is over, the Englishman, like the 
 soldier recovered from his fright occasioned by 
 Queen Mab's drumming in his ear, "swears a 
 prayer or two, and sleeps again." To preach 
 up public spirit, is at some seasons only blowing 
 a dead coal ; but at others, an siccidental blast 
 kindles the embers, and they mount into flame in 
 an instant. The reign of politics seems at present 
 to be re-commencing. Our newspapers contain 
 dark hints and shrewd conjectures from the 
 Hague, Paris, and Madrid; and the lie of the 
 day is artfully contrived to influence the rise 
 
No. 77.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 131 
 
 and fall of the money-barometer in 'Change 
 Alley. This is the present state of politics 
 within the bills of mortality ; of which I shall 
 now take no further notice, but submit to the 
 perusal of my readers the following letter from 
 cousin Village on the same important subject. 
 
 Dear Cousin, , June 30, 1755. 
 
 War, though it has not laid our fields waste or 
 made our cities desolate, engrosses almost all 
 the attention of this place. Every farm-house 
 swarms with politicians, who lay their wise 
 heads together for the good of the nation ; and 
 at every petty chandler's shop in town, whUe 
 the half quarterns of tea are weighed out, the 
 balance of Europe is adjusted. The preparations 
 now making by sea and land are as popular sub- 
 jects as the price of corn or the broad- wheel act. 
 Success to our ncble admirals, and a speedy war, 
 are also as common toasts over a mug of ale as 
 God speed the Plough, or a good harvest ; 
 though it must be owned, that some selfish 
 country squires, who have not an equal share of 
 public spirit and love of their country with their 
 fellow rustics, are somewhat apprehensive of the 
 influence which a war may have upon the Land- 
 tax. 
 
 I am at present on a visit to Sir Politic 
 Hearty, who is one of those country gentlemen 
 who so much prefer the public Tvelfare to their 
 own private interest, that they are more anxious 
 about the affairs of the nation than the care of 
 their own estates. Sir Politic is miserable three 
 days in the w^eek for want of intelligence ; but 
 his spirits revive at the sound of the post-horn, 
 when the mail brings him the London Evening 
 Post, and a long letter of news from his nephew 
 at the Temple. These Sir Politic himself reads 
 after dinner to me, the curate of the parish, and 
 the town apothecary, whom he indulges Avith 
 the run of his table for their deep insight into 
 the proceedings of the government. He makes 
 many shrewd remarks on every paragraph, and 
 frequently takes the opinion of the two doctors 
 (for he honours both the curate and apothecary 
 with that title) on the asterisks, dashes, and 
 italics. Nothing at first puzzled the honest 
 baronet, and his privy covincil, so much as the 
 new seat of war. They very well knew the 
 situation of Brussels, Ghent, Antwerp, and 
 other scenes of action in Flanders ; but Vii'ginia, 
 the Ohio, Oswego, &c. (to use a common phrase) 
 were quite out of their latitude. But this diffi- 
 culty is at length surmovmted by the Templar 
 having transmitted to his uncle one of D'An- 
 ville's maps, by the help of which the baronet 
 sometimes delineates the progress of the French 
 up the Ohio in meanders of port winding along 
 the table, and sometimes demolishes the forts 
 lately raised by the enemy in different parts of 
 our colonies. At present wi'iting, I am but just 
 withdrawn from the taking of Crown Point, 
 
 represented by a cork, and stormed by Sir Poli- 
 tic at the head of an army of cherry-stones. 
 
 Sir Politic has, indeed, studied Monsieur 
 D'AnviUe thoroughly : he has also been very 
 much taken up of late with the perusal of the 
 History of the Six Nations ; so that he has 
 scarce one idea in his head, that does not bear 
 some relation to the West Indies. .We had some 
 boiled beef the other day for dinner ; when the 
 good knight observed, that he should be glad to 
 partake of a buttock, boiled in the war-kettle ; 
 and he had no gooner lighted his pipe, than the 
 first puff of the tobacco threw him into some re- 
 flections on the danger of Virginia. " By the 
 bye," said the baronet, " I am a great admirer of 
 the Indian oratory; and I dare say old Hen- 
 drick the Sachem would have made a good figure 
 in the House of Commons. There is something 
 very elegant in the Covenant- Belt ; but pray 
 what a pox are those damned Strings of Wam- 
 pum? I cannot find any account of them in 
 Chambers's Dictionary." He then entered in- 
 to a dissertation on the war-whoop ; and turn- 
 ing to the apothecary, " Doctor," said he, "what 
 do you think of scalping ?" The doctor replied, 
 " that for his part he imagined it to be somewhat 
 in the nature of an epispastic or blister." " Ay," 
 said the other reverend doctor, shaking his head, 
 " it is a very barbarous custom indeed ; though 
 it is no w^onder, since they have only had a few 
 Jesuits among them ; so that they have very 
 little notion of Chi'istianity . " 
 
 War never fails of producing groundless and 
 contradictory reports ; and if Fame is a lying 
 jade in town, she is the idlest gossip that ever 
 spoke in the country. We have gained several 
 victories in Virginia, and taken several forts, but 
 lost them all back again the next post. At one 
 time w^e burnt, sunk, took, and destroyed the 
 whole French fleet, though it had not stirred out 
 of Brest harbom* : and but last week we shot 
 off poor Boscawen's legs, and made him fight, 
 like Witherington, on his stumps ; till a letter 
 from Sir Politic's nephew confuted this report, 
 and set the admiral on his legs again. 
 
 I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 77.] Thursday, July 17, 1755. 
 
 Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia et spes. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 "Wisdom with periwigs, with cassocks grace. 
 Courage with swords, gentility with lace. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I READ youi* late paper, showing the close ana- 
 logy Tvhich clothing the body bears to adorning 
 
132 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 77. 
 
 the mind, and am thoroughly persuaded, that 
 the generality of mankind would be as glad to 
 embellish theii- minds as to set off their persons, 
 if they could procure knowledge, virtue, and 
 good-nature, with the same ease that they can 
 furnish themselves with the ornaments of the 
 body. The clown in rug or duffle, can, at a mo- 
 ment's warning, be furnished with a complete 
 suit of lace or embroidery from Monmouth- 
 street ; his long lank gi-easy hair may be ex- 
 changed in Middle- Row for a smart bag or a jem- 
 my scratch ; and his clouted shoes, with the rough 
 hobnails in the heel and sole clumping at every 
 step, may be ti-ansformed into a pair of dancing 
 pumps at the Yorkshire warehouse, or the old 
 Crispin in Cranbourn-alley. The draggled 
 street- walker can rig herself with a clean smock, 
 a linen gown, and a hat smartly cocked up be- 
 hind and before, in Broad St. Giles's ; or if she 
 can afford it, every pawnbroker will let out a 
 gold watch with coronets, a tissue or brocaded 
 sack, and all the paraphernalia of a countess. 
 But where, Mr. Town, can these people go to 
 clothe their minds, or at what shops are retailed 
 sense and virtue ? Honour and honesty are not 
 to be purchased in Monmouth-street ; know- 
 ledge is not infused into the head through the 
 powder-puif ; and, as good wine needs no bush, 
 sense is not derived from the full-bottomed peri- 
 wig. The woman of the town, vamped up for 
 show^ V7ith paint, patches, plumpers, and every 
 external ornament that art can administer, 
 knows no method to beautify her mind. She 
 cannot, for any price, buy chastity in Broad St. 
 Giles's, or hire honesty from the pawnbroker's. 
 Seeing, therefore, at one view, the difficulty 
 in obtaining the accomplishments of the mind, 
 and the exact analogy they bear to dress, I have 
 been labouring this week past to remedy that 
 inconvenience, and have at length devised a 
 scheme, which will fully answer that purpose. 
 In a word, then, I shall next winter open a shop 
 or warehouse in the most public part of the to wn^ 
 under the name of a Mind-and-Body Clothier ; 
 two trades which, though never yet united, are 
 so far from being incompatible, that they are in 
 their nature inseparable. I shall not only sup- 
 ply my friends with a suit or a single virtue, but 
 furnish them with complete habits of mind and 
 body from head to foot ; and by a certain secret 
 ^rt, in the foi'm and texture of the things sold, 
 the required virtues shall be as inherent in them 
 as the materials of which they are composed. 
 That such virtues may be transfused by clothes, 
 is evident from experience. In the narrow ex- 
 tent of my reading, Mr. Town, I remember to 
 have met with an account of Fortunatus's wish- 
 ing-cap, by which he could transport himself in 
 an instant from one place to another : it is also 
 well known, that the- famous Jack the Giant- 
 killer possessed a Sword of Sharpness, Shoes of 
 Sv\'iftness, and a Coat of Invisibility. Why then 
 
 may not I sell a surtout of patriotism, or a sword 
 of honour, and retail modesty and chastity to fine 
 ladies in tuckers and aprons. ^ 
 
 No one who duly considers the natural influ- 
 ence which clothes commonly have upon their 
 wearers, will object to my scheme as utterly im- 
 practicable. That a person can put on or throw 
 off the internal habits of his mind together ^vith 
 his coat or his periwig, is plain in A-erj' numer- 
 ous instances. The young counsellor, who every 
 morning in term-time takes the measure of 
 Westminster-Hall with the importance of a 
 judge upon the circuit, at once divests himself of 
 his gi-avity with the starched band and long robe, 
 and resumes the spirit of a buck together with 
 the sword and bag-wig. In the same manner 
 the orthodox vicar once a week wraps himself 
 up in piety and virtue with his canonicals ; 
 which qualities are as easily cast off again as his 
 surplice ; and for the rest of the week he wears 
 the dress as well as the manners of his fox-hunt- 
 ing patron. We may learn the disposition of a 
 man by his apparel, as we know the trade of the 
 carpenter by his leathern apron, or a soldier by 
 his red coat. When we see a snufF-coloured suit 
 of ditto with bolus buttons, a metal headed cane, 
 and an enormous bushy gi'izzle, we as readily 
 know the wearer to be a dispenser of life and 
 death, as if we had seen him pounding a mortar 
 or brandishing a clyster-pipe. The different af- 
 fections of the mind have been distinguished by 
 different colom's ; as scarlet has been made to re- 
 present valour, yellow to denote jealousy, and 
 true blue to signify integi-ity. Thus we may 
 likewise discover all the virtues and vices lurk- 
 ing in the different parts of the apparel. When 
 at a city feast I see the guests tucking their nap- 
 kins into their shirt collars, as if they were all 
 of them going to be shaved, I very well know 
 that their thoughts wear a different dress than 
 when in the Alley : and when the antiquated 
 toast is laying on her complexion at the toilette, 
 and repairing the ruins of beauty, what is she 
 doing but patching her mind with pride and 
 conceit ? In a word, I can discover impudence 
 staring from the bold cock of a KavenhuUer, par- 
 simony skulking in a darned stocking, coquetry 
 spread out in a hoop-petticoat, and foppery dan- 
 gling fi'om a shoulder-knot. I often please my- 
 self with thus remai'king the various dresses of 
 the mind ; and by the clue you have already 
 given us, I have been able to unfold the inmost 
 linings of the heart, and discover ' the very stuff 
 of the thoughts. " 
 
 It must, however, be owned, that in these 
 matters the nicest penetration may be imposed 
 on; since, in the present random method of dress- 
 ing, many persons appear in masquerade. This 
 inconvenience, among others, will be remedied 
 by my project ; for, as whoever deals with me, 
 will at once clothe his mind and his body, the 
 whole town will be dressed in chai'acter. Thus if 
 
No. 78.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 133 
 
 a chimney-sweeper or a ploughboy put on a suit 
 of embroidery, a sword, bag-wig, &c. they will 
 at the same time invest themselves with the in- 
 ternal dignity of a person of quality : my lady's 
 youngest son may buy coui'age with his regi- 
 mentals, and orthodoxy may be purchased at the 
 same time with a gown and cassock by the 
 young smarts from the universities. My scheme 
 also further recommends itself, by laying open 
 the only path to virtue and knowledge, that the 
 w^orld w^ill choose to follow : for, as my clothes 
 will always be cut according to the newest and 
 most elegant manner, these qualifications of the 
 mind, inherent in them, must necessarily come 
 into fashion. Thus our fine gentlemen -will 
 learn morality under their valet de chambre ; 
 and a young lady of fashion will acquire ne^v 
 accomplishments with every new riband, and 
 become virtuous as well as beautiful at her toi- 
 lette. I depend on your readiness to promote 
 my scheme ; but what I most earnestly intreat 
 of you, Mr. Town, is to use your utmost interest 
 with the polite world, but especially with the 
 ladies, not to discard clothes entirely ; as by 
 such a resolution my scheme must be defeated : 
 and, indeed, it will not be in the power of man 
 to give them virtue, if they determine to go 
 naked. 
 
 As knowledge and virtue can never be suffi- 
 ciently diffused, my w^arehouse ^vill be calculat- 
 ed for general use, and stored with large assort- 
 ments of all kinds of virtues and dress, that I 
 may suit persons of whatever denomination. 
 Physicians may be furnished from my shop with 
 gravity and learning in the ties of a periwig • 
 sergeants at law may be fitted with a competent 
 knowledge of reports under a coif; and young 
 counsellors may be endued Avith a sufficient fund 
 of eloquence for the circuits, in a smart tie be- 
 tween a bob and a flow, contrived to cover a 
 toupet. I shall sell religion to country parsons 
 in pudding-sleeves, and to young town curates 
 just come from the university, in doctors' scarfs 
 and full grizzles : I shall have some pious ejacu- 
 lations, whinings, and groans, ready cut out in 
 leathern aprons and blue frocks, for the preach- 
 ing fraternity of carpenters, bricklayers, tallow- 
 chandlers and butchers, at the Tabernacle and 
 Foundery in Moorfields. For our military gen- 
 tlemen designed to go abroad, I shall have several 
 parcels of true British courage woven in a va- 
 riety of cockades and sword-knots ; and for our 
 fine gentlemen, who stay at home, I have pro- 
 vided a proper quantity of French Bagatelle, in 
 cut velvet, lace and embroidery, neat as im- 
 ported. 
 
 As the ladies, I suppose, will all of them to a 
 woman, be desirous of purchasing beauty with 
 every branch of the female apparel, I ami afraid 
 I shall not be able to answer their demands ; 
 but I shall have several di-esses, which will make 
 up for the want of it. I shall have neatness 
 
 done up in a great variety of plain linen ; de- 
 cency and discretion in several patterns for mobs, 
 hoods, and nightgowns ; together with modesty 
 disposed into tuckers, kerchiefs for the neck, 
 stays that almost meet the chin, and petticoats 
 that touch the ground. I shall also have a 
 small portion of chastity knit into garters, and 
 twisted into laces for the stays, very proper to 
 be worn at masquerades and assemblies. 
 
 I had almost forgot to mention, that authors, 
 who are often in equal want of sense and clothes 
 shall be fitted out by me with both at once on 
 very reasonable rates. As for yourself, Mr. 
 Town, I shall beg leave to present you ^vith an 
 entire suit of superfine wit and humour, war- 
 ranted to wear well, and appear creditable, and 
 in which no author would be ashamed to be 
 
 W. 
 
 1 am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
 EuTRAPELUs Trim. 
 
 No. 78.] Thursday, July 24, 1753. 
 
 JEtatis cujusque notandi sunt tihi mores. 
 
 What foibles wait on life through every stage ! 
 Our youth a wild-fire, and a frost our age ! 
 
 Hob. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Nothing is more necessary, in order to wear off 
 any particularities in our behaviour, or to root 
 out any perverseness in our opinions, than mix- 
 ing Avith persons of ages and occupations differ- 
 ent from our own. Whosoever confines himself 
 entirely to the society of those who are engaged 
 in the same pursuits, and whose thoughts natu- 
 I'ally take the same turn Tvith his own, acquires 
 a certain stiffness and pedantry of behaviour, 
 Avhich is sure to make him disagTeeable, except 
 in one particular set of company. Instead of 
 cramping the mind by keeping it within so nar- 
 row a circle, w^e should endeavour to enlarge it 
 by every worthy notion and accomplishment ; 
 and temper each qualification Avith its opposite, 
 as the four elements are compounded in our 
 natural frame. 
 
 The necessity of this free conversation, to 
 open and improve the mind, is evident from 
 the consequences, %vhich alvrays follow a neglect 
 of it. The employment each man is engaged 
 in wholly engrosses his attention, and tinges 
 the mind with a peculiar dye, which shoAAS 
 itself in all the operations of it, unless pre- 
 vented by natui'al good sense or a liberal edu- 
 cation. The physician, the lawyer, and the 
 tradesman, will appear in company, though none 
 of those occupations are the subject of discourse; 
 and the clergynman w^ill grow morose and se- 
 vere, who seldom or never converses with the la- 
 
134 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 78. 
 
 ity. If no particular profession has this influence 
 over us, some darling passion or amusement 
 gives a colour to our thoughts and actions, and 
 makes us odious, or at least ridiculous. Fine 
 ladies, for instance, by despising the conversation 
 of sensible men, can talk of nothing but routs, 
 balls, assemblies, birth-day suits, and intrigues ; 
 and fine gentlemen, for the same reason, of al- 
 most nothing at all. In like manner, the furi- 
 ous partisan, who has not been weaned from a 
 mad attachment to particular principles, is weak 
 enough to imagine every man of a different way 
 of thinking a fool and a scoundrel ; and the 
 sectary or zealot devotes to eternal damnation all 
 those who will not go to heaven in the same 
 road with himself, under the guidance of Whit- 
 field, Wesley, or Count Zinzendorff. To the 
 same cause we owe the rough country squire, 
 whose ideas are wholly bent on guns, dogs, 
 horses, and game ; and who has every thing 
 about him of a piece with his diversions. His 
 hall must be adorned with stags' heads, instead 
 of busts and statues ; and in the room of family 
 pictures, you will see prints of the most famous 
 stallions and race-horses : all his doors open and 
 shut with foxes' feet ; and even the buttons of 
 iiis clothes are impressed with the figures of 
 dogs, foxes, stags, and horses. To this absurd 
 practice of cultivating only one set of ideas, and 
 shutting ourselves out from any intercourse with 
 the rest of the world, is owing that narrowness 
 of mind, which has infected the conversation of 
 the polite world with insipidity, made rough- 
 ness and brutality the characteristics of a mere 
 country gentleman, and produced the most fatal 
 consequences in politics and religion. 
 
 But if this commerce with the generality of 
 mankind is so necessary to remove any impres- 
 sions, which we may be liable to receive from 
 any particular employment or darling amuse- 
 ment, what precautions ought to be used, in 
 order to remedy the inconveniences naturally 
 brought on us by the different ages of life ! It is 
 not certain, that a person will be engaged in any 
 profession, or given up to any peculiar kind of 
 pleasure; but the mind of every man is subject 
 to the inclinations arising from the several stages 
 of his existence, as well as his body to chronical 
 distempers. This indeed, Mr. Town, is the 
 principal cause of my writing to you ; for it has 
 often given me great concern to see the present 
 division between the young and the old ; to ob- 
 serve elderly men forming themselves into clubs 
 and societies, that they may be more securely 
 separated from youth ; and to see young men 
 running into dissipation and debauchery, rather 
 than associate with age. If each party would 
 labour to conform to the other, from such a 
 coalition many advantages would acrue to both. 
 Our youth would be instructed by the experi- 
 ence of age, and lose much of that levity which 
 tbey retain too long ; while, at the same time, 
 
 the wrinkled brow of the aged would be smooth- 
 ed by the sprightly cheerfulness of youth, — by 
 which they might supply the want of spirits, 
 forget the loss of old friends, and bear with ease 
 all their worldly misfortunes. It is remarkable, 
 that those young men are the most worthy and 
 sensible, who have kept up any intercourse with 
 the old ; and that those old men are of the most 
 cheerful and amiable disposition, who have not 
 been ashamed to converse with the young. 
 
 I will not pretend to decide which party is 
 most blameable in neglecting this necessary com- 
 merce with each other, which, if properly 
 managed, would be at once so beneficial and de- 
 lightful ; but it undoubtedly arises from a certain 
 selfishness and obstinacy in both, which will not 
 suffer them to make a mutual allowance for the 
 natural difference of their dispositions. Their 
 inclinations are, indeed, as different as their 
 years ; yet each expects the other to comply, 
 though neither will make any advances. How 
 rarely do we see the least degree of society pre- 
 served between a father and son ! a shocking 
 reflection, when we consider that nature has en- 
 deavoui-ed to unite them by parental affection on 
 one side, and filial gratitude on the other. Yet 
 a father and son as seldom live together with 
 any tolerable harmony, as a husband or wife ; 
 and chiefly for the same reason ; for though they 
 are both joined under the same yoke, yet they 
 are each tugging different ways. A father might 
 as well expect his son to be as gouty and infirm 
 as himself, as to have the disposition which he 
 has contracted from age; and a son might as 
 reasonably desire the vigour and vivacity of five 
 and twenty, as his own love of gayety and di- 
 versions, in his fathei'. It is therefore evident, 
 that a mutual endeavour to conform to each 
 other is absolutely i-equisite to keep together the 
 cement of natural affection, which an un tracta- 
 ble stubbornness so frequently dissolves ; or, at 
 least, if it does not disturb the affection, it con- 
 stantly destroys the society between father and 
 son. 
 
 This unhappy and unnatural division is often 
 the subject of complaint in persons of both ages ; 
 but is still unremedied, because neither reflect 
 on the cause whence it proceeds. Old men are 
 perpetually commenting on the extreme levity 
 of the times, and blaming the young, because 
 they do not admire and court their company ; 
 which, indeed, is no wonder, since they general- 
 ly treat their youthful companions as mere chil- 
 dren, and expect such a slavish deference to their 
 years, as destroys that equality by which cheer- 
 fulness and society subsist. Young men do not 
 like to be chid by a proverb, or reproved by a 
 wrinkle ; but though they do not choose to be 
 corrected by their grave seniors like school-boys, 
 they ^vould be proud to consult them as friends; 
 which the injudicious severity of old age seldom 
 will permit, not deigning to indulge them with 
 
No. 79.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 135 
 
 so great a degree of freedom and familiai'ity. 
 Youth, on the other hand> shun the company of 
 age, complaining of the small regard and respect 
 paid to them, though they often act with so little 
 reserve and such unbecoming confidence, as not 
 to deserve it. Suppose the old were pleased 
 with the natural flow of spirits and lively con- 
 versation of youth, still some i-espect may be 
 challenged as due to them ; nor should the de- 
 cency and sobriety of their characters ever be in- 
 sulted by any improper or immodest conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 I am an old man myself, Mr. Town, and I 
 have an only boy, whose behaviour to me is un- 
 exceptionable : permit me, therefore, to dwell a 
 moment longer on my favourite subject, and I 
 will conclude. With what harmony might all 
 parents and children live together, if the father 
 would strive to soften the rigour of age, and re- 
 member that his son must naturally possess those 
 qualities, which ever accompany youth ; and if 
 the son would in return endeavour to suit him- 
 self to those infirmities, which his father re- 
 ceived from old age ! If they would reciprocally 
 study to be agreeable to each other, the father 
 would insensibly substitute affection in the room 
 of authority, and lose the churlish severity and 
 peevishness incident to his years : while the son 
 would curb the unbecoming impetuosity of his 
 youth, change his reluctance to obey into a con- 
 stant attention to please, and remit much of his 
 extreme gayety in conformity to the gravity of 
 his father. Wherever such a turn of mind is 
 encouraged, there must be happiness and agree- 
 able society : and the contrary qualities of youth 
 and age, thus blended, compose the surest ce- 
 ment of aifcction ; as colours of the most oppo- 
 site tints, by a skilful inixture, each giving and 
 receiving certain shades, will form a picture, the 
 most heightened and exquisite in its colouring. 
 I am, Sir, your most humble Servant, 
 John Bevil. 
 
 No. 79.] Thursday, July 31, 1755. 
 
 ie, BoUane, cerebri 
 
 Felicem ! aiebam tacitus, cum quidlibet Ule 
 Garriret, vkos, urbem laudaret. — Hoe 
 
 Silent 1 said, O happiest head of cit, 
 With brain uncumber'd, and the load of wit ! 
 rrom street to street still rambling up and down. 
 While aU his talk was still of London town. 
 
 MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Dear Cousin, 
 I HAVE been very much diverted with your ob- 
 servations on the honest tradesmen, who make 
 weekly excursions into the villages about town ; 
 
 and I agree with you, that the generality of your 
 citizens seldom dare trust themselves out of the 
 sight of London smoke, or extend their travels 
 further than with their wives and children in 
 the Wandsworth double post-chaise, or the 
 Hampton long coach. But we may now and 
 then pick up a stray citizen, whom business has 
 dragged beyond the bills of mortality, as it hap- 
 pened to myself the other day about forty mile 
 from London ; and as I was mightily pleased 
 with his behaviour and conversation, I have 
 taken the liberty to send you an account of it. 
 
 Being caught in a shower upon the road, 1 
 was glad to take shelter at the first inn I came 
 to ; which, if it had not been called the New 
 Inn, I should have thought, from its antique 
 appearance, had been a house of entertainment 
 in the time of our great grandfathers. I had 
 scarce alighted, when a strange figure, (driven 
 thither, as I supposed, on the same account with 
 myself,) came soberly jogging into the yard, 
 dripping wet. As he waited for the steps before 
 he would venture to get off his horse, I had the 
 opportunity of surveying his whole appearance. 
 He was wrapped up in an old thread -bare 
 weather-beaten surtout, which I believe had 
 once been scarlet ; the cape was pulled over his 
 head, and buttoned up close round his face; and 
 his hat was flapped down on each side, and 
 fastened about his ears with a list garter tied 
 under his chin. He -wore upon his legs some- 
 thing that resembled spatterdashes, which (as I 
 afterwards learned) were cut out of an old pair 
 of boots; but his right shoe w^as considerably 
 larger than the other, and had several slits in 
 the upper leather. He had spurs on, indeed, 
 but without rowels; and by way of whip, a 
 worm-eaten cane, with a bone head studded 
 with brass pins, hung from his wrist by a string 
 of greasy black leather. 
 
 I soon found I ^vas nobody : for the gentle- 
 man, it seems, took up the whole attention of 
 the maid, mistress and hostler, who all of thena 
 got round him, and with much difficulty, by the 
 assistance of the steps, helped him down. My 
 landlady, before it was possible for her to see 
 any part of him but his nose, told him " be 
 looked brave and jolly;" and when she had led 
 him into the kitchen, she fetched a large glass of 
 what she called "her own water," which (she 
 said) would drive the cold out of his stomach. 
 All hands were notv busied in drawing off his 
 surtout, which discovered underneath a full- 
 trimmed white coat, and a black velvet waist- 
 coat with a broad gold lace very much tarnished. 
 The surtout was hung to dry by the fire as well 
 as his coat, the place of which was supplied by a 
 long riding-hood of my landlady : and as the 
 gentleman complained of having suffered by loss 
 of leather, the maid was despatched to the doc- 
 tor's for some diachylon. The usual question 
 DOW succeeded, concerning dinner; and as he 
 
136 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 80. 
 
 observed I was all alone, he very courteously 
 asked me to join company, which I as readily 
 agreed to. 
 
 The important business of dinner being set- 
 tled, we adjourned into a private room, when my 
 fellow-guest told me of his own mere act and 
 motion, that he lived in London ; that for these 
 twenty years he had always come to the town 
 we were now in, once a year, to receive money, 
 and take orders for goods : and that he had 
 always put up at this house. He then run on 
 in the praises of the landlady ; and tipping me a 
 w^ink, " Ay," says he, " she has been a clever 
 woman in her time, before she bore children." 
 He added, that for his part he did not like your 
 great inns ; for that they never looked upon any 
 thing under a coach and six. He further in- 
 formed me, that he was married to his present 
 wife in the first mayoralty of Alderman Par- 
 sons, and in the very waistcoat he had on ; 
 " but," says he, " I now wear it only on a jour- 
 ney ; because, you know a bit of lace commands 
 respect upon the road." On inquiring about his 
 family, I found he had three boys ; one of whom 
 was bound 'prentice to himself ; the other was 
 sent to sea, because he was a wild one ; and the 
 youngest he designed to make a parson, because 
 he was grave, and his play-fellows at Poule's 
 school used to call him Bishop. 
 
 All this while he had sat in my landlady's 
 riding-hood, with a linen night-cap on his head 
 tied on the top with a piece of black riband, 
 which (he told me) he always rode in, because it 
 was cooler than a wig. But the saddle-bags 
 were now ordered in ; and out of one of them he 
 drew a large flowing grizzle carefully buckled, 
 which he combed out himself, borrowing some 
 flower from the kitchen drudger. His spatter- 
 dashes were next taken off, and his shoes wiped 
 with a wisp of hay ; when being assured by the 
 landlady herself, that his coat was dry enough 
 to put on, he completely equipped himself, in 
 order to wait on several tradesmen, with whom 
 he had dealings, after dinner. As this was not 
 quite ready, we took a walk to the stables to see 
 his mare : and though the beast seemed as lean 
 and as harmless as Sancho's ass, he assured me 
 he had much ado to ride her, she was so frisky ; 
 " for she had not run in the chaise these two 
 Sundays past." 
 
 Being summoned to dinner, we sat down to a 
 repast of mutton chops and sheep's hearts, which 
 last he declared to be the wholesomest eating in the 
 ^vol•ld. He objected to wine, because there was 
 not a drop good for any thing to be got upon the 
 road ; but he vastly recommended my landlady's 
 home-brewed, which he affirmed to be better 
 than Hogsden ale, or the Thatch beer at Isling- 
 ton. Our meal being ended, mycom])anion took 
 his pipe ; and we laid our heads together for the 
 good of the nation, when we mauled the French 
 terribly both by land and sea. At last, among 
 
 other talk, he happened to ask me, if I lived in 
 the city? As I was desirous of hearing his re- 
 marks, I answered, that I had never seen Lon- 
 don. " Never seen it ?" says he, " Then you 
 have never seen one of the finest sights in the 
 whole world. Paris is but a dog-hole to it." 
 There luckily hung a large map of London over 
 the chimney-piece, ^vhich he immediately made 
 me get from my chair to look at. " There," 
 says he, " there's London for you. — You see it is 
 bigger than the map of all England." He then 
 led me about, with the end of his pipe, through 
 all the principal streets from Hyde- Park to 
 Whitechapel. — " That," says he, " is the River 
 Thames — There's London Bridge — There my 
 Lord Mayor lives — That's Poule's — There the 
 monument stands : and now, if you was but on 
 the top of it, you might see all the houses and 
 chm-ches in London." I expressed my aston- 
 ishment at every particular : but I could hard- 
 ly refrain laughing, when pointing out to me 
 Lincoln's-Inn Fields — " There," says he, " there 
 all the noblemen live." At last, after having 
 transported me all over the town, he set me 
 down in Cheapside, " which," he said, " was 
 the biggest street in the city." — " And now," 
 says he, " I'll show you where I live. — That's 
 Bow- Church — and thereabouts — where my pipe 
 is — there — just there my shop stands." He con- 
 cluded -vvith a kind invitation to me to come and 
 see him ; and puUing out a book of patterns from 
 his coat pocket, assured me that if I wanted any 
 thing in his way, he could afford to let me have 
 a bargain. 
 
 I promised to call upon him ; and the wea- 
 ther now clearing up, after settling the balance 
 of our reckoning with the landlady, we took 
 leave of each other : but just as I had mounted 
 my horse, and was going to set forward, my 
 new acquaintance came up to me, and shaking 
 me by the hand, — " Harkye," says he, " if you 
 wiU be in town by the twenty-fifth of this in- 
 stant July, I will introduce you to the Cockney's 
 Feast : where, I assure you, you'll be niighty 
 merry, and hear a gi-eat many good songs." 
 
 T. I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c« 
 
 No. 80.] Thursday, Aug. 7, 1756. 
 
 Nulla viri cum infereS, nee nieniiojift 
 Damnoru?}!. JuT. 
 
 What tliougli the spouse be ruin'd, where'sthe sin. 
 By madam's friends, so dear, so near akin ? 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sib, 
 
 If polygamy was allowed in this country, I am 
 sure I might maintain a seraglio of wives at less 
 expense, than I have brought upon myself by 
 
No. 80.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 137 
 
 marrying one woman. One did I say ? Alas I 
 1 find it, to my cost, that a wife, like a polypus, 
 has the power of dividing and multiplying her- 
 self into as many bodies as she pleases. You must 
 know, Mr. Town, I took a woman of small 
 fortune, and made her my oivn flesh and blood : 
 but I never thought, that all her relations would 
 likewise fasten on me with as little ceremony 
 as a colony of fleas. I had scarce brought her 
 home, before I was obliged to marry her mother ; 
 then I was prevailed upon to marry her two 
 maiden sistei-s ; after that I man-ied her aunts ; 
 then her cousins ; in short, I am now married 
 to the whole generation of them. I do not 
 exaggei-ate matters, when I say that I am mar- 
 ried to them all ; for they claim as much right 
 to every thing that is mine, as the person whom 
 the world calls my wife. They eat, drink, and 
 sleep with me : every room in my house is at 
 their command, except my bed-chamber : they 
 borrow money of me ; and since I have the 
 whole family quartered upon me, what signifies 
 which of them takes upon her my name, — my 
 wife, her sister, or her twentieth cousin ? 
 
 (), INIr. Town ! I never sit down to table 
 without the lamentable prospect of seeing as 
 much victuals consumed as "would dine a ^vhole 
 vestry. So many mouths constantly going at 
 my expense I — And then there is such a variety 
 of provisions ! for cousin Biddy likes one dish ; 
 my aunt Rachel is fond of another ; sister 
 jNIoUy cannot abide this ; and mother could 
 n8A-er touch that ; though I find they are all of 
 them unanimous in liking the l^est of every thing 
 in season. Besides, I could entertain a set of 
 jolly topers at a less rate than it costs me in light 
 wines for the women. One of them drinks no- 
 thing but Lisbon ; with another nothing goes 
 down but Rhenish and Spa ; a third SAvallo^vs 
 me an ocean of Bristol Milk, -with as little re- 
 moi*se as she would so much small beer : my 
 eldest aunt likes a glass of dry Mountain ; while 
 the other thinks nothing helps digestion so well 
 as Madeira. It Tvas but last week that my wife 
 expressed a desire of tasting some Claret, when 
 immediately all my good-natured relations had 
 a mighty longing for it ; but with much ado I 
 at last prevailed on them to compound with me 
 for a chest of Florence. 
 
 You may imagine, that my house cannot be a 
 very small one ; and I assure you there are as 
 many beds in it, as in a country inn. Yet I 
 have scarce room to turn myself about in it ; for 
 one apartment is taken up by this relation, ano- 
 ther by that ; and the most distant cousm must 
 Lave more respect shown her, than to be clapped 
 up in a garret with the maid-servants ; so that 
 poor I have no more liberty in mv own house 
 than a lodger. Once, indeed, I in vain endea- 
 voured to shake them ofi", and took a little box in 
 the neighboiu'hood of town, scarce biff enousrh 
 to hold my own family. But alas I they stuck 
 
 as close to it as a snaU to her shell : and rather 
 than not lie under the same roof with their rela- 
 tion, they contrived, to litter together like so 
 many pigs in a stye. At another time, thinking 
 to clear my house at once of these vermin, I 
 packed up my wife and mother, and sent them 
 to her uncle's in the country for a month. But 
 what could I do ? There was no getting rid of 
 those left behind : my wife had made over to 
 them the care of the household, allotting to each 
 of them her pai'ticular employment diu-ing her 
 absence. One was to pickle walnuts, another to 
 presei"A"e s"weetmeats, another to make INIorella 
 brandy ; all which they executed with the nota- 
 bleness peculiar to good housevrives, who spoil 
 and waste more than they save, for the satisfac- 
 tion of making these things at home. At last 
 my wife returned ; and all that I got by her 
 journey, was the importation of two new cou- 
 sins fi-esh oiit of the country, who she never 
 knew before were the least related to her : — but 
 they have been so kind as to claim kindred irith 
 me by hanging upon me ever since. 
 
 One would imagine, that it "were sufiicient 
 for these loving relations to have the run of my 
 table, and to make my house in every respect 
 their own : but not content -with this, they have 
 the cunning to oblige me in a manner to find 
 them in clothes likewise. I should not repine, 
 if any of my worthy relations were humble 
 enough to put up with a cast-off suit of my 
 wife's ; but that would be robbing the maid of 
 her just dues, and ■would look more like a de- 
 pendent than a relation. Not but that they will 
 condescend now and then to take a gown, before 
 it is half worn out ^when they have talked. 
 my wife into a dislike of it^ — because it is too 
 good for a common servant. They have more 
 spirit than to beg any thing : but — if my wife 
 has a fancy to part with it — they will wear it, 
 purely for her sake. A cap, "an apron, or a 
 handkerchief, "which I am told, looks hideous 
 upon her, I always find is very becoming on any 
 other of the family : and I remember, soon 
 after we were married, happening to find fault 
 with the pattern of a silk brocade my wife had 
 just bought, one of her sisters took it from her, 
 and told me she would have it made up for her- 
 self, and wear it on purpose to spite me. 
 
 You must know, Mr. Town, that upon my 
 marriage I "was indiscreet enough to set up my 
 chariot : and since my family has increased so 
 prodigiously, this has given them a pretext to 
 have a coach likewise, and another pair of 
 horses. This also furnishes them "with a pre- 
 tence for running about to public diversions, 
 where I am forced to treat them all : for they 
 are so very fond of each other's company, that 
 one "will hardly ever stir out -without the other. 
 Thus at home or abroad, they constantly herd 
 toffether : and -what is still more provoking, 
 though I had rather have a rout every week at 
 ^ T 
 
138 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 81. 
 
 my house, my wife makes a merit of it, thatf she 
 keeps little or no company. 
 
 Such is the state of my family within doors : 
 and though you would think this sufficient for 
 one man, 1 can assure you I have other calls 
 upon me from relations no less dear to me, though 
 I have never yet had the happiness to see them. 
 A third cousin by my wife's father's side was 
 set up in the country in a very good way of 
 business ; but by misfortunes in trade must have 
 gone to jail, if my wife had not teased me into 
 being bound for him, and for which I was soon 
 afterwards arrested, and obliged to pay the 
 money. Another, a very promising youth, was 
 just out of his time, and only -wanted a little 
 sum to set him up ; which as soon as I had lent 
 him, he run away, and is gone to sea. One of 
 the aunts, who is now with me, (a widow lady) 
 has an only daughter, a sober discreet body, who 
 lived as a companion with an old gentlewoman 
 in the country ; but the poor innocent girl being 
 drawn aside by a vile fellow that ruined her, I 
 have been forced to support the unhappy mother 
 and child ever since, to prevent any reproach 
 falling on our family. I shall say nothing of 
 the various presents, which have travelled down 
 to my wife's uncle, in return for one turkey and 
 chine received at Christmas ; nor shall I put to 
 account the charge I have been at in the gossips' 
 fees, and in buying corals, anodyne necklaces, 
 &c. for half a dozen little nephe\vs, nieces, and 
 cousins, to which I had the honour of standing 
 godfather. 
 
 And now, Mr. Town, the mention of this 
 large cii'cumstance makes me reflect with a heavy 
 heart on a nevi^ calamity, which will shortly be- 
 fall me. My wife, you must know, is very near 
 her time ; and they have provided such a stori? 
 of clouts, caps, forehead cloths, biggens, belly- 
 hands, whittles, and all kinds of child-bed- 
 linen, as would set up a lying-in hospital. You 
 will conclude, that my family wants no further 
 increase : yet, would you believe it? I have just 
 received a letter, acquainting me, that another 
 aunt, and another cousin, are coming up in the 
 stage coach to see their relation, and are resolved 
 to stay with her the month. Indeed, I am afraid, 
 when they have once got footing in my house, 
 they will resolve to stay with her, till she has 
 had another and another child. 
 
 T. I am, Sir, your humble servant, &c. 
 
 No. 81.] Thursday, Aug. 14, 1755. 
 
 — Genus humanum midtbfuit illiid in arvisi 
 Diiriits. LucRET. 
 
 A hardy race of mortals, train'd to sports. 
 The field their inv, unpolisli'd yet by courts. 
 
 MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
 Dear Cousin, 
 A MKUE country squire, who passes all his time 
 
 among dogs and horses, is now become an un- 
 common character ; and the most awkward 
 loobily inheritor of an old mansion-house is a 
 tine gentleman in comparison to his forefathers. 
 The principles of a town education, formerly 
 scarce spread themselves beyond the narrow li- 
 mits of the bills of mortality ; but now evtry 
 London refinement travels to the remotest cor- 
 ner of the kingdom, and the polite families from 
 the town duly import to their distant seats the 
 customs and manners of Pall-mall and Grosve- 
 nor-square. 
 
 1 have been for this fortnight past at Lord 
 Courtly's, who for about four months in every 
 year leads a town life at the distance of above 
 two hundred miles from London. He never 
 leaves his bed till twelve or one o'clock ; though, 
 indeed, he often sees the sun rise ; but then that 
 only happens when, as the old song says, he has 
 " drank down the moon." Drinking is the only 
 rural amusement he pursues ; but even that part 
 of his diversions is conducted entirely in the 
 London fashion. He does not swill country ale, 
 but gets drunk with Champagne and Burgun- 
 dy ; and every dish at his table is served up with 
 as much elegance as at White's or Ryan's. He 
 has an excellent pack of hounds ; but, I believe, 
 was never in at the death of a fox in his life . 
 yet strangei's never want a chase, for the hounds 
 are out three times a week with a younger 
 brother of Lord Courtly, who never saw Lou- 
 don, and who, if he was not indulged with a 
 place at his lordship's table, might naturally be 
 considered as his whipp^"-in or his game-keeper. 
 
 The evening walk is a thing unknown and 
 unheard of at Lord Courtly's ; for, though si- 
 tuated in a very fine countj-y, he knows no more 
 of the charms of purling streams and shady 
 groves, than if they had never existed but in 
 poetry or romance. As soon as the daily de- 
 bauch after dinner, and the ceremonies of coffee 
 and tea are over, the company is conducted into 
 a magnificent apartment, illuminated with wax 
 candles, and set out with as many card-tables, 
 as the rout of a foreign ambassador's lady. Here 
 Faro, Whist, Brag, Lansquenet, and every other 
 fashionable game, make up the evening's enter- 
 tainment. This piece of politeness has often 
 fallen heavy on some honest country gentlemen, 
 who have found dining with his lordship turn 
 out a very dear ordinary : and many a good lady 
 has had occasion to curse the cards, and her ill- 
 starred connections with persons of quality ; 
 though his lordship is never at a loss for a party ; 
 for as several people of fashion have seats near 
 him, he often sits down with some of his friends 
 of the club at White's. I had almost forgot to 
 mention, that her ladyship keeps a day, which 
 is Sunday. 
 
 This, dear Cousin, is the genteel manner of liv- 
 ing in the country ; and I cannot help observing, 
 that persons polite enough to be fond of such 
 
No. 81.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 139 
 
 exquisite refinements, are partly in the same 
 case with the mechanic at his dusty villa. They 
 both, indeed, change their situation ; but neither 
 find the least alteration in their ideas. The 
 tradesman, when at his box, has aU the notions 
 that employ him in his counting-house : and the 
 nobleman, though in the furthest part of Eng- 
 land, may still be said to breathe the air of St. 
 James's. 
 
 I was chiefly induced to send you this short 
 account of the refined manner, in which persons 
 of fashion pass their time at Lord Courtly's, 
 because I think it a very striking contrast to the 
 character described in the following transcript. 
 I hope your readers will not do either you or 
 me the honour to think this natural portraiture 
 a mere creature of the imagination. The picture 
 of the extraordinary gentleman here described 
 is now at the seat of Lord Shaftsbury at St. 
 Giles's, near Ci'anborn in Dorsetshire, and this 
 lively character of him was really and truly 
 drawn by Anthony Ashly Co^vper, first Earl 
 of Shaftsbury, and is inscribed on the picture. 
 I doubt not, but you wiU be glad of being able 
 to communicate it to the public, and that they 
 will receive it with their usual candour. 
 
 THE CHARACTER OF 
 THE HONOURABLE W. HASTINGS, 
 
 OF WOODLANDS, IN HAMPSHIRE ; 
 
 SECOND SON OF 
 
 FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON; 
 
 In the year 1638 lived Mr. Hasting : by his 
 quality son, brother, and uncle to the Earls of 
 Huntingdon. He was peradventure an origi- 
 nal in our age ; or rather the copy of our ancient 
 nobility, in hunting, not in w^arlike times. 
 
 He was low, very strong, and very active ; of 
 a reddish flaxen hair. His clothes always 
 green cloth, and never aU worth (when new) 
 five pounds. 
 
 His house was perfectly of the old fashion, in 
 the midst of a large Park well stocked with 
 deer ; and near the house rabbits to serve his 
 kitchen : many fish ponds ; great store of wood 
 and timber ; a boAvling green in it, long but 
 narrow, fuU of high ridges, it being never 
 levelled since it was ploughed. They used round 
 sand bowls ; and it had a banquetting house 
 like a stand, built in a tree. 
 
 He kept all manner of sport hounds, that ran 
 huck, fox, hare, otter, and badger. And hawks, 
 long and short winged. He had all sorts of nets 
 for fish. He had a walk in the new Forest, and 
 the manor of Christ-church. This last sup- 
 plied him with red deer, sea and river fish. And 
 indeed all his neighbours' gi'ounds and royalties 
 were free to him, who bestowed all his time on 
 these sports, but what he borrowed to caress his 
 neighbours' wives and daughters ; there being 
 not a woman in all his walks, of the degree of a 
 
 yeoman's wife or under, and under the age of 
 forty, but it was extremely her fault if he was 
 not intimately acquainted with her. This made 
 him very popular; always speaking kindly to 
 the husband, brother or father : who was, to 
 boot, very welcome to his house, whenever he 
 came. There he found beef, pudding, and small 
 beer in great plenty. A house not so neatly kept 
 as to shame him or his dirty shoes : the great 
 hall strowed with marrow-bones, full of hawk's 
 perches, hounds, spaniels and terriers : the upper 
 side of the hall hung with fox skins of this and 
 the last year's killing ; here and there a pole-cat 
 intermixed : game-keepers and hunters' poles 
 in great abundance. 
 
 The parlour was a large room as properly 
 furnished. On a gi'eat hearth paved with brick 
 lay some terriers, and the choicest hounds and 
 spaniels. Seldom but two of the great chairs 
 had litters of 3'oung cats in them, which were 
 not to be disturbed, he having always tliree or 
 four attending him at dinner ; and a little white 
 stick of fourteen inches lying by his trencher, 
 that he might defend such meat as he had no 
 mind to part w^ith to them. The windows 
 (which were veiy large) served for places to lay 
 his arrows, cross-bows, stone-bows, and other 
 such like accoutrements. The corners of the 
 room full of the best close hunting and hawking 
 poles. An oyster table at the lower end, which 
 was of constant use twice a day all the year 
 round. For he never failed to eat oystei's, be- 
 fore dinner and supper, through all seasons ; 
 the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him 
 with them. 
 
 The upper part of the room had two small 
 tables and a desk, on the one side of which was 
 a church Bible, and on the other the Book of 
 Martyrs. On the tables were hawks-hoods, 
 bells, and such like ; two or three old gi-een hats, 
 with their crowns thrust in so as to hold ten or 
 a dozen eggs, Avhich Tvere of a pheasant kind ot 
 poultry he took much care of and fed himself. 
 Tables, dice, cards, and boxes, were not want- 
 ing. In the hole of the desk were store of 
 tobacco pipes that had been used. 
 
 On one side of this end of the room was the 
 door of a closet wherein stood the strong beer 
 and the wine, which never came thence but in 
 single glasses : that being the rule of the house 
 exactly observed. For he never exceeded in 
 drink or permitted it. 
 
 On the other side was the door into an old 
 chapel, that was never used for devotion. The 
 pulpit, as the safest place, was never wanting of 
 a cold chine of beef, venison pasty, gammon of 
 bacon, or great apple-pye with thick-crust, ex- 
 tremely baked. 
 
 His table cost him not much, though it was 
 good to eat at. His sports supplied all but beef 
 and mutton, except PYidays, when he had the 
 best ;salt-fish fas well as other fish) he could get; 
 
140 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 82. 
 
 and was the day his neighbours of best quality 
 most visited him. He never n'anted a London 
 pudding, and always sung it in with " my part 
 lies therein-a." He drank a glass or two of wine 
 at meals ; very often sjTup of gilliflower in his 
 iacli. : and had always a tun glass, without feet, 
 stood by him, holding a pint of small beer which 
 he often stirred with rosemary. 
 
 He was well-natured but soon angry, calling 
 his servants bastards, and cuckoldy knaves, in 
 one of which he often spoke truth to his own 
 knowledge ; and sometimes in both, though of 
 the same man. He lived to be a hundred ; 
 never lost his eye-sight, but always wrote and 
 read without spectacles ; and got on horseback 
 without help. Until past fourscore he rode to 
 the death of a stag as well as any. 
 
 I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 
 
 No. 82.] Thursday, Aug. 21, 1755. 
 
 Nosse omnia hcec, salus est adolescentulis. 
 All these to know, is safety to the youth. 
 
 Ter. 
 
 Though the following letter was originally 
 written for the instruction of a young gentleman 
 going to the university ; yet as it contains seve- 
 ral just and sensible reflections, which may be 
 of use to many of my readers, I have wiUingly 
 complied with the request of my correspondent 
 in making it the entertainment of to-day. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 As you are now going to the university, I 
 would not be thought to pay so ill a compliment 
 to your ow^n natural good sense, as to suppose 
 that you will not (like many young gentlemen of 
 fortune) in some measure apply yourself to study ; 
 otherwise the time you spend there will be en- 
 tirely lost : for (as Swift very justly remarks) 
 *' all ornamental parts of education are better 
 taught in other places. " At the same time I do 
 not mean, that you should commence pedant, 
 and be continually poring on a book ; since that 
 w^ill rather puzzle, than inform the understand- 
 ing. And though I know many sprightly 
 young gentlemen of lively and quick parts aifect 
 to despise it altogether, it will be necessary to 
 learn something of logic ; I mean in the same 
 
 manner one would learn fencing not to attack 
 
 others, but to defend one's self. In a word, 
 you will find it a great unhappiness, when you 
 return hither, if you do not bring with you some 
 taste for reading : for a mere country gentleman, 
 who can find no society in books, will have little 
 else to do, besides following his sports, but to sit, 
 as squire of the company, tippling among a par- 
 cel of idle wretches, whose understandings are 
 nearly on the level with his dogs and horses. 
 
 It has been an established maxim that the 
 world will always form an opinion of persojis 
 according to the company they are known to 
 keep. In the university, as well as in other 
 places, there are people, whom we ought to 
 avoid, as we woulu the plague : and as it is of 
 the utmost consequence, whether you plunge at 
 once into extravagance and debauchery, or sink 
 gi-adually into indolence and stupitMty, I shall 
 point out sonie of these pests of society in as few 
 words as possible. 
 
 The first person I would caution you against, 
 is the ^vi-etch that takes a delight to turn religion 
 into ridicule : one who employs that speech, 
 which was given him by God to celebrate his 
 praise, in questioning his very being. This, as 
 it is impious in itself, is likewise the height of ill 
 manners. It is hoped, there are but few of them 
 to be met with in a place of sound doctrine and 
 religious education : but wherever they are, 
 they ought to be avoided as much as possible : 
 and if they wiU force themselves into oui* com- 
 pany, they should be used with the same con- 
 tempt with which they have the hardiness to 
 treat their Maker. And this, I can assure you, 
 may be done safely ; for I never knew any body, 
 w^ho pretended to be above the fear of God, but 
 was under the most terrible apprehensions 
 whenever attacked by man. 
 
 The next character, whom I would advise you 
 to shun, is the gamester, in some respects not 
 unlike the former. The gaming-table is his 
 shrine, and fortune his deity ; nor does he ever 
 speak or think of any other, unless by way of 
 blasphemy, oaths, and curses, when he has had a 
 bad run at cai'ds or dice. He has not the least 
 notion of friendship ; but would ruin his own 
 brother, if it might be of any advantage to him- 
 self. He, indeed, professes himself your friend ; 
 but that is only with a design to draw you in ; 
 for his trade is inconsistent Avith the principles 
 of honour or justice, Avithout which there can 
 be no real friendship. It should, therefore be 
 the care of every gentleman, not to hold any 
 commerce with such people, whose acquaintance 
 he cannot enjoy, without giving up his estate. 
 
 The next person, whom you ought to bew;ire 
 of is a drimkai'd ; one that takes an unaccoimt- 
 able pleasure in sapping his constitution, and 
 drowning his understanding. He constantly 
 goes senseless to bed, and rises mawkish in the 
 morning; nor can he be easy in body or mind, till 
 he has renewed his dose, and again put himself 
 beyond the reach of reflection. I would, there- 
 fore, intreat you by all means to avoid a habit, 
 which will at once ruin your health, and impair 
 your intellects. It is a misfortune, that society 
 should be esteemed dull and insipid without 
 the assistance of the bottle to enliven it : so that 
 a man cannot entirely refrain from his glass, 
 if he keeps any company at all. But let it be 
 remembered, that in drinking, as well as in 
 
No. 83.2 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 141 
 
 talking, we ought always to "keep a watch 
 over the doors of our lips." 
 
 A lounger is a creature, that you will often 
 see lolling in a coffee-house, or sauntering about 
 the streets, with great calmness, and a most in- 
 flexible stupidity in his countenance. He takes 
 as much pains as the sot, to fly from his own 
 thoughts ; and is at length happily arrived at 
 the highest pitch of indolence both in body and 
 mind. He would be as inoffensive as he is dull, 
 if it were not that his idleness is contagious ; for, 
 like the torpedo, he is sure to benumb and take 
 away all sense of feeling from every one, with 
 whom he happens to come in contact. 
 
 It were also best to forbear the company of a 
 wrangler, or a person of a litigious temper. 
 This sometimes arises, not from any great share 
 of ilLnature, but from a vain pride of showing 
 one's parts, or skill in argumentation. It is 
 frequently observed of young academics in par- 
 ticular, that they are very apt impertinently to 
 engage people in a dispute, whether they "will or 
 not. But this is contrary to all the rules of 
 good-breeding, and is never practised by any 
 man of sense, that has seen much of the world. 
 I have sometimes known a person of great sau- 
 cincss, and volubility of expression, confuted by 
 the Argurnentum Baculinum, and both his head 
 and his syllogism broken at the same time. 
 
 I need not point out to you the profligate rake 
 or the affected coxcomb, as persons from whose 
 company you can reap no sort of benefit. From 
 the first the good principles already instilled into 
 you, will doubtless preserve you ; and I am sure 
 you have too much real sense, not to despise the 
 absurd fopperies of the latter. Noted liars are 
 no less to be avoided, as the common pests of so- 
 ciety. They are often of a mischievous disposi- 
 tion, and by their calumnies and false sugges- 
 tions, take a pleasure in setting the most inti- 
 mate friends at variance. But if they only deal 
 in harmless and improbable lies, their acquaint- 
 ance must frequently be out of countenance for 
 them ; and if we should venture to repeat after 
 them, I am sure it is the way to be out of coun- 
 tenance for ourselves. 
 
 But above all, I must advise you never to en- 
 gage, at least not ^vith any degree of violence, in 
 any party. Be not transported by the clamor- 
 ous jollity of talking patriots beyond the sober 
 dictates of reason and justice ; nor let the insi- 
 nuating voice of cori'uption tempt you to barter 
 your integrity and peace of mind for the paltry 
 satisfaction of improving your fortune. If you 
 behave with honour and prudence, you will be 
 regarded and courted by all parties ; but if other- 
 wise, you will certainly be despised by all. Per- 
 haps, indeed, if you should hereafter engage in 
 elections, and spend your own money to support 
 another's cause, the person in whose interest 
 you are may shake you by the hand, and swear 
 you are a very honest gentleman ; just as but- 
 
 chers treat their bull-dogs, who spit in theii* 
 mouths, clap them on the back, and then halloo 
 them on to be tossed and torn by the horns of 
 their antagonist. 
 
 After having guarded you against the evil in-, 
 fluence of your own sex, I cannot conclude with- 
 out throwing in a word or two concerning the 
 ladies. But that I may not be thought unman- 
 nerly to the fair, I shall pass over their faults, 
 only hoping, that their excellences will not 
 tempt you to precipitate a match with one much 
 your inferior in birth and fortune, though " en- 
 dowed with every accomplishment requisite to 
 make the marriage state happy." In these hasty 
 and unequal matches it sometimes happens, that 
 mutual love gives way to mutual reproaches. 
 We may, perhaps, too late repent of our bai*- 
 gain : and though repentance be an excellent 
 visiting friend, when she reminds us of our past 
 miscarriages, and prescribes rules how to avoid 
 them for the future, yet she is a most trouble- 
 some companion, when fixed upon us for life. 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 Your sincere friend, &c. 
 
 H. A. 
 
 No. 83.] Thursday, Aug. 28, 1755. 
 
 Tot pariter pelves, tot tintinnahula dicas 
 
 Pulsari. Juf. 
 
 Rough repitition roars in rudest rhjTne, 
 As clappers chinkle in one charming chime. 
 
 Since genius is the chief requisite in all kinds of 
 poetrj'^, nothing can be more contrary to the very 
 essence of it, than the adopting, as beauties, cer- 
 tain arts, which are merely mechanical. There 
 are daily arising many whimsical excellences, 
 which have no foundation in nature, but are 
 only countenanced by the present mode of writ- 
 ing. "With these it is as easy to fill our compo- 
 sitions, as to dress ourselves in the fashion ; but 
 the writer who puts his work together in this 
 manner is no more a poet than his tailor. Such 
 productions often betray great labour and exact- 
 ness, but show no genius ; for those who sit 
 down to write by rule, and follow " dry receipts 
 how poems should be made," may compose their 
 pieces without the least assistance from the ima- 
 gination ; as an apothecary's 'prentice, though 
 unable to cure any disease, can make up medi- 
 cines from the physician's prescription, with no 
 moi-e knowledge of physic than the names of the 
 drugs. Thus the muse, that ought to fly, and 
 " ascend the brightest heaven of invention," 
 walks in leading strings, or is supported by a 
 go-cart. 
 
 Among the many poetical tricks of this sort, 
 none have been more successfully practised, or 
 
143 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 83. 
 
 had more advocates and admirers, than a cer- 
 tain fantastical conceit, called alliteration, 
 which is nothing more than beginning two, 
 three, or perhaps every word in a line with the 
 same letter. This method of running divisions 
 upon the alphabet, and pressing particular letters 
 into the service, has been accounted one of the 
 first excellences in versification, and has, in- 
 deed, received the sanction of some of our best 
 poets ; but wherein the beauty of it consists, is 
 something difficult to discover, since Quarles or 
 Withers might practise it with as much adroit- 
 ness as Dryden or Spenser. It is one of those 
 modern arts in poetry which require no fancy, 
 judgment, or learning in the execution: for an 
 author may huddle the same letters on each 
 other again and again, as mechanically as the 
 printer selects his types, and ranges them in 
 •whatsoever order he pleases. 
 
 This partial attachment to particular letters 
 is a kind of contrast to the famous Odyssey of 
 Tryphiodorus, where every letter in the alpha- 
 bet was in its turn excluded; and the allitera- 
 tor must be as busily employed to introduce his 
 favourite vowel or consonant, as the Greek poet 
 to shut out the letter he had proscribed. No- 
 thing is esteemed a greater beauty in poetry, 
 than a happy choice of epithets; but allitera- 
 tion reduces all the elegances of expression to a 
 very narroAV compass. Epithets are culled, in- 
 deed, with great exactness ; but the closest rela- 
 tion they are intended to bear to the word to 
 ■which tliey are joined, is that the initials are 
 the same. Thus the fields must be flowery, 
 beauty must be beaming, ladies must be lovely ; 
 atid in the same manner must the " Avaves wind 
 their watery way," the "blustering blasts blow," 
 and "locks all loosely lay," not for the sake of 
 the poetry, but the elegance of the alliteration. 
 This beauty has also taken possession of many 
 of our tragedies ; and I have seen ladies wooed 
 and heroes killed in it ; though I must own 1 
 never hear an actor dying with deadly darts 
 and fiery llames, &c. but it always puts me in 
 mind of the celebrated pippin woman in Gay's 
 Trivia, whose head, when it was severed from 
 her body, rolled along the ice crying pip, pip, 
 pip, and expired in alliteration. 
 
 The same false taste in writing, "that wings 
 display'd and altars rais'd," also introduced alli- 
 teration ; and acrostics in particular are the 
 same kind of spelling-book poetry. It is, there- 
 fore, somewhat extraordinary, that those su- 
 blime writers who have disgraced their pages 
 with it, did not leave this as well as the other 
 barbarous parts of literature to the Goths in 
 poetry, since it is a whimsical beauty, below 
 the practice of any writer, superior to him who 
 turned the jEneid into monkish verses. Shak- 
 speare, who was more indebted to nature than 
 art, has ridiculed this low trick with great Im- 
 
 mour, in his burlesque tragedy of Pyramus 
 and Thisbe. Besides that noted passage, 
 
 With blade, with bloody blameful blade. 
 He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast 
 
 He before introduces a mock rant, which Bot- 
 tom calls Erdes' vein, which is not only rank 
 fustian, but is also remarkable for its allitera- 
 tion. " To make all split the raging rocks, and 
 shivering shocks shall break the locks of prison 
 gates — and Phibbus' car shall shine from far, 
 and make and mar the foolish fates." In this 
 strange style have whole poems been written ; 
 and every learned reader will recollect on this 
 occasion the Pugna Purcorum per P. Porcium 
 Pclagiuni Poekmiy which I wish some of our 
 poetasters would translate, in the true spirit of 
 the original, and praise pigs and pork with all 
 the beauties of alliteration. 
 
 The adA'ocates and admirers of this practice 
 have asserted, that it adds significance and 
 strength of expression to their verses : but I 
 fear this boasted energy seldom appears to the 
 reader. The alliteration either remains unre- 
 garded, or, if it is very striking, disgusts those 
 who perceive it ; and is often in itself, from 
 such a disagreeable cluster of the same letters, 
 harsh and uncouth. There are many instances, 
 where alliteration, though studiously intio- 
 duced, renders the versification rough and in- 
 harmonious ; and I will appeal to the greatest 
 lovers of it, whether the following line, where 
 the repetition was scarce intended, is one of the 
 most pleasing in all Virgil's works ; 
 
 Ncu patriae Validtts in Viscera Vertiie Vires. 
 
 Wound not with Vigour Vast the Vitals of the Weat 
 
 It must be acknowledged, that there is some- 
 thing very mechanical in the whole construc- 
 tion of the numbers in most of our modern 
 poetry. Sound is more attended to than sense, 
 and the words are expected to express more 
 than the sentiment. There are set rules to 
 make verses run off glibly, or drawl slowly on ; 
 and I have read many a poem with scarce one 
 tolerable thought in it, that has contained all 
 these excellences of versification : for which 
 reason, I must confess myself no friend to those 
 critics who analyze words and syllables, and 
 discover latent beauties in every letter, when 
 the author intended that the whole should be 
 taken together. Poetry should seem at least to 
 flow freely from the imagination, and not to be 
 squeezed from the droppings of the brain. If 
 we would endeavour to acquire a full idea of 
 what we mean to describe, we should then, of 
 course, express ourselves with force, elegance, 
 and perspicuity ; and this native strength of 
 expression would have more true energy than 
 elaborate phrases, and a quaint and studied com- 
 bination of words and lettei's. Fine numbers are 
 
No. 84.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 143 
 
 undoubtedly one of the chief beauties in poetry ; 
 but to make the sound echo to the sense, we 
 should make the sense our chief object. This 
 appears to me to have been the manly practice of 
 the ancients, and of our own Shakspeare, 
 Milton, &c. who breathed the true spirit of 
 poetry, without having recourse to little tricks 
 and mean artifices, w^hich only serve to disgrace 
 it. A good Trriter who -would be above trifling 
 even with a thought, would never pursue words, 
 and play with letters, but leave such a childish 
 employment for the small fry of rhymers, who 
 amuse themselves with anagrams and crambo. 
 The true poet trusts to his natural ear and 
 strong conception, and knows that the versilica- 
 tion is adapted to the sentiment, without culling 
 ■particular letters, and stringing themi on his 
 lines ; as he is sure that his verses are j ust mea- 
 sure, without scanning them on his fingers. 
 
 There are almost daily published certain 
 Lilliputian volumes, entitled Pretty Books for 
 Children. A friend of mine, who considers the 
 little rhymers of the age as only " children of a 
 larger gi'owth," that amuse themselves -with 
 rhymes instead of rattles, proposes to publish a 
 small pocket A'olume for the use of our poet- 
 asters. It will be a Treatise on the Art of 
 Poetry adapted to the meanest capacities, for 
 which subscriptions will be taken, and speci- 
 mens may be seen, at George's and the Bedford 
 coffee-houses. It will contain full directions 
 how to modulate the numbers on every occasion, 
 and w^ill instruct the young scribbler in all the 
 modern arts of versification. He will here meet 
 with infallible rules how to soften a line and lull 
 us to sleep with liquids and diphthongs ; to 
 roughen the verse and make it roar again with 
 reiteration of the letter R ; to set it hissing with 
 semi-vowels ; to make it pant and breathe short 
 with a hundred heavy aspirates ; or clog it up 
 with the thickest double consonants and mono- 
 syllables : with a particular table of alliteration 
 containing the choicest epithets, disposed into 
 alphabetical order ; so that any substantive may 
 be readily paired Trith a Avord beginning with 
 the same letter, which (though a mere expletive) 
 shall seem to carry more force and sentiment in 
 it, than any other of a more relative meaning, 
 but more distant sound. The whole to be illus- 
 trated with examples from the modern poets. 
 This elaborate work will be published about the 
 middle of the winter, under the title of The 
 RhjTner's Play-thing, or Poetaster's Horn 
 Book ; since there is nothing necessary to form 
 such a poet, except teaching him his letters. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 84.] Thursday, Sept. 4, 1755. 
 
 Tu, dum tua navis in alto est. 
 
 Hoc age. . 
 
 Think, sailors, think, though landmen are your hate. 
 Who likes a mere tarpaulin but his mate ? 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 You obliged the world some time ago with a few- 
 reflections on the gentlemen of the army : at the 
 present juncture, a word or two on our sea- 
 ofiicers would not be unseasonable. I do not 
 mean, that you should presume to direct them 
 how to behave in their several stations, but 
 rather to remark on their conduct and conversa- 
 tion in private life, as far as they are influenced 
 by their maritime characters. There is a cer- 
 tain unfashionable dye, which their manners 
 often take from the salt water, that tinctures 
 their whole behaviour on shore. If you could 
 assist in blotting out these stains, and give a 
 new colour to their conduct, you would add 
 gi-ace and politeness to their ordinary conversa- 
 tion, and would be of as much service to our 
 naval commanders in this point, as he -was to 
 navigation in general, who first invented the 
 compass. 
 
 As the conversation of those fair-weather fop- 
 lings, many of whom may be met with in the 
 three regiments of guards, is usually flat and 
 insipid, that of our sea-officers is turbulent and 
 boisterous : and as a trip to Paris has, perhaps 
 over-refined the coxcomb in red, a voyage round 
 the globe frequently brutalizes the seaman, who 
 comes home so rough and unpolished, that one 
 would imagine he had not visited any nation in 
 the world, except the Savages or the Hottentots. 
 The many advantages he has received from 
 having seen the customs and manners of so 
 many different people, it is natural to suppose, 
 would render his conversation very desirable, as 
 being in itself particularly instructive and enter- 
 taining ; but this roughness, which clings to the 
 seaman's behaviour like tar to his trowsers, 
 makes him unfit for all civil and polite society. 
 He behaves at an assembly, as if he was upon 
 deck ; and his whole deportment manifestly be- 
 trays, that he is, according to the common 
 phrase, quite out of his element. Nor can you 
 collect any more from him concerning the seve- 
 ral nations he has visited, than if he had been 
 during the whole time confined to his cabin ; 
 and he seems to know as little of them as the 
 fine gentleman of his travels after the polite 
 tour, when he has, for the sake of improvement, 
 rid post through all Europe. 
 
 That our ordinary seamen, who are many of 
 them draughted from the very lowest of the po- 
 pulace, should be thus uncivilized is no wonder. 
 The common sailor's education in Tottenham 
 Court, or at Hockley in the Hole, has not quali- 
 fied him to improve by just reflections on what 
 he sees during his voyage; and going on board a 
 man of war is a kind of university education, 
 suitably adapted to the principles imbibed in the 
 
144 
 
 THE CO>^NOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 84. 
 
 polite seminaries, which he came from. A com- 
 mon sailor too is full as polite as a common sol- 
 dier, and behave as genteelly to a Wapping land- 
 lady, as the gentleman soldier, at a suttling- 
 house. But surely theie ought to be as much 
 difference in the behaviour of the commander 
 and his crew, as there is in their situation ; and 
 it is beneath the dignity of the Bi'itish flag to 
 have an admiral behave as rudely as a swabber, 
 or a commodore as foul-mouthed as a boatswain. 
 
 It may perhaps be alleged in excuse, that the 
 being placed among such a boisterous set of peo- 
 ple as our common sailors, must unavoidably 
 wear off all politeness and good manners : as it 
 is remarkable, that all those w^ho are employed 
 in the cai'e of horses grow as mere brutes as the 
 animals they attend ; and as we may often ob- 
 serve those justices, "whose chief business is the 
 examination of highwaymen, house-breakers, 
 and street-walkers, become as vulgar and foul- 
 mouthed as a pick-pocket. As there may be 
 some truth in this, the commander should there- 
 fore be still more on his guard to preserve the 
 gentleman in his behaviour, and like the sea it- 
 self, when the storm is over, grow smooth and 
 calm. It is accounted a piece of humour on the 
 Thames to abuse the other passengers on the 
 w^ater ; and there are certain set terms of abuse, 
 which fly to and fro from one boat to another on 
 this occasion. A wag might perhaps amuse 
 himself with this water-language in his voyage 
 to Vauxhall, but must be a very siUy fellow in- 
 deed, to think of carrying the joke on shore with 
 him. In the same manner some roughness may 
 perhaps be necessary to keep the crew in order; 
 but it is absurd for an officer to retain his harsh- 
 ness in polite company ; and is in a manner tying 
 his friends up to the yard-arm, and disciplining 
 his acquaintance with the cat-of-nine tails. 
 
 But the worst part of this maritime character 
 is a certain invincible contempt, which they 
 often contract for all mankind, except their fel- 
 low-seamen. They look on the rest of the world 
 as a set of fresh- water wretches, who could be 
 of no service in a storm or an engagement ; and 
 from an unaccountable obstinacy ai-e particularly 
 fleaf tn any proposals of new improvements in 
 navigation : though experience daily teaches 
 them the great use of the discoveries already 
 made, and how much room there is for more. 
 They have no notion, how studious men can sit 
 at home, and devise charts and instruments to 
 direct them in their course ; they despise those 
 ingenious persons, who w^ould assist them in 
 their undertakings, while they consider them 
 with the utmost contempt, as going round the 
 w^orld in their closets, and sailing at sea in their 
 elbow chairs. It is no less shameful than true, 
 that the ventilator, one of the most beneficial in- 
 ventions that ever was devised, wiis first oflered 
 to the service of our men of war, and rejected. 
 It was first used in foreign ships, then by our 
 
 merchantmen, and last of all among our men of 
 ^vai', to whose use it w^as first recommended. 
 This is a strong proof of that fatal obstinacy, 
 which oiu- sea-commanders ai"e too apt to con- 
 tract ; and as a further instance of it, I have been 
 told of an admiral's indignation on this subject, 
 venting itself in the following marmer : " A pack 
 of blockheads," said he, " sit poring, and pretend 
 to make improvements for oui' use. They tell 
 you that they discover this, and discover that ; 
 but I tell you they are all fools. — For instance 
 now, they say the world is round ; every one of 
 them says the world is round ; — but I have been 
 aU round the world, and it is as fiat as this 
 table." 
 
 The unpolished behaviour of our sea officers 
 is in a gi'eat measure o^viug to their being often 
 sent to sea very young, with little or no educa- 
 tion beyond what they have received at the aca- 
 demy of Woolwich or Portsmouth. A lad of 
 good family, but imtoward parts, or mischievous 
 disposition, who has been flogged for a- while at 
 the grammar school, or snubbed by his parents 
 and friends at home, is frequently clapped on 
 board a ship in order to tame him, and to teach 
 hitTi better manners. Here perhaps he at first 
 messes with the lo^vest of the seamen ; and all 
 that the young gentleman can learn from, his jol- 
 ly mess-mates iu the course of two or three voy- 
 ages, is to drink flip, sing a bawdy catch, and 
 dance a hornpipe. These genteel accomplish- 
 ments he is sure to retain, as he grows old in the 
 service ; and if he has the good fortune to rise to 
 a command, he is as sm'ly and brutal when ad- 
 vanced to the cabin, as when he was tugging be- 
 fore the mast. 
 
 After all it is but justice to confess, that there 
 are many among our sea-officei*s, who deserved- 
 ly bear the character of gentlemen and scholars ; 
 and it is easy to perceive, Avith how much better 
 grace they appear in the world than the rest of 
 their brethren, who, when laid up and taken out 
 of service, are as mere logs as the main mast. 
 An officer Avho has any relish for reading, will 
 employ the many vacant hours, in which he is 
 relieved from duty, much more to his improve- 
 ment and satisfaction, than iu sauntering be- 
 tween the decks, or muddling over a bowl of 
 punch. I would, therefore, seriously recommend 
 it to these young sailors, who have the happiness 
 to launch forth with a genteel and liberal edu- 
 cation, not to suffer every trace of it to be wash- 
 ed away, like words wTitten on the sands ; but 
 that, when they return from sea, they may be fit 
 to be admitted at St. James's, as well as at 
 Wapping or Rotherhithe. 
 
 Before I conclude, I must beg leave to say a 
 word or t\vo concerning our sea-chaplains. The 
 common sailors are known to have, when on 
 board, a very serious regard for religion : and 
 their decent behaviour at prayers, and sedate at- 
 tention to the sei'mon upon quarter-deck, uiiglit 
 
No. 85.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 i*,*; 
 
 shame a more polite audience at St. James's 
 Church. For this reason a truly religious chap- 
 lain, of good morals and soher conversation, 
 will necessarily have as much influence on their 
 behaviour, as a mild and prudent commander. 
 Nor can a clergyman be too circumspect in this 
 point ; since, if he does not act in every respect 
 conformable to his function, his place might be 
 as well supplied by any one of the unbeneficed 
 doctors of the Fleet. In a word, if a chaplain 
 will so far divest himself of his sacred character, 
 as to drink, swear, and behave in every respect 
 like a common sailor, he should be obliged to 
 woi'k in the gang-way all the rest of the week, 
 and on Sundays, be invested with a jacket and 
 trowsers instead of his canonicals. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble servant, 
 O. T. Fore- Castle. 
 
 No. 85.] Thursday, Sept. 11, 1755. 
 
 Anjmorum 
 
 Impulsu, et ccBca magnaque cupidine. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 As the frail dame now love, now reason guides, 
 The magic mixture rises or subsides. 
 
 So long ago as my fourth number (the reader 
 perhaps may not remember) I made mention of 
 a female thermometer, constructed by my inge- 
 nious friend Mr. James Ayscough, optician, on 
 Ludgate-hill ; and I then informed the public, 
 that " the liquor contained within the tube was 
 a chemical mixture, which being acted upon by 
 the circulation of the blood and animal spirits, 
 would rise and fall according to the desires and 
 affections of the wearer." But I have now the 
 further satisfaction to acquaint my fair readers, 
 that after several repeated trials and improve- 
 ments we have at length brought the instrument 
 to so great a degree of perfection, that any com- 
 mon by-stander may, by a proper application of 
 it, know the exact temperature of a lady's pas- 
 sions. The liquor, among other secret ingre- 
 dients, is distilled secundum artem from the herbs 
 lady's love and maiden hair, the wax of virgin 
 beas, and the five greater hot and cold seeds : 
 and the properties of it are so subtle and pene- 
 trating, that immediately on its coming within 
 the atmosphere of a lady's affections, it is actu- 
 ated by them in the same manner, as the spirits 
 are by the impulse of the air in the common 
 thermometer. 
 
 It was net without some difficulty, that we 
 could settle the different degrees of heat and 
 cold in a lady's desires, which it would be proper 
 to delineate on our thermonceter ; but at last we 
 found, that the whole scale of female characters 
 might be I'educed to one or other of the follow- 
 ing, viz. 
 
 Abandoned IMPUDENCE. 
 
 . Gallantrt/. 
 
 . Loose Beliavlour. 
 
 . . . . Innocent Freedoms. 
 
 . . . . Indiscretions. 
 
 Inviolable MODESTY. 
 
 From these degrees, which we have accurately 
 marked on the side of the tube, we have been 
 able to judge of the characters of several ladies, 
 on whom we have made the experiment. In 
 some of these we have found the gradations very 
 sudden ; and that the liquor has risen very fast 
 from the lowest point to the highest. We could 
 likewise discovei', that it was differently affected 
 according to the diffei'ent station and quality of 
 the subject ; so that the same actions, which in 
 a lady of fashion scarce raised the liquor beyond 
 indiscretions, in another caused it to mount al- 
 most to impudence. Much also depended upon 
 the air and temperature of the place, where we 
 made our trials : and even the dress had some 
 influence on our thermometer ; as we frequently 
 observed, that the rise and fall of the liquor in 
 the tube bore an exact proportion to the rise and 
 fall of the stays and petticoat. 
 
 I shall now proceed to give a succinct account 
 of the many repeated experiments, which we 
 have made on different subjects in different 
 places. During the winter season we had fre- 
 quent opportunities of trying the effects, which 
 the play-house, the opera, and other places of 
 diversion might have on the thermometer. 
 
 At the play-house we always found the liquor 
 rise in proportion as the drama was more or less 
 indecent or immoral : at some comedies, and 
 particularly the Chances, its elevation kept pace 
 exactly with the lusciousness of the dialogue, 
 and the ripening of the plot ; so that it has often 
 happened, that with some subjects, at the opening 
 of the play, the liquor has struggled awhile, and 
 rose and sunkaboutthe degrees just above modes- 
 ty ; before the third act it has stood suspended at 
 the middle point between modesty and impudence; 
 in the fourth act it has advanced as far as loose 
 behaviour ; and at the conclusion of the play it 
 has settled at downright impudence. At public 
 concerts, and the opera especially, we observed 
 that the thermometer constantly kept time (if I 
 may say so) with the music and singing; and 
 both at the opera and the play-house, it always 
 regulated its motions by the dancer's heels. We 
 liave frequently made trials of our instrument 
 at the masquerades in the Hay-market ; but 
 the temperature of that climate always proved 
 so exceeding hot, that on the moment of our 
 coming into the room the liquor has boiled up 
 with a surprising effervescence to abandoned 
 impudence. 
 
 During the summer season we have not 
 failed to mark our observations on the company 
 U 
 
116 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 86. 
 
 at the public gardens. Here we found, indeed, 
 that with some raw unpolished females, who 
 came only to eat cheese-cakes and see the cas- 
 cade and fire-works, the liquor did not stir 
 beyond modesty ; with many it has crept up to 
 indiscretions; and with some it has advanced 
 to loose behaviour. We had no opportunity to 
 ti-y our thermometer in the dark walks ; but 
 ■with some subjects we have plainly perceived 
 the liquor hastening up towards innocent free- 
 doms, as they wire retiring to these walks from 
 the rest of the company ; while with others, 
 who have gone the same way, it has only con- 
 tinued to point (as it did at the beginning of 
 our observations) at gallantry. One young 
 lady in particular we could not help remarking, 
 whom we followed into Vauxhall, gallanted by 
 an oflficer. We were glad to see, at her first 
 going in, that the liquor, though it now and 
 then faintly aspired towards indiscretions, still 
 gravitated back again to modesty: after they 
 had taken a turn or two in the walks, we per- 
 ceived it fluctuating between innocent freedoms 
 and loose behaviour: after this we lost sight of 
 them for some time; and at the conclusion of 
 the entertainment (as we followed them out) 
 we could not without concern observe, that the 
 liquor was hastily bubbling up to a degree next 
 to impudence. 
 
 Besides the experiments on those ladies, who 
 frequent the public places of diversion, we have 
 been no less careful in making remarks at seve- 
 ral private routs and assemblies. We were 
 here at first very much surprised at the extreme 
 degree of cold, which our thermometer seemed 
 to indicate in several ladies, who were seated 
 round the card-tables ; as we found not the 
 least alteration in it either from the young or 
 old ; but we at last concluded, that this Avas 
 owing to their love of play, which had totally 
 absorbed all their other passions. We have, 
 indeed, more than once perceived, that when a 
 lady lias risen from cards after so much ill luck 
 as to have involved hei'self in a debt of honour 
 to a gentleman, the thermometer has been sur- 
 prisingly affected ; and as she has been handed 
 to her chair, we have known the liquor which 
 before was quite stagnate, run up instanta- 
 neously to the degree of gallantry. We have 
 also been at the trouble to try its efficacy in the 
 long rooms at Bath, Tunbridge, Cheltenham, 
 &c. and we have found, that these places have 
 brought about surprising changes in the consti- 
 tutions of those sick ladies, who go thither for 
 the benefit of the waters. 
 
 Having thus sufficiently proved the perfec- 
 tion of our thermometer, it only remains to 
 acquaint my readers, that Mr. Ayscough will 
 be ready to supply the public with these useful 
 instruments, as soon as the town fills. In the 
 meantime I would advise those ladies, who 
 liiive the least regard for their characters, to 
 
 reflect that the gradations, as marked on our 
 thermometer, natuiaUy lead to each other; that 
 the transitions from the lowest to the highest 
 are quick and obvious ; and that though it is 
 very easy to advance, it is impossible to regulate 
 their passions in such a manner, as that their 
 conduct may be always consistent with decency 
 and honour, and (as Shakspeare says) " not step- 
 ping o'er the bounds of modesty." I shall con- 
 clude with observing, that these thermometers 
 are designed only for the ladies : for though we 
 imagined at first, that they might serve equally 
 for the men, we have found reason to alter our 
 opinion ; since, in the course of several fruit- 
 less experiments on our own sex, there has 
 scarce appeared any medium in them between 
 modesty and impudence. 
 
 No. 86.] Thursday, Sept. 18, 1755. 
 
 • Via sacra, sknit metis est mos. 
 
 Nescio quid meditans nugarum, tottts in ill's. Hoa. 
 
 I range in quest of knowledge every street. 
 And study arts at Ludgate or the Fleet 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 It has been generally imagined, that learning is 
 only to be acquired in the closet, by turning 
 over a great number of pages : for which reason 
 men have been assiduous to heap together a 
 parcel of dusty volumes, and our youth have 
 been sent to study at the universities ; as if 
 knowledge was shut up in a library, and chain- 
 ed to the shelves together with the folios. This 
 prejudice has made every one overlook the most 
 obvious and ready means of coming at litera- 
 ture : while (as the v/ise man has remarked) 
 " wisdom crieth without ; she uttereth her voice 
 in the streets ; she crieth in the chief place of 
 concourse, in the openings of the gates : in the 
 city she uttereth her words, and no man re- 
 gardeth her." Every lane teems with instruc- 
 tion, and every alley is big with erudition : 
 though the ignorant or incurious passer-by shuts 
 his eyes against that universal volume of arts 
 and sciences, which constantly lies open before 
 him in the highways and bye-places, like the 
 laws of the Romans, which were hung up in 
 the public streets. 
 
 You must know, Mr. Town, that I am a 
 very hard student ; and have perhaps gleaned 
 more knowledge from my reading, than any of 
 your poring fellows of colleges, though I was 
 never possessed of so much as a horn-book. In 
 the course of my studies I have followed the 
 example of the ancient Peripatetics, who used 
 to study walking ; and as I had not the advan- 
 tnge to bo brought up a scholar, I have been 
 
No. 86.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 147 
 
 obliged, like the Lacedaemonian children, to the 
 public for my education. My tirst relish for 
 letters T got by conning over those elegant mo- 
 nosj'llables, which are chalked out upon walls 
 and gates, and which (as pretty books for chil- 
 dren are adorned with cuts) are generally en- 
 forced and explained by curious hieroglyphics in 
 caricature. I soon made a further progress in 
 the alphabet by staring up at the large letters 
 upon play-bills, and advertisements for stage 
 coaches and waggons ; till at length 1 was en- 
 abled to make out the inscriptions upon signs, 
 bills on empty houses, and the titles on rubric 
 posts. From these I proceeded gradually to 
 higher branches of literature; and my method 
 has since been to visit the philobiblian libraries, 
 and other learned stalls, and the noble collec- 
 tions at Moor- fields ; in which choice reposito- 
 ries I have with infinite pleasure and advantage 
 run over the elaborate systems of ancient divines, 
 politicians, and philosophers, which have escaped 
 the fury of pastry-cooks and trunk-makers. As 
 for the modern writings of pamphleteers and 
 magazine compilei's, I make it my business to 
 take my rounds every morning at the open shops 
 about the Royal Exchange ; where I never fail 
 to run through every thitig, fresh as it comes 
 out. Thus, for example, I make a shift to squint 
 over the first page of the Connoisseur, as it lies 
 before me, at Mrs. Cooke's ; at the next shop I 
 steal a peep at the middle pages ; at another, 
 proceed on to the fourth or fifth ; and perhaps 
 return again to conclude it at Mrs. Cooke's. 
 By the same means I am myself become a Con- 
 noisseur likewise ; and you will be surprised 
 when I assure you, that I have a great variety 
 of the finest prints and paintings, and am master 
 of a more curious set of nicknacks, than are to 
 be found in Sir Hans Sloane's collection. For, 
 as I constantly survey the windows of every 
 print-shop, and attend every auction, I look 
 upon every curiosity as actually in my posses- 
 sion : and you will agree with me, that while I 
 have the opportunity of seeing them, the real 
 owners cannot have more satisfaction in locking 
 them up in cabinets and museums. 
 
 It is recorded of Democritus, that he tran- 
 scribed a system of ethics from the columns of 
 Acicarus in Babylonia : in like manner you will 
 conclude, that the knowledge which I have thus 
 picked out of the streets, has been very exten- 
 sive. I have gone through a complete course of 
 physic by perusing the learned treatise of Dr. 
 Rock, and other eminent practitioners, pasted 
 up at the entrance of alleys and bye places. I 
 have learned at every corner, that the scurvy is 
 a popular disease, — that the bloody flux cannot 
 be cured by any of the faculty, except the gentle- 
 woman at the Blue Posts in Haydon -yard ; 
 that nervous diseases were never so frequent, 
 and that the royal family and most of our nobi- 
 lity are troubled with corns. I was completely 
 
 grounded in politics by stopping at Temple-bar 
 every morning to read the Gazetteer, which 
 used to be stuck up there to the great emolument 
 of the hackney-coach mien, upon their stands. 
 But above all, I have acquired the most sublime 
 notions of religion by listening attentively to the 
 spirited harangues of our most eminent field - 
 preachers : and I confess myself highly obliged 
 to the itinerant miissionaries of Whitfield, Wes- 
 ley, and Zinzendorf, who have instructed us in 
 the New Light from empty barrels and joint- 
 stools. Next to these, I have received great im- 
 provements from the vociferous retailers of 
 poetry; as I constantly used to thrust myself 
 into the circle gathered round them, and listen 
 to their ditties, till I could carry away both the 
 words and the tune. I have likewise got some 
 notion of the drama by attending the theatres ; 
 though my finances were too scanty for me ever 
 to get admittance even among the gods iu the 
 upper regions of the twelvepenny gallery. I 
 therefore had recourse to the following practice: 
 1 would contrive to hear one act at the outside 
 of one of the pit doors ; the next act I took my 
 stand at the other ; and as the author generally 
 rises in the middle, I could catch the most tear- 
 ing parts during the third act in the passage to 
 the two-shilling gallery: in the fourth act the 
 rants came tolerably loud to my ear at the en- 
 trance of the upper gallery ; and I very atten- 
 tively listened to the i)athetic, at the conclusion 
 of the play, with the footmen in the lobby. 
 
 Endowed with so much learning, you will 
 doubtless be curious to know to what purposes 
 I have turned it. Almost before I could read 
 at all, I got into the service of a very eminent 
 doctor of physic, who employed me in sticking 
 up his bills and slipping them slily into the 
 hands of spindle-shanked young fellows, as they 
 passed by. After this, by closely studying these 
 elegant compositions, I got together a sufficient 
 set of medical phrases, which (by the help of 
 Bailey's Dictionary) enabled me to draw up 
 bills and affidavits for those doctors who are not 
 so happy as to be able to write or read. I was 
 next promoted to the garret of a printer of bloody 
 murders, where my business was to invent ter- 
 rible stories, write Yorkshire tragedies, and oc- 
 casionally to put the ordinary of Newgate's ac- 
 count of dying speeches into lamentable rhyme. 
 I was afterwards concerned in works, that re- 
 quired a greater fund of erudition, such as bog- 
 house miscellanies, and little books for children : 
 and I was once engaged as the principal com- 
 piler of a three half-penny magazine. Since that 
 I followed the occupation of an eaves-dropper, or 
 collector of news for the daily papers ; in which 
 I turned a good penny by hunting after marriages 
 and deaths, and inventing lies for the day. Once 
 indeed, being out of other business, I descended to 
 the mean office of a ballad-singer, and hawked my 
 own verses ; but not having a good car to music, 
 
148 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 87. 
 
 and the tone of my voice being rather inclined 
 to whining, I converted my ballads into peniten- 
 tial hymns, and took up the vocation of metho- 
 dist preacher. In this station 1 made new con- 
 verts every day among the old women by my 
 sighs and groans, who in return contributed 
 their half-pence, which I disposed of in charity 
 to myself: but I was at last beat off the field 
 by a journeyman shoemaker, who fairly out- 
 whined me ; and finding myself deserted by my 
 usual audience, I became setter to a Fleet 
 parson. 
 
 My employment now was to take my stand at 
 the end of Fleet-market, and whenever I saw 
 any gaping young couple staring about them, to 
 whisper them softly in the ear, and ask them 
 whether they wanted to be married. Whenever 
 the ceremony was performed, I officiated as clerk 
 and father to give away the bride ; and Avhen 
 my master the doctor died, 1 made a shift to 
 purchase his entire stock in trade, (consisting of 
 a rusty cassock, an old grizzle wig, and one 
 lappet of a band) and succeeded him in his bene- 
 fice of the Hand-and-Pen chapel, I now got a 
 more comfortable subsistence than many regu- 
 larly ordained curates in the coTintry ; but the 
 marriage act soon after taking place, I was flung 
 out of employ ; and as the primate of May-fair, 
 the reverend Dr. Keith, is forced to sell snufF in 
 the Fleet-prison, I have been obliged to retail 
 gin in a night-cellar. 
 
 Thus, Mr. Town, have I set before you the 
 progress I have made in literature, as well as 
 the particular circumstances of my life, in hopes 
 they will induce you to recommend me to the 
 notice of the public. As the parliament has 
 not thought fit to make any provision for the 
 poor distressed clergy of the Fleet, I intend to 
 open a new oratory chapel in Fleet-market, to 
 be conducted on the same principles with that 
 established in Clare-market ; and for which I 
 flatter myself, I shall appear no less qualified by 
 my education, than the renowned Henley or 
 any of his butchers. I shall, therefore, beg 
 leave to subscribe myself, hoping for your coun- 
 tenance and protection. 
 
 Your very humble Servant, 
 
 T. Orator Higgins. 
 
 No. 87. 
 
 Thursday, Sept. 25, 1755. 
 
 Qnitl digttum tanlo tibi ventre guaque prccabor ? 
 
 Mart. 
 
 So wide a swallow, and so vast a paunch. 
 Say, what shall cram ! a turbot, or a haunch ? 
 
 Eating and drinking being absolutely requisite 
 to keep our crazy frames together, Ave are 
 obliged to attend to the calls of nature, and 
 
 satisfy the regular cravings of the appetite j 
 though it is, in truth, but a very small part of 
 the world that eat because they are hungry, or 
 drink because they are dry. The common day 
 labourer may, indeed, be glad to snatch a hasty 
 meal with his wife and children, that he may 
 have strength to return to his work ; and the 
 porter finds it necessary to refresh himself with 
 a full pot of entire butt, while he rests his load 
 upon the bulk at the ale-house door. But those 
 who have more leisure to study what they shall 
 eat and drink, require something more in their 
 food, than what is barely wholesome or neces- 
 sary ; their palates must be gratified with rich 
 sauces and high-seasoned delicacies ; and they 
 frequently have recourse to whetters and provo- 
 catives, to anticipate the call of hunger, and to 
 enable their stomach to bear the ibAd they lay on 
 it. There are a sort of men, whose chief pride 
 is a good taste (as they call it) and a great sto- 
 mach ; and the whole business of their lives is 
 included in their breakfast, dinner and supper. 
 These people of whatever rank and denomina- 
 tion, whether they regale on turtle, or devour 
 shoulders of mutton and peck loaves for wagers, 
 whether a duke at White's, or a chairman at 
 the Blue- Posts, are certainly of the number of 
 those " whom nature," as Sallust tells us, " has 
 made, like the brutes, obedient to their bellies," 
 and, indeed, partake in some measure of the 
 sentence passed on the serpent, " to be cursed 
 above all cattle, and to go for ever on their 
 bellies. " 
 
 There are many vices and follies which men 
 endeavour to hide from the rest of the world ; 
 but this, above all others, they take a pride in 
 proclaiming, and seem to run about with the 
 cap and bells, as if they were ambitious to be 
 ranked among the sons of folly. Indeed, as the 
 politeness of the French language has distin- 
 guished every glutton by the title of Bon Viravt, 
 and the courtesy of our own has honoured their 
 beastly gluttony by the name of Good Living, 
 the epicure thinks to eat and drink himself into 
 your good opinion, and recommend himself to 
 your esteem by an exquisite bill of fare. How- 
 ever this may be, it is remarkable, that as the 
 fox-hunter takes delight in relating the incidents 
 of the chase, and kills the fox again over a bowl 
 of punch at night, so the Bon Vivant enjoys 
 giving an account of a delicious dinner, and 
 cheAvs the cud of reflection on his exquisite 
 entertainment. 
 
 I have been led into these thoughts by an 
 acquaintance wliich I have lately made with a 
 person, whose Avhole conversation is, literally 
 speaking, table-talk. His brain seems to be 
 stufi'ed with a hodge-podge of ideas, consisting 
 of seAoral dishes, Avhich he is peiT)etually serving 
 up for the entertainment of the company. As 
 it Avas said of 1 onginus, that he Avas a Avalking 
 library, in the same manner I consider this 
 
No. 87.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 149 
 
 gentleman as a walking larder : and as the ora- 
 tions of Demosthenes were said to smell of the 
 lamp, so my friend's whole conversation savours 
 of the kitchen. He even makes use of his 
 stomach as an artificial memory ; and recollects 
 every place he has been at, and every person he 
 has seen, by some circumistances relating to the 
 entertainment he met with. If he caUs to mind 
 a particular inn, he adds, " for there the cook 
 spoiled a fine turbot ;" another house is recol- 
 lected, " because the parson took all the fat of 
 the haunch of venison : " he remembers a gentle- 
 man you mention, " because he had the small- 
 est stomach he ever knew:" or one lady, " be- 
 cause she drank a great deal of wine at supper ; " 
 and another, "because she has the best receipt for 
 making her pickled cucumbers look green." 
 
 His passion for eating also influences aU his 
 actions, diversions, and studies. He is fond of 
 hare-hunting, as he says his pursuit is animated 
 by the hopes of seeing puss smoking on the table; 
 but he wonders how any man can venture his 
 neck in a chase after a fox, which, when it is 
 got, is not worth eating. He has had occasion, 
 on account of the disorders which his ruling pas- 
 sion has brought upon him, to visit the several 
 Wells in the kingdom ; but these he considers 
 not as places where persons go to drink the 
 waters, but where they go to eat ; and in this 
 light he gives a character of them all. " Bath," 
 says he, " is one of the best markets in the 
 world : at Tunbridge you have fine mutton, and 
 most exquisite wheat-ears : but at Cheltenham, 
 pox take the place, you have nothing but cow- 
 beef, red veal, and white bacon." He looks up- 
 on every part of England in the same light ; and 
 would as soon go to Cheshire for butter, and 
 Suffolk for cheese, as miss eating what each par- 
 ticular town or county is famous for having the 
 most excellent in its kind. He does not grudge 
 to ride twenty miles to dine on a favourite dish; 
 and it was but last week, that he appointed a 
 friend in Buckinghamshire to meet him at Ux- 
 bridge, " which," says he, in his letter, " is the 
 best place we can settle our business at, on ac- 
 count of those excellent rolls we may have for 
 breakfast, and the delicious trout we are sure to 
 have at dinner." 
 
 Mr. Cramwell, for that is his name, is so un- 
 fortunate as to want a purse adequate to his taste ', 
 so that he is obliged to have recourse to severaJ 
 artifices to gratify his appetite. For this pur- 
 pose he has with great pains constituted a club, 
 consisting of persons most likely to promote good 
 living. This society is composed of members, 
 who are all of some trade fhat can furnish it 
 with provisions, except one country squire, Avho 
 supplies it with game : and they are obliged to 
 send in the best of whatever their trade deals in, 
 at prime cost : by which wise management the 
 club is supplied with every delicacy the season 
 affords, at the most reasonable rates. Mr. 
 
 CramweU, on account of his extraordinary pro- 
 ficiency in the science of eating, is honoured with 
 the office of perpetual caterer ; and he has arrived 
 to such a pitch of accuracy in the calculation of 
 what is sufficient, that he seems to gauge the 
 stomachs of the club, as an exciseman does a 
 cask : so that, when all the members are present, 
 they seldom send away three ounces of meat 
 from the table. Upon any vacancy, much care 
 and deliberation is used in electing a new mem- 
 ber. A candidate's being able to devoiu* a whole 
 turkey with an equal proportion of chine, or eat 
 one haunch of venison with the fat of another as 
 sauce to it, vrould be no recommendation : on 
 the contrary, there never was more caution used 
 at the death of a Pope, to elect a successor who 
 appears the most likely to be short-lived, than by 
 this society of epicurean hogs to admit nobody 
 of a stomach superior to their own. A captain 
 of a ship trading to the West-Indies has been 
 admitted an honoi'ary member, having contracted 
 to bring over, as a present to them, a cargo of 
 turtle every voyage ; and a few days ago I met 
 CramweU in prodigious high spirits, when he 
 told me, that he was the happiest man in the 
 world. " Now," says he, " we shall have orto- 
 lans as plenty as pigeons ; for it was but yester- 
 day, that we balloted into our society one of the 
 Flanderldn- Bird- Merchants. " 
 
 This association for the preservation of elegant 
 fare gratifies my friend CramweU's luxury at a 
 cheap rate : and that he may make as many 
 good meals as possible, he often contrives to in- 
 troduce himself to the tables of persons of qua- 
 lity. This he effects by sending my lord or her 
 ladyship a present of a Bath cheese, or a ruff or 
 land-rail from his friends in Lincolnshire or 
 Somersetshire ; which seldom fails to procure 
 him an invitation to dinner. He then plays his 
 part as lustily, as if he had kept Lent, or were 
 not to make a dinner again for a fortnight. 
 He never suffers the smallest side-dish to es- 
 cape him : for one is so exceeding good ; an- 
 other looks so tempting ; another is so gi-eat a 
 rarity : and though he declares he cannot touch 
 a bit more, he will make shift to find room for 
 this or that dainty because he never tasted it 
 in his life. Wherever he goes, he always takes 
 care to secure to himself the best share of every 
 nicer dish, without the least regard to the rest 
 of the company : he will help himself to a 
 whole bird, though there are but a brace ; and 
 for fear any titbit should be snapped up before 
 him, he snatches at it as greedily, as a hun- 
 gry Frenchman at an ordinary. It once hap- 
 pened, that dining with an alderman his ap- 
 petite so far got the better of his good-breed- 
 ing, that he shaved off all the outside of a 
 plum pudding, and he has ever since been talk- 
 ed of in the city by the name of skin-pudding. 
 
 As all his joy and misery constantly arises 
 from his belly, he thinks it is the same with 
 
150 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 88. 
 
 others ; and I heard Inm ask a perfect stranger 
 to him, who complained that he a\ as sick, whether 
 he had over-eat himself. It is no Avonder that 
 Cramwell should be sometimes troubled with the 
 gout : 1 called upon him the other morning, and 
 found him with his legs wrapped up in flannel, 
 and a book lying open before him upon the table. 
 On asking him what he was reading, he told me 
 he was taking physic ; and on inquiring whose 
 advice he had, "Oh," says he, "nobody can 
 do me so much good as Mrs. Hannah Glasse. 
 I am here going through a course of her Art of 
 Cookery, in hopes to get a stomach : for indeed, 
 my dear friend," added he, with tears in his 
 eyes, " my appetite is quite gone ; and I am 
 sure I shall die, if 1 do not find something in 
 this book, which I think I can eat." O. 
 
 No. 88.] Thursday, Oct. 2, 1755. 
 
 Fuit hand ifi;nobilis Argis, 
 
 Qui sc crcdcbat miros audire tragocdos. 
 
 Jn vacuo Icetus scssor plausorque theatro. 
 
 Hie tihi cognatoruTTi opibus curisque rcfcctus 
 
 Ei-pulit kdlehoro vwrhum bilemque mcraco, 
 
 Et rcdit ad sese ; — Pol me occidistis, amid, 
 
 Noti scrvdsiis, ail j cut sic extorta vohiplas. 
 
 El dcmplus per vitn inentis gralissimus e7Tor. Hor. 
 
 A wiglit there was, whose mad distemper'd brain 
 Convey'd him every night to Drury-Lane: 
 Pleased and transported in th' ideal pit 
 At fancied tragedies he seem'd to sit. 
 Now to his wits by sage Monro restored. 
 No thanks, but curses on his friends he pour'd. 
 Ye fools ; (he cried) the dear delusion lost, 
 My pleasure fled, you've cured me to my cost : 
 Seized with such whims, with frenzy so diverting, 
 Cruel ! to close the scene, and drop the curtain. 
 
 HoKACE, in the passage quoted at the head of my 
 paper, tells us (after Aristotle) of a man, who 
 tised to sit in the empty theatre and fancy that 
 he saw real exhibitions on the stage. We have 
 the like account, in another ancient author, of a 
 person that used to wait with great solicitude 
 the coming of ships into the harbour, believing 
 them to be his own property. The end of these 
 madmen was also similar; they were both cured 
 —and both complained that they were deprived 
 of the satisfaction, which they before enjoyed 
 from a pleasing error of their minds. 
 
 That the happiness and misery of the far 
 greater part of mankind depend upon the fancy, 
 need not be insisted on : Crcdc (jxiod habcx ct 
 hnbcs, Think that yoti have, and you have, is a 
 maxim not confined to those only within the 
 walls of Bedlam. I remember a humorist, 
 who would frequently divert himself in the same 
 manner with the madmen above-mentioned, and 
 supply his real wants by the force of his ima- 
 gination. He would go round the markets, and 
 
 suppose himself to be cheapening the most dainty 
 provisions ; and when he came home to his 
 scanty meal, by the same ideal contrivance he 
 would convert his trotters into turbot, and his 
 small beer into the most delicious Burgundy. 
 As he was a barber by trade, he would put on 
 the air and manners of his customers, while he 
 combed out their wigs : with every bag he would 
 conceive himself going to court or an assembly ; 
 and once when he was sick, he got together three 
 or four of the largest tyes, placed them upon 
 blocks round his bed-side, and called them a 
 consultation of physicians. 
 
 But of all others, there are none, perhaps, 
 who are more obliged to the imagination for 
 their ideal happiness, than the fraternity of 
 which I am an imworthy member. There is 
 no set of people, who are more ambitious to ap- 
 pear grand in the Avorld, and yet have less 
 means, than those gentlemen whom the world 
 has styled authors. Wit and pride as often go 
 hand in hand together, as wit and poverty : but 
 though the generality of writers are by the 
 frowns of fortune debarred from possessing a 
 profuse share of the good things of this world, 
 they are abundantly recompensed by enjoying 
 them in speculation. They indulge in golden 
 dreams, at the time that they have not sixpence 
 in their pockets ; and conjure up all the luxuries 
 of Pontac's before them, though they ai"e at a 
 loss perhaps where to get a dinner. Thus a 
 critic, by a kind of magic, will transport him- 
 self to the theatres in an imaginary chariot, and 
 be seated at once in the front boxes ; when in 
 reality he has waited for two hours in Vinegar- 
 yard before the opening of the doors, to secure 
 himself a corner in the twelve-penny gallery. 
 Hence it also happens to most authors, that 
 though their way of life be ever so mean, their 
 writings savour of the most unbounded magni- 
 ficence ; and, as they have nothing to bestow, a 
 most surprising generosity always accompanies 
 every action of the quill. A novelist, for ex- 
 amj)le, is remarkably lavish of his cash on all 
 occasions ; and spares no expense in carrying on 
 the designs of his personages through ever so 
 many volumes. Nothing, indeed, is more easy 
 than to be very profuse upon paper : an autlior, 
 when he is about it, may erect his airy castles to 
 what height he pleases, and with the wave of 
 his pen may command the mines of Peru ; and, 
 as he deals about his money without once un- 
 tying his purse-strings, it will cost him th«same 
 whether he throws away a mite or a million ; 
 and another dip of ink, by the addition of two 
 or three gratis cyphers, may, in an instant, con- 
 vert a single ten into as many thousands. 
 
 But it must be confessed, that we essay- writers, 
 as we are the greatest egotists, are consequently 
 most vain and ostentatious. As we frequently 
 find occasion to prate about ourselves, we take 
 abundant care to put the reader constantly i/j 
 
No. 89-] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 151 
 
 Qiind of our importance. It is very well 
 known, that we keep the best company, are 
 present at the most expensive places of diver- 
 sion, and can talk as familiarly of White's as 
 if we had been admitted to the honour of 
 losing an estate there. Though the necessaries 
 as well as the luxuries of life may perhaps be 
 denied us, we readily make up for the want of 
 them by the creative power of the imagination. 
 Thus, for instance, I remember a brother essay- 
 ist, who took a particular pride in dating his 
 lucubrations, " From my own Apartment;" 
 which he represented as abounding with every 
 convenience : though at the same time he was 
 working three stories from the gi'ound, and was 
 often forced, for want of other paper, to scribble 
 upon wrappers of tobacco. As to myself, I 
 make no doubt but the reader has long ago dis- 
 covered, without my telling him, that I loU at 
 my ease in a crimson velvet chair, rest my elbow 
 on the polished sui'face of a mahogany table, 
 write my essays upon gUt paper, and dip my pen 
 into a silver standish. 
 
 Indeed, though I have taken upon me the title 
 of Connoisseur, I shall not presume to boast, 
 that I am possessed of a museum like Sloane's, 
 or a library equal to Mead's. But as Pliny, 
 and after him oiu- countryman Mr. Pope, have 
 left us a description of then- elegant villas, I 
 hope it wiU not be thought arrogance in me, 
 after what I have said, if I set before the reader 
 an account of my own study. This is a little 
 edifice situated at some distance from the rest of 
 the house, for the sake of privacy and retirement. 
 It is an ancient pile of building, and hangs 
 over a small rivulet ; and as the entrance into it 
 is shaded by a thick hedge of ever-gi'een, which 
 casts a kind of awful gloom about it, some learn- 
 ed antiquaries have been led to conjecture, that 
 it was formerly a Temple, or rather a Chapel of 
 Ease, dedicated to one of the heathen goddesses. 
 This goddess, they inform me, was worshipped 
 by the Romans, and was probably held in no 
 less veneration by the Egj-ptians, Chaldees, 
 SjTians, and other nations. However this be, 
 the walls on the inside are decorated with vari- 
 ous inscriptions, alluding to the religious rites 
 performed there, and hung round with the rude 
 rhymes of ancient bards. 
 
 To this study I retire constantly every morn- 
 ing after breakfast, and at other parts of the day, 
 as occasion calls. Here I am at liberty to in- 
 dulge my meditations uninterrupted, as I sujffer 
 no one to break in upon my privacy : and (what 
 will perhaps surprise my readers) I find in my- 
 self the greatest inclination to visit it after a 
 hearty meal. In this place I made a very rapid 
 progress in literature, and have gone through 
 several very learned volumes, which otherwise 
 I should never have looked into, I have here 
 traveUed leaf by leaf through the works of many 
 worthy, but neglected ancient divines, critics, 
 
 and politicians ; and have turned OA'er many a 
 modern pamphlet or poem with equal satisfac- 
 tion. I must not forget to mention, that (like 
 the scrupulous Mahometans) I have often picked 
 up the fragments of several learned writers, 
 which have come from the chandlers, anr^ 
 lodged them, among others no less valuable, in 
 my study. 
 
 I may safely boast, that I am indebted for 
 many of my best thoughts in the coui'se of these 
 papers, to the reflections I have had the leisure 
 to make in this study; which probably has the 
 same influence on my mind, as the stewed 
 prunes had upon Bayes, which he tells us be 
 always took when he wrote. But if my study 
 serves to inspire me sometimes -with agreeable 
 ideas, it never fails on the other hand to remind 
 me of the mortality of writers ; as it affords 
 repeated proofs, that we may justly say of our 
 works, as "well as of ourselves, 
 
 Serihs cut citiiis sedem properavius ad unam ! 
 
 O lamentable chance ! to one vile se 
 Sooner or later we must all retreat ! 
 
 Ovid. 
 
 T. 
 
 No. 89.] Thursday, Oct. 9, 1755. 
 
 Lugete, Veneres, Cupidinesque, 
 
 Et quantum est hominum venustiorum f 
 
 Passer mortuus est meiB puellce ; 
 
 Passer delicUe Jnece puellce ; 
 
 Quern plus ilia oculis suis amdbat. Catuix. 
 
 Weep, ye belles, ye beaux, deplore ! 
 Pretty, pretty Poll's no more ! 
 Poll, the dear dehght, the fancj'. 
 Poll, the darling of my Nancy ! 
 Pretty Poll, whom she did love 
 'Bove her eyes, O far above. 
 
 Going the other day to visit Mrs. Penelope 
 Doat, after I had waited some time in the par- 
 lour, the maid returned with her misti-ess's com- 
 pliments, and informed me, that as she was ex- 
 tremely busy, she begged to be excused coming 
 down to me, but that she would be very glad to 
 see me in the nursery. As I knew she was a 
 maiden lady, I was a good deal startled at the 
 message : but however I followed the servant up 
 stairs to her mistress ; whom I found combing 
 a little spotted dog that lay in her lap, with a 
 grey parrot perched on one arm of the settee 
 where she sat, a monkey on the back, and a tabby 
 cat with half a dozen kittens on the other 
 corner of it. The whole room, which was a 
 very large one, was indeed a nursery for all 
 kinds of animals, except those of the human 
 species. It was bung every where with cages, 
 containing parrots, macaws, Canary birds, 
 nightingales, linnets, and goldfinches ; on the 
 
152 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 89. 
 
 (chairs were several cats reposing on soft 
 cushions; and there were little kennels, in the 
 Chinese taste, in almost every corner of the 
 room, filled with pugs, fidos, and King Charles's 
 breed. As soon as the chattering of the birds, 
 the barking of the dogs, and the mewing of 
 the cats, which mj' entrance occasioned, be- 
 gan to cease, — " You find me here. Sir," said 
 the lady, " tending my little family, the only 
 joy of my life. Here's a dear pretty crea- 
 ture !" holding up the dog she was combing, 
 " a beauty ! what a fine long eared snub-nosed 
 beauty ! Lady Faddle advertised three quarters 
 of a year, and could not get the fellow to it. 
 Ah, bless it, and love it, sweet soul;" 
 
 And then she stroked it, and kissed it for near 
 two minutes, uttering the whole time all those 
 inarticulate sounds, which cannot be committed 
 to paper, and which are only addressed to dogs, 
 cats, and children, and may be styled the lan- 
 guage of the nursery. Upon observing me 
 smile at the embraces she bestowed on her little 
 motley darling, " I am afraid," said she, "you 
 don't love these pretty creatures. How can 
 you be so cruel ! Poor dumb things ! I would 
 not have them hurt for all the world. Nor do 
 I see why a lady should not indulge herself in 
 having such sweet little company about her, as 
 well as you men run out estates in keeping a 
 pack of filthy hounds." Then she laid Pom- 
 pey on his cushion by the fire-side ; and railed 
 at the barbarity of the human species to the rest 
 of the creation, and entei'ed into a long disserta- 
 tion on tenderness and humanity. 
 
 A humane disposition is, indeed, so amiable 
 either in man or woman, that it ought always 
 to be cherished and kept alive in our bosoms ; 
 but at the same time we should be cautious not 
 to render the first virtue of our nature ridicu- 
 lous. The most compassionate temper may be 
 sufficiently gratified by relieving the wretches 
 of our own species ; but who would ever boast 
 of their generosity to a lap-dog, and their con- 
 ferring eternal obligations on a monkey? or 
 would any lady deserve to be celebrated for her 
 charity, who should deny support to a relation 
 or a friend, because she maintains a litter of 
 kittens ? For my part, before I would treat 
 a Dutch puppy with such absurd fondness, I 
 must be brought to worship dogs, as the Egyp- 
 tians did of old ; and ere I would so extrava- 
 gantly doat upon a monkey, I would, as lago 
 says on a diff^erent occasion, "exchange my 
 humanity with a baboon." 
 
 Yet there have been many instances, besides 
 my female friend, of this fondness for the brute 
 cieation being carried to very ridiculous lengths. 
 The grave doctors of the faculty have been 
 called in to feel the pulse of a lap-dog, and in- 
 spect the urine of a squirrel ; nay, I am my- 
 self acquainted with a lady, who carried this 
 matter so far, as to discharge her chaplain, be- 
 
 cause he refused to bury her monkey. But the 
 most solemn piece of mummery on these occa- 
 sions is the making provisions for these animals 
 by will ; which absurd legacies as little deserve 
 the title of humanity, as those people merit 
 being called charitable, who in a death-bed 
 fright, starve their relations by leaving their 
 estates to found an hospital. It were indeed to 
 be wished, that money left in trust for such 
 uses were subject to some statute of mortmain ; 
 or at least that the gentlemen of the long robe 
 would contrive some scheme to cut off the entail 
 from monkeys, macaws, Italian gi-eyhounds, 
 and tabby-cats. 
 
 That a stage coachman should love his cattle 
 better than his wife or children, or a country 
 squire be fond of his hounds and hunters, is not 
 so surprising, because the reason of their regard 
 for them is easily accounted for : and a sea- 
 captain has, upon the same principles, been 
 known to contract an affection for his ship. 
 Yet no coachman would, like Caligula, tie his 
 horses to a golden rack; but think he shows 
 sufficient kindness by giving them a good feed 
 and clean straw : and the country sportsman 
 takes care to provide his hounds with a warm 
 kennel and horse flesh ; but would never think 
 of placing them on cushions before the fire, and 
 cramming them with fricasees, or breed them 
 with as much care as the heir to his estate. 
 
 This irregular passion, (if 1 may so call it) 
 is most frequently to be met with among the 
 ladies. How often has the slighted gallant 
 envied the carresses given to a lap-dog, or kisses 
 bestowed on a squirrel ! and " I would I were 
 thy bird!" has been the fond exclamation of 
 many a Romeo. But it is remarkable, that 
 this aff"ection for birds and beasts generally wears 
 off after marriage, and that the ladies discai-d 
 their four-footed darlings and feathered favou- 
 rites, when they can bestow their endearments 
 on a husband. "Wherefore, these dry nurses 
 to pugs and grimalkins are mostly to be met with 
 among those females, who have been disappoint- 
 ed in the afi^airs of love, and have, against their 
 will, retained the flower of virginity, till it lias 
 withered in their possession. It often happens 
 that there is some kind of analogy between the 
 gallant they once loved, and the animal on 
 which they afterwards fix their aff'ections : and 
 I remember an instance of a lady's passion for 
 a lawyer being converted into dotage on a par- 
 rot ; and have an old maiden aunt, who once 
 languished for a beau, whose heart is now de- 
 voted to a monkey. 
 
 But I should not so much quarrel with these 
 humane ladies, ■who choose to settle their aff'ec- 
 tions on the brute species, if their love for these 
 pretty creatures was not troublesome to othei^s, 
 who are not so sensible of the chai'ms of a snub- 
 nose, or cannot discover any beauty in the grey 
 eyes of a cat. A doating mother would never 
 
No. 90.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 163 
 
 forgive you, if you did not call her brat 
 a fine child, and dandle it about, and prattle 
 with it, with as much seeming rapture as her- 
 self; in like manner, a lady would take it as an 
 affront to her own person, if you did not pay 
 your addresses equally to her pug or parroquet. 
 I know a young fellow, that was cut off with a 
 shilling by an old maiden aunt, on whom he had 
 great dependance, because he gave poor Veny a 
 kick, only for lifting up his leg against the gen- 
 tleman's stocking : and I have heard of another, 
 who might have carried off a very rich widow, 
 but that he could not prevail upon himself to 
 extend his caresses to her dormouse. Indeed, I 
 cannot help thinking, that the embraces and en- 
 dearments bestowed on these rivals of the human 
 species should be as private as the most secret 
 intrigues ; and I would have lap-dogs, like fret- 
 ful and squalling children, confined to bark and 
 growl only in the nursery. We may often see a 
 footman following his lady to church with a large 
 common-prayer-book under one arm, and a snar- 
 ling cur under the other. I have known a grave 
 divine forced to stop short in the middle of a 
 prayer, while the whole congregation has been 
 raised from their knees to attend to the howling 
 of a non-conforming pug ; and I once saw a tra- 
 gedy monarch disturbed in his last moments, as 
 he lay expiring on the carpet, by a discerning 
 critic of King Charles's black breed, who jump- 
 ed out of the stage box, and fastened upon the 
 hero's perriwig, brought it off in his mouth, and 
 lodged it in his lady's lap. 
 
 It will not appear strange, after what has been 
 said, that these ladies, or lady-like gentlemen, 
 should be as solicitous to preserve the breed of their 
 favourite animals, as a sportsman of his hounds 
 and horses. I have kno^vn a gentleman in St. 
 James's street send his little Cupid in a sedan 
 chair as far as Grosvenor-square, to wait upon a 
 lady's Veny for this veiy purpose : and I shall 
 never forget a card, which was sent to another 
 lady on a like occasion, expressed in the follow- 
 ing terms : — " Mr. 's compliments to 
 
 Lady Betty , is glad to hear Miss Chloe is 
 
 safely delivered, and begs it as a particular fa- 
 vour, that her ladyship would be pleased to set 
 bim down for a puppy. " O. 
 
 No. 90.] Thursday, Oct. 16, 1755. 
 
 Ego nee studium sine divite vena. 
 
 Nee rude quid prosit, video, ingenium. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Ah, what can application do. 
 Unless we have a genius too ? 
 Or genius how have cultivation. 
 Without due pains and application ? 
 
 If we consider that part of our acquaintance, 
 whom we remembei' from their infancv, we 
 
 shall find, that the expectations we once entei* 
 tained of their future abilities are in many in., 
 stances disappointed. Those Avho "vvere accounts 
 ed heavy dull boys, have by diligence and ap- 
 plication made their way to the first honours, 
 and become eminent for their learning and 
 knowledge of the world ; \vhile others, who were 
 regarded as bright lads, and imagined to possess 
 parts equal to any scheme of life, have turned 
 out dissolute and ignorant ; and quite unworthy 
 the title of a genius, except in the modern accep- 
 tation of the word, by which it signifies a very 
 silly young fellow, who fi'om his extravagance 
 and debauchery has obtained the name of a ge- 
 nius, like lucus a non luceiido, because he has no 
 genius at all. 
 
 It is a shocking drawback from a father's 
 happiness when he sees his son blessed with 
 strong natural parts and quick conception, to i*e- 
 flect that these very talents may be his ruin. If 
 vanity once gets into his head and gives it a 
 Avi-ong turn, the young coxcomb will neglect the 
 means of improvement, trust entirely to his 
 native abilities, and be as ridiculously proud of 
 his parts, as the brats of quality ai"e taught to be 
 of their family. In the meantime, those whom 
 nature threw^ far behind him, are by application 
 enabled to leave him at a distance in their turn ; 
 and he continues boasting of his genius, till it 
 subsists no longer, but dies for want of cultiva- 
 tion. Thus vanity and indolence prevent his 
 improvement ; and if he is to rise in the world 
 by his merit, take away the means of success, and 
 perhaps reduce him to very miserable distresses. 
 I know one of these early geniuses, who scarce 
 supports himself by writing for a bookseller ; 
 and another, who is at leisure to contemplate his 
 extraordinary parts in the Fleet prison. 
 
 If we look into the world, we shall find that 
 the mere genius will never raise himself to any 
 degree of eminence without a close and un- 
 weai'ed application to his respective business or 
 profession. The Inns of Court are full of these 
 men of parts, who cannot bear the drudgery of 
 turning over dry cases and reports ; but, though 
 they appear ever so eloquent in taverns and 
 coffee-houses, not the nearest relation wiU trust 
 them with a brief : and many a sprightly physi- 
 cian has walked on foot all his life, with no 
 more knowledge of his profession than what lies 
 in his periwig. For whatever opinion they 
 themselves may have of their own parts, other 
 persons do not choose to be bantered out of their 
 estates or joked out of their lives; and even in 
 trade, the plodding men of the Alley would 
 foretell the bankruptcy of any wit among them, 
 who should laugh at the labour of accounts, or 
 despise the Italian method of book-keeping. Thus 
 we see, that parts alone are not sufiicient to re- 
 commend us to the good opinion of the world ; 
 and if not roused and called forth by study and 
 application, they would become torpid, and use- 
 X 
 
154 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 No. 91- 
 
 less : as the race-horse, though not put to drag 
 a dray or carry a pack, must yet be kept in ex- 
 ercise. But I shall enlarge no further on this 
 subject, as I would not anticipate the thoughts 
 contained in the following elegant little fable ; 
 which is written by the same ingenious hand, 
 that obliged the public with the verses on Imita- 
 tion, inserted in my sixty-seventh number. 
 
 THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. 
 
 Genius, blest terra of meaning wide ! 
 (For sure no term so misapplied), 
 How many bear the sacred name. 
 That never felt a real flame! 
 Proud of the specious appellation, 
 Thus fools have christen'd Inclination. 
 
 But yet, suppose a Genius true ; 
 Exempli gratia, me or you ; 
 Whate'er he tries with due intention. 
 Rarely escapes his apprehension : 
 Surmounting every opposition, 
 You'd swear he learnt by intuition. 
 Should he presume alone on parts. 
 And study therefore but by starts ? 
 Sure of success whene'er he tries. 
 Should he forego the means to rise ? 
 
 Suppose your watch a Graham make. 
 Gold, if you will, for value sake. 
 Its springs within in order due. 
 No watch, when going, goes so true : 
 If ne'er wound up with proper care. 
 What service is it in the wear ? 
 
 Some genial spark of Phoebus' rays 
 Perhaps within our bosom plays : 
 
 how the purer rays aspire. 
 If Application fans the fire ! 
 "Without it genius vainly tries, 
 Howe'er sometimes it seems to rise : 
 Nay, Application will prevail. 
 When braggart parts and Genius fail ; 
 And now, to lay my proof before ye, 
 
 1 here present you with a story. 
 
 In days of yore, when Time was young. 
 When birds conversed as well as sung. 
 And use of speech was not confined 
 Merely to brutes of human kind ; 
 A forward Hare, of swiftness vain. 
 The Genius of the neighbouring plain. 
 Would oft deride the drudging crowd ; 
 For Geniuses are ever proud. 
 His flight, he'd boast, 'twere vain to follow, 
 For horse and dog, he'd heat them hollow; 
 Nay, if he put forth all his strength 
 Outstript his brethren half a length. 
 
 A Tortoise heard his vain oration, 
 And vented thus his indignation : — 
 " O Puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace. 
 When I defy thee to the race. 
 Come, 'tis a match, — nay, no denial, 
 I lay my shell upon the trial." 
 
 'Twas done and done, — all fair — a bet — 
 Judges prepared, and distance set. 
 The scampering Hare outstripped the wind. 
 The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind. 
 And scarce had pass'd a single pole. 
 When Puss had almost reach 'd the goal. 
 
 " Friend Tortoise," cries the jeering Hare, 
 " Your burthen's more than you can bear : 
 To help your speed, it were as well 
 That I should ease you of your shell ; 
 Jog on a little faster prithee, 
 I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 
 So said, so done, — and safely sure ; 
 For say, what conquest more secure ? 
 Whene'er he waked (that's all that's in it). 
 He could o'ertake him in a minute. 
 
 The Tortoise heard the taunting jeer. 
 But still resolved to persevere ; 
 Still drawl'd along, as who should say 
 I win, like Fabius, by delay ; 
 On to the goal securely crept. 
 While Puss unknowing soundly slept. 
 
 The bets are won, the Hare awake. 
 When thus the victor Tortoise spake : 
 " Puss, though I own thy quicker parts 
 Things are not always won by starts : 
 You may deride my awkward pace. 
 But sloiv and steady wins the race." 
 
 No. 91.] Thursday, Oct. 23, 1755. 
 
 (hnnia Castor emit ; sic fiet, ut omnia vendcl. 
 
 Such bargains purchased by his dear. 
 
 Her taste at auctions showing. 
 Himself must turn an auctioneer 
 
 A going, a going, agoing. 
 
 Mart. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 SiK, 
 
 I AM married to a woman of the most notable 
 disposition, who values herself upon going the 
 nearest way to work in every thing, and laying 
 out her money to more advantage than any bod y 
 else. But her economy is so strangely expen- 
 sive, and her savings attended with such ridicu- 
 lous extravagance, that she has almost undone 
 me by her fi'ugality. 
 
 In the first place, my wife is particulai'ly 
 proud of being an excellent market-woman 
 She understands this business so well, it seems, 
 that she buys every thing better of its sort, anu 
 at a cheaper rate, than any other person ; for 
 which reason she always undertakes it herself, 
 and trudges to market with all the notable air: 
 and housewifely appearance of an old butter- 
 woman. Here she flatters herself that she hv' 
 the art of beating down every thing so verj' low, 
 that she cannot resist the temptation of buying 
 such extraoi'dinary pennyworths ; and after 
 spending the whole morning at twenty different 
 shops, and four or five different markets, she 
 comes home with provisions enough to support 
 the first duke's family in the kingdom for a week. 
 Though the natural consequence of this house- 
 wifery is, that above half her marketings stink 
 and grow musty before we can use them, yft 
 she is higlily delighted with her management ; 
 
No. 91,] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 155 
 
 and entertains till the good ladies of her acquain- 
 tance with an account of her economy, and 
 the complaints of the tradesmen, that there was 
 no dealing with her, that she is too hai'd for 
 them, and that they shall be ruined by selling 
 her such bargains. 
 
 1 should tell you, Sir, that soon after we were 
 married, my wife over-persuaded me to take a 
 house in the country ; and she assured me, that 
 we should save more than the rent of it, by the 
 advantages of breeding our own poultry, and 
 feeding our own cattle, for the supply of our 
 table. I accordingly hired a little box about 
 tn-enty miles from town, with a piece of ground 
 adjoining to it, and my wife took upon her the 
 whole management of the estate ; for the order- 
 ing of which she had collected together so many 
 excellent rules, that she was sure to save cent, 
 per cent, in every article. The consequence of 
 this was, that our chickens, being fed with rye, 
 instead of barley and wheat, died of the pip ; our 
 turkeys were crammed with bran and butter- 
 milk, to save the expense of corn, and were .nost 
 of them carried off by a looseness ; our geese 
 were fatted with acorns instead of oats, and 
 were as poor as their plucked brethren in the 
 fens of Lincolnshire. Our hogs cost us nothing 
 in a manner for their keeping, as they lived upon 
 turnip-parings and cabbage-stalks, pease and 
 bean-shells, scalded crab-apples, and bull's blood 
 and liver ; in consequence of which our bacon 
 was rancid, and our pork measly. We had two 
 cows for the use of our dairy ; but the very first 
 winter, being fed, for cheapness, with nothing 
 but coUart leaves and chopt straw, they gave no 
 milk for half the j'ear, and at last died of the dis- 
 temper among the horned cattle. Even our 
 poor mare, which used to run in the chaise, 
 fared no better than the miller's horse, as she 
 was kept chiefly upon bran, and very seldom 
 indulged with the luxury of oats and beans; so 
 that the poor creature, after a journey somewhat 
 harder than usual, dropped down dead between 
 the shafts. We had scarce better luck in the 
 management of our garden ; for though my wife 
 prided herself on her notable skill in these mat- 
 ters, our fruit trees could never be brought to 
 bear ; and when cucumbers were to be had for 
 a penny a dozen, and pease for a groat a peck, 
 we had the pleasure of gathering them fresh 
 from our own garden, after they had stood us in 
 more than ten times their value in the raising. 
 
 Among her other housewifely accomplish- 
 ments, my wife was possessed of the original re- 
 ceipts of her grandmother for all sorts of made 
 wines, which nobody could distinguish from 
 those of a foreign growth. She therefore set 
 about making a large quantity of Port and Claret 
 from elder-beiTies, and Mountain and Fronti- 
 niac from raisins and brown sugar: but when 
 theso had been kept to a proper age, and were fit 
 
 to be drank, we had this only consolation, that 
 they were the best vinegar that could be used 
 for our pickles. Our October, which she con- 
 trives to breiv with as much bran as malt, and 
 mug-wcrt instead of hops, grew dead iu the 
 j casks, before it had sufficiently fermented ; and 
 I when we had bottled it off, it burst above twenty 
 j dozen bottles, and the remainder was sour. My 
 I wife also bought a still, with its whole appara- 
 I tus, that she might make Plague and Hysteric 
 [ Water, for her own use, and to give away among 
 her poor neighbours : but at one time the head 
 of the still flew off, and laid her under the sur- 
 geon's hands for three months ; and at another, 
 it took fire, and had like to have burnt the house 
 down. To this account I should likewise set 
 down the charge of our apothecary's shop, in 
 preparing ointments for scalds, salves for burns, 
 and other family medicines ; in ail which I 
 know to my cost, the old saying was inverted, 
 and we lost elevenpence out of a shilling. 
 
 You must know, Sir, that (besides her do- 
 mestic economy) my provident dear is a most 
 passionate admirer of a pennyworth in any 
 shape ; and is one of those prudent good ladies, 
 who will purchase any thing, of which they 
 have no need, merely because they can have it a 
 bargain. It would be doing much service to 
 many other i)oor gentlemen as well as to me, if 
 you could convince these thrifty females, that 
 to purchase useless commodities at any price, 
 can never be good housewifely, and that how- 
 ever nearly they may drive their bargains, there 
 is just so much money flung away as the pur- 
 chase costs. We have as much linen by us as 
 Avould set up a piece-broker, which ray wife has 
 purchased under prime cost of the Scotch ped- 
 lars that came to ouj- door ; and I am sure we 
 have cast-off clothes sufficient to furnish a sale- 
 shop, which she has bought of ladies' maids for 
 a mere trifle. She is a frequent customer to 
 pretended smugglers, that whisper in your ear, 
 and offer you right India handkerchiefs made at 
 Spitalfields. But above all, she constantly at- 
 tends the several Auctions of the Stock in Trade 
 of eminent Tradesmen, that were never heard 
 of, and the household furniture, plate, china, 
 &c. of Baronets and Squires, that never existed 
 but in the brain of the auctioneer. Here she 
 meets with such excellent pennyworths, that as 
 my pantry is stored with more provisions than 
 we can dispense with, every room in my house 
 is crammed up with useless beds, tables, chests 
 of drawers, curiosities, peruke-pated beaux and 
 fine ladies (beauties of their times), that are 
 good for nothing but to hide the bare walls of a 
 garret. In short. Sir, unless you can prevail 
 with her to forego the Avonderful advantages of 
 making such exquisite purchases, as (she says) 
 all the world v.ould jump at, I shall very soon 
 be quite a beggar : for if she goes on at this rate, 
 
156 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 92. 
 
 buying things for nothing, as she calls it, I shall 
 shortly have nothing to buy withal. 
 
 As these valuable purchases are daily multi- 
 plying upon my hands, and as my house is be- 
 come a repository for the refuse of sales and 
 auctions, the only method I can think of at 
 present to get rid of them, is to make an auction 
 myself. For this purpose I have drawn out a 
 catalogue; and have sent you the following 
 specimen, that by it you may judge of the rest of 
 my cui'iosities. 
 
 CATALOGUE, 
 
 OF THE CHOICE AND VALUABLE EFFECTS OF MR. , 
 
 LEAVING OFF HOUSEKEEPING. 
 
 TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION. 
 
 In the First Bays Sale {among other Farticidars 
 equally curious) will be included^ 
 
 A whole sheet print of King Charles on horse- 
 back, by Mr. Henry Overton, finely coloured. 
 
 IMary Queen of Scots, by the same master, done 
 after the life, and painted upon glass ; the 
 right eye cracked, and the nose a little 
 scratched. 
 
 A capital picture of Adam and Eve in cross- 
 stitch. 
 
 Noah's Ark, in tent-stitch, its companion. 
 
 Fair Rosamond's Bower, in Nun's work by the 
 same hand. 
 
 A lively representation of Chevy Chase, in lig- 
 num vitae, rose- wood, and mother of pearl, 
 curiously inlaid. 
 
 Several lesser pieces of birds, beasts, fruits, and 
 flowers ; copied from nature in coloured 
 silks, stained feathers, and painted straw. 
 
 Merlin's Cave, in shell work ; composed of 
 above a thousand beautiful shells, with a cas- 
 cade of looking-glass playing in the middle. 
 
 A most curious Tea-table of rare old japan ; 
 with the edges broke off, and one of the legs 
 standing. 
 
 A most rare and inestimable collection of right 
 old china ; consisting of half a punch-boAvl, 
 three parts of a dish, half a dozen plates 
 joined together with wires drilled through 
 their middles, a sugar-dish with a piece broke 
 off the side, a tea-pot without a spout, another 
 without a handle, and five odd cups and sau- 
 cers, the cracks neatly joined with w^hite paint. 
 
 Some large and elegant jars and vases in pajncr 
 machee. 
 
 Several figures of dogs, monkeys, cats, parrots, 
 mandarins, and bramins, of the Chelsea and 
 Bow manufactory. 
 
 To lohich will be added, 
 A SMALL, BUT WELL-CHOSEN COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 MODERN BOOKS, 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 J'ope's Works, and all our best authors — pub- 
 
 lished in ink-stands, tea-chests, and quadrille- 
 boxes for fishes and counters. 
 
 Miss in her Teens — The Fool in Fashion— All 
 for Lo\e— The Way to win him— She would 
 
 if she could — Much ado about Nothing 
 
 bound together, for the use of the fair sex, in 
 a complete set of dressing-boxes. 
 
 A new form of Self-examination — in a snuff- 
 box, with a looking-glass in the lid of it. 
 
 The Spiritual Comfort, or Companion for the 
 Closet — in a small pocket volume, containing 
 a bottle of coi'dial water. 
 
 The Posthumous Works of Lord \MscouDt 
 Bolingbroke — in a close stool. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 
 T. 
 
 No. 92.] Thursday, Oct. 30, 1755. 
 
 O nata mecum Consule Maniio, 
 Seu tu querelas, sive gerisjocos, 
 
 Seu rixam, et insanos amores, 
 Seufacilem, pia testa, somnum ; 
 
 Descende. Hot 
 
 Brisk wine some hearts inspires with gladness. 
 And makes some droop in sober sadness ; 
 Makes politicians sound to battle. 
 And lovers of their mistress prattle ; 
 While with " {Stations pottle deep" 
 It lulls the serious sot to sleep. 
 
 Drinking is one of those popular vices, which 
 most peoi)le reckon among their venial failings ; 
 and it is thought no great blot on a man's cha- 
 racter, to say he takes his glass rather too freely. 
 But as those vices are most dangerous and 
 likely to prevail, which, if not approved, ai-e at 
 least commonly excused, I have been tempted 
 to examine, whether drinking really deserves 
 that quarter it receives from the generality of 
 mankind ; and I must own, that after a strict 
 attention to the principal motives, that induce 
 men to become hard drinkers, as well as to the 
 consequences which such excesses j)roduce, 1 am 
 at a loss to account for the received maxim, that 
 " in good wine there is truth;" and should n«» 
 more expect happiness in a full bowl, than chas- 
 tity in the bar of a tavern. 
 
 The incentives to this practice are some of 
 them very sliocking, and some very ridiculous ; 
 as will perhaps appear from the followuig cha- 
 racters. 
 
 Poor Heai-tly was blest with every noble qua- 
 lification of the head and heart, and bade fair 
 for the love and admiration of the whole world : 
 but was unfortunately bound in a very large 
 sum for a friend, who disappeared, and left him 
 to the mercy of the law. The distresses, thus 
 brought upon him by the treachery of another, 
 threw him into the deepest despair : and he had 
 at last recourse to drinking, to benumb (iC possi- 
 
No. 92.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 157 
 
 ble) the very sense of reflection. He is misera- ' observing what strange creatures they are during- 
 
 ble, when sober ; and when drunk, stupified and ' 
 muddled : his misfortunes have robbed him of 
 all the joys of life ; and he is now endeavouring | 
 wilfully to put an end to them by a slow poison. 
 Tom Buck, from the first day that he was 
 put into breeches, was always accounted a boy 
 of spirit ; and before he reached the top of West- 
 minster school, knew the names and faces of the 
 most noted girls upon town, tossed oif his claret 
 with a smack, and had along tick at the tavern. 
 "When he went to Oxford, he espoused the Tory 
 party, because they drank deepest ; and he has 
 for some years been accounted a four bottle man. 
 He drank for fame; and has so well established 
 his charactei', that he was never known to send 
 a man from his chambers sober, but generally 
 laid his whole company under the table. Since 
 his leaving the University nobody ever acquired 
 more reputation by electioneering; for he can 
 see out the stoutest freeholder in England. He 
 has, indeed, swallowed many a tun in the ser- 
 vice of his country ; and is now a sounder pa- 
 triot by two bottles, than any man in the 
 country. 
 
 Poor Would-be became a debauchee through 
 mere bashfulness, and a foolish sort of modesty, 
 that has made many a man drunk in spite of his 
 teeth. He contracted an acquaintance with a 
 set of hard drinkers : and though he would as 
 soon choose to swallow a dose of physic, has not 
 courage to refuse his bumper. He is drunk 
 every night, and always sick to death the next 
 morning, when he constantly resolves to drink 
 nothing stronger than small beer for the future ; 
 but at night the poor fellow gets drunk again 
 through downright modesty. Thus Would-be 
 suffers himself to be pressed into the service ; 
 and since he has commenced a jolly fellow, is 
 become one of the most miserable wretches upon 
 earth. 
 
 Honest Ned Brimmer is at present the most 
 dismal object that ever fell a sacrifice to liquor. 
 It was unluckily his first ambition to promote 
 what is called good fellowship. In this under- 
 taking he has in a very few years entirely ruined 
 his constitution ; and now stalks up and down 
 in so piteous a condition, as might inspire his 
 companions with more naelancholy reflections 
 than an empty bottle. He has quite lost all ap- 
 petite ; and he is now obliged to keep up a weak 
 artificial heat in his body, by the same means 
 that destroyed the natural warmth of his consti- 
 tution. — Rum, Brandy, and Usquebaugh, are 
 his diet-drinks: and he may perhaps linger a 
 few months, before he falls a martyr to good 
 fellowship. 
 
 Having thus taken a short view of the unhap- 
 py motives that induce men to become hard 
 drinkers, few perhaps will think such reasons 
 any recommendation to drunkenness. Nor can 
 I imagine they will grow more fond of it, by 
 
 their intoxication. Shakspeare calls it " putting 
 a devil into their mouths, to steal away their 
 brains:" and, indeed, a cup too much turns a 
 man the wrong side out ; and wine, at the same 
 time it takes away the power of standing from 
 the legs, deprives the mind of all sense and re- 
 flection. It is whimsical enough to consider 
 the different eff'ects, which wine produces on 
 difl^erent tempers. Sometimes, like love, it makes 
 a fool sensible, and a wise man an ass ; and 
 seems to imbibe a new quality from every dif- 
 ferent body, as water takes a tincture from the 
 ground it runs through. 
 
 Horace has with great pleasantry recapitulat- 
 ed the various eff'ects of wine, in a stanza, which 
 I have placed at the head of this paper. One 
 man grows maudlin and weeps ; another be- 
 comes merry and facetious ; a third quarrels, 
 throws a bottle at his companion's head, and 
 could run his dearest friend through the body ; 
 a fourth is mad for a girl, and falls in love with 
 a street- walker ; while to a fifth, the liquor 
 serves as an opiate, and lulls him to sleep. 
 Shakspeare has also shown this variety of char- 
 acters with great humour. Cassio cries, " let's 
 to business," and immediately begins to hiccup 
 his prayers, and belches out his hopes of salva- 
 tion : Justice Silence, who does not speak a 
 word while he is sober, has no sooner swallowed 
 the rousing cup, than he roars out a catch, and 
 grows the noisiest man in the company. It is 
 reported to have been one of the most exquisite 
 entertainments to the choice spirits, in the be- 
 ginning of this century, to get Addison and 
 Steele together in company for the evening. 
 Steele entertained them till he was tipsy; when 
 the same wine that stupified him, only served 
 to elevate Addison, who took up the ball just as 
 Steele dropped it, and kept it up for the rest of 
 the evening. They who have never been present 
 at a scene of this kind, may see the whole group 
 of drunken characters, displayed at one view 
 with infinite humour, in Hogarth's Modem 
 Midnight Conversation. 
 
 Thus excess of drinking verifies all the trans- 
 formations recorded in the fable of Circe's cup ; 
 and perhaps the true reason why Bacchus is al- 
 ways painted with horns, is to intimate, that 
 wine turns men into beasts. Indeed, if none 
 were to indulge themselves in drinking, except 
 those, who (like Steele and Addison) could be 
 witty and agreeable in their cups, the number 
 of hard drinkers would be very happily dimi- 
 nished. ]Most men have so little right to plead an 
 excuse of this sort in vindication of their drunk- 
 enness, that wine either makes them very rude, 
 very stupid, or very mad. It is a vulgar error ta 
 suppose that liquor only shows ill qualities since 
 it also frequently creates them ; and engenders 
 notionsinthemindquiteforeignto its natural dis- 
 position, which are the mere effects of wine, and 
 
158 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 93. 
 
 break out like blotches and carbuncles on the 
 face. The disgustful appearance Avhich most 
 people make when they are drunk, was what in- 
 duced the Spartans to intoxicate their slaves, and 
 show them to their children, in order to deter 
 them from so odious a vice. In like manner let 
 the choice spirit, who is often seen snoring in an 
 armed-chair in a tavern, or hanging his head 
 over the pot, reflect what a shocking figure he 
 must have made, wheii he sees the drunken 
 beggar sleeping on abidk, or rolling in the ken- 
 nel ! 
 
 Whoever thus considers the motives that ge- 
 nex'ally induce men to give in to ttiese excesses, 
 and how ridiculous and unhappy they are often 
 I'endered by the effects, will hardly be tempted 
 by the charms of a bottle : and, indeed, hard 
 drinking is frequently one among the many evils 
 that arise from want of education. The dull 
 country squire, who has no taste for literary 
 amusements, has nothing, except his dogs and 
 liorses, but his bumper to divert him ; and the 
 town squire sits soaking for the same reason in a 
 tavern. These are the common herd of Bac- 
 chus's swine : but nothing is more shocking than 
 to see a man of sense thus destroying his parts 
 and constitution. It not only makes a terrible in- 
 novation in his whole frame and intellects, but 
 also robs him of the society of those like himself, 
 with whom he should associate, and reduces him 
 to the level of a set of wretches ; since all may be 
 admitted to his company and conversation, who 
 are able to toss off a bumper. 
 
 These considerations are sufficient to convince 
 us of the evils which result from hard drinking; 
 but it will shock us still more, if we reflect, how 
 much it Avill influence our life and conduct. 
 WhocA-^er is engaged in a profession, will never 
 apply to it with success, while he sticks so close 
 to his bottle ; and the tradesman, who endea- 
 A'ours to make business and pleasure compati- 
 ble, will never be able to make both ends meet. 
 Thus, whether health, fame, or interest is re- 
 garded, drunkenness should be avoided : and 
 we may say with Cassio, " every inordinate 
 cup is unblest, and the ingredient is a devil." 
 
 O. 
 
 No. 93.] Thursday, Nov. 6, 1755. 
 
 Heu, Fortnna, (juis est crudelior in nos 
 Te Deus ! vt semper gaudes illmlcre rebus 
 Hutnanis ! 
 
 Hon. 
 
 Why, Fortune, serve us such a cruel prank, 
 
 To turn thy wheel, and give us blank, blank, blank ! 
 
 I CANNOT but admire the ingenious device pre- 
 fixed to the advertisements of Hazard's Lottery- 
 Office, in which Fortune is represented hovering 
 
 over the heads of a great number of peojde, and 
 scattering down all kinds of prizes among them. 
 What Mr. Hazard has here delineated, every 
 adventurer in the late lottery had pictured to 
 himself: the Ten Thousand constantly floated 
 before his eyes, and each i>erson had already pos- 
 sessed it in imagination. But, alas ! all our ex- 
 pectations are now at an end : the golden dream 
 is at length vanished ; and those, whose heads 
 were kept giddy all the while that the wheel of 
 Fortune was turning round, have now leisure 
 soberly to reflect on their disappointment. Hoav 
 many unhappy tradesmen must now trudge on 
 foot all their lives, who designed to loll in their 
 chariots ! How many poor maidens, of good fami- 
 ly but no fortune, must languish all their days 
 Avithout the comforts of a husband and a coach 
 and six ! Every loser thinks himself ill used by 
 Fortune : and e\-en Mrs. Betty, the possessor of 
 a single sixteenth, flies to the office, pays her 
 penny, and receives the tidings of her ill luck 
 Avith surprise : goes to another office, pays her 
 penny, hears the same disagreeable information, 
 and can hardly, very hardly persuade hei'self, 
 that Fortune should have doomed her still to 
 Avash the dishes, and scrub down the stairs. 
 
 Thus the A'iews of cA'ery adventurer are direct- 
 ed to the same point, though their motives for 
 engaging in the lottery may be different. One 
 man puts in because he is Avilling to be in For- 
 tune's Avay ; another, because he had good luck 
 in the last ; and another because he never got 
 any thing before : this indulges in the prospect 
 of making a fortune ; and that comforts himself 
 Avith the pleasing hopes of retrieving his despe- 
 rate circumstances. Every one, hoAvever, thinks 
 himself as sure of the Ten Thousand, as if he 
 had it in his pocket ; and his only concern is 
 hoAv to dispose of it. We may, therefore, consi- 
 der CA'ery adA'entui-er, as having been in actual 
 possession of this treasure; and out of fifty thou- 
 sand people, Avho haA-e been blest Avithiu this 
 fortnight Avith such ideal good fortune, I shall 
 select the folloAving instances, Avhich fell Avlthin 
 my own notice. 
 
 Joseph Wilkins of Thames-street, Esquire, 
 Common Councilman and cheesemonger, got the 
 £1 0,000. He could not bear the foggy air and din- 
 gy situation of the city : he, therefore, resolved to 
 take a house at the St. James's end of the town, 
 and to fit up a snug box at Hampstead in the 
 Chinese taste, for his retirement on Sundays. 
 A chariot Avas absolutely necessai'v, to cai-ry 
 him to and iVom 'Change CA'ery morning : but he 
 intended to haA'e it made according to the mo- 
 dern fashion, that it might occasionally be con- 
 A'erted into a post chaise, to AA'heel him on a Sa- 
 turday night to his country seat, and back again 
 on the jNIonday morning. He designed to be chose 
 alderman the first vacancy ; after that t(» be made 
 sheriff, receive the honour of knighthood, and 
 perha])s get into i)arliament : and Avhenevev he 
 
No. 93.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 159 
 
 passed by the Mansion-house, he could not but look 
 upon it with pleasure, as the future residence 
 of his lordship. Nothing was now wanting 
 but a careful plodding partner, who should take 
 upon himself the whole drudgery of the shop ; 
 so that the squire might have no further trouble, 
 than to receive his dividend of the profits. But 
 while he was considering on whom this impor- 
 tant favour should be conferred, his ticket was 
 drawn ilalanfe : and squire Wilkins is con- 
 tented with his greasy employment of cutting 
 out penny-worths of Cheshire cheese. 
 
 Jonathan Wildgoose of Cheapside, silk-mer- 
 cer, had too much taste to be confined to dirty 
 business, which he neglected for the more agree- 
 able pursuits of pleasure. Having therefore 
 met with great losses in trade, he was obliged 
 to embark the remains of his shattered fortune 
 in the lottery, and by purchasing a number of 
 tickets secured to himself the £10,000. He had 
 determined to keep his success secret, bilk his 
 creditors by becoming bankrupt, turn the whole 
 into an annuity for his life, and live abroad like 
 a gentleman upon the income. But unluckily 
 his creditors came upon him too quickly : and 
 before he could know that he had not got the 
 Ten Thousand, hurried him to jail, where he 
 now lies, lamenting that the Act of insolvency 
 had not been postponed till after the lottery. 
 
 John Jones, of Ludlow, in the county of 
 Salop, Esquire, dealer and chapman, got the 
 £10,000. This gentleman was fore-warned of 
 his success by several indisputable tokens. His 
 lady had dreamed of a particular number four 
 nights together : and while the bells were ring- 
 ing on his being chose bailiff of the corporation, 
 they spoke in as plain words as ever Whitting- 
 ton heard, " Mr. John Jones will get ten thou- 
 sand pound — Ml-. John Jones will get ten thou- 
 sand pound." He and his lady, therefoi'e, 
 came up to London ; and not being able to meet 
 with the particular number at Hazard's or 
 Wilson's, or any other office always remarkable 
 for selling the Ten Thousands, they advertised 
 it in the piipers, and got the great prize, only 
 paying a guinea more for their ticket than the 
 market-price. As Mrs. Jones knew a good deal 
 of the world, having lived for some years in 
 quality of an upper servant in a great house, 
 she was determined that Mr. Jones should take 
 the opportunity, now they were in town, of 
 learning how to behave himself as he should do 
 when he came to his fortune. She, therefore, 
 introduced him to the best company in all the 
 house-keepers' and stewards' rooms in the best 
 families where she was acquainted : and as Mr. 
 Jones was so deficient in politeness, as not even 
 to know how to make a bow in coming into a 
 room, he had private lessons from Mr. Aaron 
 Hart, who undertakes to teach grown gentle- 
 men i» dance. Mrs. Jones herself was very 
 busy in consulting with the milliner and man- 
 
 tua-inaker about the newest fashion, when the 
 long looked-for Ten Thousand came up ; and 
 directly after the hey-gee-o, carried them down 
 again to Salop, with this only consolation, that 
 their ticket was within one of the fortunate 
 number. 
 
 Sir Humphry Oldcastle, having greatly dip- 
 ped his estate by being chosen into parliament 
 on the Tory interest, mortgaged all he had left, 
 and put himself in the way of the £10,000 for 
 the good of his country. This seasonable re- 
 cruit fixed him a staunch patriot; and he de- 
 clared he would stand another election against 
 all opposition. But, however it happened, the 
 finishing of the lottery has induced him to 
 change his sentiments ; and Sir Humphry, in 
 lieu of the £10,000 has accepted a place. 
 
 Jemmy Lister, an attorney's clerk, was car- 
 ried into the lottery by pure disinterested love. 
 He had conceived a violent passion for his mas- 
 ter's daughter ; but the prudent old gentleman 
 could not be prevailed on to give her away to a 
 handsome young fellow without a penny. This 
 enraged him so much, that he immediately sold 
 the reversion of a small estate after the death of 
 his grandmother, and by laying out the pur- 
 chase-money, as far as it would go, in shares 
 and chances, got the £10,000. He was for some 
 time in doubt, whether he should bestow his 
 good fortune on the young lady, or employ it 
 more fashionably in keeping a girl. However, 
 his hopes soon sunk to one of the £5000 prizes, 
 which he generously determined to settle upon 
 her together with his person. But in this too 
 he was unhappily disappointed ; and at last, 
 like a true lover, contented himself with th* 
 thoughts of maintaining her very prettily (evei 
 though the father should give her nothing) oi 
 the income of one or other of the inferior prizes 
 which he was sure would fall to his lot. For- 
 tune, alas ! is no less blind a deity than love : 
 they both conspired to disappoint him ; and the 
 unsuccessful gallant, having received a positive 
 refusal from his mistress, out of mere spite di- 
 rectly married the maid. 
 
 Captain Mac Mullen, a decayed gamester, 
 made shift to purchase the chance of a sixteenth, 
 which (notwithstanding the great odds against 
 him) came up £10,000. The first thing to be 
 done was to purchase a genteel suit of clothes 
 with his part of the prize, hire an equipage, 
 pass himself off for a man of quality, and snap 
 up a rich dowager or heiress : after which it 
 was very easy for him to dupe all the raw game- 
 sters at Arthur's out of their estates, and to 
 take in all the knowing-ones on the turf af 
 Newmarket. He accordingly bespoke his live- 
 ries, settled the fashion of his chariot, and had 
 already pitched upon the lady whose good luck 
 it should be to fall in love with him : but so 
 uncertain is the state of a gamester, that since 
 the drawing of the lottery he has advertised for 
 
160 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 94. 
 
 charitable contributions to a distressed gentle- 
 man, who knows the world, and has had the 
 honour to be intimate with most of the nobility 
 and gentry in the kingdom. 
 
 I need not point out any particular instances 
 among the other sex, with respect to their dis- 
 posal of the Ten Thousand ; which every lady 
 had secured by choosing the ticket herself, taking 
 particular cai-e, that the number should be an 
 odd one. The married ladies have sufficient 
 calls for even double this sum, to supply them 
 with the necessaries of dress, and to answer the 
 expenses of frequenting public diversions : and 
 as to the unmarried ladies, they very well know 
 the truth of that maxim in the ballad, that " in 
 ten thousand pounds ten thousand charms are 
 centred." Some ancient maiden ladies, who 
 could never be brought to think of a husband, 
 or to give in to the vanities of the world, were 
 resolved to live retired upon their prize in the 
 country, and leave proofs of their good disposi- 
 tions behind them, by swelling out their wills 
 with a long list of items to this or that charity 
 or hospital. 
 
 Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
 the gTeat generosity of. my own publisher upon 
 getting the £10,000. As his success was owing 
 to his laying out in the lottery all the profits, 
 which had already risen from the publication of 
 this Paper, he had determined to circulate my 
 future numbers gratis ; and had even designed 
 to keep open house for the reception of poor 
 authors. Unhappily for the public, as well as 
 my brother- writers, Fortune has frustrated his 
 disinterested scheme : even I myself am admitted 
 to eat his mutton but once a week : and (instead 
 of giving away my papers) he has advertised, 
 that the twelves edition of the Connoisseur will 
 be published on Tuesday the 25th of this instant 
 November, in two pocket volumes, price six 
 shillings bound. 
 
 No. 94.] Thursday, Nov. 13, 1755. 
 
 Miliiavi rum sine gloria, Hon, 
 
 1 too from martial feats may claim renown, 
 The censor and dictator of the town. 
 
 As I was going through Smithfield the other 
 day, I observed an old fellow Avith a wooden leg, 
 dressed in a sailor's habit, who courteously in- 
 vited the passer-by to peep into his raree-show, 
 for the small price of a halfpenny. His exhibi- 
 tions, I found, were very well suited to the 
 times, and quite in character for himself; for 
 among other particulars, Avith which he amused 
 the little audience of children that surrounded 
 his box, I was mightily pleased to hear the 
 following ;— " Tliere you see the British fleet 
 
 pursuing the French ships which are running 
 away— There you see Major- General Johnson 
 beating the French soldiers in America, and 
 taking Count Dieskau prisoner — There you see 
 the Grand Monarque upon his knees before King 
 George, begging his life." As the thoughts of 
 the public are noAv Avholly turned upon war, it 
 is no wonder that every method is taken to in- 
 spire us with a love of our country, and an 
 abhorrence of the French king : and not only the 
 old seaman with his raree-show, but the public 
 theatres have likewise had a view to the same 
 point. At Drury-Lane we have already been 
 entertained with the Humours of the Navy ; 
 and I am assured, that at Covent- Garden Mr. 
 Barry Avill shortly make an entire conquest of 
 France, in the person of that renowned hero 
 Henry the Fifth. And as the English are na- 
 turally fond of bloody exhibitions on the stage, 
 I am told that a new pantomime, entitled the 
 Ohio, is preparing at this last house, more terri- 
 ble than any of its hells, devils, and fiery dra- 
 gons ; in w^hich w^ill be introduced the Indian 
 manner of fighting, to conclude with a repre- 
 sentation of the grand scalping dance with all 
 its horrors. 
 
 While this warlike disposition prevails in the 
 nation, I am under some apprehensions lest the 
 attention of the public should be called off from 
 the weighty concerns of these papers. I already 
 perceive, that the common newspapers are more 
 eagerly snatched up in the public coffee-houses 
 than my essays ; and the Gazette is much oftener 
 called for than the Connoisseur. For these rea- 
 sons I find it necessary to lay open my own im- 
 portance before the public, to show that I my- 
 self am acting (as it were) in a military capacity, 
 and that Censor- General Town has done his 
 country no less service as a valiant and skilful 
 commander at home, than Major- General John- 
 son in America. Authors may very properly 
 be said to be engaged in a state of literary Avar- 
 fare, many of whom are taken into pay by 
 those great and mighty potentates, the book- 
 sellers ; and it Avill be alloAved, that they undergo 
 no less hardships in the service, than the common 
 soldiers Avho are contented to be shot at for a 
 groat a day. 
 
 It has been my province to repel the daily in- 
 roads and encroachments made by A-ice and folly, 
 and to guard the nation from an invasion of 
 foreign fopperies and French fashions. The 
 tOAvn has been principally the scene of action ; 
 Avhere I have found enemies to encoimter Avith, 
 no less formidable than the Tquattotquaws or 
 the Chickchimuckchis of North America. But 
 as the curiosity of the public is so much engaged 
 in attending to the enterprises of old Hendrick 
 the Sachem, and the incursions of Indians who 
 have taken up the hatchet against our colonies, 
 I am afraid that my exploits against the Savages 
 Avhich infest this metropolis, Avill be wholly 
 
No 95.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 l6l 
 
 overlooked. I have, therefore, resolved to give 
 my readers fresh advices from time to time of 
 what passes here, drawn up in the same warlike 
 style and manner as those very alarming articles 
 of news which are commonly to be met with in 
 our public papers. 
 
 Thursday, November 13, 1755. 
 
 We hear from White's, that the forces under 
 IMaj or- General Hoyle, which used to encamp at 
 that place, are removed from thence, and have 
 fixed their winter quarters at Arthur's. The 
 same letters say, that an obstinate engagement 
 was fought there a few nights ago, in which one 
 party gained a great booty, and the other suffered 
 a considerable loss. V/e are also informed, that 
 an epidemical distemper rages among them, and 
 that several of the chiefs have been carried off by 
 a sudden death. 
 
 They write from Covent- Garden, that last 
 week a body of Irregulars sallied out at mid- 
 night, stormed several forts in that neighboiu"- 
 hood, and committed great outrages ; but being 
 attacked by a detachment from the allied army 
 of watchmen, constables, and justices, they were 
 put to flight, and several of them taken prison- 
 ers. The plague still rages there with great 
 violence, as well as in the neighboui'ing terri- 
 tories of Drury. 
 
 We hear from the same place, that the com- 
 pany commanded by Brigadier Rich has been 
 reinforced with several new-raised recruits, to 
 supply the place of some deserters who had gone 
 over to the enemy ; but his chief dependence is 
 on the light cU'med troops, which are very active, 
 and are distinguished, like the Highlanders, by 
 their party-coloured dress. The enemy, on the 
 other hand, have taken several Swiss* and Ger- 
 mans into pay, though they are under terrible 
 apprehensions of their being set upon by the 
 critics. These are a rude, ignorant, savage peo- 
 ple, who are always at war with the nation of 
 authors. Their constant manner of fighting is 
 to begin the onset with strange hissings and 
 noises, accompanied vrith a horrid instrument, 
 named the cat-call^ w^hich like the war- Avhoop of 
 the Indians, has struck a panic into the hearts 
 of the stoutest heroes. 
 
 We have advice from the Butcher-Row, 
 Temple- Bar, that on Monday night last the 
 Infidels held a gi*and council of war at their 
 head-quarters in the Robin Hood, at which their 
 good friend and ally, the Mufti of Clare-Market, 
 assisted in person. After many debates, they 
 resolved to declare war against the Christians, 
 and never to anake peace, till they had pulled 
 dow^n all the churches in Christendom, and 
 established the Alcoran of Bolingbroke in lieu 
 of the Bible. 
 
 * Alluding to the dancers employed in the entertain. 
 ment of the Chinese Festival, at Drury Lane theatre. 
 
 All our advices from the city of London agree 
 in their accoimts of the great havoc and slaugh- 
 ter made there on the Festival, commonly called 
 my Lord Mayor's Day. All the companies in 
 their black uniform, and the trained bands in 
 their regimentals, made a general forage. They 
 carried off vast quantities of chickens, geese, 
 ducks, and all kinds of provisions. Major 
 Guzzledown of the ward of Bassishaw distin- 
 guished himself greatly, having ^vith sivord in 
 hand gallantly attacked the oiU-works, scaled 
 the walls, moiinted the ramparts, and forced 
 through the cover-way of a large fortified cus- 
 tard, which seemed impregnable. 
 
 The inhabitants of Sussex have lately been 
 alaimed with the apprehensions of an invasion ; 
 as the French have been very busy in fitting out 
 several small vessels laden with stores of %vine 
 and brandy, with which it is thought they will 
 attempt to make a descent somewhere on our 
 coasts. The independent companies of Smug- 
 glers in the service of France are to be sent on 
 this expedition : but if the fleet of Custom- 
 house smacks, &c. do not intercept them at sea, 
 we are preparing to receive them as soon as they 
 are landed. 
 
 From divers parts of the countiy we have 
 advice, that the roads are every where ci'owded 
 with ladies, who (notwithstanding the severity 
 of the weather) are hmrying up to London, to 
 be present at the meeting of the Female Parlia- 
 ment. At this critical juncture, the fate of the 
 nation depends entirely on the deliberations of 
 this wise assembly ; and as there are known to 
 be many disinterested patriots in the House, it 
 is not to be doubted, but that proper measm'es 
 will be taken by them for the good of their coun- 
 try. Many salutary laws are already talked of, 
 which vre could wish to see piit in execution : 
 such as — A bill for prohibiting the importation 
 of French millinei's, hair-cutters and mantua- 
 makers — A bUl for the exportation of French 
 cooks and French valets de chambre — A bill to 
 resti-ain ladies from wearing French dresses — 
 And lastly a bill to restrain them from weai'ing 
 French faces. W, 
 
 No. 95.] Thursday, Nov. 20, 1755. 
 
 MeUe soporatam et medicatis fnigihus offam 
 Objicit. ViRG. 
 
 The honey'd cake will lose its sweetness soon. 
 And prove a bitter in the honey-moon. 
 
 As every marriage is a kind of family festival, 
 the w^edding-day is honoured with various cele- 
 brities, and distinguished, like the fifth of 
 NoA'ember, the birthdays of the royal family, 
 or any other public day, with many demon stra- 
 Y 
 
152 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 95. 
 
 tlons of joy : the happy couple are drest in their 
 richest suits, the bells ring all day, and the 
 evening is concluded with the meri-y ceremony 
 of throwing the stocking. But these festivi- 
 ties are not always so religiously observed in 
 town ; where many a pair of quality are tacked 
 together with the utmost privacy, and imme- 
 diately after sneak out of town, as if they were 
 ashamed to show their faces after what they had 
 done. In the country, when the squire or any 
 other person of distinction is married, the 
 honey-moon is almost a continued carnival : and 
 every marriage is accounted more or less likely 
 to be prosperous, in proportion to the number of 
 deei", oxen, and sheep, tliat are killed on the oc- 
 casion, and the hogsheads of wine and tuns of ale, 
 with which they are washed down. By the last 
 post I received an account from my cousin Vil_ 
 lage, of the wedding of a near relation, with a 
 particular detail of the magnificence of the en- 
 tertainment, the splendour of the ball, and the 
 universal joy of the whole manor. At the same 
 time I received compliments from the new mar- 
 ried couple, Avith a large slice of the bride-cake ; 
 the virtues of which are well known to every 
 girl of thirteen. I was never in possession of 
 this nuptial charm before ; but I was so much 
 delighted with this matrimonial token, and it 
 excited in my mind so many reflections of con- 
 jugal happiness, that (though I did not lay it un- 
 der my pillow) it gave occasion to the following 
 dream. 
 
 I found myself in the middle of a spacious 
 building, which was crowded with a variety of 
 pei'sons of both sexes ; and upon inquiry was 
 told, that it was the temple of the god of mar- 
 riage ; and that every one, who had an inclina- 
 tion to sacrifice to that deity, was invited to ap- 
 proach a large altar, which was covered with a 
 great number of cakes of different shapes and ap- 
 pearance. Some of these were moulded into the 
 form of hearts ; and others were woven into true 
 lovers' knots : some were strewed with sugar, 
 and stuck about with sweet-meats ; some were 
 covered with gold ; some were stamped with 
 coronets ; and others had their tops embeUished 
 with glittering toys, that represented a fine house, 
 a set of jewels, or a coach and six. Plutus and 
 Cupid . were busily employed in distributing 
 these cakes (which were all of them marked 
 with the word Matrimony, and called bride- 
 cakes) to different pei'sons, who were allowed to 
 choose for themselves, according to their differ- 
 ent views and inclinations. 
 
 I observed several hasten to the altar, who all 
 appeared to be variously affected by their choice. 
 To some the cakes seemed of so delicious a fla- 
 vour, that they imagined they should never be 
 surfeited J while others, who found the taste very 
 agreeable at first, in a short time declared it to 
 be i3atand insipid. However, I could not help 
 remarking, that many more (particularly among 
 
 the quality) addressed themselves to Plutus, than 
 to Cupid. 
 
 Being desirous to take a nearer view of the 
 company, I pushed through the crowd, and pi p.cfed 
 myself close to the altar. A young couple now 
 advanced, and applying to Cupid, desired him 
 to reach them one of the cakes, in the shape of a 
 double heart pierced through with darts : but 
 just as they wei'e going to share it betwixt them, 
 a crabbed old fellow, whom I found to be the 
 girl's father, stepped up, broke the cake in two, 
 and obliged the young lady to fix upon another, 
 which Plutus picked out for her, and which re- 
 presented the figure of a fine gentleman in gilt 
 gingerbread. 
 
 An old fellow of sixty-two, who had stolen 
 one day from the business of the alley, next came 
 towards the altar, and seemed to express a strong 
 desire for a cake. Plutus, who recollected him at 
 first sight, immediately offered him one, which, 
 though very mouldy and coarse, was gilt all over; 
 but he was astonishe<l at the old gentleman's re- 
 fusing it, and petitioning Cupid for a cake of the 
 most elegant form and sweetest ingi'edients. The 
 little god at first repulsed him with indignation, 
 but afterwards sold it to him for a large sum of 
 money ; a circumstance, which amazed me be- 
 yond expression, but which I soon found was 
 very commonly practised in this temple. The 
 old fellow retired with his purchased prize ; and 
 though I imagined he might still have a colt's 
 tooth remaining, after having for some time 
 mumbled it between his old gums in vain, it lay 
 by him untouched and unenjoyed. 
 
 T was afterwards very much disgusted with 
 the many instances that oocun'ed, of these delicate 
 morsels being set up to sale : and I found, that 
 their price rose and fell, like that of beef or mut- 
 ton, according to the glut or scarcity of the mar- 
 ket. I was particularly affected with the dis- 
 posal of the two following. A young gentleman 
 and lady were approaching the altar, and had 
 agreed to take between them a cake of a plain 
 form but delicious flavour, marked love and 
 competence ; but a person of quality stejiping for- 
 ward persuaded the false female to join with 
 him, and receive ft'om Plutus one much more 
 glittering, marked indifference and a large set- 
 tlement. Another lady was coming up with a 
 Knight of the Bath, being tempted by a cake 
 with a red riband streaming from it, like the 
 flags on a Twelfth-cake ; but was prevailed on 
 by a person of greater rank and distinction to ac- 
 cept a more sho\vj^ cake, adorned with a blue 
 riband and a coronet. 
 
 A buxom dame of an amorous complexion 
 came next and begged very hard for a cake. She 
 had before received several, whicli suited her 
 tooth, and pletised her palate so excessively, 
 tliat as soon as she had despatched one, she 
 constantly came to Cupid for anotlier. She 
 now seized her cake Avith great transport, and 
 
No. 96.-] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 163 
 
 retiring to a corner with it, I could discern 
 her greedily mumbling the delicious morsel, 
 though she had fairly worn out six-and-twenty 
 of her teeth in the service. After this an ancient 
 lady came tottering up to the altar, supported 
 by a young fellow in a red coat with a shoulder- 
 knot. Plutus gave him a stale cake marked 
 with the word Jointure in large golden capitals, 
 which he received with some reluctance, while 
 the old lady eagerly snatched another from 
 Cupid, (who turned his liead aside from her) 
 on which I could plainly discover the word 
 Dotage. 
 
 A rich rusty bachelor of the last century then 
 came bustling through the ci'owd. He brought 
 with him a red cheeked country girl of nineteen. 
 As he approached the altar, he met several com- 
 ing from it with cakes, which he had refused ; 
 some of which were marked Riches, some Fa- 
 mily, some Beauty, and one or two Aifectiou. 
 The girl he brought with him proved to be his 
 dairy-maid, whom he had for some time past 
 been in vain attempting to bring over to his 
 wishes ; but at last, finding his design imprac- 
 ticable, he came with her to the altar. He 
 seemed, indeed, a little ashamed of his under- 
 taking, and betrayed a good deal of awkward- 
 ness in his manner and deportment. However, 
 as soon as he had taken his cake, he retired ; and 
 determined to spend the rest of his days with his 
 milch-cow in the country. 
 
 To satisfy a modest longing, there now ad- 
 vanced a maiden lady in the bloom of threescore. 
 She had, it seems, heretofore refused several 
 offers from Cupid and Plutus : but being en- 
 raged to find that they had now given over all 
 thoughts of her, she seized by the hand a young 
 ensign of the guards, and carried him to the 
 altar, whence she herself snatched up a cake, 
 and divided it with her gallant. She was highly 
 delighted with the taste of it at first; but her 
 partner being very soon cloyed, she too late dis- 
 covered, that the half which she held in her 
 hand was signed Folly, and that which she had 
 forced upon her paramour was marked Aversion. 
 
 A little, pert, forward miss, in a frock and 
 hanging sleeves, ran briskly up to Cupid, and 
 begged for a cake : — what it was she did not 
 care ; but a cake she must and would have, of 
 one kind or another. She had just stretched 
 out her hand to receive one from Cupid, when 
 her mamma interposed, sent the child back again 
 blubbering to the boarding school, and carried 
 oft" the cake herself. 
 
 An old woman, fantastically dressed, then 
 burst into the temple, and ran raving up to the 
 altar, crying out, that she would have a husband. 
 But the poor lady seemed likely to be disappoint- 
 ed ; for, as she could prevail on no one to join 
 hands with her, both Cupid and Plutus refused 
 to favour her with a cake. Furious with rage 
 and despair, she snatched one off the altar ; and 
 
 seizing on the first man that came in her way, 
 which unfortunately happened to be myself, she 
 would have forcibly crammed it down my 
 throat. As the least crumb of it was as disa- 
 greeable as a drench to a horse, I began to spawl, 
 and sputter, and keck ; and though the flurry of 
 spirits which it occasioned awaked me, I thought 
 I had the nauseous taste of it still in my mouth. 
 
 W. 
 
 No. 96.] Thursday, Nov. 27, 1756. 
 
 Sex paratur aut decern sophos nummis. 
 
 Secreta qucere carmina, et rudes euros, 
 
 Quas novit unus, scrinioque signatos 
 
 Custodit ipse virginis pater chartce. 
 
 Mercare tales ab eo, nee sciet quisquam. Mart. 
 
 Would you the name of author not refuse. 
 We've penn'orths for your penny, pick and choose : 
 We've plays or poems, ready made for sale ; 
 With wit and humour, wholesale or retail. 
 On these the public breath has never blown ; 
 Buy them, and fairly claim them for your own. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Among the many register offices erected within 
 these few years past, I am surprised that no 
 scheme of the like nature has been thought of 
 for the service of literature ; and that no place 
 has been set apart, where literary commodities 
 of every sort might be disposed of ; where men of 
 learning might meet with employment; and 
 where others, who want their assistance, might 
 be sure to meet with men of learning. There 
 is nothing of this kind in being at present, ex- 
 cept among the booksellers ; who, indeed, have 
 made a monopoly of the trade, and engrossed the 
 whole market to themselves. 1 o remedy this 
 inconvenience, my design is to set up a Literary 
 Register Ofiice : for which purpose I intend to 
 hire the now useless theatre in Lin coin 's-inn- 
 fields, and convert it into a mart for the staple 
 commodities of the literary commonwealth. I 
 shall here fit up apartments for the reception of 
 my authors, who will be employed from time to 
 time in supplying the public with the requisite 
 manufactures. This scheme will, I doubt not, 
 meet with great encouragement, as it is of ge- 
 neral utility : and I do not remember any design 
 of the same nature, except at a barber's on the 
 other side the water, who has hung out a board 
 
 over his shop with the following inscription 
 
 Lettei*s read and written for servants and others. 
 I shall always have a fresh assortment of goods 
 in the best taste and newest fashion : as of novels 
 for example, while the humour of reading them 
 is prevalent among all ranks of people. For 
 this branch I shall retain a very eminent master 
 novelist, to cut out adventures and intrigues. 
 
164 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 96. 
 
 and shall employ a proper number of han(3s, to 
 tack them together with all possible care and 
 expedition : and if any ladies of quality, or 
 others, choose to furnish their own materials for 
 memoirs and apologies, they may have them done 
 up, and be fitted exactly, at my office. Besides 
 several others, which my men shall get up 
 with the greatest despatch, I can assure you I 
 have myself worked night and day, and have 
 already finished six and thirty sheets of the his- 
 tory of Miss Sukey Sapling, written by herself. 
 
 Pamphlets of all sorts shall be composed, when- 
 ever any popular subject starts up, that is likely 
 to engage the attention of the public. Every new 
 play shall be followed by an examen or remarks ; 
 all riots at either playhouse will afford scope for 
 letters to the managers ; and every new actor or 
 actress produce theatrical ci'iticisms. Poetry, you 
 know, Mr. Town, is a mere drug ; but I shall 
 always have a number of ready-made odes by 
 me, which may be suited to any gi*eat man, dead 
 or alive, in place or out of place. I shall also 
 have a large bundle of Poems on several occa- 
 sions, very proper for any gentleman or lady, 
 who chooses to publish by subscription ; besides a 
 more ordinary sort of hymns to the morning, 
 
 verses on the death of , odes to Miss A. B. C, 
 
 acrostics and rebusses, for the use of the 
 magazines ; to be sold a pennyworth, with al- 
 lowance to those who take a great quantity. 
 
 With regard to law matters, as they have no 
 sort of connection with wit or learning, I shall 
 not concern myself with their unintelligible jar- 
 gon ; nor presume to interfere with those au- 
 thoi-s in parchment, who measure their words 
 by the foot-rule, and sell their writings at so 
 much per line. However, I shall furnish young 
 students of the several inns of court with com- 
 plete canons of criticism; and opinions on any 
 new theatrical cases ; on which they may argue 
 A-ery learnedly at a tavern, or plead at the bar of 
 a coifee-house. For medical subjects, I shall 
 procure a learned graduate by diploma from 
 abi'oad, whose practice will not so much take up 
 his time as to prevent his being at leisure to 
 w^rite occasional treatises, setting forth the vir- 
 tues of any newly invented powder or newly dis- 
 covered water. He shall also draw up the ad- 
 vertisements for medicines, that remove all dis- 
 BJises, and are never known to fail ; he shall 
 compile the wonderful accounts of their surpris- 
 ing cures ; and furnish cases that never happen- 
 ed, and affidavits that were never made. With 
 respect to divinity, as I have reason to believe 
 . that controversial writings will be often called 
 for, I intend to bargain with the Robin Hood 
 society to undertake in the lump to furnish my 
 office with defences of Lord 15olii»gbroke, &c. 
 and till I can procure some poor curate out of 
 the country, or servitor from the university, to 
 wriie the manuscript sermons of eminent di- 
 v'uce lately deceased, warranted originals, I 
 
 must make shift with the Fleet-Parsons now 
 out of business. 
 
 Though I shall not keep any dramatic works 
 ready made by me, (as these commodities are apt 
 to grow stale and out of fashion,) yet either of 
 the theatres may be served with tragedy, co- 
 medy, farce, or the like, by bespeaking them, 
 and giving but three days' notice. For the co- 
 mic pieces I shall employ a poet, who has long 
 worked for the drolls at Bartholomew and 
 South wark fairs, and has even printed a comedy, 
 as it was half acted at Drury-lane. IVIy trage- 
 dies will be furnished by a North Briton, who 
 walked up to London from his native countiy 
 ■n'ith a most sublime tragedy in his coat-pocket, 
 and which is now to be disposed of to the best 
 bidder. Any old play of Shakspeare or Ben Jon- 
 son shall be pieced with modern ones according 
 to the present *:aste, or cut out in airs and recita- 
 tive for an English Opera. Songs for panto- 
 mimes may be had, to be set to the clack of a 
 mill, the tinkling or a tin cascade, or the slaps 
 of Harlequin's wooden sword. The proprie- 
 tors of our public gardens, during the summer 
 season, maybe also supplied from my office with 
 love-ditties to a new burthen, or comic dialogues 
 in Crambo ; and Avords shall at any lime be 
 fitted to the music, after the tunes are com- 
 posed. 
 
 As I propose to make my office of general 
 utility, every thing that bears the least affinity to 
 litei*ature will be natui-ally comprehei»ded in my 
 scheme. Memliers of Parliament may be sup- 
 plied with speeches on any political subject ; and 
 country Justices may, on directing a letter (post- 
 paid) to the office, have charges to the Jury at 
 the quarter-sessions sent doAvn to them by the 
 first coach or waggon. Addresses on particular 
 occasions shall be drawn up for the worshipful 
 mayor and aldermen of any city or corporation : 
 laws, rules, regulations, or orders, shall be form- 
 ed for the Anti-GiJlicans, Ubiquaiians, Gre- 
 gorians, or any other private clubs and societies. 
 N. B. The free Masons may dei)end upon se- 
 crecy. 
 
 Many advantages may likewise accrue to the 
 l)olite world from the establishment of my office. 
 Gentlemen and ladies may have 6/7/t'/-rfo»x Avrit- 
 ten for them with the most soft and languishing 
 expressions : message cards, and invitations to 
 routs, shall be filled up and circulated at so much 
 per hundred, or undertaken in the gross at a fixe<l 
 price all the year round. Beaux may be ac- 
 commodated Avith letters of gallantry to send 
 to their laundresses, or have them copied out in 
 a fashionabh; female scraAvl, and directed to 
 themselves. Gentlemen Avho Ioac fighting, but 
 cannot AATite, may have challenges peinied for 
 them in the true style and spirit of a modern 
 blood. 
 
 There are many other con vonit nc» s arising from 
 such an office, which it would be too tedious to 
 
No. 97.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 165 
 
 enumerate : and it will be foxind to be no less 
 beneficial to you authors, Mr. Town, than those 
 other Register-ofl&ces are to men and maid ser- 
 vants. If an author (for example) wants em- 
 ployment, or is out of place, he has nothing to 
 do but to enter his name with me, and I shall 
 presently get him work ; or if a bookseller wants 
 a hand for any particxilar job, (as a translation- 
 spinner, a novel- weaver, a play-writer, a verse 
 turner, or the like) upon searching my books he 
 will be sure to meet with a man fit for the busi- 
 ness. In short, any composition, in prose or 
 rhyme, and on any subject, may be procured at a 
 minute's warning, by applying to my office : and 
 I dare say, you yourself, Mr. Town, will be very 
 glad now and then to purchase a Connoisseur of 
 me,whenever the idle fitseizesyou. If thatshould 
 happen to come upon you this week, and you 
 have nothing better, you Avill oblige me by lay- 
 ing the scheme here set before your readers; and 
 in return, you shall have the credit of publishing 
 your papers at my office, as soon as it is opened, 
 and welcome. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 J. WiTSELL. 
 
 .No. 97.] Thursday, Dec. 4, 1755. 
 
 De te pendentis, te respicieniis amid. 
 
 Hon. 
 
 Your friend, your pimp, your hanger-on, what not ? 
 Your lacquey, but without the shoulder-knot. 
 
 I REMEMBER to have heard a cousin of mine, 
 who was formerly at Cambridge, often mention- 
 ing a sect of philosophers, distinguished by the 
 rest of the collegians under the appellation of 
 Tuft- Hunters. These are not the disciples of 
 the Stoics or Epicureans, or the advocates for 
 the old or new philosophy, but the followers 
 (literally speaking) of the fellow-commoners, 
 noblemen, and other rich students, whom, it 
 seems, the courtesy of the university has hon- 
 oured with a cap adorned with a gold tassel. 
 These gold threads have almost as much influ- 
 ence in the university, as a red or blue riband 
 at court ; and always draw after the Avearer a 
 train of humble companions, who will be at his 
 call to breakfast, dine or sup with him when- 
 ever he pleases, will go with him any where, 
 drink with him, wench with him, borrow his 
 money, or let him pay their reckoning. They 
 are, I am told, a sort of disease of the place, 
 which a man of fortune is sure to catch as soon 
 as he arrives there : and these fast fi-iends stick 
 so close to him, that he can never shake them off 
 while he keeps his gown on his back. 
 
 The university of London is not without its 
 tuft-hunters, who fasten, like leeches, on a young 
 man of fortune, at his first coming to town. 
 
 They beset bim as soon as he arrives, and when 
 they have once surrounded him, seldom fail of 
 securing him to themselves ; for no persons of 
 character care to have any connections with him, 
 when he has been frequently seen in such bad 
 company. It is a great misfortune for any 
 young gentleman to fall into their hands : though 
 indeed, as a fool is the natural prey of knaves, 
 the wealthy maintaJners of this fraternity are 
 generally none of the wisest ; and as at the uni- 
 versity, "where the learned pate ducks to the 
 golden fool," the gentleman-student is distin- 
 guished by a cap with a gold tuft, I always con- 
 sider these sons of folly in town, as adorned 
 with a showy cap hung with bells, which serve 
 at once to denote the depth of their parts, and 
 to call their train about them. 
 
 The dialect of the town has very expressively 
 characterized these humble dependents on men 
 of fortune by the name of Hangers-on. They 
 will, indeed, take such sure hold, and hang on a 
 man so constantly, that it is almost impossible 
 to drop them. Whenever the gentleman ap- 
 pears, the hanger-on is sure to be at his elbow. 
 They will squeeze themselves into every party 
 that is formed ; and I have known instances of 
 their thrusting themselves into strange families, 
 by sticking to their patron's skirts, and impu- 
 dently introducing themselves where he has been 
 invited to dinner — which, indeed, I think would 
 not be an improper custom, provided they would 
 submit to stand behind his chair. They will 
 stick so closely, that all the adhesive quality of 
 burs, pitch, &c. seem to be collected in them : 
 and the line in Pope's Odyssey, so often ridi- 
 culed, may rather be considered as emphasis than 
 tautology in speaking of them. The hanger-on 
 clings to his fool as Ulysses did to the rock, and 
 in Pope's words, 
 
 They stick adherent, and suspended hung. 
 
 The tenaciousness of a hanger-on is so very 
 strong, that whoever is drawn into their snares, 
 is so firmly limed that he can hardly ever loose 
 himself from them. For as nothing but the 
 lowest meanness of spirit could ever prevail on 
 a man to submit to such dependence on another, 
 it is in vain to think of getting rid of such ab- 
 ject wretches by treating them with contempt. 
 They Avill take as much beating, provided you 
 will allow them an equal degree of familiarity, 
 as a spaniel. They will also submit to do any 
 little offices, and are glad to make themselves 
 useful, whenever they have an opportunity. 
 They will go among the brokers to borrow 
 money for you, pimp for you, or submit to any 
 other such gentleman-like employment to serve 
 their friend. 
 
 It must here be noted, that every hanger-on 
 is a person of strict honour and a gentleman ; 
 for though his fortune is (to be sure) somewhat 
 inferior to vours, and he submits to make him- 
 
166 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 98. 
 
 self convenient on several occasions, yet on that 
 account you are indebted to his infinite good- 
 nature ; and all his endeavours to serve you pro- 
 ceed from his great regard for you. I remember 
 one of these friendly gentlemen, who carried his 
 esteem so far, that in a quarrel with his rich 
 companion, in which he was favoured with se- 
 veral tweaks by the nose and kicks on the breech, 
 he received all these injuries with patience, and 
 only said with tears in his eyes, " Dear Jack, 1 
 never expected this usage from you. You know 
 I don't mind fighting ; but I should never have 
 a moment's peace, if I was to do you the least 
 injury. Come, Jack, let us buss and be fi-iends," 
 Their gentility is unquestionable ; for they are 
 seldom of any trade, though they are sometimes 
 (being younger brothers perhaps) of a profession. 
 I know one, who is a nominal lawyer ; but 
 though his friend has often fee'd him, our coun- 
 sellor could never with any propriety consider 
 him as a client : and I know another, who (like 
 Gibbet in the play) is called Captain, whose 
 elegant manner of living must be supported by 
 his being on full pay with his patron, since he 
 does not receive even the common soldier's groat 
 a day from his commission. However, consider- 
 ing at one view the gentility of their profession, 
 and the shortness of their finances, I often look 
 upon them as a band of decayed gentlemen, the 
 honourable pensioners of those they follow. 
 The great men among the Romans had a num- 
 ber of these Hangers-on, who attended them 
 wherever they went, and were emphatically 
 called Umbrae, or shadows ; and, indeed, this 
 appellation conveys a very full idea of the nature 
 of these humble retainers to the wealthy, since 
 they not only follow them like their shadows, 
 but " like a shadow prove the substance true :" 
 for whenever you observe one or more of these 
 UmbrsB perpetually at the heels of any gentle- 
 man, you may fairly conclude him to be a man 
 of fortune. 
 
 These faithful friends are so careful of every 
 thing that concerns you, that they always in- 
 quire with the greatest exactness into your 
 affairs, and know almost as well as your stewai'd 
 the income of your estate. They are also so 
 fond of your conmpany, and so desirous of pre- 
 serving your good opinion, that a Hangei'-on 
 will take as much pains to keep you entirely to 
 himself, and to prevent a rival in your affections, 
 as a mistress ; and as a convenient female is a 
 very necessary part of the equipage of a person 
 of fashion, these male companions must be a 
 very agreeable part of the retinue of those high- 
 spii'ited young gentlemen, who are fond of being 
 the head of their company. It is only a more 
 refined taste in expense to pay a man for laugh- 
 ing at yovir wit, and indulging your humour ; 
 and who will either drink his bottle with you 
 at the tavern, or run to the end of the town for 
 you on an errand. 
 
 I might also take notice of an humbler sort of 
 Hangers-on, who fix themselves to no one in 
 particular, but fasten upon all their friends in 
 their turns. Their views, indeed, are seldom 
 extended bej'ond a present subsistence ; and their 
 utmost aim perhaps is to get a dinner. For this 
 purpose they keep a register of the hours of dining 
 of all their acquaintance ; and though they con- 
 trive to call in upon you just as you are sitting 
 down to table, they are always with much diffi- 
 culty prevailed upon to take a chair. If you 
 dine abroad, or are gone into the country, they 
 will eat with your family, to prevent their being 
 melancholy on account of your absence ; or if 
 your family is out, they will breakfast, dine, and 
 sup with you out of charity, because you should 
 not be alone. Everj-- house is haunted with 
 these disturbers of our meals : and perhaps the 
 best way to get rid of them would be, to put 
 them, with the rest of your servants, upon 
 board-wages. 
 
 But besides these danglers after men of for- 
 tune, and intruders on your table in town, the 
 country breeds a race of lowly retainers, which 
 may properly be ranked among the same species. 
 Almost every family supports a poor kinsman ; 
 who happening to be no way related to the 
 estate, was too proud of his blood to apply him- 
 self in his youth to any profession, and rather 
 chose to be supported in laziness at the family- 
 seat. They are, indeed, known perhaps to be 
 cousins to the squire, but do not appeal' in a 
 more creditable light, than his servants out of 
 livery : and sometimes actually submit to as 
 mean offices of drudgery, as the groom or whip- 
 per-in. The whole fraternity of Hangers-on, 
 whether in town or country, or under whatever 
 denomination, are the sons of idleness : for it 
 will be found upon examination, that whenever 
 a man, whose bread depends on his industry, 
 gives himself up to indolence, he becomes capa- 
 ble of any meanness whatever; and if they 
 cannot dig, yet, like our Hangers-on, to beg 
 they are not ashamed. O. 
 
 No. 98.] Thursday, Dec. 11, 1753. 
 
 Ut id ostendcrcm, quod te istifadlan pulant. 
 Id non fieri ex vera, vita, neque adcb ex a-quo ct bono, 
 
 Sed ex assentando, indulgendo, et largicndo. 
 
 Ter, 
 
 What shall we call it ? folly, or good nature ? 
 So soft, so simple, and so kind a creature! 
 Where charity so blindly plays its part. 
 It only shows tlie weakness of her heart ! 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Sir, 
 I HAVK been some years married \o one of the 
 best women in the world. She possesses all the 
 
No. 98.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 167 
 
 virtues that can be named : but, alas ! she pos- 
 sesses some of them to excess. Those which I 
 wish to particularize, and which are infinitely- 
 pernicious to me and my fortunes, are her super- 
 abundant good-nature, and her boundless gene- 
 rosity. 
 
 It is a little difficult perhaps to ascertain, what 
 ai'e, or ought to be, the exact bounds of good- 
 natiu-e ; which, of all virtues, seems to me most 
 necessary to be confined, or at least mitigated in 
 such a manner, as to hinder it from destroying 
 its own excellence and utility. On the one 
 hand, if it is restrained too close, the woi'ld will 
 say, that it must entirely lose its essence : but, 
 on the other hand, fatal experience has convinced 
 me, that if it is permitted to enjoy a full un- 
 limited sway, this amiable virtue becomes a ridi- 
 culous vice ; and brings with it, as in my wife's 
 case, fruitless expenses, ill-judged concessions, 
 and a kind of blind folly, that is always liable 
 to contempt. 
 
 Generosity is the daughter of good-nature. 
 She is very fair and lovely, when under the 
 tuition of judgment and reason ; but when she 
 escapes from her tutors, and acts indiscrimi- 
 nately, according as her fancy allures her, she 
 subjects herself, like her mother, to sneer, ridi- 
 cule, and disdain. 
 
 To illustrate these assertions by some exam- 
 ples from amiong the many mishaps, losses, and 
 embarrassments, which have accrued to us in 
 the course of our domestic affairs, give me leave 
 to tell you, that some years ago, we had a foot- 
 boy, who acted as butler, and had the custody of 
 the little plate, which our small fortune could 
 afford us. The fellow was awkward, and unfit 
 for the station ; but my wife very good-naturedly 
 was determined to keep him in our service, be- 
 cause he intended to maiTy the nursery-maid, 
 and would undoubtedly make an excellent hus- 
 band. The rascal was a thief : but as it is ill- 
 natured to suspect people, before we have full 
 proof of their knavery, several of his tricks and 
 petty larcenies were attributed to the itinerant 
 JeAvs and higglers, (we then living at New- 
 ington) who frequently called at our door. At 
 last, however, after sevei'al rogueries, too evident 
 to all, except the blindly good-natured, he went 
 off ^vith my vs^ife's gold repeating "vvatch, and a 
 pair of our best silver candlesticks, with which 
 he voluntarily transported himself, as we have 
 been since told, to the West Indies ; leaving his 
 mistress the nursery-maid big with child, and 
 thereby giving great license to the neighbour- 
 hood to animadvert upon mty wife's amazing 
 prescience in foreseeing his excellences as a 
 husband. 
 
 You must know. Sir, that my dear consort, in 
 the full glow of her goodness, is never contented, 
 unless her servants marry each other. All I 
 can urge against so impolitic a custom, has been 
 so no purpose : maiTiage (she says) prevents 
 
 vice, and saves souls from destruction. Perhaps 
 it may : but are no unmarried servants to be 
 found in Mr. Fielding's register office, or else- 
 where, but what are vicious ? At least I am 
 sure, that this piece of sanctity is very expensive 
 in its effects, and is attended with many incon- 
 veniences. One of her maids, about two years 
 ago, was discovered to be very intimate with my 
 footman : my wife, to prevent ill consequences, 
 hastened to have them married, and was present 
 herself at the ceremony. She admired the 
 modesty of the ■woman, and the sober gi-avity of 
 the man, during the holy rites ; and was entirely 
 convinced, that no harm could have happened 
 from so decent a couple. In a short space after 
 the marriage, Patty brought forth a swinging 
 girl ; but as it was born almost six months 
 before its time, my wife advised them to keep it 
 the remaining half year in cotton. She did this 
 purely from a motive of good-nature, to shield 
 if possible the new-married woman's reputa- 
 tion; but finding our neighbours fleer at the in- 
 cident, and smile contemptuously at the pre- 
 scription of cotton, she contented herself in be- 
 lieving Patty's own account, that " in truth she 
 had been married eight months before by a 
 Fleet-parson, but was afraid to own it." 
 
 If my wife's indulging her domestics in 
 matrimony was productive of no other ill con- 
 sequence than merely their being married, it 
 might, indeed, sometimes prove a benefit ; but 
 the chaster and more sober they have been before 
 marriage, the gi'eater number of children are 
 produced in matrimony ; and my ivife looks 
 upon herself as in duty obliged to take care of 
 the poor helpless offsprings, that have been be- 
 gotten under her OAvn roof; so that, I assure 
 you, Sir, my house is so well filled with chil- 
 dren, that it would put you immediately in mind 
 of the Foundling Hospital ; with this difference, 
 however, that in my hospital not only the chil- 
 dren are provided for, whether bastards or legiti- 
 mate, but also the fathers and mothers. 
 
 Your office, Mr. Censor, requires and leads 
 you to hear domestic occurrences ; otherwise 1 
 should scarce have troubled you with the records 
 of a private family, almost ruined by excrescen- 
 ces of virtue. The same overflowing humanity 
 runs through the whole conduct of the dear 
 woman whom I have mentioned. Even in 
 trifles she is full of works of supererogation. 
 Our doors are perpetually surrounded with beg- 
 gars, where the halt, the maimed, and the blind, 
 assemble in as great numbers as at the door of 
 the Roman Catholic Chapel in Lincoln's-inn- 
 fields. She not only gives them money, but, 
 sends them out gi'eat quantities of bread, beer, 
 and cold victuals ; and she has her different 
 pensioners (as she herself calls them) for every 
 day in the week. But the expense attending 
 these out-door petitioners, many of whom have 
 fronx time to time been discovered to be impos- 
 
168 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 99- 
 
 tors, is nothing in comparison to the suras that 
 are almost daily drawn from her by beggiiig 
 letters. It is impossible to imagine a calamity, 
 by which she has not been a sufferer, in reliev- 
 ing those who have extorted money from her by 
 pi'etended misfortunes. The poor lady has been 
 much hurt by losses in trade, sustained great 
 damages by fire, undei'gone many hardships from 
 sickness, and other unforeseen accidents ; and it 
 was but yesterday that she paid a long apothecary's 
 t ill, brought on by a violent fever. Thus, Sir, 
 though my wife keeps but little company, and the 
 family expenses are to all appearance very small, 
 yet this dear woman's superabundant good-na- 
 ture is such a perpetual drawback on her eco- 
 nomy, that we run out considerably. This ex- 
 ti'avagant and ill-judged generosity renders all 
 her numerous excellences of non-effect : and I 
 have often known her almost destitute of clothes, 
 because she had distributed her whole wardrobe 
 among liars, sycophants, and hypocrites. 
 
 Thus, Sir, as briefly as I can, I have set before 
 you my unhappy case. I am perishing by de- 
 grees : not by any real extravagance, any de- 
 signed ruin, or any indulgence of luxury and 
 riot, in the person who destroys me. On the 
 contrary, no woman can excel my wife in the 
 simplicity of her dress, the humility of her de- 
 sires, or the contented easiness of her nature. 
 What name, Sir, shall I give to my misfortunes ? 
 They proceed not from vice, nor even from fol- 
 ly ; they proceed from too tender a heart ; a heart 
 that hurries away, or absorbs aU judgment and 
 reflection. To call these errors the fruits of 
 good nature, is too mild a definition : and yet to 
 give them a harsher appellation, is unkind. Let 
 me suffer what I will, I must kiss the dear hand 
 that ruins me. 
 
 In my tender hours of specxilation I would 
 willingly impute my wife's faults to our climate, 
 and the natural disposition of our natives. 
 When the English are good-natured, they are 
 generally so to excess : and as I have not seen 
 this jmrticular character delineated in any of 
 your papers, I have endeavoured to paint it my- 
 self : and shall draw to the conclusion of my 
 letter by one piece of advice, — Not to be gene- 
 rous over-much. The highest acts of generosity 
 are seldom repaid in any other coin but baseness 
 and ingratitude ; and we ought ever to remem- 
 ber, that, out of ten lepers cleansed, " one only 
 came back to retui-n thanks ; the rest were made 
 whole, and went their way." 
 
 I am Sir, yom* most humble Servant, 
 
 TiMON OF London. 
 
 
 No. 99.] Thursday, Dec. 18, 1755. 
 
 Da veniam, servirc tuis quod nolo Calendis. Mart. 
 Thy works, O Wing, O Partridge, I despise. 
 And Robin's for the poor, and Ryder's for the wisa 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 At this season of the year, while the streets re- 
 sound with the cry of new almanacks, and evei^j 
 stall is covered with news from the Stars, 
 Diaries, Predictions, Complete Epheraerides, 
 &c. drawn up by Partridge, Parker, Vincent 
 Wing, and the rest of the sagacious body cf 
 philomaths and astrologers, give me leave to ac- 
 quaint you of my intentions of appearing an- 
 nually in a like capacity. You must know. Sir, 
 that having observed, that among the great a'B- 
 riety of almanacks now published, there is not 
 one contrived for the use of people of fashion, I 
 have resolved to remedy this defect by publish- 
 ing one every year under the title of the Court 
 Calendar, calculated for the meridian of St. 
 James's. 
 
 The plan which has been hitherto followed by 
 our almanack-makers, can be of no use whatever 
 to the polite world, who are as widely separated, 
 in their manner of living, from the common 
 herd of people as the inhabitants of the anti- 
 podes. To know the exact rising and setting of 
 the sun, may sei've to direct the vulgar trades- 
 man and mechanic when to open shop or go to 
 work ; but persons of fashion whose hom-s are not 
 marked by the course of that luminary, are in- 
 different about its motions ! and, like those who 
 live under the eqviinoctial line, have their days 
 and nights of an equal degree of length all the 
 year round. The red-letter-days, pointed out in 
 our common almanacks, may perhaps be obser- 
 ved by some formal ladies, who regulate their 
 going to cluu'ch by them ; but people of quality 
 perceive no difference between the moveable or 
 immoveable feasts and fasts, and know no use of 
 Sunday, but as it serves to call them to the card- 
 table. What advantage can a beau reap from 
 Ryder's List of the Fairs, which can only be of 
 service to his groom ? Or what use can any gen- 
 tleman or lady make of those Diai'ies now in- 
 scribed to them, which are filled with algebra 
 and the mathematics ? In a word, the present 
 uncouth way of dividing the months into Saints' 
 days, Sundays, and the like, is no more adapted 
 to the present modes of polite life, than the Ro- 
 man division into Ides, Nones, and Calends. 
 
 Instead of supposing, Avitli the vulgar tribe of 
 astronomers, that the day begins at sunrise, my 
 day, which will commence at the time that it 
 usually brc-iks in fasliionable apartments will be 
 determined by the rising of people of quality. 
 Thus the morning dawns with early risers be- 
 tween eleven and twelve ; and noon commences 
 at four, when, at this time of the year, the din- 
 ner ai)d wax-lights come in together. For want of 
 a thorough knowledge of the distribution of the 
 day, all who have any connection witli the polite 
 world might be guilty of many mistakes : and 
 when an honest man fi'om Cornhill intcndod a 
 
No. 100.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 169 
 
 nobleman a visit after dinner, he would perhaps 
 find him sipping his moi'ning chocolate. The in- 
 conveniences of the old style in our manner of 
 reckoning the days were so manifest, that it was 
 thought proper to amend them by act of parlia- 
 ment. 1 am resolved, in like manner, to intro- 
 duce the new style of dividing the hours into my 
 almanacks : for can any thing be more absurd 
 than to fix the name of morning, noon, and 
 evening, at present on the same hours, which 
 bore those appeliations in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth ! A dutchess is so far from dining at 
 eleven that it often happens, that her Grace has 
 not then opened her eyes on the tea-table ; and 
 a maid of honour would no more rise at five or 
 six in the morning, as it was called by the early 
 dames in Queen Bess's court, than she would, 
 in imitation of those dames, breakfast upon 
 strong beer and beef-steaks. Indeed, in those 
 houses, where the hours of quality are observed 
 by one part of the family, the impolite irregu- 
 larity of the other, in adhering to the old style, 
 occasions great disturbance ; for, as Lady 
 Townly says, "such a house is worse than an 
 inn with ten stage coaches. What between the 
 impertinent people of business in a morning, 
 and the intolerable thick shoes of footmen at 
 noon, one has not a wink of sleep all night." 
 
 The reformation which I have also made in 
 respect to the red-letter-days is no less consider- 
 able. I have not only wiped away that im- 
 mense catalogue of saints, which crowd the 
 Popish calendar, but have also blotted out all 
 the other saints, that still retain their places in 
 our common almanacks : well knowing that 
 persons of fashion pay as little attention to the 
 apostles and evangelists, as to St. Mildred, St. 
 Bridget; or St. Winifred. Indeed, I retain the 
 old name of St. John, because I am sure that 
 people of quality will not think of any body's 
 being designed under that title, except the late 
 Bolingbroke. Having thus discarded the 
 saints, people whom nobody knows, I have 
 taken care to introduce my readers into the best 
 company: for the red-letters in my calendar 
 will serve to distinguish those days, on which 
 ladies of the first fashion keep their routs and 
 visiting days : a work of infinite use, as well to 
 the persons of distinction themselves, as to all 
 those who have any intercourse with the polite 
 world. That season of the year, commonly dis- 
 tinguished by the appellation of Lent, which 
 implies a time of fasting, I shall consider, ac- 
 cording to its real signification in the beau 
 monde, as a yearly festival ; and shall, therefore, 
 mention it under the denomination of the Car- 
 nival. The propriety of this will be evident at 
 first sight ; since nothing is so plain as that, at 
 this season, all kinds of diversion and jollity are 
 at their height in this metropolis. Instead of 
 the Man and the Almanack, I at first intended 
 (in imitation of Mr. Dodsley's memorandum 
 
 book) to delineate the figure of a fine gentle- 
 man, dressed a la mode : but I was at length 
 determined, by the advice of some ingenious 
 friends, to sufi'er the old picture to remain 
 there : since, as it appears to be run through 
 the body in several places, it may not impro- 
 perly represent that fashionable character, 3 
 duellist. 
 
 In the place which is allotted in other almai^ 
 nacks for the change of weather, (as hail, frost, 
 snow, cloudy, and the like) I shall set down the 
 change of dress, appropriated to different sea- 
 sons, and ranged under the titles of hats, capu- 
 chins, cardinals, sacks, negligees, gause hand- 
 kerchiefs, ermine tippets, muffs, &c. and in a 
 parallel column (according to the custom of 
 other almanacks) I shall point out the several 
 parts of the body affected by these changes ; 
 such as head, neck, breast, shoulders, face, 
 hands, feet, legs, &c. And as Mr. Ryder ac- 
 companies every month with seasonable cau- 
 tions about sowing turnips, raising cabbages, 
 blood-letting, and the like important articles, I 
 shall give such directions, as are most suitable 
 to the beau monde ; as a specimen of which I 
 shall beg leave to lay before you the following 
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE MONTH OF MAY. 
 
 If the season proves favourable, it will be 
 proper at the beginning of this month to attend 
 to the cultivation of our public gardens. Trim 
 your trees, put your walks in order, look to 
 your lamps, have ballads written, and set to 
 music for the ensuing summei'. Ladies and 
 gentlemen must be careful not to catch cold in 
 crossing the water, or by exposing themselves to 
 the damp air in the dark walk at Vauxhall. 
 
 Towai'ds the middle of this month the air at 
 both play-houses will begin to be too close and 
 sultry for ladies that paint, to risk the loss of 
 their complexion in them. 
 
 About the end of this month it will be expe- 
 dient for those ladies, who are apt to be hysteri- 
 cal when the town empties, to prepare for their 
 removal to Tunbridge, Cheltenham, and Scar- 
 borough, for the benefit of the waters. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
 
 W. TYCHO COURTLY. 
 
 No. 100.] Thursday, Dec. 26, 1755. 
 
 Ilicet parasitiae arti maximam in malam cnicem ! 
 
 Abeo ab illis, postqiiam video me sic ludificarier. 
 
 Per go ad alios : venio ad alios : deinde ad alios ; una ret. 
 
 PtAlTT. 
 
170 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 100. 
 
 Let Tyburn take the flatterers and their aits ; 
 To fools a maygame J, a man of parts : 
 Pull'd by the nose by one ; I'm kick'd by t'other ; 
 And each sworn fool, I swear, has his sworn brother. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I AM one of those idle people (of whom you 
 have lately given an account) who, not being 
 bred to any business, or able to get a livelihood 
 by work, have taken up the servile trade of a 
 hanger-on. But as you have only just touched 
 on the many dangers and difficulties incident to 
 this way of life, in ordei- to illustrate this part 
 of the character, give me leave to present you 
 with a narrative of my own adventures. 
 
 I first served my time with an old nobleman 
 in the country ; and as I was a distant relation 
 of his lordship's, I was admitted to the honour 
 of attending him in the double capacity of valet 
 and apothecary. My business in the morning 
 was to wait on him at dressing time : to hold 
 the bason while he washed his hands, buckle his 
 shoes, and tie on his neck-cloth : besides which, 
 his lordship had such a regard for me, that no- 
 body but myself was ever trusted with cutting 
 his corns, or pairing his toe-nails ; and when- 
 ever he was sick, it was always my office to hold 
 his head during the operation of an emetic, to 
 attend him in the water-closet when he took a 
 cathartic, and sometimes to administer a clyster. 
 If his lordship had no company, I was, indeed, 
 permitted to sit at table with him; but when 
 he received any visitors more grand than ordi- 
 nary, I was equipped (together with some of 
 the best looking tenants) in a tie-wig, full-trim- 
 med coat, and laced waistcoat, in order to swell 
 the retinue of his servants out of livery. I bore 
 my slavery with the greatest degree of patience, 
 as my lord would often hint to me, that I was 
 provided for in his will : however, I had the 
 mortification to find myself supplanted in his 
 good graces by the chaplain, who had always 
 looked upon me as his rival, and contrived at 
 length to out- wheedle, out-fawn, and out-cringe 
 me. In a word, my lord died : — and while the 
 chaplain (who constantly prayed by him during 
 his last illness) had the consolation of having a 
 good benefice secured to him in the will, my 
 name was huddled among those of the common 
 servants, with no higher legacy than twenty 
 guineas to buy mourning. 
 
 With this small pittance (besides what I had 
 made a shift to squeeze out of the tenants and 
 tradesmen, as fees for my good word, when I 
 had his lordship's ear) I came up to town, and 
 embarked all I was worth in fitting myself out 
 as a gentleman. Soon after, as good luck would 
 have it, the nephew and heir of my old lord 
 came from abroad, when I contrived to get into 
 his favour by abusing his deceased uncle, and 
 fastened myself upon him. It is true, he sup- 
 
 ported me ; admitted me into an equal share 
 of his purse ; but considering the dangers to 
 which I was constantly exposed on his account, 
 I regarded his bounties as only plasters to my 
 sores. My head, back, and ribs, have received 
 many a payment, which should have been placed 
 to his lordship's account : and I once narrowly 
 escaped being hanged for murdering a poor fel- 
 low, whom my lord in a frolic had run through 
 the body. My patron, among other marks of 
 his taste, kept a mistress ; and I, as his parti- 
 cular crony and a man of honour, was allowed 
 to visit her. It happened, one evening, he un- 
 luckily surprised us in some unguarded familia- 
 rities together ; but my lord was so far from be- 
 ing enraged at it, that he only turned madam 
 down stairs, and very coolly kicked me down 
 after her. 
 
 I was now thrown upon the wide world again ; 
 but as 1 never wanted assurance, I soon made 
 myself very familiarly acquainted with a young 
 gentleman from Ireland, who was just come 
 over to England to spend his estate here. I 
 must own, I had some difficulty in keeping on 
 good terms with this new friend ; as I had so 
 many of his own countrymen to contend with, 
 who all claimed a right of acquaintance with 
 him, and some of them even pretended to be re- 
 lated to him. Besides, they all persuaded the 
 young squire, that they had fortunes in different 
 parts of Ireland ; though not one of them had 
 any real estate more than myself: and, indeed, 
 I also had a nominal £1500. per ann. in the 
 West Indies. These furious fellows (for. Sir, 
 they would all fight) gave me much trouble: 
 however, I found out my young friend's foible, 
 and in spite of his countrymen became his in- 
 separable companion. He was not only very 
 fond of women, but had a particular passion for 
 new faces; and to humour this inclination, I 
 was perpetually on the look out to discover fresh 
 pieces for him. I brought him mantuamakers, 
 milliners, and servant maids in abundance ; and 
 at length grew so great a favourite, by having 
 prevailed on one of my own cousins to comply 
 with his proposals, that I verily believe he would 
 soon have made me easy for life in a handsome 
 annuity, if he had not been unfortunately run 
 through the body in a duel by one of his own 
 countrymen. 
 
 I next got into favour with an old colonel of 
 the guards, who happened to take a fancy to me 
 one evening at the Tilt-yard coffee-house, for 
 having carried off a pint bumper more than a 
 lieutenant of a man of war, that had challenged 
 my toast. As his sole delight -was centered in 
 the bottle, all he required of me was to drink 
 glass for glass with him ; which I readily com- 
 plied with, as he always paid my reckoning. 
 When sober, he was the best humoured man in 
 the world ; but he was very apt to be quarrel- 
 some and extremely mischievous when in liquor. 
 
No. 101.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 171 
 
 He has more than once flung a bottle at my 
 head, and emptied the contents of a bowl of 
 punch in ray face : sometimes he has divei'ted 
 himself by setting fire to my ruffles, shaking the 
 ashes of his pipe over my periwig, or making 
 a thrust at me with the red-hot poker : and I 
 remember he once soused me all over with the 
 urine of the whole company, by clapping a large 
 pewter Jordan topsy-turvy upon my head. All 
 these indignities I very patiently put up with, 
 as he was sure to make me double amends for 
 them the next morning : and I was very near 
 procuring a commission in the army through his 
 interest, when, to my great disappointment, he 
 was suddenly carried off by an apoplexy. 
 
 You will be surprised when 1 tell you, that I 
 next contrived to squeeze myself into the good 
 opinion of a I'ich old curmudgeon, a city mer- 
 chant, and one of the circumcised. He could 
 have no objection to my religion, as I used to 
 spend every Sunday with him at his country- 
 house, where I preferred playing at cards to go- 
 ing to church. Nor could I, indeed, get any 
 thing out of him beyond a dinner: but I had 
 higher points in view. As he had nobody to in- 
 herit his fortune but an only daughter, (who was 
 kept always in the country) I became so des- 
 perately in love with her, that I would even 
 have turned Jew to obtain her : but instead of 
 that, 1 very foolishly made a Christian of her ; 
 and we were privately married at the Fleet. 
 When I came to break the matter to the father, 
 and to make an apology for having converted 
 her, he received me with a loud laugh. " Sir," 
 says he, "if my child had mari-ied the devil, he 
 should have had every penny that was her due. 
 But, as she is only my bastard, the law cannot 
 oblige me to give her a farthing." 
 
 This I found to be too true : and very happily 
 for me, my Christian wife had so little regard 
 for her new religion, that she again became an 
 apostate, and was taken into keeping, (to which I 
 readily gave my consent) by one of her own tribe 
 and complexion. I shall not tire you with a 
 particular detail of what has happened to me 
 since : I shall only acquaint you that I have ex- 
 actly followed the precept of "becoming all 
 things to all men." I was once supported very 
 splendidly by a youUj^ rake of quality for my wit 
 in talking blasphemy, and ridiculing the Bible, 
 till my patron shot himself through the head : 
 and I lived at bed and board with an old me- 
 thodist lady for near a twelvemonth, on account 
 of my zeal for the new doctrine, till one of the 
 maid servants wickedly laid a child to me. At 
 present, Mr. Town, I am quite out of employ ; 
 having just lost a very profitable place, which I 
 held under a great man in quality of his pimp. 
 My disgrace was owing to the baseness of an 
 old Covent-garden acquaintance, whom I palm- 
 ed upon his honour for an innocent creature just 
 come out of the cuontry : but the hussy was so 
 
 ungrateful as to bestow on both of us convincing 
 marks of her thorough knowledge of the town. 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 Your very humble Servant, 
 Peter Supple. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I have a little god-daughter in the country, to 
 whom I every year send some diverting and in- 
 structive book for a New- Year's gift : I would 
 therefore beg you to recommend to me one fit 
 for the purpose ; which will oblige. 
 
 Your humble Servant, 
 T W ., 
 
 TO MR. T- 
 
 SiR, 
 
 I know no book so fit for your purpose as the 
 Connoisseur, lately published in two pocket 
 volumes ; which I would further recommend to 
 all fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grand- 
 mothers, uncles and aunts, godfathers and god- 
 mothers, to give to their sons and daughters, 
 grandsons and granddaughters, nephews and 
 nieces, godsons and goddaughters ; — as being 
 undoubtedly the best present at this season of 
 the year, that can possibly be thought of. 
 
 TOWN, Connoisseur. 
 
 N. B. — Large allowance to those who buy quan- 
 tities to give away. T. 
 
 No. 101. ] Thursday, Jan. 1, 1736. 
 
 Janique bifrontis imago. lVirg. 
 
 In two-faced Janus we this moral find ; 
 While we look forward, we should look behind. 
 
 As the appointed time of our publication now 
 happens to fall on New- Year's day, I cannot 
 open the business of the year with a better grace, 
 than by taking the present hour for the subject 
 of this paper, — a subject, which pleases me the 
 more, as it also gives me an opportunity of pay- 
 ing my readers the compliments of the season, 
 and most sincerely wishing them all a happy 
 new year, and a great many of them. But, in 
 order to make these civilities of more consequence 
 than a bare compliment, I will also endeavour 
 to give them a little wholesome advice ; by which 
 they may be most likely to ensure to themselves 
 that happiness, and to go through the ensuing 
 year with ease and tranquillity. 
 
 No god in the Heathen Pantheon was ex- 
 pressed by more proper emblems, or more mag- 
 nificently represented than Janus ; whom we 
 may fairly style, in our language, the god of the 
 new year. The medals on which the image of 
 this deity was engraved, bore two faces, not 
 
172 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 101. 
 
 ogling each other like those on the shillings of 
 Philip and Mary, nor cheek by jowl like the 
 double visage on the coin of William and Mary, 
 but turned from each other ; one looking for- 
 wards, as it were into futurity, and the other 
 taking a retrospective view of what was past. 
 There cannot be devised a stronger, or more sen- 
 sible lesson of moral instruction, than this figure 
 teaches us. This double view comprehends in 
 itself the sum of human prudence ; for the most 
 perfect i-eason can go no higher than wisely to 
 gtiess at the future, by reflecting on the past ; 
 and morality is never so likely to persevere in a 
 steady and uniform course, as when it sets out 
 ■with a fixed determination of mutually regulat- 
 ing the new year by a recollection of the old, 
 and at the same time making the succeeding a 
 comment on the last. 
 
 Most of the faults in the general conduct of 
 mankind, and their frequent miscarriages in 
 their most favourite enterprises, will be found, 
 upon examination, to I'esult from an imperfect 
 and partial view of what relates to their duty or 
 undertakings. Some regulate their actions by 
 blind guess, and rashly presuming on the futui'e, 
 without the least attention to the past. With 
 these the impetuosity of the passions gives their 
 reason no scope to exert itself, but neglecting the 
 premises, they jump to a conclusion. Others, 
 who are often taken for men of deep reflection 
 and marvellous understanding, meditate so pro- 
 foundly on the past, that they scarce take any 
 notice either of the present or the future. To 
 these two characters, Avhose misconduct arises 
 from two such contrary sources, may indeed be 
 added a third, whose wild irregular behaviour 
 is founded on no fixed principles, but proceeds 
 from a total absence of thought and reflection. 
 These easy creatures act entirely at random, 
 neither troubling themselves with what has 
 been, what is, or what will be ; and, as the 
 image of Janus seems to bear two heads, these 
 thoughtless vacant animals may almost be said 
 to have no head at all. 
 
 But that the necessity of taking this compre- 
 hensive view of our affairs may appear in the 
 stronger light, let us consider the many difficul- 
 ties, in which men of any of the above charac- 
 ters are involved, from a total neglect or partial 
 survey of matters that should influence their 
 conduct. The first sort of men, who nourish 
 great expectations from the future, and suffer 
 hope to lay their prudence to sleep, are very 
 common ; indeed, almost every man, like the 
 dairy-maid with her pail of milk, pleases him- 
 self with calculating the advantages he shall 
 reap from his undertakings. There is scarce a 
 servitor at cither university, who, when he takes 
 orders, does not think it more than possible he 
 may one day be a bishop, or at least head of a 
 college, though perhaps at first he is glad to snap 
 Ut a curacy. Every walking attendant on our 
 
 hospitals flatters himself that a few years will 
 settle him in high practice and a chariot : and 
 among those few gentlemen of the inns of court, 
 who really deserve the name of students, there 
 is hardly one who sits down to Lord Coke with- 
 out imagining that he may himself, some time 
 or other, be Lord Chancellor. At this early 
 period of life these vain hopes may perhaps serve 
 as spurs to diligence and virtue ; but what shall 
 we say to those people, who in spite of experi- 
 ence and repeated disappointments, still place 
 their chief dependence on groundless expecta- 
 tions from their future fortune? This town 
 swarms with people who rely almost solely on 
 contingencies : and our gaols are often filled 
 with wretches, who brought on their own po- 
 verty and misfortunes, by promising themselves 
 great profit from some dai-ling scheme, which 
 has at last been attended with bankruptcy. The 
 present extravagance of many of our spend- 
 thrifts is built on some ideal riches, of which 
 they are soon to be in possession ; and which 
 they are laying out as freely as the girl in the 
 farce squanders the ten thousand pounds she 
 was to get in the lottery. I am myself acquaint- 
 ed with a young fellow, who had great expecta- 
 tions from an old uncle. He had ten thousand 
 pounds of his own in ready money; and as the 
 old gentleman was of an infirm constitution, 
 and turned of sixty, the nephew very consider- 
 ately computed, that his uncle could hardly last 
 above five years, dui'ing which time he might go 
 on very genteelly at the rate of £2000 per ann. 
 However the old gentleman held together above 
 seven years, the last two of which our young 
 spark had no consolation, but the daily hopes of 
 his uncle's death. The happy hour at length 
 arrived ; the will was tore open with raptm-e ; 
 when, alas ! the fond youth discovered, that he 
 had never once reflected that though he had a 
 ticket in the wheel, it might possibly come up a 
 blank, and had the mortification to find himself 
 disinherited. 
 
 I shall not dwell so particularly on the ridicu- 
 lous folly of those profound speculatists, who fix 
 their attention entirely on what is past, without 
 making their reflections of service either for the 
 present or the futui'e, because it is not a very 
 common or tempting species of absurdity ; but 
 shall rather advise the reader to consider the 
 time pastas the school of experience, from which 
 he may draw the most useful lessons for his fu- 
 tui'e conduct. This kind of reti'ospect would 
 teach us to provide with foresight against the 
 calamities to which our inexperience has hitherto 
 exposed us, though at the same time it would 
 not throw us so far back, as to keep us lagging, 
 like the old style, behind the rest of the world. 
 To say the truth, those sage persons who are 
 given to such deep reflection, as to let to-day aud 
 to-mori*ow pass unregarded by meditating on 
 yesterday, are as ridiculous in their conduct ;i3 
 
No. 102.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 173 
 
 country beaux in their dress, wlio adopt the 
 town modes, just after they are become unfash- 
 ionable in London. 
 
 But there is no task so diflScult, as to infuse 
 ideas into a brain hitherto entirely unaccus- 
 tomed to thinking : for how can we w^arn a man 
 to avoid the misfortunes which may hereafter 
 befall him, or to improve by the calamities he 
 has already suffered, whose actions are not the 
 result of thought, or guided by experience? 
 These persons are, indeed, of all others, the 
 most to be pitied. They are prodigal and aban- 
 doned in their conduct, and by vicious excesses 
 ruin their constitution, till at length poverty 
 and death stare them in the face at the same 
 time ; or if, unfortunately, their crazy frame 
 holds together after the utter desti'uction of their 
 fortune, they finish a thoughtless life by an act 
 of desperation, and a pistol puts an end to tbeii' 
 miseries. 
 
 Since, then, good fortune cannot be expected 
 to fall into our laps, and it requires some 
 thought to ensure to ourselves a likelihood of 
 success in our undertakings, let us look back 
 with attention on the old year, and gather in- 
 structions from it in what manner to conduct 
 oui'seh'es through the new. Let us also endea- 
 vour to draw from it a lesson of morality : and 
 I hope it will not be thought too solemn a con- 
 clusion of this paper, if I advise my readers to 
 carry this i-eflection even into religion. This 
 train of thought, that teaches us at once to re- 
 flect on the past, and look forward to the future, 
 will also naturally lead us to look up with awe 
 and admiration towards that Being who has 
 existed from all eternity, and shall exist 
 world without end. No consideration can 
 give us a more exalted idea of the Power 
 who first created us, and whose providence is al- 
 ways over us. Let us then consider with at- 
 tention this pagan image, by which we may 
 add force to our morality, and prudence to 
 our ordinary conduct ; nor let us blush to re- 
 ceive a lesson from Heathens, which may ani- 
 mate our zeal and reverence for the Author of 
 Christianity. O. 
 
 No. 102.] Thursday, Jan. 8, 1756. 
 
 -Pater! necjumpater- 
 
 O shame to ancestry ! his Grace's son 
 Owes his vile birth to Harry or to John. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 It has been my good fortime to be born of a fa- 
 mily that is recorded in the Herald's dictionary 
 as one of the most ancient in the kingdom. We 
 are supposed to have come into England with 
 
 William the Conqueror. Upon my accession, 
 some years ago, to my elder brother's estate 
 and title of a Baronet, I reqeived a visit from 
 Rouge Dragon, Esq. Pursuivant at Arms to 
 congratulate me upon my new rank of a 
 Vavasour, and to know whether I should 
 choose to bear the Dexter Base Points of the 
 Lady Isabel's Saltire in Chief, or only her Si- 
 nister Comers, she being one of the seventeen 
 coheiresses of my great great great great great 
 grandfather's fourth wife Dort)thy, the daugh- 
 ter and sole heiress of Simon de la Frogpool of 
 Croakham in Suffolk. This unexpected visit 
 must have disconx^erted me to an invincible de- 
 gree, if upon recollection I had not only remem- 
 bered Mr. Rouge Dragon as a constant com- 
 panion to my late brother, but as a kind of 
 tutor, in initiating him into the science of 
 heraldry, and the civil and military achieve- 
 ments, to which our nobility and gentry are en- 
 titled. As soon, therefore, as I could recover 
 myself from my first surprise, in hearing an 
 unknown English language, I humbly thanked 
 Mr. Dragon for the pains he had taken in eon- 
 sidering my coat of arms so minutely; but 
 hoped he woidd give himself no further trouble 
 upon my account, because I was fully deter- 
 mined to bear the plain shield of my grandfa- 
 ther Peter, without taking the least notice of 
 Lady Isabel's Saltire in Chief or even of her 
 Sinister Comers. 
 
 Be it to my shame or not, I must confess that 
 heraldry is a science which I have never much 
 cultivated; nor do I find it very prevalent 
 among the fashionable studies of the age. Arms 
 and armorial tokens may, I suppose, be regu- 
 larly distinguished, and properly emblazoned, 
 upon the family plate to which they belong : 
 but I have observed of late, that these honoura- 
 ble ensigns are not confined entirely to theii* 
 proper owners, but are usm-ped by every body 
 Avho thinks fit to take them ; insomuch that 
 there is scai'ce a hackney coach in London which 
 is not in possession of a ducal crest, an earl's 
 coronet, or a baronet's bloody hand. This, in- 
 deed, has often given me great offence, as it re- 
 flects a scandal on our nobility and gentry ; and 
 I cannot but think it very indecent for a duke's 
 coach to be seen waiting at a night-cellar, or for 
 a countess's landau to set down ladies at the 
 door of a common bawdy-house. I remember 
 I was one morning disturbed at my breakfast by 
 a fashionable rap at my door ; when looking out 
 of my window, I saw the coach of the Lady 
 Dowager drawn up before it. I was ex- 
 tremely surprised at so early and unexpected a 
 visit from her ladyship ; and while I was pre- 
 paring to receive her, I overheard her ladyship 
 at high words with her coachman in my entry. 
 When stepping to the staircase, I found that the 
 coachman and her ladyship, represented iu the 
 person of one of my house-maids, were squah- 
 
174 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 102. 
 
 bJing together about sixpence. This badge of 
 nobility, assumed at random according to the 
 fancy of the coach-painter, I have found incon- 
 venient on other occasions : for 1 once travelled 
 from London to Derby in a hired chariot, finely 
 ornamented with a viscount's cypher and coro- 
 net ; by which noble circumstances 1 was com- 
 pelled in everj inn to pay as a lord, though I 
 was not at that time even a simple baronet, or 
 (in the language of my friend Mr. Dragon) ar- 
 rived to the dignity of a Vavasour. 
 
 I have sometimes doubted, whether nobility 
 and high rank are of that real advantage which 
 they are generally esteemed to be ; and I am al- 
 most inclined to think that they answer no de- 
 sirable end, but as far as they indulge our vanity 
 and ostentation. A long I'oll of ennobled an- 
 cestors makes, I confess, a very allm'ing appear- 
 ance. To see coronet after coronet passing before 
 our view in an uninterrupted succession, is the 
 most soothing prospect that perhaps can present 
 itself to the eye of human pride : the exaltation 
 that we feel upon such a review, takes rise in a 
 visionary and secret piece of flattery, that as 
 glorious, and as long, or even a longer line of 
 future coronets may spring from ourselves, as 
 have descended from our ancestors. We read in 
 Virgil, that Anchises, to inspire his son with 
 the properest incitement to virtue, shows him a 
 long race of kings, emperors, and heroes, to 
 whom ^.neas is fore-doomed to give their ori- 
 gin ; and the misery of Macbeth is made by 
 Shakspeai'e to proceed, less from the conscious- 
 ness of guilt, than from the disappointed pride, 
 that none of his own race shall succeed him in 
 the throne. 
 
 The pride of ancestry, and the desire of con- 
 tinuing our lineage, when they tend to an 
 incitement of virtuous and noble actions, are 
 undoubtedly laudable ; and I should, perhaps, 
 have indulged myself in the pleasing reflection, 
 had not a particular story in a French novel, 
 which I lately met with, put a stop to all vain 
 glories, that can possibly be deduced from a long 
 race of progenitors. 
 
 " A nobleman of an ancient house, of very 
 high rank and great fortune, (says the novelist) 
 died suddenly, and without being permitted to 
 stop at purgatory, was sent down immediately 
 into hell. He had not been long there, before 
 he met with his coachman Thomas, who like 
 his noble master was gnashing his teorh among 
 thfc damned. Thomas, surprised to behold hh 
 lordship amidst the shai-pers, thieves, pick- 
 pockets, and all the canaille of hell, started and 
 cried out in a tone of admiration, ' Is it possi- 
 ble, that I see my late master among Lucifer's 
 tribe of beggars, rogues, and pilferers ! How 
 much am I astonished to find your lordship in 
 this place ! Your lordshi-p ! whose generosity 
 was so great, whose affluent housekeeping drew 
 such crowds of nobility gentry, and friends to 
 
 your table, and within your gates, and whose 
 fine taste employed such numbers of poor in 
 your gardens, by building temples and obelisks, 
 and by forming lakes of water, that seemed to 
 ^ie with the largest oceans of the creation ! 
 Pray, my lord, if I may be so bold, what crime 
 has brought your lordship into this cursed as- 
 sembly ?' — ' Ah, Thomas,' replied his lordship, 
 with his usual condescension, ' I have been 
 sent hither for having defrauded my royal mas- 
 ter, and cheating the widows and fatherless, 
 solely to enrich and purchase titles, honours, 
 and estates for that ungrateful rascal, my only 
 son. But prithee, Thomas, tell me, as thou 
 didst always seem to be an honest, careful, sober 
 servant, what brought thee hither ?' * Alas ! 
 my noble lord,' replied Thomas, * I was sent 
 hither for begetting that son.' " 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 Reginald Fitzworm. 
 
 I must agree with my correspondent, that the 
 study of heraldry is at present in very little re- 
 pute among us ; and our nobility are more anxi- 
 ous about preserving the genealogy' of their 
 horses, than of their own family. Whatever value 
 theii' progenitors may have formerly set upon 
 their blood, it is now found to be of no Aalue, 
 when put into the scale and weighed against 
 solid plebeian gold : nor would the most illus- 
 trious descendant from Cadwallader, or the 
 Irish kings, scruple to deljase his lineage by an 
 alj'iance with the daughter of a city-plum, 
 though all her ancestors were yeomen, and 
 none of her family ever bore anns. Titles of 
 quality, Avlien the owners have no other merit 
 to recommend them, are of no more estimation, 
 than those which the courtesy of the vulgar 
 have bestowed on the deformed : and when I 
 look over a long tree of descent, I sometimes 
 fancy I can discover the real characters of 
 sharpers, reprobates, and plunderers of their 
 country, concealed under the titles of dukes, 
 earls, and viscounts. 
 
 It is well known, that the very servants, in 
 the absence of their masters, assume the same 
 titles ; and Tom or Harry, the footman or 
 groom of his Grace, is always my Lord Duke 
 in the kitchen or stables. For this reason, I 
 have thought ])roper to present my reader with 
 the pedigi'ee of a footman, drawn up in the 
 same sounding titles, as are so pompously dis- 
 l»layed on these occasions : and I dare say, it 
 will appear no less illustrious, than the pedi- 
 grees of many families, which are neither cele- 
 brated for their actions, nor distinguished by 
 their virtues. 
 
 The family of the Skips, or Skipkenn^ls, is 
 very ancient and noble. The founder of it, IMaitre 
 Jaques, came into I'2ngland with the Dutchess 
 of Mazarine. He was son of a prince of the blood, 
 his mother one of the ^fesda})U•s of France : this 
 
No. 103.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 175 
 
 family is therefore related to the most illus- 
 trious Maitres (T Hotel and Valets de Chambre 
 of that kingdom. Jacques had issue two sous, 
 riz. Robert and Paul; of whom Paul, the 
 youngest, was invested with the purple before 
 he was eighteen, and made a bishop, and soon 
 after became an archbishop. Robert, the elder, 
 came to be a duke, but died without issue : Paul, 
 the archbishop, left behind him an only daugh- 
 ter, Bai'bara, base-born, who was afterwards 
 maid of honour ; and intermarrying with a lord 
 of the bed-chamber, had a very numerous issue 
 by him ; viz. Rebecca, born a week after their 
 marriage, and died young ; Joseph, first a squire, 
 afterwards knighted, high sheriff of a county, 
 and colonel of the militia ; Peter, raised from a 
 cabin boy to a lord of the admiralty ; William, 
 a faggot in the first regiment of the guards, and 
 a brigadier; Thomas, at first an earl's eldest 
 son, and afterwards a brewer and lord mayor of 
 the city of London. The several branches of 
 this family were no less distinguished for their 
 illustrious progeny. Jacques, the founder, first 
 quartered lace on his coat, and Robert added the 
 shoulder knot. Some of them, indeed, met with 
 great trouble : Archbishop Paul lost his see for 
 getting a cook- maid with child; Barbara, the 
 maid of honour, was dismissed with a big belly; 
 brigadier William was killed by a chairman in 
 a pitched battle at an ale-house ; the lord of the 
 admiralty was transported for seven years, and 
 duke Robert had the misfortune to be hanged 
 at Tyburn. 
 
 No. 103.] Thursday, Jan. 15, 1756. 
 
 NiJiil videiur mundius. 
 
 Ter. 
 
 The house so neat, so nice within, 
 'Tis pity we should enter in. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I AM married to a lady of a very nice and deli- 
 cate disposition, who is cried up by all the good 
 women of her acquaintance, for being the neat- 
 est body in her house they ever knew. This, Sir, 
 is my gi'ievance : this extraordinary neatness is 
 so very troublesome and disgusting to me, that 
 I protest I had rather lodge in a carrier's inn, 
 or take up my abode with the horses in the 
 stables. 
 
 It must be confessed, that a due regard to 
 neatness and cleanliness is as necessary to be ob- 
 served in our habitations as our persons : but 
 though I should not choose to have my hands be- 
 grimmed like a chimney-sweeper's, I would not, 
 like the superstitious Mahometans ivash them 
 
 six times a day : and though I should be loth to 
 roll in a pig-stye, yet I do not like to have my 
 house rendered useless to me under the pretence 
 of keeping it clean. 
 
 For my own part, I cannot see the difference 
 between having a house that is always dirty, and 
 a house that is always to be cleaned. I could 
 very willingly compound to be washed out of 
 my home, with other masters of families, every 
 Saturday night : but my wife is so very notable, 
 that the same cleansing work must be repeated 
 every day in the week. All the moi-ning long 
 I am sure to be entertained with the domestic 
 concert of scrubbing the floors, scoui'ing the 
 irons, and beating the carpets, and I am con- 
 stantly hunted from room to room, while one is 
 to be dusted, another dry-rubbed, another wash- 
 ed, and another run over with a dry mop. Thus, 
 indeed, I may be said to live in continual dirti- 
 ness, that my house may be clean : for during 
 these nice operations every apartment is stowed 
 with soap, brick-dust, sand, scrubbing-brushes, 
 hair-brooms, rag-mops, and dishclouts. 
 
 You may suppose, that the greatest care is 
 taken to prevent the least speck of dirt from 
 soiling the floors. For this reason, all that come 
 to our house, (besides the ceremony of scraping 
 at the door,) ai'e obliged to rub their shoes for 
 half an hour on a large ragged mat at the en- 
 trance ; and then they must straddle their way 
 along several lesser mats, ranged at due distances 
 from each other in the passage, and (like boys at 
 play) come into the room with a hop, a step, 
 and a jump. The like caution is used by all the 
 family : I myself am scarce allowed to stir a 
 step without slippers ; my wife creeps on tip- 
 toe up and down stairs ; the maid-servants are 
 continually stumping below in clogs or pattens; 
 and the footman is obliged to sneak about the 
 house barefooted, as if he came with a sly design 
 to steal something. 
 
 After what has been said, you will naturally 
 conclude, that my wife must be.no less nice in 
 other particulars. But, as it is observed by 
 Swift, that " a nice man is a man of nasty 
 ideas," in like manner we may affirm, that your 
 very neat people are the most slovenly on many 
 occasions. They cannot conceive, that any 
 thing which is done by such delicate persons can 
 possibly give offence. I have, therefore, often 
 been in pain for my wife, when 1 have seen her, 
 before company, dust the tea-cups with a foul 
 apron or a washing gown ; and I have more 
 than once blushed for her, when, through her 
 extreme cleanliness, she has not been contented 
 without breathing into our drinking-glasses, 
 and afterwards wiping them with her pocket- 
 handkerchief. People, Mr. Town, who are 
 not very intimate with families seldom see them 
 (especially the female part) but in disguise : and 
 it will be readily allowed, that a lady wears a 
 
176 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. I OS. 
 
 very different aspect, when she comes before 
 company, than when she first sits down to her 
 toilet. My wife appears decent enough in her 
 apparel, to those w^ho risit us in the afternoon ; 
 but in the morning she is quite another figure. 
 Her usual dishabille then is, an ordinary stuff 
 jacket and petticoat, a double clout thrown over 
 her head and pinned under her chin, a black 
 greasy bonnet, and a coarse dowlas apron ; so 
 that you would rather take her for a char-wo- 
 man. Nor, indeed, does she scruple to stoop to 
 the meanest drudgery of such an occupation; 
 for so great is her love of cleanliness, that I have 
 often seen her on her knees scouring the hearth, 
 and spreading dabs of vinegar and fuller's earth 
 on the boards. 
 
 This extraordinary solicitude in my wife, for 
 the cleanliness of her rooms and the care and 
 preservation of her furniture, makes my house 
 entirely useless, and takes away all that ease and 
 familiarity, which is the chief comfort of one's 
 own home. I am obliged to make shift with 
 the most ordinary accommodations, that the 
 more handsome pieces of furniture may remain 
 unsoiled, and be always set out for show and 
 magnificence. I am never allowed to eat from 
 any thing better than a delft plate, that the eco- 
 nomy of the beaufait, Avhich is embellished with 
 a variety of china, may not be disarranged ; and, 
 indeed, my wife prides herself particularly on 
 her ingenious contrivance in this article, having 
 ranged among the rest some old china not fit for 
 use, but disposed in such a manner, as to conceal 
 the streakes of white paint that cement the brokeu 
 pieces together. I must drink my beer out of 
 an earthen mug, though a great quantity of plate 
 is constantly displayed on the side-board ; while 
 all the furniture, except when we have compa- 
 ny, is done up in paper, as if the family, to whom 
 it belongs, were gone into the country. In a 
 word, Sir, any thing that is decent and cleanly 
 is too good to be used for fear it should be 
 dirtied ; and I live with every convenience at 
 band, without the power of enjoying one of 
 them. I have elegant apartments, but am almost 
 afraid to enter them ; I have plate, china, and 
 the most genteel furniture, but must not use 
 them; which is as ridiculous an absurdity aud 
 almost as great a hardship, as if 1 had hands 
 without the power of moving them ; the organs 
 of sight, smell, taste, without being suffered to 
 exert them, and feet without being permitted 
 to walk. 
 
 Thus, Sir, this extravagant passion foi* clean- 
 liness, so predominant in my wife, keeps the 
 family in a perpetual state of muck and dirt; 
 and while we are surrounded with all necess.^- 
 rits, subjects us to every inconvenience. But 
 what makes it a still greater grievance is, that it 
 has been the ridiculous cause of many other mis- 
 fortunes. I have sometimes created her angc« 
 
 by littering the room with throwing mygartera 
 on a chair, or hanging my peruke on one of the 
 gilt sconces. Having once unluckily spilt a 
 bottle of ink on one of the best carpets, she was 
 irreconcileable for a month ; and J had scarce 
 brought her to temper again, when I most un- 
 fortunately ran against the footman, who was 
 entering with the dinner, and threw down a leg 
 of pork and pease-pudding on the parlour floor. 
 This superabundant neatness did once also very 
 nearly occasion my death ; for while I lay ill of 
 a fever, my delicate wife, thinking it would re- 
 fresh me, ordered my bed-chamber to be mop- 
 ped : and the same scrupulous nicety was also 
 the means of our losing a very considerable ad- 
 dition to our fortune. 
 
 A rich old uncle, on whom we had great de- 
 pendence, came up to town last summer on pur- 
 pose to pay us a visit ; but though he had rode 
 above sixty miles that day, he was obliged to 
 stand in the passage till his boots were pulled off, 
 for fear of soiling the Turkey carpet. After 
 supper, the old gentleman, as was his constant 
 practice, desired to have his pipe : but this you 
 may be sure could by no means be allowed, as 
 the filthy stench of the tobacco would never be 
 gotten out of the furniture again ; and it was 
 with much ado, that my wife would even suffer 
 him to go down and smoke in the kitchen. We 
 had no room to lodge him in, except a garret; 
 with nothing but bare walls ; because the chintz 
 bed-chamber was, indeed, too nice for a dirty 
 country squire. These slights very much cha- 
 grined my good uncle ; but he had not been with 
 us above a day or two, before my wife and he came 
 to an open quarrel on the following occasion. 
 It happened that he had brought a favourite 
 pointer with him, who at his first coming, was 
 immediately locked up in the coal-hole ; but the 
 dog having found means to escape, had crept 
 slyly up stairs, and (besides other marks of his 
 want of delicacy) had very calmly stretched him- 
 self out upon a crimson damask settee. My 
 wife not only sentenced him to the discipline of 
 the whip, but insisted upon having the criminal 
 hanged up afterwards ; when tlie master inter- 
 posing in his behalf, it produced such high 
 words between them, that my uncle ordered his 
 horse, and swore he would never darken our 
 doors again as long as he breathed. He went 
 home, and, about two months after, died : but 
 as he could not forget the ill treatment which 
 both he and his dog had met with at our house, 
 he had altered his will, which before he had 
 mad« entirely in our favom-. 
 
 I am, Sir, yours. &c. 
 
 T. Peter Plainalu 
 
No. 104,] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 17' 
 
 No. 104.1 Thursday, Jan. 22, 1756. 
 
 Actum est j Ilicet ; Peristi. 
 Ruin'd and undone ! 
 
 Tkr. 
 
 The use of language is the ready communication 
 of our thoughts to one another. As we cannot 
 produce the objects, which raise ideas in our 
 minds, we use words which are made signs of 
 those objects. No man could otherwise convey 
 to another the idea of a table or chair, without 
 pointing to those pieces of furniture — as children 
 are taught to remember the names of things by 
 looking at their pictures. Thus, if I wanted to 
 mention king Charles on horse-back, I must 
 c-arry my companion to Charing-cross ; and 
 would I next tell him of the statue of Sir John 
 Barnard, we must trudge back again, and he 
 must wait for my meaning till we get to the 
 Royal Exchange. We should be like the sages 
 of Laputa, who (as Gulliver tells us) having 
 substituted things for words, used to carry about 
 them such things as were necessary to express 
 the particular business they were to discourse 
 on. " I have often beheld (says he) two of those 
 sages almost sinking under the weight of their 
 packs, like pedlars among us : who, when they 
 meet in the streets, would lay down their loads, 
 open their sacks, and hold conversation for an 
 hour together ; then put up their implements, 
 help each other to resume their burthens, and 
 take their leave." In these circumstances, a 
 man of the fewest words could not, indeed, talk 
 without carrying about him a much larger ap- 
 paratus, than is contained in thebagof the noted 
 Yeates, or any other slight-of-hand artist : he 
 could not speak of a chicken or an owl, but it 
 must be ready in his pocket to be produced. In 
 such a case we could not say we heard, but we 
 saw the conversation of a friend ; as in the epis- 
 tolary correspondence, carried on by those pretty 
 hieroglyphic letters (as they are called,) where 
 the picture of a deer and a woman finely drest 
 is made to stand for the expression of dear 
 lady. 
 
 But the invention of words has removed 
 these difficulties; and ■we may talk not only of 
 any thing we have seen, but what neither we, 
 nor the persons to whom we speak ever saw. 
 Thus we can convey to another the idea of a 
 battle, without being reduced to the disagreeable 
 necessity of learning it from the cannon's mouth : 
 and we can talk of the people in the world of 
 the moon, without being obliged to make use of 
 Bishop Wilkins's artificial wings to fly thither. 
 Words, therefore, in the ordinary course of life, 
 are like the paper money among merchants ; 
 invented as a more ready conveyance, by which 
 the largest sum can be ti-ansmitted to the most 
 distant places with as much ease as a letter j 
 
 while the same in specie, would require bags 
 and chests, and even carts or ships to transport 
 it. But, however gi'eat these advantages are, 
 the use of language has brought along with it 
 several inconveniences, as well aspaper money ; 
 for as this latter is more liable to miscarry, more 
 easily concealed, carried off, or counterfeited 
 than bullion, merchants have frequent cause to 
 complain, that the convenience of this sort of 
 cash is not without its alloy of evil ; and we 
 find that in the use of language there is so much 
 room for deceit and mistake, that though it does 
 not render it useless, it is much to be wished 
 some remedy could be contrived. 
 
 Men are so apt to use the same words in 
 different senses, and call the same thing by 
 different names, that oftentimes they cannot 
 understand others, or be themselves under- 
 stood. If one calls that thing black which ano- 
 ther calls green, or that prodigality which ano- 
 ther calls generosity, they mistake each other's 
 meaning, and can never agree till they explain 
 the words. It is to this that we owe so much 
 wrangling in discourse, and so many volumes of 
 controversy on almost every part of literature. 
 I have known a dispute carried on with great 
 warmth, and when the disputants have come to 
 explain what each meant, it has been discovered 
 they were both of a side : like the men in the 
 play, who met and fought first, and, after each 
 had been heartily beaten, found themselves to be 
 friends. What should we say, if this practice 
 of calling things by a wrong name was to obtain 
 among tradesmen ? If you was to send to your 
 habei'dasher for a hat, j'ou might receive a pair 
 of stockings ; or instead of a cordial julep from 
 your apothecary, be furnished with a cathartic 
 or a clyster. 
 
 It would be needless to insist on the inconve- 
 niences arising from the misuse or misappre- 
 hension of terms in all verbal combats ; whether 
 they be fought on the spot by word of mouth, 
 or (like a game of chess) maintained, even though 
 lands and seas interpose, by the assistance of the 
 press. In our ordinary conversation it is noto- 
 rious, that no less confusion has arisen from the 
 wrong application or perversion of the original 
 and most natural import of words. I remember, 
 when I commenced author I published a little 
 pamphlet, which I flattered myself had some 
 merit, though I must confess it did not sell. 
 Conscious of my growing fame, I resolved to 
 send the first fruits of it to an uncle in the 
 cotintry, that my relations might judge of the 
 great honour I was likely to prove to the family : 
 but how was I mortified, when the good man 
 sent me word, " that he was sorry to find I had 
 ruined myself, and had wrote a book ; for the 
 parson of the parish had assured him, that au- 
 thors were never worth a farthing, and always 
 died in a gaol." Notwithstanding this remoU". 
 strance, I have still persisted in my ruin, which 
 Aa 
 
178 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [N>. 105. 
 
 at i>resent I cannot say is quite completed, as I 
 can make two meals a day, have yet a coat to my 
 back, with a clean shirt for Sundays at least, 
 and am lodged somewhat below a garret. How- 
 ever, this prediction of my uncle has often led me 
 to consider, in how many senses, different from 
 its general acceptation, the word ruined is fre- 
 quently made use of. When we hear this word 
 applied to another, we should naturally imagine, 
 the person is reduced to a state worse than lie 
 was in before, ind so low that it is scarce ])os- 
 sibleforhim to rise again : but we shall often 
 find, instead of his being undone, that he has 
 rather met with some extvaordinai'y good for- 
 tune ; and that those who pronounce him rumer/, 
 either mean you should understand it in some 
 other light, or else call him undone, because he 
 differs from them in his w^ay of life, or because 
 they wish him to be in that situation. I need 
 not point out the extreme cruelty, as well as in- 
 justice, in the misapplication of this term ; as it 
 may literally ruin a man by destroying his chai*- 
 acter : according to the old English proverb, 
 " give a dog an ill name, and hang him." 
 
 Most people are, indeed, so entirely taken up 
 with their own narrow views, that, like the 
 jaundiced eye, every thing appears to' them of 
 the same colour. From this selfish prejudice 
 they are led to make a wi'ong judgment of the 
 motives and actions of others : and it is no won- 
 dei', that they should see ruin staring every man 
 in the face, who happens not to think as they 
 do : I shall, therefore, here set down a catalogue 
 of some of my own acquaintance, whom the 
 charity and good nature of the world have not 
 scrupled to pronounce absolutely ruined. 
 
 A young clergyman of Cambridge might have 
 had a good college-living in about thirty years 
 time, or have been head of the house ; but he 
 chose to quit his fellowship for a small cure in 
 town, with a view of recommending himself by 
 his preaching Ruined. 
 
 A fellow of another college, in the same uni- 
 versity, refused to quit his books and his retire- 
 ment, to live as chaplain with a smoking, drink- 
 ing, swearing, fox-hunting country squire, who 
 would have provided for him. . . . Rtiined. 
 
 Dr. Classic, a young physician from Oxford, 
 might have had more practice than Radcliffe or 
 Mead ; but having studied Aristotle's Poetics, 
 and read the Greek tragedies, as well as Galen 
 and Hippocrates, he was tempted to write a 
 play, which was universally applauded, and the 
 author was Ruined. 
 
 A student of the Temple might have made 
 sure of a judge's robes or the chancellor's seals ; 
 but being tired of sauntering in Westminster- 
 hall without even getting half a guinea for a mo- 
 tion, he has accepted of a commission in one of 
 the new- raised regiments, and is . . Ruined. 
 
 A younger brother of a good family threw 
 himself away upon an obscure widow witit a 
 
 jointure of £500 per annum, by whi:;h he is 
 
 Ruined. 
 
 Another, a man of fortune, fell in love with, 
 and married a genteel girl without a farthing ; 
 and though she makes him an excellent wife, he 
 is universally allowed to have Ruined himself. 
 Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
 the strange sense in which a friend of mine once 
 heard this word used in company by a girl of 
 the town. The young creature, being all life 
 and spirits, engrossed all the conversation to her- 
 self; and herself indeed was the subject of all 
 the conversation : but what most surprised him 
 was the manner in which she used this word 
 Ruined ,- which occurred frequently in her dis- 
 course, though never intended by her to convey 
 the meaning generally affixed to it. It served 
 her sometimes as an era to determine the date 
 of every occurrence — " she bought such a gown, 
 just after she was ruined — the first time she saw 
 Garrick in Rangei*, she was in doubt whether 
 it was before or after she was riimed." — Having 
 occasion to mention a young gentleman, she 
 burst into raptures " O, he is a dear crea- 
 ture ! — He it was that ruined me — O, he is a 
 dear soul ; — he carried me to an inn ten miles 
 from my father's house in the country, where 
 he ruined me. — If he had not ruined me, I should 
 have been as miserable and as moping as my 
 sisters. But the dear soul was forced to go 
 abroad upon his travels, and i was obliged to 
 come upon the town, three weeks after I was 
 ruined — no, not so much as three weeks after I 
 was ruined — yes, it was full three weeks after I 
 was ruined." 
 
 k'%-V^V.»'V«'« 
 
 No. 105.] Thursday, Jan. 29, 1756. 
 
 G audit cquis, canilnisqiu, ct aprlci gramsnc catnpi. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 To spring a covey, or unearth a fox/ 
 In reverend sportsmen is right orthodox. 
 
 My cousin Village, from whom I had not heard 
 for some time, has lately sent me an account of 
 a Country Parson ; which I dare say will prove 
 entertaining to my town readers, who can have 
 no other idea of our clergy, than what they have 
 collected from the spruce and genteel figures, 
 which they have been used to contemplate here, 
 in doctors' scarfs, pudding-sleeves, starched 
 bands, and feather-top grizzles. It will be found 
 from my cousin's description, that these reverend 
 ensigns of orthodoxy are not so necessary to be 
 displayed among rustics ; and that, when they 
 are out of the pulpit or surplice, the good pastors 
 may, without censure, put on the manners as 
 well as dress of a groom or whipper-in. 
 
No. 105. J 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 179 
 
 Doncasler, Jan. 14, 1756. 
 Dear Cousin, 
 
 I am just arrived here, after having paid a 
 visit to our old acquaintance Jack Quickset, who 
 is now become the Reverend Mr. Quickset, 
 
 Rector of parish in the north-riding of 
 
 (his county, a living worth upwards of three 
 hundred pounds per annum. As the ceremo- 
 nies of ordination have occasioned no alteration 
 in Jack's morals or behaviour, the figure he 
 makes in the church is somewhat remarkable : 
 but as there are many other incumbents of 
 country livings whose clerical characters will 
 be found to tally with his, perhaps a slight 
 sketch, or, as I may say, rough draught of 
 him, with some account of my visit, will not be 
 Linen tertalning to your readers. 
 
 Jack, hearing that I was in this part of the 
 world, sent me a very hearty letter, informing 
 me, that he had been double-japanned (as he 
 called it) about a year ago, and was the present 
 
 incumbent of ; where if I would favour 
 
 him with my company, he would give me a cup 
 of the best Yorkshire stingo, and would engage 
 to show me a noble day's sport, as he was in a 
 fine open country with plenty of foxes. I re- 
 joiced to hear he was so comfortably settled, and 
 set out immediately for his living. When 1 
 arrived within the gate, my ears were alai'med 
 with such a loud chorus of " No mortals on 
 earth are so happy as we," that I began to think 
 1 had made a mistake ; till observing its close 
 neighbourhood to the church convinced me that 
 this could be no other than the parsonage-house. 
 On my entrance, my friend (whom I found in 
 the midst of a room-full of fox-hunters in boots 
 
 and bob- wigs) got up to welcome me to , and, 
 
 embracing me, gave me the full flavour of his 
 stingo by belcliing in my face, as he did me the 
 honour of saluting me. He then introduced me 
 to his friends ; and placing me at the right hand 
 of his own elbow-chair, assured them, that I 
 was a very honest cock, and loved a chace of 
 five-and-twenty miles an end as well as any of 
 them : to preserve the credit of which charac- 
 ter, 1 was obliged to comply with an injunction 
 to toss off a pint bumper of port, with the foot 
 ot the fox dipped and squeezed into it to give a 
 zest to the liquor. 
 
 The whole economy of Jack's life is very dif- 
 ferent from that of his brethren. Instead of 
 having a wife and a house full of children, (the 
 most common family of a country clergyman) he 
 is single ; unless we credit some idle whispers 
 in the parish that he is married to his house- 
 keeper. The calm amusements of piquet, chess, 
 and back-gammon, have no charms for Jack, 
 who sees " his dearest action in the field," and 
 boasts, that he has a brace of as good hunters in 
 his stable, as ever leg was laid ovei*. Hunting 
 and shooting are the only business of his life ; 
 fox-hounds and pointers lie about in every par- 
 
 lour ; and he is himself, like Pistol, always in 
 boots. The estimation in which he holds his 
 friends, is rated according to their excellence as 
 sportsmen ; and to be able to make a good shot, or 
 hunt a pack of hounds well, are most recom- 
 mending qualities. His parishioners often earn 
 a shilling and a cup of ale at his house, by com- 
 ing to acquaint him, that they have found a 
 hare sitting, or a fox in cover. One day, while 
 I was alone with my friend, the servant came 
 in to tell him, that the clerk wanted to speak 
 with him. He was ordered in ; but I could not 
 help smiling, when (instead of giving notice of a 
 burying, christening, or some other church busi- 
 ness, as I expected) I found the honest clerk on- 
 ly came to acquaint his reverend superior, that 
 there was a covey of partridges, of a dozen brace 
 at least, not above three fields fi'om the house. 
 
 Jack's elder brother. Sir Thomas Quickset, 
 who gave him the benefice, is lord of the ma- 
 nor : so that Jack has full power to beat up the 
 game unmolested. He goes out three times a 
 week with his brother's hounds, whether Sir 
 Thomas hunts or not ; and has besides a depu- 
 tation from him as lord of the manoi', consign- 
 ing the game to his care, and empowering him 
 to take away all guns, nets, and dogs from persons 
 not duly qualified. Jack is more proud of this 
 office, than many other country clergymen ai'e 
 of being in the commission of the peace. Poach- 
 ing is in his eye the most heinous ci-ime in the 
 two tables ; nor does the care of souls appear to 
 him half so important a duty as the preservation 
 of the game. 
 
 Sunday, you may suppose, is as dull and te- 
 dious to this ordained sportsman, as to any fine 
 lady in town : not that he makes the duties of his 
 function any fatigue to him, but as this day is 
 necessarily a day of rest from the toils of shoot- 
 ing and the chase. It happened, that the first 
 Sunday after I was with him he engaged to take 
 care of a church, in the absence of a neighbour- 
 ing clergyman, which was about twenty miles 
 off". He asked me to accompany him, and the 
 more to encourage me, he assured me, that we 
 should ride over as fine a champaign open coun- 
 try as any in the north. Accordingly I was 
 roused by him in the morning before day-break 
 by a loud hollowing of " Hark to Merriman," 
 and the repeated smacks of his half-hunter ; 
 and after we had fortified our stomachs with 
 several slices of hung beef and a horn or two of 
 stingo, we sallied forth. Jack was mounted 
 upon a hunter, which he assured me was never 
 yet thrown out : and as we rode along, he could 
 not help lamenting, that so fine a morning 
 should be thrown away upon a Sunday ; at the 
 same time remarking, that the dogs might run 
 breast high. 
 
 Though we made the best of our way over 
 hedge and ditch, and took every thing, we were 
 I'ften delayed by trying if wc could prick a hare, 
 
180 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 106. 
 
 or by leaving the road to examine a piece of 
 cover ; and he frequently made me stop, while 
 he pointed out the particular course that Rey- 
 nard took, or the spot where he had earthed. 
 At length we arrived on full gallop at the 
 church, where we found the congregation wait- 
 ing for us : hut as Jack had nothing to do but to 
 alight, pull his band out of the sermon case, 
 give his brown scratch bob a shake, and clap on 
 the surplice, he was presently equipped for the 
 service. In short, he behaved himself both in 
 the desk and pulpit to the entire satisfaction of 
 all the parish as well as the squire of it ; w^ho 
 after thanking Jack for his excellent discourse, 
 very cordially took us home to dinner with him. 
 
 I shall not trouble you with an account of our 
 entertainment at the squire's ; who, being him- 
 self as keen a sportsman as ever followed a pack 
 of dogs, was hugely delighted with Jack's con- 
 versation. Church and king, and another par- 
 ticular toast, (in compliment, I suppose, to my 
 friend's clerical character) were the first drank 
 after dinner; but these were directly followed 
 by a pint bumper to horses sound, dogs hearty, 
 earths stopt, and foxes plenty. When we had 
 run over again Avith great joy and vociferation, 
 as many chases as the time would permit, the 
 bell called us to evening prayers : after which, 
 though the squire would fain have had us stay 
 and take a hunt with him, we mounted our 
 horses at the church door, and rode home in the 
 dark ; because Jack had engaged to meet several 
 of his brother-sportsmen, who were to lie all 
 night at his own house to be in readiness to 
 make up for the loss of Sunday, by going out a 
 cock shooting very early next morning, 
 
 I must leave it to you, cousin, to make what 
 reflections you please on this character ; only 
 observing, that the country can furnish many 
 instances of these ordained sportsmen, whose 
 thoughts are more taken up with the stable or 
 the dog-kennel than the church : and, indeed, 
 it will be found, that our friend Jack and all of 
 his stamp are regarded by their parishioners, 
 not as parsons of the parish, but rather as 
 squires in orders. 
 
 T. I am, dear cousin, yours, &c. 
 
 No. 106.] Thursday, Feb. 5, 1756. 
 
 -Non hcec solcnnla nobis 
 
 Vana supcrstilio, vcterwnvc ignara dcorutn, 
 
 Imposuit. S(cvis, hospcs Trqjanc, paiclis 
 
 Scrvaii facimiis. \\\u\ 
 
 These solemn rites nor superstition vain, 
 Nor fears from blinder ignorance ordain : 
 Sav'd from the shock, from dangers yet unknown, 
 His mercy wo implore wliose power wc own. 
 
 It is not easy for th 
 
 lind of man to recovn 
 
 itself from any extraordinary panic, which has 
 once seized it : for which reason wc cannot be 
 surprised, that many well-meaning people, who 
 have not yet shaken off the apprehensions occa- 
 sioned by the late dreadful earthquakes, should 
 be led to conjui'e up new teri-ors, and alarm 
 themselves with imaginary dangers. Their 
 fears interpret every common incident, and 
 even the change of weather, as signs of ap- 
 proaching destruction : if the day be calm and 
 serene, such (they say) is the usual forerunner 
 of a shock ; or, if the night prove tempestuous, 
 they can hardly persuade themselves, that it is 
 only the wind which rocks their houses. With 
 this propensity to entertain any unreasonable 
 dread about future events, it is no wonder, that 
 weak minds should be worked upon by little 
 dabblers in philosophy, \\'ho, having gleaned a 
 few barren scraps from the magazines, presume 
 even to foi'etell the dissolution of the world by 
 the comet, which is expected to appear in 1758. 
 Swift, in his Voyage to Laputa, has a passage 
 so very apposite to these idle pretenders to 
 science, that I shall beg leave to transcribe it. 
 
 "These people," says he, "are under conti- 
 nual disquietudes, never enjoying a minute's 
 peace of mind : and their disturbances proceed 
 from causes, which very little affect the rest of 
 mortals. Their apprehensions arise from seve- 
 ral changes they dread in the celestial bodies. 
 For instance, that the earth by the continual 
 approaches of the sun towards it, must in course 
 of time be absorbed, or swallowed up. That 
 the face of the sun will by degrees be encrusted 
 with its own effluvia, and give no more light to 
 the world. That the earth very narrowly es- 
 caped a brush from the last comet, which would 
 have infallibly i-educed it to ashes ; and that 
 the next, which they have calculated for one 
 and-thirty years hence, will probably destroy 
 us. For, if in its perihelion it should approach 
 within a certain degree of the sun, (as by their 
 calculations they have reason to dread) it will 
 receive a degree of heat ten thousand times 
 more intense, than that of red-hot glowing iron ; 
 and in its absence from the sun, carry a blazing 
 tail ten hundred thousand and fourteen miles 
 long : through which if the earth should pass at 
 the distance of one hundred thousand miles from 
 the nvclfus, or main body of the comet, it must 
 in its passage be set on fire and reduced to ashes. 
 That the sun. daily spending its rays without 
 any nutriment to supply them, will at last be 
 wholly consumed and annihilated ; which must 
 be attended with the destruction of this earth, 
 and of all the planets tliat receive their light 
 from it. 
 
 " They arc so perpetually alarmed with the 
 apprehensions of these and the like impending 
 dangers, that they can neither sleep quietly iu 
 their beds, nor have any relish for the common 
 pleasures or amusements of lite. When they 
 
No. 106.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 181 
 
 meet an acquaintance in the morning, the first 
 question is about the sun's health, how he look- 
 ed at his setting and rising, and what hopes 
 they have to avoid the stroke of an approaching 
 comet. This conversation they are apt to run 
 into with the same temper, that boys discover 
 to hear terrible stories of spirits and hobgoblins, 
 which they greedily listen to, and dare not go to 
 bed for fear." 
 
 Let us, however, banish from our thoughts all 
 such vain notions, and let us fortify our minds 
 with a true sense of religion, which will teach 
 us to rely on the protection of that providence, 
 which has hitherto preserved us. It is with 
 great pleasure that I remark the unanimous 
 concurrence of almost all ranks of people in al- 
 lowing the propriety of the present solemn fast, 
 as a necessary act of humiliation, to avert the 
 wrath and vengeance of heaven, and to call 
 down its mercies upon us. It is true, indeed, 
 that no persons do more prejudice to the cause 
 of religion than they who cloud its genuine 
 cheerfulness with the gloom of supei'stition, and 
 are apt to consider every common accident that 
 befalls U3, as a judgment. They clothe religion 
 in the most terrifying habit, and, (as it were) 
 dress it up in all the horrors of the inquisition. 
 These people are much to be pitied ; and it is to 
 bfc wished, that their mistaken piety could be 
 better regulated. But there is another set of men 
 of a different turn, more numerous, and much 
 more dangerous to the community, who treat 
 every act of religion as a jest, and hold its most 
 sacred ordinances in contempt. Set forms and 
 ceremonies, though they have no essential 
 virtue in themselves, are yet indispensably re- 
 quisite to keep alive in us a quick sense of 
 our duty. It must be allowed indeed, that if 
 a man could constantly employ his mind in holy 
 meditations, exercise the virtues, and believe 
 the mysteries of our religion, he would be a 
 true christian, though he never complied with 
 any outward forms, or so much as repeated a 
 single prayer. But it is manifest from experi- 
 ence, that those who neglect the ordinances, ne- 
 glect also the duties of a christian ; and the least 
 reflection on the human mind will convince us, 
 tiiat some external rites are necessary to settle 
 the wandering ideas, and to fix the attention on 
 its proper object. The fervent repetition of a 
 prayer inspires us with love and gratitude to- 
 wards the Deity, and kindles the spark of devo- 
 tion within us : and it is easy to conceive, that, 
 if the celebration of public worship was neglect- 
 ed among us only for one year, it would be a 
 more fatal blow to religion, than all the weak 
 attacks of infidels and free-thinkers. 
 
 But though forms may be said to compose the 
 body, a good life is the soul of religion, without 
 which the rest is but a dead mass. The most 
 rigid compliance with every ordinance of the 
 church, if it has no influence on our conduct, is 
 
 rather a solemn mockery, than an atonement 
 for our offences : as they, who receive the bread 
 and wine without a firm resolution to lead a 
 new life, are said to eat and drink their own 
 damnation. Wherefore, a strict observance of 
 this or that particular day is not a sufficient dis- 
 charge of our duty, except it serve to rouse us 
 from the lethargy of sin, to awaken in us a de- 
 sire of becoming worthy the protection of the 
 Almighty, by animating our faith, amending 
 our lives, and working in us a repentance for 
 our transgressions. Thus the Lord's day is not 
 merely s«t apart for devotion, with an unlimited 
 license to wickedness all the rest of the week ; 
 but our being particulax'ly exercised in acts of 
 piety for one day is calculated to strengthen our 
 virtue, and to give a tincture of religion to our 
 whole conduct through the other six. 
 
 On the present solemn occasion, 1 doubt not 
 but every persuasive, tending to make this tem- 
 porary fast a lasting benefit, will be urged by the 
 clergy : I shall therefore content myself with 
 touching on some laxities in the usual manner 
 of keeping a fast, which, though they are not of 
 sufficient dignity to be taken notice of from the 
 pulpit, should yet be pointed out, as the viola- 
 tion of the fast in these particulars is almost 
 universal. 
 
 The very name of a fast implies a day of ab- 
 stinence, of mortification and self-denial : which 
 has always been enjoined as a necessary means 
 of subduing irregular desires, and fitting us for 
 holy meditation. For this reason, in former 
 days, when people of quality rose earlier than 
 even mechanics now open their shops, when the 
 court itself dined at eleven, that meal was defer- 
 ed till four o'clock, in compliance with this re- 
 ligious exercise, which was in those times a 
 real abstinence, a true piece of mortification and 
 self-denial. But if the observance of a fast con- 
 sists in not dining till four o'clock, our persons 
 of fashion may be said to fast every day of their 
 lives. In truth, the several hours of the day are 
 adapted to such very difi'erent employments to 
 what they were formerly, that our four o'clock 
 stands in the place of their eleven : and nothing 
 can be more absurd (to use no harsher term) 
 than to adhere to the form in the performance 
 of a religious act, when, by the alteration of cir- 
 cumstances, that form flatly contradicts the very 
 meaning of its original institution. I would 
 also ask those I'igid devotees, who observe this 
 day in all the strictness of the letter, and would 
 be shocked at the sight of a leg of mutton or beef 
 steak on their tables, whether the dining upon 
 salt or other fish may not be considered rather 
 as feasting than fasting, if (as is often the case) 
 it should happen to be a dish they are remarka- 
 bly fond of. All these methods of keeping a fast 
 without abstinence, mortification, or self-denial, 
 are mere quibbles to evade the performance of 
 our duty, and entirely frustrate the design of 
 
182 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 107. 
 
 appointing this solemnity. There is something 
 of this nature very commonly practised in 
 France ; where there are many families, who 
 keep the whole Lent with great strictness, but 
 the last night of it invite a great deal of com- 
 pany to supper. The moment the clock strikes 
 twelve, a msigniticent entertainment, consisting 
 of all sorts of rich fare, is served up, and these 
 most christian debauchees sit down to indulge in 
 luxury, without sinning against the canon. 
 
 I cannot conclude without an earnest wish, 
 that the observation of the present fast may 
 awaken in us a serious attention to our duty 
 hereafter ; that we may not seem to have barely 
 complied with a stated form, or to have been af- 
 fected with the short-lived piety of a single day. 
 As to those who require constantly to be fright- 
 ened into their duty, I will for once venture to 
 commence prophet : and let them be assured, 
 that my predictions will infallibly come to pass. 
 There is a danger, more certain than an earth- 
 quake or a comet, Avhich will inevitably over- 
 whelm us ; a danger from which we cannot 
 possibly guard ourselves, and which perhaps is 
 even now at our doors. This danger I cannot 
 better set forth, than in the alarming words of 
 a celebrated French preacher. " I know a man 
 (and I will point him out presently) who is now 
 in this chui-ch : a man, in perfect health ; and a 
 man in the flower of his age : and yet this man, 
 perhaps before next Sunday, perhaps by to-mor- 
 row, will be in his grave. This man, my dear 
 brethren, is myself who speaks to you, it is you 
 Avho hear me.' O. 
 
 No 107. Thursday, January la, 1756. 
 
 Ccdunt grammafici, vincuntur rhetores. — Juv. 
 
 Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once, 
 
 And petrify a genius to a dunce. Pope. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 College, Cambridge, Jan. SO, 1766. 
 
 Sir, 
 I HAVE just now, with near a hundred more, 
 taken the first degree, which this university 
 confers on her sons ; and begin to consider 
 within myself, in what manner we have spent 
 our time for these four years past, and Avhat 
 profit we are likely to receive liereafter from 
 our academical studies. But upon retrospection 
 I find that, instead of having laid up a store of 
 learning, which might have been of service to 
 us iu our future connexions and intercourse 
 with mankind, we have been confounding our 
 heads with a miscellaneous heap of nonsense, 
 which most of us, I am certain, are endeavour- 
 ing to unlearn as fast as possibly we can : jn- 
 stcad of having acquired such a share of common 
 
 sense, as might have been of service to ourselves 
 and acquaintance, we must entirely sell off our 
 old stock, and begin the world of literature anew. 
 This reflection cannot be very pleasing to those, 
 who, I must say, have squandered away so very 
 precious a time of life ; a time of life, when, 
 though judgment perhaps is not come to matu- 
 rity, yet imagination and invention, those noble 
 offsprings of a promising mind, are in the very 
 flower and bloom of perfection. 
 
 This seat of learning, for it undoubtedly de- 
 serves that name, has drawn and kept us toge- 
 ther for some years : our manners, conversation, 
 and studies bear a great similitude ; but now 
 either chance or choice is going to disperse us 
 over the whole kingdom ; and our places of 
 abode will scarce be more widely different, than 
 our schemes of life. Notwithstanding this, the 
 same plan of study has been imposed on all : 
 whether agreeable or contrary to the bent of 
 inclination, has never been i-egarded. Mathe- 
 matics is the standard, to which all merit is 
 referred; and all other excellencies, without 
 these, are quite overlooked and neglected ; the 
 solid learning of Greece and Rome is a trifling 
 acquisition ; and much more so, every polite 
 accomplishment : in short, if you rvill not get 
 all Euclid and his diagrams by heart, and pore 
 over Saimderson till you are as blind as himself, 
 they will say of you, as in the motto to one of 
 your late papers, aclum, est I ilicet ! peristi ! 
 ' tis all over with you ! you are ruined ! you 
 are ruined !' Not that 1 would depreciate this 
 kind of learning ; it is certainly a most noble 
 science, and reflects the greatest honour on hu- 
 man wit and invention : all that I complain of 
 is the unreasonable stress that is laid upon it ; 
 nay, even the most abstruse parts of it : whicli 
 is still more absurd, as there are so very few 
 heads able to perceive and retain the nice chain 
 of reasoning and deduction, which must neces- 
 sarily be made use of : and as a small number 
 of mathematical geniuses would be sufficient for 
 the service of his majesty's dominions. 
 
 I take it for granted, that your sagacity has 
 by this time discovered, that you have been ad- 
 dressed by a young man, whose too overween- 
 ing conceit of himself has perhaps induced him 
 to imagine, that the university has not suffi- 
 ciently rewarded his deserts : if so, you are not 
 deceived. But though this disappointment may 
 at present sit a little uneasy upon me, yet 1 
 think I can foresee, that it will be the most for 
 tunate mortification, that could possibly h.ivfi 
 befallen me. For in the first place, it has suffi- 
 ciently abated that upstart pride, which most 
 young men are apt to take in their own abilities j 
 than which nothing can be more irksome to all 
 their acquaintance, era greater impediment to 
 their own real improvement. A pert scholar, 
 whenever he enters a room of t^ompany, imme- 
 diately Hosumes a superiority in discourse, and 
 
No. 107.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 T Ort 
 
 x30 
 
 thinks himself obliged to coiTect all improprie- 
 ties in thought or expression. You must ' speak 
 by the card,' as Hamlet says, or expect the cen- 
 sure of this supei'ficial coxcomb. If, according 
 to the common form of speech, you say, that 
 there is either heat in the fire, or coldness in ice, 
 he will inform you, that you deliver yourself 
 very inaccurately, as Mr. Locke has fully de- 
 monstrated ; he will tell you, you cannot prove, 
 two and two make four, or that you are alive 
 yourself. These, and a thousand other obser- 
 vations equally impertinent, he is continually 
 nmkingj to the no small uneasiness and per- 
 plexity of the ladies and honest country gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 What is still a gi-eater misfortune, is, that a 
 man of this cast is never likely to know any 
 better : for, having raked together a few meta- 
 physical distinctions and sholastic refinements, 
 he thinks he has laid up a sufficient fund of 
 knowledge for his whole life : he despises all 
 common sense (which is the best sense) through 
 an ambition of appearing particular : and as for 
 the advice or opinion of others, those he thinks 
 himself indispensably bound to disregard ; in- 
 asmuch as such submission implies some infe- 
 riority, which he ^vould by no means bethought 
 to labour under. Such a disposition as this I 
 take to be the sure and infallible token of con- 
 firmed ignorance : a melancholy instance of the 
 depravity of hunaan nature, that the less we 
 know, the more we presume ; and the fewer 
 advances we have made towards true knowledge, 
 the less occasion we think we have of any fur- 
 ther improvement. 
 
 In the second place. If I may be allowed to 
 judge of what I cannot possibly have expe- 
 rienced, I take it to be the greatest benefit to a 
 young person to meet with early disappoint- 
 ments in life : for sooner or later every one must 
 have his share of them ; and the sooner we meet 
 with some of them the better. By this means 
 the mind is easily made familiar witli crosses 
 and vexations, and is not thrown off its balance 
 by every thwarting and wayward accident ; by 
 this means we submit to ills and troubles, as the 
 necessary attendants on mankind : as on a rainy 
 day we make om-selves quiet and contented, but 
 hope for sunshine on the morrow. And, indeed, 
 there seems to be a strong analogy between the 
 inclemency of the weather attacking our bodies, 
 and the storms and afflictions which batter our 
 minds. The rain will beat and the wind will 
 roar, let us use our utmost endeavours to the con- 
 trary ; but by inuring our persons to the vicissi- 
 tudes of the seasons, and using other proper me- 
 thods, we shall feel no very sensible incon- 
 venience from them. In like manner, all our 
 skill and art cannot prevent or elude the rubs 
 and disasters, to which we are liable ; but if by 
 degrees, and early in life, we are hardened and 
 accustomed to them and if by the help of reason 
 
 and sound philosophy we arm and fortify our- 
 selves against them, they may still perhaps reach 
 us, but their shocks will be quite weak and lan- 
 guid : and we may say of the darts of Fortune, 
 as Virgil says of Priam, when he hurled a jaA-e 
 lin at PjTrhus, 
 
 Telum imbelle sine icfu 
 
 Conjecit. 
 
 Short of its aim, and impotent to wound. 
 The feeble shaft falls hurtless to the ground. 
 
 Thus you see, Mr. Town, that out of a seem- 
 ing evU I have discovered a real good : and I am 
 certain, if this method of reasoning could be 
 made universal, we should find much fewer 
 murmurers against the present distribution and 
 order of things. 
 
 I am, Sir, yours, &c. 
 B. A. 
 
 Mr. Town, 
 I am so great an admirer of the fair sex, that 
 I never let a tittle of their vendible writings es- 
 cape me. I bought this yeai* the Lady's Diary, 
 merely because it was advertised as the Woman's 
 Almanack, which I construed the Almanack 
 composed by a woman : but I find I have been 
 mistaken in my supposition. It is not the work 
 of a female. The christian name of the author, 
 I have reason to believe, is Marmaduke ; unless 
 I misunderstand a most curious copy of verses, 
 describing a most superb entertainment, of fish, 
 flesh, pies and tarts, exhibited upon New Year's 
 day, 1755. His siu'name remains as great an 
 enigma as any in his book. His coadjutors, con- 
 tributors, or assistants, are P.Icssieurs Walter 
 Trott, Timothy Nabb, Patrick Ocavannah, John 
 Honey, Henry Season, and others. I honour 
 these gentlemen and their works : but I own 
 my chief delight is in reading over the riddles 
 and unriddles, the questions and the answers of 
 Miss Sally West, Caelia, Miss Nancy Evelyn, 
 Miss E. S. Miss Atkinson, Enira, and other 
 choice little feminine spirits of the age. Riddles 
 are so becoming, and appear so pretty, when 
 dandled about by ladies, that they may be com- 
 pared to soft, smooth, painted, waxen babies, 
 dressed up in a pi'oper manner for misses to play 
 with, from eighteen to fourscore. But above all, 
 I must take this opportunity of congratulating 
 dear Miss Fanny Harris, who, I find, " has 
 given an elegant solution to a prize problem by 
 a fluxionary calculus founded on the properties 
 of tangents," and by that means has run away 
 with no less than twelve diaries for this impor- 
 tant year 1756. As this young lady is justly 
 called ' the honour of her sex," and deals entire- 
 ly in the properties of tangents, I fear she will 
 never descend so low as nddleme riddlemeree ; 
 and therefore I most humbly offer, by the vehi- 
 cle of your paper, Mr. Town, a small riddle, in- 
 vented with much pains and thought by myself, 
 
184 
 
 THE CONNOISSEU R. 
 
 [iVo. 108. 
 
 to the solution of those three ingenioTis spinsters, 
 Miss Polly Walker, Miss Grace Tetlow, and 
 Miss Ann Rickaby, to appear in the Lady's 
 Diary of 1757, and to i*eceive upon appearance, 
 as a premium, one complete set of the Connois- 
 seur in pocket volumes, to be the property of one 
 or more of these three ladies, who shall explain 
 my uEnigma. 
 
 Fire and water mixed together, 
 Add to til is some salt and tin ; 
 
 Tell me, ladies, tell me whether 
 In this mixture there is sin ? 
 
 The solution itself, if not truly explained by 
 the Three Graces, to whom I now address it, 
 shall appear, by your permission, in the first Con- 
 noisseui* after next NeAv Year's day. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
 Michael Krawbridge. 
 
 No. 108.] Thursday, Feb. 19, 1756. 
 
 Ter centum tonat ore Deos, Erabumque, Cheosque, 
 Tergeminamque Hecaten, tria Virginis ora Diance. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 Dire execrations split your ears asunder, 
 
 Death ! and Damnation ! Furies ! Blood ! and Thunder ! 
 
 As there are some vices which the vulgar have 
 presumed to copy from the great, so there are 
 others which the great have condescended to bor- 
 row from the vulgar. Among these I cannot but 
 set down the shocking practice of cursing and 
 swearing ; a practice, which (to say nothing at 
 present of its impiety and profaneness) is Ioav 
 and indelicate, and places the man of quality on 
 the same level with the chairman at his door. 
 A gentleman would forfeit all pretensions to 
 that title, who should choose to embellish his 
 discourse with the oratory of Billingsgate, and 
 converse in the style of an oj^ster- -woman : but 
 it is accounted no disgrace to him, to use the 
 same coarse expressions of cursing and swear- 
 ing with the meanest of the mob. For my own 
 part, I cannot see the difference between a JRy 
 Gad or a Gad deni-me, minced and softened by 
 a genteel pronunciation from well-bred lips, 
 and the same expression bluntly bolted out 
 from the broad mouth of a porter or hackney- 
 coachman. 
 
 I shall purposely wave making any reflec- 
 tions on the impiety of this practice, as I am 
 satisfied they would have but little weight either 
 with the beaumnnde or the canaille. The swearer 
 of either station devotes himself piece-meal, as 
 it were, to destruction ; pours out anathemas 
 against his eyes, his heart, his soul, and every 
 part of his body ; nor does he scruple to extend 
 the same good wishes to the limbs and joints of 
 his friends and acquaintance. This they both 
 
 do with the same fearless unconcern ; but with 
 tliis only difference, that the gentleman-swearer 
 damns himself and others with the greatest 
 civility and good-breeding imaginable. 
 
 3Iy predecessor, the Tatlei*, gives us an ac- 
 count of a certain humorist, who got together 
 a party of noted swearers to dinner with him, 
 and ordered their discourse to be taken down in 
 short-hand ; which being afterwards repeated 
 to them, they were extremely startled and sur- 
 prised at their own common talk. A dialogue 
 of this nature would be no improper supplement 
 to Swift's Polite Conversation ; though, indeed, 
 it would appear too shocking to be set down in 
 print. But I cannot help wishing, that it were 
 possible to draw out a catalogue of the fashion- 
 able oaths and curses in present use at Arthur's 
 or any other polite assembly : by which means 
 the company themselves would be led to ima- 
 gine, that their conversation had been carried on 
 between the lowest of the mob ; and they would 
 blush to find, that they had gleaned their choic- 
 est phrases from lanes and alleys, and enriched 
 their discourse with the elegant dialect of Wap- 
 ping and Broad St. Giles's. 
 
 The legislature has, indeed, provided against 
 this offence, by affixing aponalty on every delin- 
 quent according to his station : but this law, 
 like those made against gaming, is of no effect ; 
 while the genteeler sort of swearers pour forth 
 the same execrations at the hazard table or in 
 the tennis-court, which the more ordinary 
 gamesters repeat, with the same impunity, over 
 the shuffle-board or in the skittle-alley. Indeed, 
 were this law to be rigorously put into execu- 
 tion, there would appear to be little or no pro- 
 portion in the punishment ; since the gentleman 
 would escape by depositing his crown ; while 
 the poor wretch, who cannot raise a shilling, 
 must be clapped in the stocks, or sent to Bride- 
 well. But as the offence is exactly the same, I 
 would also have no distinction made in the 
 treatment of the offenders : and it would be a 
 most ridiculous but a due mortification to a man 
 of quality, to be obliged to thrust his leg through 
 the same stocks with a carman or a coal-heaver ; 
 since he first degraded himself, and qualified 
 himself for their company, by talking in the 
 same mean dialect. 
 
 I am aware, that it will be pleaded in excuse 
 for this practice, that oaths and curses are in- 
 tended only as mere expletives, which serve to 
 round a period, and give a grace and spirit to 
 conversation. But there are still some old-fa- 
 shioned creatures, who adhere to their common 
 acceptation, and cannot help thinking it a very 
 serious matter, that a man should devote his 
 body to the devil, or call down damnation on 
 his soul. Nay, the swearer himself, like the 
 old man in the fable calling upon death, would 
 bo exceeding loath to be taken at his word ; and, 
 Avhile he wishes destruction to every part of his 
 
No. 109.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 185 
 
 body, would be highly concerned to have a limb 
 rot away, his nose fall off, or an eye drop out 
 of the socket. It would, therefore, be advis- 
 able to substitute some other terms equally un- 
 meaning, and at the same time remote from the 
 vulgar cursing and swearing. 
 
 It is recorded to the honour of the famous 
 Dean Stanhope, that in his younger days, when 
 he was chaplain to a regiment, he reclaimed 
 the officers, who were much addicted to this 
 vulgar practice, by the following method of re- 
 proof. One evening as they were all in com- 
 pany together, after they had been very eloquent 
 in this kind of rhetoric, so natural to the gen- 
 tlemen of the army, the worthy dean took occa- 
 sion to tell a story in turn ; in which he fre- 
 quently repeated the words bottle and glass, in- 
 stead of the usual expletives of God, devil, and 
 damn, which he did not think quite so becoming 
 for one of his cloth to make free with. I would 
 recommend it to our people of fashion to make 
 use of the like innocent phrases, whenever they 
 are obliged to have recourse to these substitutes 
 for thought and expression. " Bottle and glass," 
 might be introduced with great energy in the 
 table-talk at the King's Arms or St. Alban's 
 taverns. The gamester might be indulged, 
 without offence, in swearing by the "knave of 
 clubs," or the "curse of Scotland;" or he 
 might, with some propriety, retain the old exe- 
 cration of " the deuce take it." The beau 
 should be allowed " to swear by his gracious 
 self, which is the god of his idolatry:" and the 
 common expletives should consist only of " upon 
 my word," and "upon my honour;" which 
 terms, whatever sense they might formerly 
 bear, are at present understood only as words of 
 course without meaning. O. 
 
 No. 109.] Thursday, Feb. 26, 1756. 
 
 Intcrdutn vulgus rectum videt j est, ubi, peccat. 
 
 What ev'ry body says, is often true ; 
 But very often 'tis a falsehood too. 
 
 The world is indebted to that ingenious inquir- 
 er after truth, the famous Sir Thomas Brown, 
 for an excellent treatise, in which he has refuted 
 several idle and ridiculous opinions, that prevail- 
 ed in liis time ; to which work he has very pro- 
 perly given the title of Vulgar Errors. Among 
 others, of no less importance, he has taken great 
 pains to explode the common notion that a witch 
 can make a voyage to the East Indies in an 
 egg-shell, or take a journey of two or three hun- 
 dred miles across the country on a broom-stick : 
 an assertion maintained by that wise monarch. 
 King James the First, who even condescended 
 to commence author in support of it. He has 
 
 also refuted the generally received opinion, that 
 the devil is black, has horns upon his head, 
 wears a long curling tail, and a cloven stump ; 
 nay, has even denied, that wheresoever he goes, 
 he always leaves a smell of brimstone behind 
 him ; and has no less seriously endeavoured to 
 show the absurdity of the supposition, that Adam 
 and Eve were born into the world without na- 
 vels. But all these mistaken notions, though 
 they might possibly obtain belief in former times 
 of superstition and ignorance, could never have 
 been countenanced in this more enlightened age. 
 So far from acknowledging the power of witch- 
 craft, we even doubt of the existence of the witch 
 of Endor : that illustrious personage the devil 
 is only looked upon as a mere bugbear : and the 
 lowest mechanics have been taught at the Robin 
 Hood Society, that the whole account of our 
 first parents is nothing but a fiction and an old 
 woman's story. 
 
 Since the days of Sir Thomas Brown, such 
 strange revolutions have happened among us, in 
 the arts and sciences, in religion, in politics, and 
 in common life, that I cannot but think, a work, 
 intended as a supplement to the above-mention- 
 ed treatise of Vulgar Errors, would be highly 
 acceptable to the public ; since it is notorious, 
 that many tenets, -which were then thought in- 
 disputable truths among all ranks of people, are 
 now proved to be erroneous, and are only cre- 
 dited by the uninformed vulgar. A work of 
 this nature it is my intention shortly to publish : 
 in the meantime, I shall content myself with 
 laying the following specimen of the performance 
 befoi'e my readers. 
 
 The ignorance of the multitude has hitherto 
 pronounced it, " to be absolutely impossible that 
 a maid can be with child." But it is well known 
 to the learned, that in these later times there 
 have been many instances of maiden-mothers : 
 though, whether they are impregnated by the 
 west-wind, like Virgil's mares, or, as it was 
 said of Juno, by eating a sallad ; whether they 
 bring forth, as Dutch ladies do, Sooterkins ; 
 whether they receive by intuition, or the opera- 
 tion of the fancy ; or by what other cause, has 
 not been ascertained. Several instances have 
 been recorded, among the Roman Catholics, of 
 nuns and lady abbesses, who have miraculously 
 proved with child : and here in England we 
 have more than once heard of the pregnancy of 
 a maid of honour. I myself know a lady, al- 
 most approaching to the verge of an old maid, 
 who was very much bloated and puffed up with 
 the wind-colic : for relief of which she went 
 into the country for a month, and was unex- 
 pectedly seized with the pangs of child-birth. I 
 have been told of another, a virgin of the most 
 unspotted character, who very unaccountably fell 
 into labour, just as they were going to tap her 
 for the dropsy. An eminent man-midwife of 
 mv acquaintance was in the beginning of his 
 Bb 
 
186 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 109. 
 
 practice called to a virgin, who, to his gi'eat sur- 
 prise, brought forth an embryo, in form and ap- 
 pearance exactly resembling a mandrake. This 
 he considered as a most wonderful lusns natiirre ; 
 and had actually drawn up an account of it 
 (with a figure of the monster) to be laid before 
 the Royal Society : but in less than a twelve- 
 month he delivered the same lady, who still con- 
 tinued in a state of virginity, of another false 
 conception, like the former; and for many years 
 after this prodigy of a virgin had several other 
 monstrous and preternatural births of the same 
 kind. He further assures me, that he has since 
 very frequently met with these phenomena ; 
 and that the only diflference between maids and 
 married women in this point is, that the former 
 do not manifest the signs of pregnancy so fully 
 in their waists, nor do they cry out so vehemen- 
 tly in their labour pains ; and it is remarkable, 
 that they never choose to suckle their children. 
 
 It is vulgarly supposed, that " the events of 
 gaming are regulated by blind chance and for- 
 tune:" but the wise and polite, that is the 
 knowing ones, cannot but smile at the absurdity 
 or this notion ; though even the sagacious Hoyle 
 and Demoivre themselves, by the nicety of their 
 calculations of chances, seem to have adopted 
 this ridiculous doctrine. The professors at 
 Arthur's, and the experienced adepts in the mys- 
 tei'ies of gaming, kindly condescend tc give les- 
 sons, at reasonable rates, to those novices, 
 who imagine that the events of play, like those 
 of war, are uncertain : and so cogent is their 
 method of instruction, that they never fail to 
 convince their pupils, that success at dice, as 
 well as bowls, depends upon a skilful manage- 
 ment of the bias, and that the cards are not shuf- 
 fled by the blind hand of fortune. 
 
 It is a notion confined wholly to the vulgar, 
 that " matrimony brings people together : " but 
 it is notorious, that in higher life a marriage is 
 the most effectual method to keep them asunder. 
 It is impolite for a man and his wife ever to be 
 seen together in public; and a person of quality 
 had rather enjoy a tete-a-tete with any body's 
 wife but his own, in private. Genteel couples 
 have separate amusements, pay separate visits, 
 keep separate company, lie in separate beds, and 
 (like the man and woman in a weather-house) 
 are never seen together : nay more, if they ai'e 
 very genteel indeed, the lady has her separate 
 maintenance. On the contrary, if a man of 
 fashion has a tendre for an unmarried lady, they 
 reside in the same house, partake of the same 
 diversions, and observe every other article of the 
 strictest cohabitation. The surest "way of dis- 
 solving a connection of this sort is to marry. Sir 
 John Brute bluntly declares, that, if he Avas 
 married to a hogshead of claret, the thought of 
 matrimony would make him hate it. Thus, in 
 genei'al, the very names of wife and husband are 
 sufficient to destroy all affection ; and it was but 
 
 a day or two ago that I met with a sprightly 
 young gentleman much of the same opinion 
 with Sir John ; who being reproached for ne- 
 glecting his lady for a mistress, and reminded 
 that man and wife were one flesh, replied, that 
 it %vas very true, and what pleasure could he 
 have in touching his own flesh ? Modern wed- 
 lock, therefore, may be rather said to divide, than 
 unite : at least, if matrimony ever brings folks 
 together for a time, it is only to separate them 
 more effectually ; as, according to the principles 
 of action and re-action, where two bodies are 
 drawn together by a violent attraction, they im- 
 mediately fly off, and are driven back again from 
 each other by the principle of repulsion. 
 
 It may well be called a Vulgar En-or, since 
 none but the vulgar think so, that " the sabbath 
 is a day of rest." It is, as experience teaches us, 
 a day of business with some, of pleasm-e with 
 others, but of rest with none. It is true, indeed, 
 that a cessation from wordly occupations, toge- 
 ther with roast beef and plum-pudding, were 
 formerly the characteristics of the sabbath in 
 England: but these inactive principles arc now 
 entirely out of fashion ; nor do I know any per- 
 son, who is strictly debarred from exercising 
 his employment on that day, except the sheriff's 
 ofiicer. The exact citizen, nicely calculating 
 the damages he would sustain, on an average, 
 by the loss of a seventh part of his time, de- 
 frauds the sabbath of its due rights, as he cheats 
 his customers, in the way of trade. As to peo- 
 ple of quality, they, I suppose, (duly consider- 
 ing how prodigal they are of their lives by ad- 
 hering to the polite system) are willing to hus- 
 band the little time allotted them, by adding 
 " night to day, and Sunday to the week. " 
 
 If old woman was not a term frequently made 
 use of by the perverse and impolite multitude, 
 I should hardly attempt to prove so clear and 
 obvious a proposition as that " there is no STich 
 thing in the creation as an old woman." Old 
 women are, indeed, mentioned by some few wri- 
 ters : but I have always looked upon their ex- 
 istence to be as chimerical as that of the Brob- 
 dingnags or the Yahoos ; and I do not believe 
 that there has been such an animal in nature 
 since the flood. In the present distant period we 
 are unable to conceive the least idea of such a 
 creature, as the same appearance of youth, ♦.he 
 same lilies and roses bloom on the foces of the 
 whole sex. For a proof of this, if we look round 
 at the opera, the playhouse, a lady's rout, or any 
 other assembly, we may observe, that all our 
 girls, whether of a smaller or of a larger growth, 
 assume the same air of gayety and intrigue, and 
 wear the same complexions. A limner of great 
 business has often declared to mc, that though 
 he has had several mothers, and grandmothers, 
 and gi'eat grandmothers sit to him, he never yet 
 drew the picture of an old woman. Medea is 
 said to have renewed the youth and vigour of 
 
No 110.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR, 
 
 187 
 
 her father ^son by boiling him, with certain 
 magic herbs, in a cauldron : but I will not pre- 
 sume to say that our ladies are preserved fi'om 
 old age by stewing in a copper, or that, according 
 to a more modern notion, old women ai e ground 
 young again by a mill. This, however, is cer- 
 tain ; that youth as well as beauty, is the per- 
 petual prerogative of the female sex : and that 
 age, though it sits venerably on a man, would 
 no more become a lady than a beard. 
 
 In an age so enlightened as the present, when 
 we have thrown off all other mean prejudices of 
 nature and education, it is no wonder that we 
 should discard the gospel : and I am almost in 
 doubt, whether I should mention the belief of 
 it as a Vulgar Error, since it daily loses its credit 
 among us. Wherefore, if I may not be allowed 
 to set down the belief in a God, a Saviom-, a fu- 
 ture state, the immortality of the soul, &c. &c. 
 as prevailing errors, I cannot omit so fair an op- 
 portunity of congratulating my contemporaries 
 on their having overcome them. Nor can I bet- 
 ter conclude this paper, than by a hint to my 
 friends, the freethinkers, cautioning them to con- 
 sider, whether, if we were made by chance, the 
 world was made by chance, and every thing else 
 was made by chance, there may not also be a heU 
 made by chance. O. 
 
 No. 110.] Thursday, March 4, 1756. 
 
 Contracta melius parva cupidine 
 Vectigalia porrigam. 
 
 Virtue shall go scot-free ; our new excise 
 From vice and folly shall raise large supplies. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Every Englishman, who has the good of his 
 country at heart, must lament the pei"plexity 
 which our ministers labour under, in contriving 
 ways and means to raise money for the present 
 exigence of affairs. I have with pleasure 
 hearkened to the several projects proposed in 
 the debates of patriots in our coffee-houses and 
 private clubs ; but though I find they are unani- 
 mous in allowing the necessity of levying new 
 taxes, every one is w^illing to shift off the bur- 
 den from himself. 
 
 I was introduced the other night into a set of 
 worthy citizens, who very zealously took this 
 subject into consideration over their evening 
 pipe. One of them, a grave gentleman, pulling 
 the Evening Post out of his pocket, and putting 
 on his spectacles, read aloud to as the several 
 methods already proposed ; to which many 
 wise objections were immediately started by the 
 company. " What's that ?" says an old don 
 (who I afterwards found had a small estate in 
 
 houses) " an additional duty upon bricks, and 
 pan- tiles, and plain-tiles ! I suppose they will 
 lay a duty upon plain-tile pegs by-and-bye." 
 This speech was received with a hearty chuckle 
 of applause from the rest of the company ; when 
 another took occasion to observe, " that he vei-y 
 much approved the scheme for laying a larger 
 tax upon cards and dice ;" one of which he 
 called the devil's books, and the other his bones. 
 The duty upon plate might perhaps have passed 
 into a law in this assembly, if it had not been 
 vehemently opposed by one member (whom I 
 discovered to be a silversmith) in which he was 
 seconded by the landlord of the house, who had 
 a seat in this meeting, and told us, " that it 
 would lie very hard upon publicans, as nobody 
 would now drink their porter out of a pewtei 
 pot." These and the like arguments induced us 
 to set aside all the projects that had been offered 
 hitherto, and to consult together in order to find 
 new ones in their room ; among which I could 
 not but smile at the proposal of an honest 
 peruke-maker, Avho advised the levying of a 
 poll-tax. upon all that wore their own hair. 
 " For," says he, " we have never had good times, 
 since wigs were out of fashion. What rare 
 days were those in Queen Anne's reign, when 
 the nobility and gentry wore large flaxen flows 
 of thirty guineas price ! And as you may see 
 my Lord Godolphin's monument in Westmin- 
 ster-Abbey, a prime minister's wig could not be 
 made, I am sure, under fifty guineas, " 
 
 The discourse that passed at this society of 
 politicians, has led me to turn my thoughts on 
 devising some method that might answer the 
 present demands for a supply, Avith the least 
 injury to the community. On this account I 
 am of opinion, that private vices (according to 
 the faA'ourite tenet of Mandeville) may in some 
 measure be converted into public benefits, by 
 laying a certain tax or duty on the fashionable 
 amusements of the gay and polite world. For 
 this purpose I have, with great pains and labour, 
 contrived a plan, a few heads of which, Avithout 
 further preface, I shall (with your leaA^e) sub- 
 mit to the consideration of those whom it may 
 concern. 
 
 First, then, I would propose, that no persons 
 of quality, or others, should be allowed to keep 
 any rout, drum, assembly, visiting-day (or what- 
 ever other name it may hereafter be called by) 
 at vi'hich more than one hundi'ed persons shall be 
 found assembled, without paying a certain rate 
 for every such rout, drum, &c. The number of 
 these meetings, which are held in this town 
 (including the city of London and the suburbs 
 thereof) I have computed upon an exact calcula- 
 tion, to amount annually to eight thousand three 
 hundred and upwards ; so that if a duty, at 
 only sixpence per head, were to be levied upon 
 the company, it would bring in a prodigious 
 income to the government; deducting for the 
 
188 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. HI 
 
 decrease consequent of this tax, as also for those 
 which we may expect will be smuggled, or 
 carried on clandestinely. And, as gaming is an 
 essential diversion at all these meetings, I would 
 further advise, that every card-table be entered, 
 in the same manner as all wheel-carriages, and 
 a proportionable rate fixed on them, according to 
 the degree and quality of the owners. Be it 
 enacted, moreover, that extraordinary licenses 
 shall be taken out for playing at cards on the 
 Sabbath-day ; but that these be granted only to 
 persons of the highest rank and fashion. 
 
 At the present j uncture of affairs every one 
 will agree with me, that if an absolute prohibi- 
 tion be impracticable, a heavy duty should be 
 laid on the importation of French fashions and 
 fopperies into this kingdom. It is therefore but 
 I'easonable, that all French cooks, valets de 
 chambre, millinei's, mantuamakers, hair-cutters, 
 &c. should be at least doubly taxed, as it is 
 notorious that they exact from the dupes who 
 employ them, more than double the wages or 
 price for their labours, that our own ^modest 
 countrjnmen would require. This tax, I make 
 no doubt, would produce no inconsiderable sum 
 for the public use : and as our ladies, though I 
 would not suspect that they have French hearts, 
 are ambitious of wearing French complexions, 
 a further sum might also be raised by fixing a 
 liigh duty upon rouge and carmine. 
 
 There are many other particulars in the 
 fashionable world which might be turned in the 
 same manner to the public good. A tax on kept 
 mistresses, for example, who are now become so 
 very numerous, that I question not but a duty, 
 properly levied on them, would be sufficient to 
 maintain all the widows of our soldiers and 
 sailors who shall happen to be killed in the ser- 
 vice. A heavy duty might also be laid on ail 
 Bagnios, French-wine -houses, Covent-garden 
 coffee-houses, &c. and since, in spite of laws and 
 decencj', these places are suffered to be kept 
 open, it is surely equitable that they should pay 
 round taxes for the relief of the nation, as well 
 as an annual tribute for the connivance of the 
 neighbouring justices. To add to this sciieme, 
 and to make vice and folly further contribute to 
 the public necessity, I would also propose, that 
 Messieurs Harris, Derry, and the rest of the 
 fraternity of pimps retained as caterers to the 
 voluptuous at any tavern or bagnio, should en- 
 ter all the hacks in tiieir service at an excise of- 
 fice appropriated to this purpose; and that, to 
 prevent frauds, as well as to point out the 
 means of application to the office for redress in 
 case of complaint, these hacks should all be 
 marked and numbered, like the hackney- 
 coaches. 
 
 As it is incumbent on every Englishman to 
 expose his life in defence of his country against 
 the common enemy, I must particularly recom- 
 mend, that some means may be devised, that 
 
 the gallant feats of those men of honour, who 
 rather choose to risk their lives in the modish 
 way of duelling, may be attended with some ad- 
 vantage to their countrymen. I would, there- 
 fore advise, that swords and pistols, of a settled 
 length and bore, with the Tower-stamp, be pro- 
 vided by the government for the use of duellists, 
 and that they shall not presume to make use of 
 any other, under pain of incurring the guilt of 
 murder. These weapons may be let out at a 
 certain price ; and if one of the parties hap- 
 pen to kill the other, the survivor shall be sub- 
 ject to a fine according to his rank and sta- 
 tion, and a jury shall be directed to bring 
 in a verdict of self-defence. In like manner, 
 persons of quality may have le.ive gi'anted 
 them to put an end to their o^vn lives, after 
 an ill run at cards, or the like emergent occa- 
 sions ; when, on paying a certain rate, they may 
 be indulged in a private execution from the 
 hands of Jack Ketch, and the coroner's inquest 
 shall be directed to bring in their verdict— lu- 
 nacy. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 TO MR. TOWX. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As you are a Connoisseur, I shall make no apo- 
 logy for desiring you to give the following adver- 
 tisement (which has already appeared in the 
 Daily Advertiser) a place m some corner of your 
 paper. By doing this you will greatly oblige 
 the virtuosi in flowers, as well as 
 
 Your humble Servant, 8sc. 
 
 TO BE SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION. 
 
 At Half a Guinea each Plant, 
 An Auricula, raised by Mr. "William Red- 
 mond, at Islington, named the Triumph ; hav- 
 ing fine grass, a strong stem, certain blower, a 
 large trusser, the fingers a just length, a good 
 pip for size and shape, the eye extremely white, 
 the thrum full, the margin a beautiful purple 
 black, finely variegated with silver and green, 
 continues long in bloom, and dies in colour. No 
 plant to be sold for less than one guinea after the 
 subscription is closed, until the bloom is ovex. 
 
 No. 111.] Thursday, March II, 1756. 
 
 Tandnn desine matran. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 With dear mamma O make not such a pother ! 
 But strive to be a man before your mother. 
 
 The generality of the young uimiarried ladies of 
 the present age dislike no company so much as 
 the elderly pers(ms of their own sex, whether 
 married or unmarried. Going with an old 
 
Xo. 111.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 189 
 
 maiden aunt, a mamma, or grand-mamma to 
 the play, or to Ranelagh, is so insipid an amuse- 
 ment, that it robs their entertainment of the 
 very name of a party of pleasure. To be hand- 
 ed into a box, walk in the public gardens, or 
 make one at a card-table at a rout, with a spright- 
 ly young nobleman, or gallant colonel of the 
 guards, has some life in it ; but to be kept per- 
 petually under the wing of an old lady, can have 
 no charms for a woman of spirit. The presence 
 of these antiquated females imposes a constraint 
 on their behaviour ; they are, indeed, like the 
 Duennas in Spain, spies on the conduct of the 
 gay and young : and a good old gentlewoman, 
 with a blooming beauty by her side, watches 
 her every motion, and is as much frighted, if the 
 pretty creature makes any advances to a man, as 
 a hen, n'bo has been foster-mother to a brood of 
 ducklins, is alarmed at their taking to the water. 
 This loose coquet behaviour so much in vogue, 
 and consequently so genteel, has, I must own, 
 no charms in my eye, as a modest deportment 
 appears to me most natural and becoming in the 
 fair sex; and I am always glad to see a young 
 lady of sufficient sense and discretion, to behave 
 with an innocent cheerfulness, instead of appa- 
 rent uneasiness and constraint, before her more 
 aged female friends and relations. But though 
 a daughter should prefer no company to her 
 mother, a son, who always dangled at the side of 
 his mamma, would appear as ridiculous, as if he 
 wore his sister's petticoats , and however amia- 
 ble this maidenly demeanour might seem in a 
 young girl, I cannot view it with equal appro- 
 bation in the character of a male virgin ; — -a cha- 
 racter with which I shall here present my reader, 
 as drawn by one of my correspondents. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 You have already given us several instances 
 of those ambiguous creatures among the men, 
 %vho are both male and female : permit me to 
 add to them an account of those lady-like gen- 
 tlemen, whom we may distinguish by the title 
 of "their mother's own sons;" who have in 
 vain changed the bib and leading-strings for 
 the breeches, and stick as close to their mammas, 
 as a great calf to the side of an old cow. I am 
 intimately acquainted with one of these over- 
 grown babies ; who is indeed too big to be dandled 
 in the lap, or fed with a pap-spoon, though he 
 is no more weaned from his mother, than if he 
 had not yet quitted the nursery. 
 
 The delicate Billy Suckling is the contempt 
 of the men, the jest of the women, and the dar- 
 ling of his mamma. She doats on him to dis- 
 traction ; and is in perpetual admiration of his 
 wit, and anxiety for his health. The good 
 young gentleman, for his part, is neither un- 
 dutiful nor ungrateful : she is the only woman 
 that he does not look on with indifference ; and 
 
 she is his tutoress, his physician, and his nurse. 
 She provides his broth every evening ; will not 
 suffer him to look into a book by candle-light 
 lest he should hurt his eyes ; and takes care to 
 have his bed Avarmed : naj', 1 have known him 
 sit with his mamma's white handkerchief round 
 his neck through a whole visit, to guard him 
 from the wind of that ugly door, or that terrible 
 chink in the wainscot. 
 
 But however familiarly he may behave in his 
 addresses to his mother, and whatever little acts 
 of gallantry may pass between them, no en- 
 couragement can prevail on him to treat other 
 women with the same freedom. Being once 
 desired at a ball to dance a minuet, instead of 
 taking out any of the young ladies, he could 
 pitch upon no partner so agreeable, to whom he 
 might offer the compliment of his hand, as his 
 mother ; and I remember when he was once 
 called upon in a large company at a tavern to 
 give a lady in his turn, he plainly showed who 
 was the sole misti-ess of his affections by toast- 
 ing his mother. The gallant custom of chal- 
 lenging a lady to drink a bumper, by leaving it 
 to her option whether she will have hob or nob, 
 fi'equently gives a delicious flavour to the liquor, 
 especially when, as I have known it happen, 
 joining the lips of the glasses has made a pre- 
 lude to a meeting between the lips of the par- 
 ties : but he could not be prevailed on to accept 
 a glass of claret from the fairest hand, though a 
 kiss were sure to follow it. 1 have known him 
 so very nice, as to refuse a glass of sack filled 
 with walnuts, which had betn peeled by the 
 snowy fingers of a beautiful young lady ; though 
 I have seen him smack his lips after a glass of 
 raisin wine, in which his prudent mother had 
 been dabbling with her snuffy finger, in order 
 to fish out the small particles of cork, which 
 might possibly have choked him. If a lady 
 drops her fan, he sits without any emotion, and 
 suffers her to stoop for it herself; or if she 
 strikes the tea-cup against the saucer to give 
 notice that it is empty, he pays no regard to the 
 signal, but sees her walk up to the tea-table, 
 without stirring from his chair. He would 
 I'ather leave the most celebrated beauty, in cross- 
 ing the street, to the mercy of a drayman, than 
 trust her with his little finger : though at the 
 same time, should his mother be so distressed, 
 he would not scruple to bear as much of her 
 weight as he could stand under, and to redeem 
 her silk stockings from jeopardy, would even 
 expose his own. 
 
 One Avould imagine, that this extreme coy- 
 ness and reserve, in which he so remarkably dif- 
 fers from the generality of his own sex, would in 
 another respect as effectually distinguish him 
 from thegenerality of women : I mean that being 
 less polite in his address than a footman, we should 
 hardly expect to find him more loquacious than a 
 chambermaid. But this is really the case : suffer 
 
190 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 112. 
 
 iiim to take the lead in conversation, and there 
 are certain topics, in which the most prating 
 gossip at a christening would find it difficult to 
 cope with him. The strength of his constitu- 
 tion is his favourite theme : he is constantly at- 
 tempting to prove, that he is not susceptible of 
 the least injury from cold : though a hoarseness 
 in his voice, and the continual interruptions of 
 a consumptive cough, give him the lie in his 
 throat at the end of every sentence. The in- 
 stances, indeed, by which he endeavours to 
 prove his hardiness, unluckily rather tend 
 to convince us of the delicacy of his frame, 
 as they seldom amount to more than his 
 having kicked off the bed-clothes in his sleep, 
 laid aside one of his flannel waistcoats in a hot 
 day, or tried on a new pair of pumps, before 
 they had been sufficiently aired. For the truth 
 of these facts he always appeals to his mamma, 
 who vouches for him with a sigh, and protests 
 that his carelessness would ruin the constitu- 
 tion of a hoi'se. 
 
 I am now coming to the most extraordinary 
 part of his character. This pusillanimous crea- 
 ture thinks himself, and would be thought, a 
 buck. The noble fraternity of that order find, 
 that their reputation can be no otherwise main- 
 tained, than by prevailing on an Irish chairman 
 now and then to favour them with a broken 
 head, or by conferring the same token of their 
 esteem on the unarmed and defenceless waiters at 
 a taA'ern. But these feats are by no means suited 
 to the disposition of our hero : and yet he al- 
 ways looks upon his harmless exploits as the 
 bold frolics of a buck. If he escapes a nervous 
 fever a month, he is quite a buck ; if he walks 
 home after it is dark, without his mamma's 
 maid to attend him, he is quite a buck : if he 
 sits up an hour later than his usual time, or 
 drinks a glass or two of wine without water, he 
 tails it a debauch ; and because his head does 
 not ache the next morning, he is quite a buck. 
 In short, a woman of the least spirit within the 
 precincts of St. James's would demolish him in 
 a week, should he pretend to keep pace with her 
 in her irregularities : and yet he is ever dig- 
 nifying himself with the appellation of buck. 
 
 Now might it not be giving this gentleman a 
 useful hint, Mr Town, to assure him, that while 
 milk and water is his darling liquor, a bamboo 
 cane his club, and his mother the sole object of 
 his affections, the world will never join in deno- 
 minating him a buck : that if he fails in this 
 attempt, he is absolutely excluded from every 
 order in society ; for whatever his deserts may 
 be, no assembly of antiquated virgins can ever 
 acknowledge him for a sister, nature having as 
 deplorably disqualified him for that rank in the 
 community, as he has disqualified himself for 
 every other : and that, though he never can 
 arrive at the dignity of leading apes in hell, he 
 may possibly be condemned to dangle in that 
 
 capacity, at the apron-string of an old maid in 
 the next world, for having so abominably re- 
 sembled one in this. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
 W. C. 
 
 No. 112.] Thursday, March 18, 1756. 
 
 Aureus axis erat, temo aureus, aurca summ^ 
 Curvatura rota;, radiorum argenteus ordo : 
 Perjuga chrysolithi, positcEque ex ordine gemrrue. 
 
 Ovid. 
 Here on a fair one's head-dress sparkling sticks, 
 Swinging on silver springs, a coach and six ; 
 There on a sprig or slop'd pompon you see 
 A chariot, sulky, chaise, or vis-a-vis. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 It has for a long time been observable that the la- 
 dies' heads have run much upon wheels ; but of 
 late there has appeared a strange kind of inversion, 
 for the wheels now run upon the ladies' heads. As 
 this assertion may probably puzzle many readers 
 who pay no attention to the rapid and whim- 
 sical revolutions of modern taste, it will be ne- 
 cessary to inform them, that instead of a cap, 
 the present mode is for every female of fashion 
 to load her head with some kind of carrijige ; 
 w^hether they are made with broad wheels or 
 not, I cannot determine ; however, as they are 
 undoubtedly excluded the Turnpike Act, it is 
 by no means material. Those heads which are 
 not able to bear a coach and six (for vehicles of 
 this sort are very apt to crack the brain) so far 
 act consistently with prudence as to make use of 
 a post-chariot, or a single-horse chaise with a 
 beau perching in the middle. 
 
 The curiosity 1 had of knowing the purport 
 of this invention, and the general name of these 
 machines, led me to make inquiry about thero 
 of a fashionable milliner, at the court end of the 
 town. She obliged me with the sight of one of 
 these equipages, designed for the head of a lady 
 of quality, which I surveyed with much admi- 
 ration ; and placing it on the palm of my hand, 
 could not help fancying myself, like Gulliver, 
 taking up the Empress of Lilliput in her state- 
 coach. The vehicle itself was constructed of 
 gold threads, and was drawn by six dapple greys 
 of blown glass, with a coachman, postilion, and 
 gentleman within, of the same brittle manufac- 
 ture. Upon further inquiry, the milliner told 
 me with a smile, that it was difficult to give a 
 reason for inventions so full of whim, but that 
 the name of this ornament (if it may be called 
 such) was a capriole or a cabriole ; which we 
 may trace from the same original with our Eng- 
 lish word caprice, both being derived from the 
 French word cahrer, which signifies to prance 
 like a horse. 
 
No. 112.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 191 
 
 It is not to be doubted, but that this fashion 
 took its rise among the ladies from their fondness 
 for equipage ; and I dare say, that every fair 
 one, who carries a coach and six upon her head, 
 would be glad to be cari-ied with equal splendour 
 in a coach of her own. I would therefore pro- 
 pose a scheme, which might render this whim- 
 sical mode of some kind of service to both sexes ; 
 by which the ladies may give a tacit hint of their 
 inclinations without the least breach of modesty, 
 the men may prevent the danger and inconveni- 
 ence attending the present method of advertising 
 for wives, and the whole course of a modern 
 courtship may be carried on, by means of this 
 new head-dress. 
 
 Instead of a capriole, suppose this capital 
 decoration w^as called a scutcheon of pretence, 
 which must not be here understood as a term of 
 heraldi-y, but as an invitation to matrimony. 
 Thus, if a lady presumes that she has a right, 
 either ft'om her wit, beauty, merit, or fortune, 
 to pretend to a set of horses, let six bright bays, 
 blacks, or greys, prance down one side of her 
 head ; and according to the rank she insists 
 upon, let a ducal or an earl's coronet, or a bloody 
 hand be distinguished upon her capriole. The 
 females of less ambition may likewise express 
 their inclinations by a post-chariot and pair ; 
 and even those who, from a due consideration of 
 the low condition of the funds, are so conde- 
 scending as to stoop to a plain cit, have nothing 
 to do but to fix upon their heads a single-horse 
 chaise, filled with a loving couple, sticking as 
 close together as two dried figs. As to those 
 who have rashly vowed virginity, if their great 
 proneness to censure the rest of their sex, and 
 the fretfulness of their aspect, be not sufl&cient 
 indications to keep the men at a distance, they 
 may erect upon their noddles a formal female 
 seated in a sulky, foolishly pleased with having 
 the w^hole vehicle to herself, and awkwardly 
 exercising the imaginary power of having the 
 sole command of the reins. 
 
 As a further means of facilitating this new 
 method of coiu'tship, I must beg leave to pro- 
 pose, that every lady's bosom should, instead of 
 a pendent cross, which savours of popery, be 
 ornamented with a chain and locket, something 
 like those bottle-tickets, which direct us to port, 
 claret, or burgundy, upon which might be cui-i- 
 ously engraved the numbers two hundred, five 
 hundred, or a thousand, according to the settle- 
 ment expected. But to those female Quixotes 
 who scorn the capriole, and erect windmills 
 upon their heads instead of it, I shall offer a 
 word of advice worthy their attention; which 
 is, that they would provide a pipe of communi- 
 cation, to be conveyed from these machines to 
 the brain, and constituted upon the model of 
 the ingenious Dr. Hale's ventilators, that when- 
 ever the sails of the windmill are put into 
 motion by the external air, they may draw off 
 
 all pernicious vapours, which may occasion a 
 vertigo in the inside, as well as on the outside of 
 their heads. 
 
 I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
 H. 
 
 I am much pleased with the proposal of my 
 ingenious correspondent, and think it particu- 
 larly well adapted to the present disposition of 
 the ladies. A fondness for showy equipages is 
 now become one of their darling passions ; and 
 the splendour in which they are to be maintain- 
 ed, seems to be one of the chief considerations in 
 modern matches. If a fine lady can be carried 
 to court in a chair richly ornamented, or roll to 
 the opera in a rich gUt chai'iot, she little con- 
 siders with how disagreeabJe a companion she 
 goes through the journey of life : and a polite 
 female would no more fix her affections on a 
 man, who drives but a beggarly pair, than she 
 could be contented with being tumbled down to 
 his country seat, like Punch's wife to Rumford, 
 in a wheel-barrow. 
 
 The ladies having thus strongly manifested 
 their passion for equipage, the gentlemen, I 
 suppose, out of mere gallantry, and in order to 
 further the gi-atification of theii" desii'es, have 
 taken great pains to convert themselves into 
 coachmen, grooms, and jockeys. The flapped 
 hat, the jemmy frock with plate buttons and a 
 leathern belt, and the pride which some young 
 men of quality take in driving, are all calculated 
 the better to qualify them for being the ladies' 
 humble servants. I am therefore for extending 
 my correspondent's scheme : and as the ladies 
 now adorn their heads with the sign of a coach 
 and six, like the door of a IVIews' alehouse, I 
 would have the gentlemen also bear these emble- 
 matical vehicles ; by which the other sex may, 
 by a single glance at a lover's head, see in what 
 state they will be supported ; as we know a 
 clergjTnan by his rose, or an officer by his coc- 
 kade. 
 
 The pretty fellows, who study dress, might 
 show a gi'eat deal of invention in sviiting their 
 caprioles to their circumstances. Any noble- 
 man or gentleman, who has the honour to be a 
 know^ing one, might show his affection for the 
 turf by carrying the horse and jockey ; another, 
 who is an excellent driver, might beai* his own 
 figure exalted in a phaeton ; and a thh'd, who 
 thinks of picking up a partner for life, that can 
 be pleased with a tete-a-tete or sober piquet party, 
 with her husband, may bear a vis-a-vis. In a 
 word, aU the different proposals of various 
 suitors might be made by means of these orna- 
 ments, which might be worn over the foreheads 
 of the beaux, like the white horse in the grena- 
 diers' caps ; and the ladies might be as much 
 smitten with a promising capriole on the head 
 of a lover, as heretofore with an elegant pai- 
 wig. 
 
192 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. lis. 
 
 If this mode should prevail, the concluding a 
 treaty of marriage between two persons of qua- 
 lity might be considered in the same light, and 
 expressed in the same terms, as making a match 
 at Newmarket ; and instead of the hackneyed 
 phrases at pi'esent used by our news- writers, we 
 might perhaps see the important articles, con- 
 cerning marriages, drawn up after the fol- 
 lowing manner : 
 
 We hear that a match will be shortly made 
 between the mourning coach and six of a mer- 
 chant's widow with a great jointure, and a hun- 
 ter, in fine order, belonging to a younger brother 
 of a noble family. 
 
 A running horse, highly valued for his blood, 
 is expected to start soon with a young filly from 
 Yorkshire. Many thousand pounds are depend- 
 irrg on this match. 
 
 A few days ago a young fellow from Ireland, 
 mounted on a single horse, attacked an heiress 
 in her coach and six. The lady made little or 
 no resistance, and suffered herself to be taken 
 out of the coach, and carried oiF behind him. 
 
 A gay coach and six, belonging to a young 
 heir j ust of age, came to town last week in great 
 splendour, and was intended to be matched with 
 an equipage of the same kind : but having un- 
 fortunately run against Arthur's chocolate- 
 house, it broke down, and the owner was very 
 much hurt. 
 
 We hear from Bath, that the post-chaise of a 
 young lady of great beauty lately made its ap- 
 pearance in the long-room, and soon after went 
 off with the landau of a neighbouring country 
 squire. 
 
 We are also informed from the same place, 
 that an old-fashioned two-wheel chaise with a 
 single horse, contrived to hold only one person, 
 had driven about the walks for some time ; but 
 having jostled against the sulky of an old bach- 
 elor, in his grand climacteric, it was judged ex- 
 pedient to join them together ; when they form- 
 ed a most agreeable vis-a-vis, for the mutual 
 accommodation of both parties. 
 
 No. lis.] Thursday, March 26, 1756. 
 
 O sancias gentes, quibus hcec nascuntur in hortis 
 Nmnina ! 
 
 O hallowed ground ! a grove here rev'rend nods. 
 Here thick plantations rise of all the gods. 
 
 Virtue is almost the only instance in which the 
 appearance of literary knowledge is affected in 
 the present age ; and our persons of rank ac- 
 quire just enough scholarship, to qualify them- 
 selves for Connoisseurs. This sort of students be- 
 come sufficiently acquainted with the customs of 
 the ancients, to learn the least interesting particu- 
 lars concerning them. They can distinguish a 
 
 Tiberius from a Trajan, know the pantheon 
 from the amphitheatre, and can explain the dif- 
 ference between the prcetexla and the tunica ; 
 which (only supposing the present times to have 
 elapsed some hundred years) is just as deep 
 knowledge, as if some future antiquary should 
 discover the difference between a Carolus and an 
 Anna, or St. Paul's church and Drury-lune 
 play-house, or a full-trimmed suit and a French 
 frock. 
 
 But the full display of modern polite learning 
 is exhibited in the decorations of pai'ks, gardens, 
 &c. and centred in that important monosyllable, 
 taste. Taste comprehends the whole circle of 
 the polite arts, and sheds its influence on every 
 lawn, avenue, grass-plot, and parterre. Taste 
 has peopled the walks and gardens of the great 
 with more numerous inhabitants than the an- 
 cient Satyrs, Fauns, and Dryads. While in- 
 fidelity has expunged the Christian theology 
 from our creed, taste has introduced the heathen 
 mythology into our gardens. If a pond is dug, 
 Neptune, at the command of taste, emerges from 
 the bason, and presides in the middle; or if a 
 vista is cut through a grove, it must be termi- 
 nated by a Flora, or an Apollo. As the ancients 
 held that every spot of ground had its guardian 
 genius, and that woodland deities were pegged 
 in the knotty entrails of every tree, so in the 
 gardens laid out by modern taste, every walk is 
 peopled with gods and goddesses, and every cor- 
 ner of it has its tutelar deity. Temples are e- 
 rected to all the train of deities mentioned in 
 Homer or Ovid, which edifices as well as their 
 several statues, are adorned with Latin or Greek 
 inscriptions ; while the learned owner wonders 
 at his own surprising stock of literature, which 
 he sees drawn out at large before him, like the 
 whole knowledge of an apothecary inscribed 
 upon his gallipots. 
 
 These persons of taste may be considered as 
 a sort of learned idolaters, since they may be 
 almost said to adore these graven images, and 
 are quite enthusiastic in their veneration of them. 
 The following letter may possibly give them 
 some offence ; but as I have myself no extrava- 
 gant fondness for a Jupiter Tonans or a Belvi- 
 dere Apollo, I heartily wish the scheme pro- 
 posed by my correspondent may take place, 
 though it should reduce the price of heathen 
 godheads. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 SlK, 
 
 At a time when all wise heads are considering 
 of ways and means to raise taxes, that may prove 
 the least oppressive to indigence, and the most ef- 
 fectually restrictive of luxury, permit me to pro- 
 pose (as a supplement to the thoughts of one of 
 your correspondents on this subject) a national 
 tax upon gods. 
 
 It is u strange but an kudeniable truth, Mr. 
 
No. 114.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 193 
 
 Town, that if you and I were to travel through 
 England, and to visit the citizen in his country 
 box, the nobleman at his seat, the esquire at the 
 hall-house, and even the divine at his parsonage, 
 we should find the gardens, avenues, and groves, 
 belonging to each mansion, stuifed and ornament- 
 ed with heathen gods. 
 
 In the present declining state of our established 
 religion, I almost tremble to consider what may 
 be the consequences of these ready-made deities. 
 Far be it from me to suppose that the great and 
 the rich will worship any god whatsoever; but 
 still I am induced tc fear that the poor and the 
 vulgar, when they find all other worship ridi- 
 culed and laid aside, may foolishly take to these 
 molten images, and adore every leaden godhead 
 they can find. If a tax on wheels has put down 
 some hundreds orcoaches, by a parity of reason, 
 a tax upon gods may pull down an equal, if not 
 a greater, number of statues. I would also 
 offer another proposal : which is this ; that an 
 oak be immediately planted wherever a statue 
 has been taken away ; by which means those 
 vast woods, which of late years have been cut 
 down in England, to supply the immediate ne- 
 cessities of the illustrious Arthurites in St. 
 James's-street, may be in some measure sup- 
 plied to future generations. 
 
 Among our present taxes, some of them fall 
 upon branches of splendour, not totally luxu- 
 rious. Wheel carriages may be necessary ; want 
 of health or lameness of limbs may require 
 them ; but what necessities can we pretend for 
 statues in our gardens, Penates in our libraries, 
 and Lares on every chimney-piece ? I have 
 remarked many wild whims of this kind, that 
 have appeared submissions,-if not attachments, to 
 idolatry. A gentleman of my acquaintance has 
 destroyed his chapel, merely because he could 
 not put up statues in it, and has filled his garden 
 with every god, that can be found in Spence's 
 Polymetis. Another of my friends, after 
 having placed a Belvidere Apollo very conspi- 
 cuously and naked upon the top of a mount, has 
 erected an obelisk to the Sun : and this expense 
 he has not put himself to for the beauty of the 
 obelisk, for it is not beautiful, nor again for the 
 splendour of the planet, which is of pewter dou- 
 ble gilt, but only because, being in possession of 
 copies or originals of every deity that Greece or 
 Italy could boast, he was resolved to have the god 
 of Persia to complete his collection. A poU- 
 tax, therefore, upon gods and goddesses, be their 
 representation what it will, suns, dogs, moons, 
 or monkeys, is absolutely necessary, and would 
 infallibly bring in a large revenue to the state. 
 
 Happening to be the other day at Slaughter's 
 cofi'ee-house, in St. IMartin's-Lane, I saw two 
 very fine statues of Fame and Fortune, brought 
 out of 3Ir. Roubilliac's gate, and exposed to 
 view, before they were nailed up and carted. 
 The boy of the house told us they were to be 
 
 placed upon the top of Sir Thomas 's chapel 
 
 in Hampshire. " Is it for such as these," obser- 
 ved a sneering papist, who stood near me, " that 
 crucifixes have been removed, and that reverend 
 saints and martyrs have been destroyed, and 
 pounded into dust ? Is it for these, that St. Pe- 
 ter has been broken to pieces, and St. Paul 
 melted down into water pipes ? IMust our Lady 
 make room for Proserpine? And the holy 
 giant St. Christopher fall a victim to the Farne- 
 sian Hercules ? Will you not agree with me, 
 Sir," continued he, " that as men are induced, 
 and almost constrained, to judge of others by 
 their own manners and inclinations, vre who 
 are supposed to worship the images of Christians, 
 must naturally conclude, that the protestants of 
 the Church of England worship the imager of 
 heathens?" I confess 1 was at a loss how to an- 
 swer the acuteness of his questions ; and must 
 own, that I cannot help thinking St. Anthony 
 preaching to the fishes, or St. Dunstan taking 
 the devil by the nose, as proper ornaments for a 
 chapel, as any pagan deities whatever. 
 
 Hitherto I have kept you entirely among the 
 molten images without doors, but were we to 
 enter the several mansions whose avenues and 
 demesnes are adorned in the manner I describe, 
 we should fiud every chamber a pagod, filled 
 with all the monstrous images that the idolatry 
 of India can produce. I will not presume to in- 
 fer, that the ladies address kitoos (prayers which 
 the Japanese make use of in time of public dis- 
 tress) to their Ingens, but I am apt to surmise, 
 that in times of danger and invasion, some ot 
 your fair readers wovdd be more alarmed at the 
 approach of the French to their china than to 
 their chapels, and would sooner give up a fa- 
 vourite lap-dog, than a grotesque chimney-piece 
 figure of a Chinese saint with numberless heads 
 and arms. I have not yet digested my thoughts, 
 in what manner the fair sex ought to be taxed. 
 It is a tender point, and requires consideration. 
 At present, I am of opinion, they ought to be 
 spared, and the whole burden^ entirely laid up- 
 on those Bramins and Imans, whose idolatrous 
 temples lie publicly open to our streets. 
 
 I am, Sir, your most humble Servant, 
 
 3I0SES Orthodox. 
 
 Xo. 11-i. Thursday, April 1, 1756. 
 
 Vesanian tefigisse timentfugiuniqve poefam. 
 
 Hoa. 
 
 Fly ! neighbours, fly ! he raves ; his verses show it : 
 Fly ! or you're caught, you're bit by a mad poeL 
 
 I Remember, when I Tvas very young, a rela- 
 tion carried me to visit a gentleman who had 
 wrote some pieces that hadbeen very well receiv* 
 Cc 
 
1.94 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 114. 
 
 ed, and made me very happy by promising to 
 introduce me to an author. As soon as I came, 
 I surveyed his whole person from top to 
 toe with the strictest attention, sat open- 
 mouthed to catch every syllable that he 
 uttered, and noticed his voice, manner, and 
 every Avord and gesture, with the minutest 
 observation. I could not help whispering to 
 myself the whole evening, " I am in company 
 with an author," and waited with the most 
 anxious impatience to hear him deliver some- 
 thing that might distinguish him from the rest 
 of mankind. The gentleman behaved with 
 great cheerfulness and politeness : but he did 
 not at all answer the idea which I had conceived 
 of an author ; and I vi^ent home exceedingly 
 disappointed, because I could not find any 
 striking difference between him and the rest of 
 my acquaintance. 
 
 There is no character in human life, which is 
 the subject of more frequent speculation 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 some- 
 thing different from all other people : and it is 
 i-emarkable with what greediness they attend to 
 any little anecdotes, which they can pick up 
 concerning his life and conversation. He is, 
 indeed, a kind of an ideal being, of which people 
 conceive very dift'erent notions. By some he is 
 supposed never to stir out of a gai-ret, to wear a 
 rusty black coat, dirty shirt, and darned stock- 
 ings, and to want all the necessaries as well as 
 conveniences, of life ; while others regard him 
 as a creatiu'e superior to the rest of mortals, and 
 endowed with something more than reason. 
 One part, therefore, is surprised to see him walk 
 abroad, and appear as well dressed as other peo- 
 ple ; and another is disappointed, when they find 
 him talk and act, and fill the offices of life no 
 better than any other common niau. 
 
 Nor is it less curious to consider the different 
 ideas they conceive of the manner in w^hich the 
 business of writing is executed. The novice in 
 literature, " smit with the love of sacred song," 
 but not yet dipt in ink, supposes it all rapture 
 and enthusiasm, and in imagination sees the 
 author running wildly about his room, talk- 
 ing poetry to the chairs and tables ; while the 
 mechanic considers him as Avorking at his trade, 
 and thinks he can sit down to write, whenever 
 he pleases, as readily as the smith can labour at 
 his foi'ge, or a carpenter plane a board. Indeed, 
 he regards the author with some veneration as a 
 scholar: but Avriting appears to him a mighty 
 easy business, and he smiles, whenever he hears 
 any body mention the Labour of it; nor has he 
 the least conception of the Tnind's being fatigued 
 with thinking, and the fancy harassed with 
 pursuing a long train of ideas. 
 
 As people are led frequently to judge of a man 
 from his ordinary conversation, so it is common 
 
 for them to form an idea of the author's dispo- 
 sition from the peculiar turn and colour of his 
 writings : they expect a gloom to be spread over 
 the face of a mathematician ; a controversial 
 writpr must be given to wrangling and dispute ; 
 and they imagine that a satirist must be made up 
 of spleen, envy, and ill-nature. But this crite- 
 rion is by no means certain and determinate : I 
 know an author of a tragedy, who is the merri- 
 es!; man living ; and one who has wrote a very 
 witty comedy, though he will sit an horn- in 
 company without speaking a word. Lord Buck- 
 hurst is celebrated for being " the best good man 
 with the worst natured muse ;" and Addison 
 Avas remarkably shy and reserved in conversa- 
 tion. I remember, I once fell into company 
 with a painter, a poet, a divine, and a physician, 
 who were no less famous for their wit and 
 humoui', than for their excellence in their se%'e-- 
 ral professions. After the usual common topics 
 were discussed, the physician and the poet fell 
 into a dispute concerning predestination j the 
 divine smoked 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 possible to conjure up the spu'its 
 of the most eminent wits in former ages, and 
 put them together, they would perhaps appear 
 to be very dull company. Virgil and Addison 
 would probably sit staring at each other without 
 opening their mouths ; Horace and Steele ivould 
 perhaps join in commendation of the liquor ; 
 and Swift would in all likelihood divert himself 
 with sucking his cheeks, dx-awing figui-es in the 
 wine spilt upon the table, or twii-ling the cork- 
 screw round his finger. 
 
 The strange pi-ejudices, which some persons 
 conceive against authors, deter many a youth 
 from drawing his pen in the service of litera- 
 ture : or, if he ventiu-es to commit a favourite 
 work to the press, he steals to the printer's with 
 as much caution and i)rivacy as he would, per- 
 haps, on another occasion, to a surgeon. He is 
 afraid that he shall injure his chai-acter by being 
 known to have written any thing, and that the 
 genteel part of his acquaintance will despise him 
 as a low wretch, as soon as they discover him to 
 be an author ; as if merely the appeai-ing in 
 print was a disgrace to a gentleman, and the 
 iniprwiatui- to his works was no more than a 
 stamp of shame and ignominy. These are the 
 terrors which at first disturb the peace of Jilmost 
 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 !" 
 
 These fearful apprehensions are perhaps no 
 unlucky drawback on the vanity natural to all 
 authoi's, Avhich undoubtedly they often conceal 
 or suppress, out of deference to the world : but 
 if this fiUse modesty is too much cherished, it 
 must of course damp all genius, and discourage 
 every literary undertaking. Why should it 
 
No. 115.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 195 
 
 be disgraceful to exert the noblest facilities 
 given us by nature? and why should any 
 man blush at acquitting himself weU in a 
 worjc, which there is scarce one in five hundred 
 has a capacity to perforin ? Even supposing an 
 author to support himself by the profit arising 
 from his works, there is nothing more dishonest, 
 scandalous, or mean in it, than an officer in the 
 army (the poUtest of all professions) living on 
 his commission. Sense and genius are as pro- 
 per commodities to traffic in, as courage ; and an 
 author is no more to be condemned as a hackney 
 scribbler, though he writes at the rate of so much 
 per sheet, than a colonel should be despised as a 
 mercenary and a bravo, for exposing himself to 
 be slashed, stuck, and shot at for so much per 
 day. The truth is, that authors themselves often 
 create the evils they complain of, and bring a 
 disgrace on the service of literature, by being 
 ashamed to wear the badge of it. Voltaire in his 
 letters on the English, relates a remarkable in- 
 stance of this kind of false pride in our own 
 Congreve. Voltaire, when he was in Y.ngland, 
 waited on Congreve, and told him, that he was 
 glad of an opportunity of paying his respects to a 
 writer so much celebrated for his wit and hu- 
 mour. Congreve received him politely enough, 
 but replied, that he should be glad to see him as 
 a common gentleman, but would not be consider- 
 ed or conversed with as an author. The French 
 writer was a good deal surprised at such a ridi- 
 culous piece of delicacy, and could not help tel- 
 ling him, that if he had been no more than a 
 common gentleman, he should never have had 
 any desire of seeing him. 
 
 I have often pleased myself with reflecting 
 on the different opinions, wliich my readers 
 must have formed of me, since my first ap- 
 pearance as an author. As poverty is one of 
 the general characteristics of our brotherhood, 
 those who indulge themselves in a contempt of 
 •writers, have, I doubt not, often painted me 
 to their imagination in a very grotesque taste. 
 Their ideal caricatui-es have perhaps often re- 
 presented me lodged at least three stories fi'om 
 the ground, composing dissertations on the mo- 
 dern taste in architecture : at another time 1 
 may have been delineated sitting in a tattered 
 night-gown and the breeches of a heathen phi- 
 losopher, writing satires on the present modes 
 in dress : • and sometimes perhaps they have 
 figured me half-starved, for want of a hearty 
 meal, penning invectives against luxury and de- 
 bauchery. 
 
 I But, while these have reduced me to this 
 low condition, and " steeped me in poverty to 
 the very lips," I flatter myself, that some few 
 have bestowed on me an extraordinary share 
 of virtue and understanding. After so many 
 grave lessons against the vices and luxury of 
 the present age, they will naturally suppose 
 that I never risked a farthing at the gaming 
 
 table, never kept a mistress, would decline an 
 invitation to a turtle feast, 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 resignation imaginable. As to 
 my wit and humonp, I should blush to set down 
 the many compliments I have had from several 
 unknown correspondents on that head ; and I 
 once received a note from a very honest gentle- 
 man, who desired to spend an evening with me, 
 promising himself great diversion in cracking a 
 bottle with the facetious Mr. Town, 
 
 These various opinions of me as an author I 
 shall never labour to reconcile ; but shall be 
 equally contented with instructing or amusing 
 the gentle reader, whether he considers my 
 papers as favours showered down upon him from 
 a bookseDer's garret, or issuing from my own 
 apartment. However this may be, I shall never 
 think it a disgrace to have written, or be asham- 
 ed to be considered as an author ; and if ever 
 Mr. Voltaire should think proper to visit Eng- 
 land again, I shall be very glad of a literary 
 chat with him, and wOl give him a most gi-acious 
 reception. T. 
 
 No. 115.] Thursday, April 8, 1756. 
 
 -—Calebs quid agam ? 
 
 With an old bachelor how things miscarry ! 
 What shall 1 do ? go hang myself? or marry ? 
 
 HOR. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 No man is a sincerer friend to innocent pleasan- 
 try, or more desirous of promoting it, than my- 
 self. Raillery of every kind, provided it be con- 
 fined within due bounds, is, in my opinion, an 
 excellent ingredient in conversation ; and 1 am 
 never displeased, if I can contribute to the harm- 
 less mirth of the company, by being myself the 
 subject of it : but, in good truth, I have neither 
 a fortune, a constitution, nor a temper, that will 
 enable me to chuckle and shake my sides, while 
 I suffer more from the festivity of my friends, 
 than the spleen or malice of my enemies could 
 possibly inflict upon me ; nor do I see any reason 
 why I should so far move the mirthful indigna- 
 tion of the ladies, as to be teased and worried to 
 death in mere sport, for no earthly reason, 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 
 sense of feeling in common with the rest of man- 
 kind ; that a bachelor may be beaten like a stock- 
 fish; that you may thrust pins into his legs, and 
 wring him by the nose ; in short, that you can- 
 not take too many liberties v/ith a baclielor. J 
 
196 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 115 
 
 am at a loss to conceive on what foundation 
 these romping philosophers have grounded their 
 hjT)othesis, though at the same time, 1 am a me- 
 lancholy proof of its existence, as well as of its 
 absurdity. 
 
 A friend of mine, whom I frequently visit, has 
 a wife and three daughters, the youngest of which 
 has persecuted me these ten years. These in- 
 genious young ladies have not only found out the 
 sole end and purpose of my being themselves, 
 but have likewise communicated their discovery 
 to all the girls in the neighbourhood : so that if 
 they happen at any time to be apprized of my 
 coming, (which I take all possible care to pre- 
 vent) they immediately despatch half a dozen 
 cards to their faithful allies, to beg the favour of 
 their company to drink coffee, and help to tease 
 Mr. Ironside. Upon these occasions, my entry 
 into the room is sometimes obstructed by a cord 
 fastened across the bottom of the door-case: 
 which as I am a little near-sighted, I seldom 
 discover, till it has brought me upon ihy knees 
 before them. While 1 am employed in brush- 
 ing the dust from my black rollers, or chafing 
 my broken shins, my wig is suddenly conveyed 
 away, and either stuffed behind the looking-glass, 
 or tossed from one to the other so dexterously 
 and with such velocity, that, after many a fruit- 
 less attempt to recover it, 1 am obliged to sit 
 down bare-headed, to the great diversion of the 
 spectators. The last time I found myself in 
 these distressful circumstances, the eldest girl, 
 a sprightly mischievous jade, stepped briskly up 
 to me, and promised to restore my wig, if I 
 would play her a tune on a small flute she held 
 in her hand. I instantly applied it to my lips, 
 and blowing lustily into it, to my inconceivable 
 surprise, was immediately choked and blinded 
 with a cloud of soot, that issued from every hole 
 in the instrument. The younger part of the 
 company declared I had not executed the condi- 
 tions, and refused to surrender my wig ; but the 
 father, who had a rough kind of facetiousness 
 about him, insisted on its being delivered up, 
 and protested that he never knew the black joke 
 better performed in his life. 
 
 I am naturally a quiet inoffensive animal, 
 and not easily ruffled ; yet I shall never submit 
 to these indignities with patience, till I am sa- 
 tisfied I deserve them. Even the old maids of 
 my acquaintance, who, one would think, might 
 have a fellow-feeling for a brother in distress, 
 conspire with their nieces to harass and torment 
 me . and it is not many nights since Miss Diana 
 Grizzle utterly spoiled the only superfine suit I 
 have in the world, by pinning the skirts of it 
 together with a red-hot poker. I own my re- 
 sentment of this injury was so strong, that I 
 determined to punish it by kissing the offender, 
 which in cool blood I should never have attempt- 
 ed. The satisfaction, however, which I ob- 
 tained by this imprudent revenge, was much 
 
 like what a man of honour feels on finding him- 
 self run through the body by the scoundrel who 
 had offended him. My upper lip was trans- 
 fixed with a large corking pin, which in the 
 scuffle she had conveyed into her mouth ; and I 
 doubt not that I shall caiTy the memorem labris 
 notam (the mark of this Judas kiss) from an 
 old maid to the grave with me. 
 
 These misfortunes, or others of the same kind, 
 I encounter daily: but at these seasons of the 
 year, which give a sanction to this kind of prac- 
 tical wit, and when every man thinks he has a 
 right to entertain himself at his friend's expense, 
 I live in hourly apprehensions of some mortify- 
 ing adventures. No miserable dung-hill cock, 
 devoted a victim to the wanton cruelty of the 
 mob, would be more ten*ified at the approach of 
 a Shrove- Tuesday, were he endued with human 
 reason and forecast, than I am at the approach 
 of a merry Christmas or the first of April. 
 No longer ago than last Thursday, which was 
 the latter of these festivals, I was pestered with 
 mortifying presents from the ladies ; obliged to 
 pay the carriage of half a dozen oyster-barrels 
 stuffed with brick-bats, and ten packets by the 
 post containing nothing but old newspapers. 
 But what vexed me the most, was the being 
 sent fifty miles out of town, on that day, by a 
 counterfeit express from a dying relation. 
 
 I could not help reflecting, with a sigh, on the 
 resemblance between the imaginary grievance of 
 poor Tom in the tragedy of Lear, and those 
 which 1 really experienced. I, like him, was led 
 through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quag- 
 mire ; and though knives were not laid under 
 my pillow, minced horse-hair was strewed upon 
 my sheets : like him 1 was made to ride on a 
 hard trotting horse through the most dangerous 
 ways, and found, at the end of my journey, that 
 1 had only been coursing my.own shadow. 
 
 As much a sufferer as I am by the behaviour 
 of the women in general, I must not forget to 
 remark, that the pertness and sauciness of an 
 old maid is particularly offensive to me. I can- 
 not help thinking, that the virginity of these 
 ancient misses 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 conquest, they are 
 more properly the objects of derision who are 
 still unmarried, after having made so many. 
 Numberless are the proposals they have rejected, 
 according to their own account : and they are 
 eternally boasting of the havoc they have for- 
 merly made among the knights, baronets, and 
 squires, at Bath, Tunbridge, and Epsom ; while 
 a tattered madrigal perhaps, a snip of hair, or 
 the portrait of a cherry-cheeked gentleman in a 
 milk-white periwig, are the only remaining 
 proofs of those' beauties, which are now with- 
 
No. 116.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 197 
 
 ered like the short lived rose, and have only left 
 the virgin thorn I'emaining. 
 
 Believe me, Mr. Town, I am almost afraid to 
 trust you with the publication of this epistle ; 
 the ladies, whom I last mentioned, will be so ex- 
 asperated on reading it, that I must expect no 
 quajler at their hands for the future ; since they 
 are generally as little inclined to forgiveness in 
 their old age, as they were to pity and compas- 
 sion in their youth. One expedient, however, 
 is left me, which, if put in execution, will effec- 
 tually screen me from their resentment. 
 
 I shall be happy, therefore, if by your means 
 I may be penaitted to inform the ladies, that as 
 fusty an animal as they think me, it is not im- 
 possible but by a little gentler treatment than I 
 have hitherto met with, I may be humanized 
 into a husband. As an inducement to them to 
 relieve me from my present uneasy circum- 
 stances, you may assure them, that I am ren- 
 dered so exceedingly tractable, by the very se- 
 vere discipline I have undergone, that they may 
 mould and fashion me to their minds with ease ; 
 and, consequently, that by marrying me, a wo- 
 man will save herself all that trouble which a 
 wife of any spirit is obliged to take with an un- 
 ruly husband, who is absurd enough to expect 
 from her a strict performance of the marriage 
 vow, even in the very minute article of obe- 
 dience : that, so far from contradicting a lady, 
 I shall be mighty well satisfied, if she contents 
 herself with contradicting me : that, if I happen 
 at any time inadvertently to thwart her inclina- 
 tions, I shall think myself rightly served, if she 
 boxes my ears, spits in my face, or treads upon 
 my corns : that, if I approach her lips, when she 
 is not in a kissing humour, I shall expect she 
 will bite me by the nose ; or, if I take her by 
 the hand at an improper season, that she will 
 instantly begin to pinch, scratch, and claw, and 
 apply her fingers to those purposes which they 
 Avere certainly intended by nature to fulfil. Add 
 to these accomplishments, so requisite to make 
 the married state happy, that I am not much 
 turned of fifty, can tie on my cravat, fasten 
 a button, or mend a hole in my stocking without 
 any assistance. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
 
 Chkistopher Ironside. 
 
 ^^>%««'%^«««'V««^«^« 
 
 No. 1 16.] Thursday, April 15, 1736. 
 
 Despicere unde queas alios, passhnque videre 
 Errare,lafqu€ viam palantes qu^erere vitce. Lucret. 
 
 Here each profession, and its tribe we view. 
 Some toiling in the old, and some inventing new. 
 
 Those parents who are unable to give their sons 
 An estate, regard the educating them to one of 
 
 the three great professions of law, physic, and 
 divinity, as putting them in the high road to ac- 
 quire one. Hence it happens, that nineteen 
 parts out of twenty of our young men are 
 brought up with a view to Lambeth, the Seals, 
 or Warwick-lane. But, alas ! their hopes and 
 expectations of rising by their professions are 
 often frustrated; and the surprising numbers, 
 engaged in running the same race, necessarily 
 jostle ont another. For though the courts of 
 justice are tolerably supplied with matters of li- 
 tigation ; though there are many invalids and 
 valetudinarians ; and though great part of Eng- 
 land is laid out into church preferments ; yet 
 there is not, in all the kingdom, sufficient mat- 
 ter for legal contention, to employ a tenth part 
 of those who have been trained to engross deeds 
 in their chamber, or to harangue at the bar : 
 the number of patients bears no proportion to 
 the swarms of the faculty, nor would it though 
 a consultation vrere to sit on every sick man, 
 like carrion-flies upon a carcase : and the prodi- 
 gious number of reverend divines infinitely ex- 
 ceeds that of those bishoprics, deaneries, pre- 
 bends, rectories, vicarages, &c. which when they 
 are ordained, they conceive it to be part of their 
 holy orders to fill. From these frequent failures 
 in each of the professions, the younger sons of 
 great men often wish, that they had been per- 
 mitted to disgi-ace the family by some mercantile, 
 or more plebeian occupation ; while the son of 
 the mechanic curses the pride of his father, who 
 instead of securing him a livelihood in his ow^n 
 business, has condemned him to starve in pud- 
 ding-sleeves, that he may do honour to his I'ela- 
 tions by being a gentleman. 
 
 The three professions being thus crowded 
 with more candidates for business and prefer- 
 ment, than can possibly be employed or promot- 
 ed, has occasioned several irregularities in the 
 conduct of the followers of each of them. The 
 utter impossibility of supporting themselves in 
 the usual method of practising law, physic, or 
 divinity, without clients, patients, or parishion- 
 ers, has induced the labourers in each of those 
 vocations to seek out new veins and branches. 
 The young solicitor who finds he has nothing to 
 do, now he is out of his clerkship, offers his as- 
 sistance, in the transaction of all law affairs, 
 by the public papers, and, like the advertising 
 tailors, promises to work cheaper than any of 
 his brethren ; while the young barrister, after 
 having exhibited his tie-wig in Westminster- 
 hall, during several terms to no purpose, is 
 obliged to forego the hope of rivalling Murray 
 and Coke, and content himself with being the 
 oracle of the courts of Carolina or Jamaica. The 
 graduate in medicine, finding himself unsolicited 
 for prescription or advice, and likely to starve by 
 practising physic secundum artem, flies in the 
 face of the college, and professes to cure all dis- 
 
198 
 
 THECONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [Xo 116. 
 
 by nostrums unmentioned in the dispensa- 
 tory. He commences a thriving quack, and 
 80on makes his way through the important me- 
 dical degrees of walking on foot, riding on horse- 
 back, dispensing his drugs from a one-horse chaise, 
 and lastly lolling in a chariot. Thedivine without 
 living, cure or lectureship, may perhaps incur 
 transportation for illegal marriages, set up a 
 theatrical-oratorical- Billingsgate chapel under 
 the shelter of the toleration-act and the butchers 
 of Clai-e-market, or kindle the inward light in 
 the bosoms of the saints of Moorfielda, and the 
 Magdalens of Broad St. Giles's. 
 
 But notwithstanding these shoots, ingrafted, 
 as it were, into the main body of the professions, 
 it is still impossible for the vast multitude of di- 
 vines, lawyers, and physicians, to maintain them- 
 selves, at any rate, within the pale of their res- 
 pective employments. They have often been 
 compelled, at least, to call in adventitious ones, 
 and have sometimes totally abandoned their ori- 
 ginal undertakings. They have frequently 
 made mutual transitions into the occupations of 
 each other, or have perhaps embraced other em- 
 ployments ; which though distinct from all three, 
 and not usually dignified with the title of pi'o- 
 7essions, may fairly be considered in that light ; 
 since they are the sole means of support to many 
 thousands, who toiled in vain for a subsistence 
 in the three capital ones. On these professions, 
 and their various followers, I shall here make 
 some observations. 
 
 The first of these professions is an author. 
 The mart of literature is, indeed, one of the 
 chief resorts of unbeneficed divines, and lawyers 
 and physicians without practice. There are, 
 at present, in the world of authors, doctors 
 of physic, who (to use" the phrase of one of 
 them) have no great fatigue from the business 
 of their profession : many clergymen, whose 
 sermons are the most inconsiderable part of 
 their compositions : and several gentlemen of 
 the inns of court, who, instead of driving the 
 quill over ekins of parchment, lead it through 
 all the mazes of modei'n novels, critiques, and 
 pamphlets. Many likewise have embraced 
 this profession, who were never bred to any 
 other : and I might also mention the many 
 bankrupt tradesmen and broken artificers, who 
 daily enter into this new way of business, if, by 
 pursuing it in the same mechanical manner as 
 their former occupations, they might not rather 
 be regarded as following a trade than a profes- 
 sion. 
 
 The second of these professions is a player. 
 The ingenious gentlemen, who assume the per- 
 sons of the drama, are composed of as great a 
 variety of character as those they represent. 
 The history of the stage might afford many in- 
 stances of those, Avho in the ti'ade of death 
 might have slain men, who have condescended 
 
 to deal counterfeit slaughter from their right 
 hands, and administer haitnless phials and 
 bowls of poison. We might rea^i also of persons, 
 whose fists were intended to beat ' the drum 
 ecclesiastic,' who have themselves become thea- 
 trical volunteei-s. In regard to the law, many 
 who were originally designed to manifest their 
 talents for elocution in Westminster-hall, have 
 displayed them in Drury lane ; and it may be 
 added, on theatrical authority, that 
 
 Not e'en attorneys have this rage withstood. 
 
 But chang'd their pens for truncheons, ink for blood. 
 
 And, strange reverse!... died for their country's good. 
 
 I will not so far affront those gentlemen, who 
 v>ere at any time engaged in the study of the 
 three honourable professions of law, physic, and 
 divinity, as to suppose that any of them have 
 ever taken the more fashionable employment of 
 a pimp . yet it is certain, that this is a very 
 common and lucrative profession, and that very 
 many provide themselves with the nacessariea 
 of life, by administering to the pleasures of 
 others. A convenient cousin, sister, or wife, 
 has sometimes proved the chief means of ma- 
 king a fortune ; and the tongue of slander has 
 often ventured to affirm, that the price of 
 procuration has been paid with a place or a 
 bishopric. 
 
 The most advantageous and genteel of all pro- 
 fessions is gaming. Whoever will make this 
 science his study^, will find it the readiest way 
 to riches, and most certain passport to the best 
 company ; for the polite world wiU always ad- 
 mit any one to their society, who will conde- 
 scend to win their money. The followers of 
 this pi'ofession are very numerous ; which is in- 
 deed, no wonder, when we reflect on the num- 
 bers it supports in ease and affluence, at no 
 gi'eater pains than packing the cards or cogging 
 the dice, and no more risk than being sometimes 
 tweaked by the nose, or kicked out of company ; 
 besides which, this profession daily receives new 
 lustre from the many persons of quality that 
 follow it, and crowd into it with as much eager- 
 ness as into the army. Among gamesters may 
 also be found lawyers, who get more by being 
 masters of all the cases in Hoyle, than by their 
 knowledge of those recorded in the Report- 
 books ; physicians, the chief object of whose at- 
 tention is the circulation of the E O table ; 
 and divines, Avho, we may suppose, were hinted 
 at by a famous wit in a certain assembly, when, 
 among the other benefits resulting from a dou- 
 ble tax upon dice, he thought fit to enumerate, 
 that it might possibly prevent the clergy from 
 playing at backgammon. 
 
 But the more danger the more honour ; and 
 therefore no profession is more honourable than 
 that of a highwayman. Who the followers of 
 this profession are, and with what success they 
 
No. 117.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 199 
 
 practise it; I^ will not pretend to relate ; as the 
 memoii-s of several of them have been already 
 penned by the ordinary of Newgate, and as it is 
 to be hoped, that the lives of all the present 
 practitioners will be written hereafter by that 
 faith fill historian. I shall, therefore, only say, that 
 the present spirit of dissoluteness and free-think- 
 ing must unavoidably bring this honourable 
 profession more and more into vogue, and that 
 every sessions may soon be expected to aiford an 
 instance of a gentleman-highwayman. 
 W. 
 
 No. 117. 3 Thursday, April 22, 1756. 
 
 Ergo hand difficile estperituram arcessere summam 
 Laneibus oppositis, vel matris imagine fracta. Juv. 
 
 Here to the spendthrift ready cash is lent. 
 On plate, or rings, or watches, cent per cent : 
 Here, from it's frame the enamell'd portrait drawn. 
 The circling brilliants are received in pawn. 
 
 I HAVE often amused myself with considering 
 tlie mean and ridiculous shifts, to which the ex- 
 travagant are sometimes reduced. When the 
 certain supplies of a regular income are exhaust- 
 ed, they are obliged to cast about for ready cash, 
 and set the invention to work, in order to devise 
 meank of repairing their finances. Such 
 attempts to enlarge their revenue have frequently 
 driven those, whose great souls would not be 
 curbed by the straitness of their circumstances, 
 into very uncommon undertakings : they have 
 sent lords to Arthur's, and ladies to assemblies, 
 or sometimes Avorse places. We may safely con- 
 clude, that whoever breaks through all economy, 
 will soon discard honesty ; though perhaps it 
 might be deemed scandalum magnatum to aver, 
 that prodigal men of quality have often sold 
 their country to redeem their estates, and that 
 extravagant ladies have been known to make up 
 the deficiencies of their pin-money by pilfering 
 and larceny. 
 
 One of the first and chief resources of exti-a- 
 vagance, both in high and low life, is the pa^vn- 
 brokers. I never pass by one of these shops, 
 ^without considering them as the repositories of 
 half the jewels, plate, &c. in town. It is true, 
 indeed, that the honest and industrious are some- 
 times forced to supply their necessities by this 
 method : but if we were to inquire, to whom 
 the several articles in these miscellaneous ware- 
 houses belong, we should find the gi-eatest part 
 of them to be the property of the idle and infa- 
 mous among the vulgar, or the prodigal and 
 luxurious among the gi-eat ; and if, in imitation 
 of the ancients, who placed the temple of 
 Honour behind the temple of Virtue, propriety 
 should be attempted in the situation of pawu- 
 brokei-s' shops, they would be placed contiguous 
 
 to a gin-shop, as in the ingenious print of 
 Hogarth, or behind a ta\ern gaming-house, or 
 bagnio. 
 
 Going home late last Saturday night, I was 
 witness to a curious dialogue at the door of one 
 of these houses. An honest journeyman car- 
 penter, whose wife, it seems, had pawned his 
 best clothes, having just received his week's pay, 
 was come to redeem them ; but, it being past 
 twelve o'clock, the man of the house, who kept 
 up the conversation by means of a little grate in 
 the door, refused to deliver them ; though the 
 poor carpenter begged hard for his holiday 
 clothes, as the morrow was Easter Sunday. 
 This accident led me to reflect on the various 
 persons in tovrn, who carry on this kind of 
 commerce ^vith the pavrnbrokers, and gave occa- 
 sion to the following dream, 
 
 I was scarce asleep before 1 found myself at 
 the entrance of a blind alley, terminated by a 
 little hatch, where I saw a vast concourse of 
 people, of different ages, sex, and condition, 
 going in and coming, out. Some of these I 
 observed, as they went up, very I'ichly drest ; 
 and others were adorned with jewels and costly 
 trinkets : but I could not help remarking, that 
 at their return they were all divested of their 
 finery ; and several had even their gowns and 
 coats stript off their backs. A lady, who 
 strutted up in a rich brocaded suit, sneaked back 
 again in an ordinary stuff nigh t-go%vn ; a second 
 retreated with the loss of a diamond solitaire 
 and pearl necklace ; and a third, who had 
 bundled up her whole stock of linen, scarce 
 escaped Avlth what she had upon her back. I 
 observed several gentlemen, who brought their 
 sideboards of plate to be melted down, as it were, 
 into current specie ; many had their pockets dis- 
 burthened of their watciies ; and some, even 
 among the military gentlemen, were obliged to 
 deliver up their swords. Others of the com- 
 pany marched up, heavy laden 'with pictures, 
 household goods, and domestic utensils ; one 
 carried a spit ; another brandished a gridiron ; 
 a third flourished a frying-pan ; while a fourth 
 brought to my remembrance the old sign of the 
 dog's head in the porridge pot. I saw several 
 trot up merrily with their chairs, tables, and 
 other furniture : but I could not help pitying 
 one poor creature among the rest, "vvho, after, 
 having stript his own house, even to his feather 
 bed, stalked along like a Lock-patient, wrapt up 
 in the blankets, while his wife accompanied him 
 doing penance in the sheets. I 
 
 As I was naturally curious to see the inside 
 of the receptacle, where all these various spoils 
 were deposited, I stept up to the hatch ; and 
 meeting a grave old gentleman at the threshold, 
 I desired him to inform me w^hat place it Avas, 
 and ^lat business was transacted there. He 
 very courteously took me by the hand, and lead- 
 ing me through a dark passage, brought me in|o 
 
200 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR 
 
 [No. 117. 
 
 a spacious hall, which he told me was the temple 
 of usury, and that he himself was the chief 
 priest of it. One part of this building was hung 
 round with aU kinds of apparel, like the sale shops 
 in Monmouth-street ; another was strewed with 
 a variety of goods, and resembled the brokers' 
 shops in Harp-alley ; and another part was fur- 
 nished with such an immense quantity of jewels 
 and rich plate, that I should rather have fancied 
 myself in the church of the lady of Loretto. All 
 these, my guide informed me, were the offerings 
 of that crowd, which I had seen resorting to this 
 temple. The churches in Roman Catholic 
 countries have commonly a cross fixed upon 
 them ; the Chinese erect dragons and hang bells 
 about their pagods ; and the Turkish mosques 
 have their peculiar hieroglyphics ; but 1 could 
 not help taking particular notice, that this tem- 
 ple of usury had its vestibule adorned with 
 three wooden balls painted blue ; the mystery 
 of which, I was told, Avas as dark and unfathom- 
 able as the Pythagorean number, or the secret 
 doctrines of Trismegist. 
 
 When I had in some measure satisfied my 
 curiosity, in taking a general survey of the tem- 
 ple, my instructor led me to an interior corner 
 of it, where the most splendid offerings w^ere 
 spread upon a large altar. " This bauble," said 
 he, showing me an elegant sprig of diamonds, 
 " is an aigret, sent in last week by a lady of 
 quality, who has ever since kept home, with her 
 head muffled up in a double clout, for a pretend- 
 ed fit of the tooth-ache. She has, at different 
 times, made an offering of all her jewels : and, 
 besides these, her whole wardrobe was very 
 lately lodged here, which threw her into an 
 hysteric fever, and confined her to herbed-gov/n 
 for upwards of a month. Those ear-rings and 
 other jewels are the j)araphernalia of a young 
 bride ; who was so constant a votary to this 
 place, that, when nothing else remained for an 
 offering, she even brought in her wedding-ring. 
 You may be surprised, perhaps, to behold such 
 a variety of necklaces, girdle-buckles, solitaires, 
 and other female ornaments, as are here collect- 
 ed : but it is observable, that their devotions in 
 the temple of usury have been chiefly encou- 
 raged and kept alive by their assisting at the 
 midnight orgies of avarice. 
 
 " Nor are the gentlemen," continued he, "less 
 encouragers of our rites. That gold watch lay 
 snug for a considerable time, in the fob of a 
 young man of quality : but it was one night 
 jerked out by a single throw of the dice at a 
 gaming-table, and made its way into the pocket 
 of a stranger, who placed it here to keep com- 
 pany with several others, brought hither on a 
 similar occasion. Those brilliant buckles once 
 glittered on the shoes of a very pretty fellow, 
 who set out last Avinter on his travels into 
 foreign parts, but never got further than Bou- 
 logne : and that sword, Avith the rich fiUagree 
 
 hilt and elegantly-fancied sword knot with gold 
 tassels, once dangled at the side of a spirited 
 buck ; who left it here two years ago, when he 
 went off in a great huny, to take possession of 
 a large estate in his native country, Ireland, 
 whence he is not yet returned. You may see 
 many others of these instruments of death, 
 which rust peacefully in their scabbards, as be- 
 ing of no use whatever to their owners ; that 
 which commonly hangs upon the vacant peg 
 there, belongs, you must know, to a noble cap- 
 tain : it is called upon duty once a month, 
 and is at this instant mounting guard at St. 
 James's." 
 
 Not far from these rich ornaments hung se- 
 veral embroidered coats, laced waistcoats, jwint 
 d'esjmgne hats, &c. " This suit," said my 
 venerable instructor, pointing to one richly em- 
 broidered, "was made up for a noble lord on 
 the last birth-day, and conveyed hither the very 
 next morning after it had appeared at court. 
 That jemmy waistcoat with the gold worked 
 button-holes, on the next peg, was the property 
 of a smart templar, who, having spent a night 
 out of his chambers, sent his waistcoat hither 
 in the morning as a penitential offering, by hia 
 landlady. As to that heap of camblet gowns, 
 checked aprons, and coloured handkerchiefs, 
 which you see strung together a little further 
 off, they are oblations made here by a sect of 
 maudlin votaries, who resort to this temple to 
 pay their devotions to a goddess, whom they 
 have christened Madam Gin, but whom they 
 sometimes honour with the more proper appel- 
 lation of Strip me Naked." 
 
 While my conductor was thus relating the 
 history of the various offerings, and persons 
 who had made them, he was suddenly called 
 aside to a dark closet; several of which were 
 erected near the entrance, and appeared not 
 unlike the confessionals of the Romish priests. 
 These little boxes, I found, were appointed to 
 receive the votaries, who came to pay their de- 
 votions, and make their offerings : but the ne- 
 cessary rites and cei'emonies were commonly 
 solemnized with as much caution and privacy, 
 as the mysteries of the Bojta Dea among the 
 Romans. At present, however, there was a 
 greater noise and hubbub than usual. A per- 
 son of the first rank in the kingdom, who had 
 made some very considerable oblations of gold 
 and silver plate, was now about to celebrate a 
 feast in honoiu" of Bacchus, in which these 
 rich utensils would be requisite, on which occa- 
 sion he prayed to have the use of them. The 
 chief priest, after having received the customary 
 fee, granted a dispensation for this purpose, and 
 loaded the messengers with a number of wrought 
 ewers, vases, and chargers ; at the same time 
 commissioning two or three of the inferior offi- 
 cials of the temple to atteud the celebration of 
 the ftast, and to take care that the plate was 
 
No. lis.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 201 
 
 duly returned, and safely lodged again in the 
 temple. 
 
 These matters were scarcely adjusted before 
 an unexpected incident filled the whole temple 
 with confusion and disturbance. A rude tribe 
 of officers broke in upon us, put a stop to the 
 rites, and seized the chief priest himself, charg- 
 ing him with having profaned the place by a 
 crime almost as infamous as sacrilege. He was 
 accused of having encouraged robbers to strip the 
 citizens of their most valuable effects, and for 
 a small reward to deposit them as offerings. The 
 clamour on this occasion was very great : and at 
 last one of the officers, methought, seized me as 
 a party concerned ; Avhen endeavouring to clear 
 myself, and struggling to get out of his clutches, 
 I awokcx W. 
 
 No. 118.] Thursday, April 29, 1756. 
 
 Hcsc stuUitia parit civitates, hac constant imperia, magistra- 
 fus, religio, consilia, judicia, nee aUiid omnino est vita hu- 
 mana, quam stultitia; lusus quidam. Erasm. 
 
 Nonsense o'er empires and o'er states presides. 
 Our judgment, counsels, laws, religion, guides j 
 All arts and sciences despotic rules ; 
 And life itself 's a drama, play'd by fools. 
 
 There is no race of peopk, that has been more 
 conspicuous, in almost every relation of life, than 
 the illustrious family of Nonsense. In every age 
 of the Avorld they have slione forth with uncom- 
 mon lustre, and have made a wonderful progress 
 in all the arts and sciences. They have at dif- 
 ferent seasons delivered speeches from the throne, 
 harangued at the bar, debated in parliament, and 
 gone amazing lengths in philosophical inquu'ies 
 and metaphysical disquisitions. In a word, the 
 whole history of the world moral and political, 
 is but a Cyclopaedia of Nonsense. For which 
 reason, considering the dignity and importance 
 of the family, and the infinite service it has been 
 of to me and many of my contemporaries, I have 
 resolved to oblige the public with a kind of ab- 
 sti-act of the history of Nonsense. Nonsense was 
 the daughter of Ignorance, begot on Falsehood, 
 many ages ago, in a dark cavern in Boeotia. As 
 she grew up, she inherited all the qualities of 
 lier parents : she discovered too warm a genius 
 to require being sent to school ; but while other 
 dull brats ^vere poring over a horn-book, she 
 amused herself with spreading fantastical lies, 
 taught her by her mamma, and which have in 
 latter ages been fiimiliarly known to us under 
 the names of Sham, Banter, and Humbug. 
 When she grew up, she received the addresses, 
 and scon became the wife of Impudence. Who 
 he was, or of what profession, is uncertain : 
 some say he was the son of Ignorance by ano- 
 ther venter, and was suffered to become the hus- 
 
 band of Ncn-ense in those dark ages of tlie 
 world, as the Ptolemies in Egypt married their 
 own sisters. Some record, that he was in the 
 anny : others, that he was an intei-preter of the 
 laws ; and others, a divine. However this was, 
 Nonsense and Impudence were soon inseparably 
 united to each other, and became the founders of 
 a more noble and numerous family, than any 
 yet preserved on any tree of descent whatsoeA^er ; 
 of which ingenious device they were said to have 
 been the first inventors. 
 
 It is my chief intent at present to record tht 
 great exploits of that branch of the family, who 
 have made themselves remarkable in England ; 
 though they began to signalize themselves very 
 early, and are still A'ery flourishing in most 
 parts of the world. Many of them were Egj-p- 
 tian priests four thousand years ago, and told 
 the people, that it Avas religion to worship dogs, 
 monkeys, and gi-een leeks : and their descen- 
 dants prevailed on the Greeks and Romans to 
 build temples iii honour of supposed deities, Avho 
 were, in their own estimation of them, AA^hores 
 and AA'horemongers, pick-pockets and drunkards. 
 Others rose up some ages after in Turkey, and 
 persuaded the people to embrace the doctrine of 
 bloodshed and of the sword, in the name of the 
 most merciful God ; and others have manifest- 
 ed their lineal descent from Nonsense and Impu- 
 dence, by affirming that there is no God at aU. 
 There Avere also among them many shrewd phi- 
 losophers ; some of whom, though they were 
 racked with a fit of the stone, or laid up with a 
 gouty toe, declared that they felt not the least 
 degree of pain ; and others would not trust their 
 own eyes, but AA'hen they saw a horse or a dog, 
 could not tell Avhether it was not a chair or a 
 table, and even made a doubt of their own exis- 
 tence. 
 
 V?"e have no certain account of the progress of 
 Nonsense here in England, till after the Refor- 
 mation. All we hear of her and her progeny 
 before that period of time is, that they led a 
 lazy life among the monks in cloisters and con- 
 A'ents, dreaming OA-er old legends of saints, draw- 
 ing up breviaries and mass-books, and stringing 
 together some barbarous Latin A^erses in rhyme. 
 In the days of Queen Elizabeth, so little encou- 
 ragement was given to her family, that it seem- 
 ed to have been almost extinct ; but in the suc- 
 ceeding reign it flourished again, and filled the 
 most considerable offices in the nation. Nonsense 
 became a great faA'ourite atcoiu't, Avhereshe was 
 highly caressed on account of her wit, which 
 consisted in puns and quibbles ; and the bonny 
 monarch himself was thought to take a more 
 than ordinary delight in her couA^ersation. At 
 this time many of her progeny took orders, and 
 got themselves preferred to the best livings, by 
 turning the Evangelists into punsters, and 
 making St. Paul quibble from the pulpit. 
 Among the rest, there was a bishop, a favoui- 
 Dd 
 
202 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 119. 
 
 ite son of Nonsense, of whom it is particular- 
 ly recorded, that he used to ticlde his courtly 
 audience by telling them that matrimony was 
 become a matter of money, with many other 
 right reverend jests recorded in Joe Miller. Seve- 
 ral brothers of this family were likewise bred to 
 the bar, and very gi-avely harangued against old 
 women sucked by devils in the shape of ram-cats, 
 &c. As an instance of their profound wisdom 
 and sagacity, I need only mention that just and 
 truly pious act of parliament made against the 
 crying sin of witchcraft. I Jac. 1. chap. 12. 
 " Such as shall use invocation or conjuration of 
 any evil spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, 
 entertain, employ, fee or reward any evil spirit 
 to any intent, or take up any dead person, or 
 part thereof, to be used in witchcraft, or have 
 used any of the said arts, whereby any person 
 shall be killed, consumed, or lamed in his or her 
 body, they, together with their accessaries be- 
 fore the fact, shall suffer as felons without bene- 
 fit of clergy." 
 
 In the troublesome times of King Charles the 
 First, Nonsense and her family sided with the 
 Parliament. These set up new sects in reli- 
 gion : some of them cropt their hair short, and 
 called themselves the enlightened ; some fell into 
 trances, and pretended to see holy visions ; while 
 others got into tubs, and held forth, with many 
 ■vvhinings, and groans, and snuffling through 
 the nose. In the merry days of King Charles 
 the Second, Nonsense assumed a more gay and 
 libertine air ; and her progeny, from fanatics, 
 became downright infidels. Several courtiers of 
 the family wrote lewd plays, as well as luscious 
 love-songs, ana other loose verses, which were col- 
 lected together and greedily bought up in miscel- 
 lanies. In the succeeding reign, some of the kin- 
 dred, who had received their education at St. 
 Omers, thought themselves on the point of esta- 
 blishing Nonsense in church and state, and 
 wei"e preparing to n\ake bonfires on the occasioo 
 in Smithfield, when they were obliged to leave 
 the kingdom. 
 
 Since the Revolution, the field of politics has 
 afforded large scope for Nonsense and her fami- 
 ly to make themselves remarkable. Hence arose 
 the various sects in party, distinguished by the 
 names of Whig and Tory, Ministerial and Jaco- 
 bite, Sunderlandians, Oxfordians, Godolphini- 
 ans, Bolingbrokians, Walpolians, Pelhainians, 
 &c. &c. &c. names which have kindled as hot a 
 war in pamphlets and journals, as the Guelphs 
 and Gibelines in Italy, or the Big and Little 
 Endians in the kingdom of Lilliput. 
 
 I have here endeavoured to give a short 
 abridgment of the history of Nonsense ; though 
 a vei-y small part of the exploits of the family 
 can be included in so compendious a chronicle. 
 Some of them were very deep scholars, and filled 
 the professors' chairs at the universities. They 
 composed many elaborate dissertations, to con- 
 
 vince the world, that two and two make four • 
 and discovered, by dint of syllogism, that white 
 is not black. Their inquiries in natural philoso- 
 phy were no less extraordinary ; many spent 
 their lives and their fortunes in attempting to 
 discover a wonderful stone, that should turn 
 every baser metal into gold ; and others em- 
 ployed themselves in making artificial wings, by 
 the help of which they should fly up into the 
 world of the moon. Another branch of the fa- 
 mily took to the Belles Lettres, and were the 
 ojiginal founders of the learned society of Grub- 
 street. 
 
 Never was any era in the annals of Nonsense 
 more illustrious than the present : nor did that 
 noble family ever more signally distinguish it- 
 self in every occupation. In oratory, who are 
 greater proficients than the progeny of Non- 
 sense ? Witness many long and eloquent speeches 
 delivered in St. Stephen's chapel, in Westmin- 
 ster-hall, at assizes and quarter-sessions, at 
 Clare-market, and the Robin Hood. In philo- 
 sophy, what marvellous things have not been 
 proved by Nonsense ? The sometime professor 
 of astronomy at Gresham college, showed Sir 
 Isaac Newton to be a mere ass, and wire-drawed 
 the books of Moses into a complete system of 
 natural philosophy : life-guardnien have, with 
 the utmost certainty of Nonsense, foretold earth- 
 quakes ; and others have penned curious essays 
 on air-quakes, water-quakes, and comets. — In 
 politic^, how successfully have the sons of Non- 
 sense bandied about the terms of court and coun- 
 try ? How wisely have they debated upon 
 taxes ? And with what amazing penetration 
 did they but lately foresee an invasion ? — In re- 
 ligion, their domain is particularly extensive : 
 for, though Nonsense is excluded, at least from 
 the first part of the service, in all regular 
 churches, yet she often occupies the whole cere- 
 mony at the Tabernacle and Foundery in 3Ioor- 
 fields, and the chapel in Long-acre. But, for 
 the credit of so polite an age, be it known, that 
 the children of Nonsense, who are many of theno 
 people of fashion, are as often seen at the play- 
 house as at church : and it is something strange, 
 that the family of Nonsense is now divided 
 against itself, and in high contest about the ma- 
 nagement of their favourite amusement — the 
 
 T. 
 
 Opera. 
 
 No. 119. Thursday, IVIay 6, 1756. 
 
 Plcnus rinwrum sum, fitic et ilhtc perfluo. 
 
 I.caky at bottom ; if those chiiiVf. v«):i s'op 
 In vain :— the secret will run o'er the top. 
 
 There is no mark of our confidence taken more 
 kindly by a friend, than the intrusting him with 
 
No. 119.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 203 
 
 a secret ; nor any which he is so likely to abuse. 
 Confidants in general are like crazy fire-locks, 
 which are no sooner charged and cocked, than 
 the spring gives way, and the report immediate- 
 ly follows. Happy to have been thought vrorthy 
 the confidence of one friend, they are impatient 
 to manifest their importance to another ; till be- 
 tween them and their friend, and their friend's 
 friend, the whole matter is presently known to 
 all our friends round the Wrekin. The secret 
 catches as it were by contact, and like electrical 
 matter breaks forth from every link in the chain, 
 almost at the same instant. Thus the whole 
 Exchange may be thrown into a buzz to-morrow, 
 by what was whispered in the middle of Marl- 
 borough Downs this morning ; and in a week's 
 time the streets may ring with the intrigue of a 
 woman of fashion bellowed out from the foul 
 mouths of the hawkers, though at present it is 
 known to no creatiu'e living, but her gallant and 
 her vraiting-maid. 
 
 As the talent of secrecy is of so gi'eat impor- 
 tance to society, and the necessary commerce be- 
 tween individuals cannot be securely carried on 
 without it, that this deplorable weakness should 
 be so general is much to be lamented. You may 
 as ■vvell pour water into a funnel, or a sieve, 
 and expect it to be retained there, as commit any 
 of your concerns to so slippery a companion. It 
 is remarkable, that in those men who have thus 
 lost the faculty of retention, the desire of being 
 communicative is always most prevalent, where 
 it is least to be justified. If they are intrusted 
 with a matter of no great moment, affairs of 
 miore consequence will perhaps in a few hours 
 shuflfle it entirely out of their thoughts : but if 
 any thing be delivered to them with an air of 
 earnestness, a low voice, and the gesture of a 
 man in terror for the consequence of its being 
 known ; if the door is bolted, and every pre- 
 caution taken to prevent a surprise ; however 
 they may promise secrecy, and however they 
 may intend it, the weight upon their minds will 
 be so extremely oppressive, that it will certainly 
 put their tongues in motion. 
 
 This breach of trust, so universal amongst us, 
 is pei'haps in great measure owing to our educa- 
 tion. The first lesson our little masters and 
 misses are taught, is to become blabs and tell- 
 tales ; they are bribed to divulge the petty in- 
 trigues of the family below stairs to papa and 
 mamma in the parlour, and a doll or a hobby- 
 horse is generally the encouragement of a pro- 
 pensity, -which could scarcely be atoned for by a 
 whipping. As soon as children can lisp out the 
 little intelligence they have picked up in the hall 
 or the kitchen, they are admired for their wit : 
 if the butler has been caught kissing the house- 
 keeper in his pantry, or the footman detected in 
 romping with the chamber-maid, away flies 
 little Tommy or Betsy with the news ; the 
 parents are lost in admiration of the pretty I 
 
 rogue's understanding, and reward such uncom- 
 mon ingenuity with a kiss and a sugar-plum. 
 
 Nor does an inclination to secrecy meet with 
 less encouragement at school. The governantes 
 at the boarding-school teach miss to be a good 
 girl, and tell them every thing she knows ; thus, 
 if any young lady is unfortunately discovered 
 eating a gTeeu apple in a corner, if she is heard 
 to pronounce a naughty word, or is caught 
 picking the letters out of another miss's sampler, 
 away runs the chit, who is so happy as to get 
 the start of the rest, screams out her information 
 as she goes ; and the prudent matron chucks her 
 under the chin, and tells her that she is a good 
 gii'l, and every body will love her. 
 
 The management of our young gentlemen is 
 equally absurd : in most of our schools, if a lad 
 is discovered in a scrape, the impeachment of an 
 accomplice, as at the Old Bailey, is made the 
 condition of a pardon. I remember a boy, 
 engaged in robbing an orchard, who w&s unfor- 
 tunately taken prisoner in an apple-tree, and 
 conducted, under a strong guard of the farmer 
 and his dairy-maid, to the master's house. 
 Upon his absolute refusal to discover his associ- 
 ates, the pedagogue imdertook to lash him out of 
 his fidelity, but finding it impossible to scourge 
 the secret out of him, he at last gave him up for 
 an obstinate villain, and sent him to his father, 
 who told him he was ruined, and was going to 
 disinherit him for not betraying his school- 
 fellows. I must o^vn I am not fond of thus 
 drubbing our youth into treachery ; and am 
 much more pleased Tvith the request of Ulysses, 
 when he went to Troy, who begged of those who 
 ivere to have the charge of Telemachus, that 
 they would, above all things, teach him to be 
 just, sincere, faithful, and to keep a secret. 
 
 Every man's experience must have furnished 
 him with instances of confidants who are not to 
 be relied on, and friends who are not to be 
 trusted ; but few perhaps have thought it a 
 character so well worth their attention, as to 
 have marked out the different degrees into which 
 it may be divided, and the different methods by 
 vrhich secrets are communicated. 
 
 Ned Trusty is a tell-tale of a very singular 
 kind. Having some sense of his duty, he hesi- 
 tates a little at the breach of it. If he engages 
 never to utter a syllable, he most punctually 
 performs his promise ; but then he has the knack 
 of insinuating by a nod and a shrug well-timed, 
 or a seasonable leer, as much as others can con- 
 vey in express terms. It is difficult, in short, 
 to determine, whether he is more to be admired 
 for his resolution in not mentioning, or his inge- 
 nuity in disclosing a secret. He is also excellent 
 at a " doubtful phrase," as Hamlet calls it, or an 
 " ambiguous giving out ;" and his conversation 
 consists chiefly of such broken inuendoes, as 
 
 Well, I know — or, I could — an if I would — 
 
 Or, if I list to speak — or, there be, and if there might, &c. 
 
204? 
 
 Here he generally stops; and leaves it to his 
 hearers to draw proper inferences from these 
 piece-meal premises. With due encouragement, 
 however, he may be prevailed upon to slip the 
 padlock from his lips, and immediately ovei-- 
 whelms you with a torrent of secret history, 
 which rushes forth with more violence for having 
 been so long confined. 
 
 Poor Meanwcll, though he never falls to 
 transgress, is rather to be pitied than condemned. 
 To trust him with a secret is to spoil his appe- 
 tite, to break his rest, and to deprive Jiim for a 
 time of every earthly enjoyment. Like a man 
 who travels with his whole fortune in his pock- 
 et, he is terrified if you approach him, and im- 
 mediately suspects, that you come with a feloni- 
 ous intent to rob him of his charge. If he ven- 
 tures abroad, it is to walk in some unfrequented 
 place, where he is least in danger of an attack. 
 At home, he shuts himself «p from his family, 
 paces to and fro in his chamber, and has no re- 
 lief but from muttering over to himself, what he 
 longs to publish to the world ; and would gladly 
 submit to the office of town-crier, for the liberty 
 of proclaiming it in the market-place. At 
 length, however, weary of his burden, and re- 
 solved to bear it no longer, he consigns it to the 
 custody of the first friend he meets, and returns 
 to his wife with a cheerful aspect, and wonder- 
 fully altered for the better. 
 
 Careless is perhaps equally undesigning, 
 though not equally excusable. Intrust him with 
 an affair of the utmost importance, on the con- 
 cealment of which your fortune and happiness 
 depend : he hears you with a kind of half at- 
 tention, Avhistles a favourite air, and accompa- 
 nies it with the drumming of his fingers upon 
 the table. As soon as your narration is ended, 
 or perhaps in the middle of it, he asks your 
 opinion of his sword-knot, damns his tailor for 
 having dressed him in a snuff-coloured coat, in- 
 stead oi s. pompadour, and leaves you in haste to 
 attend an auction ; where, as if he meant to dis- 
 pose of his Intelligence to the best bidder, he di- 
 vulges it, with a voice as loud as the aucitioneer's ; 
 and when you tax him with having played you 
 false, he is heartily sorry for it, but never knew 
 that it was to be a secret. 
 
 To these I might add the character of the 
 open and unreserved who thinks it a breach of 
 friendship to conceal any thing from his inti- 
 mates ; and the impertinent, who having by dint 
 of observation made himself master of your se- 
 cret, imagines he may lawfully publish the 
 knowledge it has cost him so much labour to ob- 
 tain, and considers that privilege as the reward 
 due to his industry. But 1 shall leave these, 
 with many other characters, which my reader's 
 own experience may suggest to him, and con- 
 clude with prescribing, as a short remedy ior 
 this evil,— That no man may betray the counsel 
 ")f his friend, let every man keep his o;vn. 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 120. 
 
 No. 120.] Thursday, May 13, 1756. 
 
 Judicium subtile videndis artlbus. HoK. 
 
 A subtile fancy, and a judgment chaste. 
 Form the nice mixture of a genuine taste. 
 
 Taste is at present the darling idol of the y/oHte 
 world, and the world of letters ; and, indeed, 
 seems to be considered as the quintessence of al- 
 most all the arts and sciences. The fine ladies 
 and gentlemen dress with taste ; the architects, 
 whether Gothic or Chinese, build with taste ; 
 the painters paint with taste ; the poets write 
 with taste ; critics read with taste ; and, in 
 short, fiddlers, players, singers, dancers, and me- 
 chanics themselves, are all the sons and daugh- 
 ters of Taste. Yet in this amazing superabun- 
 dancy of taste, few can say what it really is, or 
 what the word itself signifies. Should I at- 
 tempt to define it in the style of a Connoisseur, 
 I must run over the names of all the famous 
 poets, painters, and sculptors, ancient and mo- 
 dern ; and after having pompously harangued 
 on the excellencies of Appelles, Phidias, Praxi- 
 teles, Angelo, Rubens, Poussin, and Domini- 
 chino, with a word or two on all tasteful com- 
 positions, such as those of Homer, Virgil, Tasso, 
 Dante, and Ariosto, I should leave the reader 
 in wonder of my profound erudition, and as lit- 
 tle informed as befoie. But as deep learning, 
 though more flf.ming and pompous, is perhaps 
 not always so useful as common sense, I shall 
 endeavour to get at the true meaning of the 
 worA taste, by considering what it usually im- 
 ports in familiar writings and ordinary conver- 
 sation. 
 
 It is supposed by Locke, and other close rea- 
 soners, that words are intended as signs of oar 
 ideas : but daily experience will convince us, that 
 words are often used to express no ideas at all. 
 Thus many persons, who talk perpetually of 
 taste, throw it out as a mere expletive, without 
 any meaning annexed to it. Bardolj)h, when 
 demanded the meaning of the word accommo- 
 dated, wisely explains it by saying, that " accom- 
 modated, sir, is — a — a — a — accommodated. Sir, 
 is as if one should say — a — accommodated :" and 
 if, in like manner, you ask one of these people, 
 What is taste ? they will tell you that " taste is 
 a kind of a sort of a — a — a — ; in short, taste is 
 taste." These talkers must be considered as ab- 
 solute blanks in conversation, since it is impos- 
 sible to learn the explanation of a term from 
 them, as they fix no determinate meaning to any 
 expression. 
 
 Among men of sense, whose words carry 
 meaning in their sound, taste is commonly used 
 in one of these two significations. First, when 
 they give any person the appellation of a man of 
 taste, they would intimate that he has a turn 
 
No. liJO.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 205 
 
 for the polite arts, as well as the lesser elegan- 
 cies of life ; and that from his natural bent to 
 those studies, and his acquired knowledge in 
 them, he is capable of distinguishing what is 
 good or bad in any thing of that kind submit- 
 ted to his judgment. The meaning at other 
 times implied by a man of taste is, that he is 
 not only so far adept in those matters as to be 
 able to judge of them accurately, but is also pos- 
 sessed of the faculty of executing them grace- 
 fully. These two significations will, perhaps, 
 be more easily conceived, and clearly illustrated, 
 when applied to our sensual taste. The man of 
 taste, according to the first, may be considered 
 as a boil vivant, who is fond of the dishes before 
 him, and distinguishes nicely what is savoury 
 and delicious, or flat and insipid, in the ingre- 
 dients of each : according to the second, he may 
 be regarded as the cook, who from knowing what 
 things will mix well together, and distinguish- 
 ing by a nice taste when he has arrived at that 
 happy mixture, is able to compose such exquisite 
 dishes. 
 
 Both these significations of the word will be 
 found agTeeable to the following definition of it, 
 which I have somewhere seen, and is the only 
 just description of the term, that I ever remem- 
 ber to have met with : ' Taste consists in a nice 
 harmony between the fancy and the judgment.' 
 The most chastised judgment, without genius, 
 can never constitute a man of taste ; and the 
 most luxuriant imagination, unregulated by 
 judgment, will only carry us into wild and ex- 
 travagant deviations fiom it. To mix oil, vine- 
 gar, butter, milk, eggs, &c. incoherently to- 
 gctlier, would make an olio not to be relished by 
 any palate : and the man who has no gout for 
 delicacies himself, will never compose a good 
 dish, though he should ever so strictly adhere to 
 the rules of La Cliapelle, Hannah Glasse, and 
 Martha Bradley. I confine myself at present ' 
 chiefly to that signification of the word, which ! 
 implies the capacity of exerting our own facul- i 
 ties in the several branches of taste, because that j 
 always includes the other. 
 
 Having thus settled what taste is, it may not ' 
 be unentertaining to examine modern taste by 
 these rules : and, perhaps it will appear, that on ' 
 the one hand, its most pleasing flights and ra- I 
 vishing elegancies are extravagant and absurd ; ] 
 and that, on the other hand, those who afi'ect a ! 
 correct taste in all their undertakings, proceed 
 mechanically, without genius. The first species 
 of taste, which gives a loose to the imagination, ' 
 indulges itself in caprice, and is perpetually 
 striking new strokes, is the chief regulator of 
 the fashion. In dress, it has put hunting-poles 
 into the hands of our gentlemen, and erected 
 coaches and windmills on the heads of our ladies. 
 In equipage, it has built chariots o( papier viache, 
 and by putting spotted Danish horses into the 
 harness, has made om* beaux look like Bacchus 
 
 in his car drawn by leopards. The ornaments, 
 both on the outside and inside of our houses, are 
 all Gothic or Chinese ; and whoever makes a 
 pagod of his parlour, throws a plank or two with 
 an irregular crossed-barred paling over a dirty 
 ditch, or places battlements on a root-house or a 
 stable, fits up his house and garden entirely in 
 taste. 
 
 The second sort of men of taste are to be 
 found chiefly among the literati ; and are those 
 who, despising the modern whims to which 
 fashion has given the name of taste, pretend to 
 follow, with the most scrupulous exactness, the 
 chaste models of the ancients. These are the 
 poets, who favo'or us with correct, epithetical, 
 and tasteful compositions ; whose works are 
 without blemish, and conformable to the pre- 
 cise rules of Quintilian, Horace, and Aristotle: 
 and as they are intended merely for the perusal 
 of persons of the most refined taste, it is no 
 wonder that they are above the level of common 
 understandings. These too are the critics, who, 
 in their comments upon authors, embarrass us 
 with repeated allusions to the study of virtu : 
 and these too are the Connoisseurs in architec- 
 ture, who build ruins after Vetruvius, and ne- 
 cessaries according to Palladio. One gentlem.an 
 of this cast has built his villa upon a bleak hill, 
 with four spacious porticos, open on each side to 
 court the four winds : because in the sultry re- 
 gions of Italy, this model has been thought 
 most convenient : and another has in great 
 measure shut out the light from his apartments, 
 and cut off all prospect from his windows, by 
 erecting a high wall before his house, which in 
 Italy has been judged necessary to screen them 
 from the sun. 
 
 Architecture seems indeed to be the mean ar- 
 ticle, in which the efforts of sin are now dis- 
 played. Among those who are fond of exerting 
 their fancies in capricious innovations, I might 
 instance the many pretty whims, of which an 
 infinite variety may be seen within ten miles of 
 London. But as a proof of the noble and ju- 
 dicious taste among us, I shall beg leave to de- 
 scribe in the style of a Connoisseur, a most a- 
 mazing curiosity, erected in a very polite quar- 
 ter of this town. 
 
 In the midst of a noble and spacious area 
 stands a grand obelisk. The base forms a per- 
 fect square with right angles ; the body of it is 
 cylindrical ; but the capital is a heptagon, and 
 has several curious lines and figures described 
 on each of its seven planes or superfices, which 
 serve to terminate as many most magnificent 
 and striking vistas. This superb column, no 
 less remarkakle than the famous pillar of Trajan, 
 seems (from the several gnomons and other 
 hieroglyphics stuck about it) to have been origin- 
 ally dedicated to the sun ; but is now known a- 
 mong the Vulgar by the more common name of 
 the Seven Dials. O. 
 
206 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 121. 
 
 No. 121. Thursday, Mat 20, 1756. 
 
 -Placet impares 
 
 Formas atqiie animos sitbjuga ahenea 
 Scevo mittere cumjoco HoR. 
 
 Officious couplers wantonly engage 
 Virtue with vice, brisk youth with frozen age : 
 Behold them groan beneath the iron yoke. 
 Hail the dear mischief, and enjoy the joke. 
 
 Though I shall not as yet vouchsafe to let the 
 reader so far into my secrets, as to inform him 
 ■whether I am married or single, it may not be 
 amiss to acquaint him, that, supposing I still 
 remain a bachelor, it has not been the fault of 
 my friends or relations. On the contrary, as 
 soon as I was what they call settled in the 
 world, they were so assiduous in looking out a 
 wife for me, that nothing was required on my 
 part but immediately to fall in love with the 
 lady they had pitched upon : and could I have 
 complied with their several choices, I should 
 have been married at the same time to a tall 
 and a short, a plump and a slender, a young 
 and an old woman ; one with a great deal of 
 money, and another with none at all : each of 
 Avhom was separately recommended by them, 
 as the properest person in the world for me. 
 
 I know not how it happen*!, but it is noto- 
 rious, that most people take a pleasure in making 
 matches; either thinking matrimony a state of 
 bliss, into which they would charitably call 
 all their friends and acquaintance ; or perhaps 
 struggling in the toils, they are desirous of 
 drawing others into the net that ensnared them. 
 Many matches have been brought about be- 
 tween two persons, absolute strangers to each 
 other, through this kind mediation of friends, 
 who are always ready to take upon tliem the 
 office of an honourable go-between. Some have 
 come together, merely from having been talked 
 of by their acquaintance as likely to make a 
 match ; and I have known a couple, who have 
 met by accident at a horse-race, or danced to- 
 gether at an assembly, that in less than a fort- 
 night have been driven into matrimony in their 
 own defence, by having been first paired in pri- 
 vate conversations, and afterwards in the com- 
 mon newspapers. 
 
 As we cannot insure happiness to our friends, 
 it the same time that we help them to husbands 
 jr wives, one would imagine that few would 
 sare to run the hazard of bestowing misery, 
 where they meant a kindness. I know a good- 
 natured lady, who has officiously brought upon 
 herself the ill-will and the curses of many of 
 her dearest and most intimate friends on this 
 very account. She has a sister, for whom she 
 provided a most excellent husband, who l)as 
 shown his affection for her , by spending her 
 whole fortune upon his mistresses ; she contriv- 
 
 ed that another near relation should snap up a 
 rich widow, who was arrested for her debts 
 within a week after marriage : and it cost her 
 a whole twelve-month to bring two doating 
 lovers of her acquaintance together, who part- 
 ed beds before the honey-moon was expired. 
 
 But if our friends will thus condescend to be 
 match-makers from a spirit of ben'tevolence, and 
 for our own advantage only ; there are others, 
 who have taken up the profession from less 
 disinterested motives; who bring beauty and 
 fortune to market, and trafic in all the accom- 
 plishments that can make the marriage state 
 happy. These traders dispose of all sorts of 
 rich heirs and heiresses, baronets, lords, ladies 
 of fashion, and daughters of country squires, 
 with as much coolness as drovers sell bullocks. 
 They keep complete registers of the condition 
 and qualifications of all the marriageable per- 
 sons within the kingdom ; and it is as common to 
 apply to them for a husband or wife, as to the 
 register-offices for a man or a maid servant. 
 They may, indeed, be considered as fathers and 
 guardians to the greatest part of our yotith of 
 both sexes, since in marriage they nriay be most 
 properly said to give them away. 
 
 It is something comical to consider the va- 
 rious persons, to whom men of this profession 
 are useful. We may naturally suppose, that a 
 young fellow, who has no estate, but Avhat, like 
 Tinsel's in the Drummei', is merely personal, 
 would be glad to come down handsomely, after 
 consummation with a woman of fortune ; and 
 a smart girl, who has more charms than wealth, 
 would give round poundage on being taken for 
 better for worse by a rich heir. IMaiiy a trades- 
 man also wants a wife to manage his family, 
 while he looks after the shop; and thinks it 
 better to recommend himself by this convenient 
 friend than by means of the Daily Advertiser. 
 There are also several young people, who are 
 indifferent as to any person in particular, and 
 have no passion for the state itself, yet want to 
 be married, because it will deliver them from 
 the restraint of parents. But the most unna- 
 tural, though very common aj)plications of this 
 sort, are from the rich and the noble ; who, 
 having immense estates to bestow on their chil- 
 dren, will make use of the meanest instruments, 
 to couple them to others of the same overgrown 
 fortune. 
 
 I have known many droll accidents happen 
 from the mistakes of these mercenary match- 
 makers, and remember one in i»articular, which 
 I shall here set down for the entertainment of 
 my readers. A careful old gentleman came up 
 from the North on purpose to marry his son, 
 and was recommended by one of these couplers 
 to a twenty thousand pounder. He accordingly 
 put on his best wig, best beaver, and gold- 
 buttoned coat, and went to pay his respects 
 to the lady's mamma. He told her, that he 
 
No. 122.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 20: 
 
 had not the pleasure of heing known to her : 
 but as his son's quiet depended on it, he had 
 taken the liberty of waiting on her: in short, 
 he immediately broke the matter to her, 
 and informed her, that his boy had seen 
 her daughter at church, and was violently in 
 love with her ; concluding, that he would do 
 very handsomely for the lad, and would make it 
 worth her while to have him. The old lady 
 thanked him for the honour he intended her fa- 
 mily ; but she supposed, to be sure, as he appear- 
 ed to be a prudent and sensible gentleman, he 
 would expect a fortune answerable. " Say no- 
 thing of that. Madam, say nothing of that," in- 
 terrupted the Don : " I have heard — but if it 
 Avas less, it should not break any squares between 
 us." — " Pray, Sir, how much does the world 
 say?" replied the lady. — " Why, Madam, I sup- 
 pose she has not less than twenty thousand 
 pounds." — " Not so much, Sir," said the old 
 lady, verj' gravely. — " Well, Madam, I suppose 
 then it may be nineteen, or — or — only eighteen 
 thousand pounds," — " Not so much, Sir," — 
 " Well, well, perhaps not : but — if it was only 
 seventeen thousand." — " No, Sir," — " Or six- 
 teen." — "No." — " Or (we must make allowan- 
 ces) perhaps but fifteen thousand." — " Not so 
 much. Sir." — Here ensued a profound silence 
 for near a minute ; when the old gentleman, 
 rubbing his forehead, " Well, Madam, we must 
 come to some conclusion. Pray, is it less than 
 fourteen thousand ! How much more is it than 
 twelve thousand !" — " Less Sir," — " Less, Ma- 
 dam ?"—" Less." — " But is it more than ten 
 thousand?" — "Not so much, Sir."— "Not so 
 much, Madam?"—" Not so much." — " Why, if 
 it is lodged in the funds, consider, Madam, inter- 
 est is low, very low : but, as the boy loves her, tri- 
 fles shall not part us. Has she got eight thousand 
 pounds ?" — " Not so much, Sir." — " Why then, 
 Madam, perhaps the young lady's fortime may 
 not be above six — or five thousand pounds." — 
 " Nothing like it. Sir." — At these words the old 
 gentleman started from his chair, and running 
 out of the room — " Your servant, your servant : 
 my son is a fool : and the felloTT, who recom- 
 mended me to you, is a blockhead, and knows 
 nothing of business." 
 
 No. 122.] Thursdat, May 27, 1756. 
 
 Monstrum nulla virtute redem-ptum 
 
 A viHis JuY. 
 
 Without one sneaking virtue in thy train, 
 
 O precious villain ! scoundrel ! rogue in grain ! 
 
 I MENTIONED in a former paper, that a friend of 
 mine was writing A New Treatise on Ethics, 
 or A System of Immoral Philosophy, compiled 
 
 from the principles and practice of the present 
 age ; in which the extraordinary modesty of the 
 moderns would be enlarged on, which has indu- 
 ced them to comprehend all the vices, instead of 
 virtues, in their idea of a fine gentleman. The 
 work is now finished ; and the author has sent 
 me the following letter concerning the dedication, 
 with leave to submit it to the public. 
 
 Dear Town, 
 
 The flatness and fulsome insipidity of dedica- 
 tions has often been the subject of our conversa- 
 tion ; and Ave have always agreed, that authors 
 have miscarried in these pieces of flattery, by 
 injudiciously affronting, when they meant to 
 compliment their patrons. The humble dedica- 
 tor loads his great man with virtues totally 
 foreign to his nature and disposition, which sit 
 as awkwardly upon him, as lace or embroidery 
 on a chimney-sweeper ; and so overvrhelms him 
 with the huge mass of learning, with which he 
 graciously dubs him a scholar, that he makes as 
 ridiculous a figure, as the ass in the Dunciad. 
 After having thus bepraised his patron, till the 
 new Mfficenas is heartily ashamed of himself, he 
 wonders that no notice is taken of so pompous 
 an eulogium, and that a dedication should be as 
 mere a drug as a sermon. 
 
 Lory, in the Relapse, advises Fashion to get 
 into the good graces of Lord Foppington, by fall- 
 ing in love with his coat, being in raptures Avith 
 his peruke, seeming ravished with the genteel 
 dangle of his sword knot ; and, in short, to re- 
 commend himself to his noble elder brother, by 
 affecting to be capti\ated with his favourites. 
 In like manner, the author wlio would make his 
 dedication really A^aluable, should not talk to his 
 patron of his honour, and virtue, and integi'ity, 
 and a pack of unfashionable qualities^ which on- 
 ly serve to disgrace a fine gentleman; but boldly 
 paint him what he really is, and at the same 
 time conA'ince him of his merit in being a fool, 
 and his glory in being a scoundrel. This mode of 
 dedication, though proper at all times, will ap- 
 pear AA'ith a particular good grace before A Sys- 
 tem of Immoral Philosophy : wherefore, as my 
 book is noAv finished, I haAe here sent you a 
 rougli draught of the epistle dedicatory, and shall 
 be glad to hear your opinion of it. 
 
 May it please your Grace ! or, my Lord ! or, Sir ! 
 
 You are in eA'ery point so complete a fine gen- 
 tleman, that the folloAving Treatise is but a faint 
 transcript of your accomplishments. There is 
 not one qualification, requisite in the character 
 of a man of spirit, Avhich you do not possess. 
 Give me leaA^e, therefore, on the present occasion 
 to point forth your inestimable qualities to the 
 Avorld, and hold up to the public vieAv so glori- 
 ous an example. 
 
 You distinguished yourself so early in life, 
 and exalted- yourself so far above the common 
 
208 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR, 
 
 [No. 123. 
 
 pitch of vulgar bucks, that you was distinguish- 
 ed, before the age of twenty, with the noble ap- 
 pellation of Stag: and Avhen I consider the many 
 gallant exploits you have performed, the number 
 of rascally poltroons you have sent out of the 
 world, the number of pretty little foundlings you 
 have brought into it, how many girls you have 
 debauched, how many women of qualitj' you have 
 intrigued with, and how many hogsheads of 
 French wine have run through your body, I 
 cannot help contemplating you as a Stag of the 
 first head. 
 
 What gi-eat reason have you to value yourself 
 on your noble achievements at Arthur's ! The 
 sums you formerly lost, and those you have 
 lately won, are amazing instances of your spirit 
 and address : first, in venturing so deeply, before 
 5'^ou was let into the secret ; and then, in manag- 
 ing it with so much adroitness and dexterity, 
 since you have been acquainted with it. Nobody 
 cogs the dice, or packs the cards, half so skil- 
 fully : you hedge a bet with uncommon nicety, 
 and ai*e a most incomparably shrewd judge of 
 the odds. 
 
 Nor have your exploits on the turf rendered 
 you less famous. Let the annals of Pond and 
 Heber deliver down to posterity the glorious 
 account of what plates you have won, Avhat 
 matches you made, and how often the knowing 
 ones have been taken in ; when, for private rea- 
 sons, you have found it necessary, that your 
 horse should run on the Avrong side of the post, 
 or be distanced, after winning the first heat. I 
 need not mention your own skill in horseman- 
 ship, and in how many matches you have con- 
 descended to ride yourself ; for in this particu- 
 lar, it must be acknowledged, you cannot be out- 
 done, even by your groom or jockey. 
 
 All the world will witness the many instances 
 of your courage, which has been often tried and 
 exerted in Hyde Park, and behind Montague 
 house : nay, you have sometimes been known to 
 draw your s^vord most heroically at the opera, 
 the play, and even at private routs and assem- 
 blies. Plow often have you put to flight a whole 
 army of watchmen, constables, and beadles, 
 with the justices at their head ! You have clear- 
 ed a w^hole bawdy-house before, you, and taken 
 many a tavern by storm : you have pinned a 
 waiter to the ground ; and have, besides, proved 
 yourself an excellent marksman, by shooting a 
 post-boy flying. With so much valour and 
 firmness, it is not to be doubted, but that you 
 would behave with the same intrepidity, if occa- 
 sion called, upon Hounslow-IIeath, or in 
 Maidenhead-Thicket: and, if it were necessary, 
 you Avould as boldly resign yourself up to the 
 hands of Jack Ketch, and swing as genteelly, as 
 Maclean or Gentleman Harry. The same 
 noble spirit would likewise enable you to aim the 
 pistol at your own head, and go out of the world 
 like a man of honour and a gentleman. 
 
 But your covirage has not rendered you unsus- 
 ceptible of the softer passions, to which your 
 heart has been ever inclined. To say nothing of 
 your gallantries with women of fiisliion, your 
 intrigues with milliners and mantua-makers, or 
 your seducing raw country girls and innocent 
 tradesmen's daughters, you have formerly been 
 so constant in your devoirs to Mrs. Douglas, and 
 the whole sisterhood, that you sacrificed your 
 health and constitution in their service. But 
 above all, witness that sweet delicate creature, 
 whom you have now in keeping, and for whom 
 you entertain such a strong and faithful passion, 
 that for her sake, you have tenderly and aflfec- 
 tionately deserted your wife and family. 
 
 Though, from your elegant taste for pleasures, 
 you appear made for the gay world ; yet these 
 polite amusements have not called off your atten- 
 tion from the more serious studies of politics and 
 religion. In politics you have made such a 
 wonderful proficiency, both in theory and prac- 
 tice, that you have discovered the good of your 
 country, to be a mere joke, and confirmed your 
 own interest, as well as established your conse- 
 quence, in the proper place, by securing half a 
 dozen boroughs. As to religion, you soon 
 unravelled every mysteiy of that ; and not only 
 know the Bible to be as romantic as the Alcoran, 
 but have also A'saitten several volumes, to make 
 your discoveries plain to meaner capacities. The 
 ridiculous prejudices of a foolish world unhap- 
 pily prevent your publishing them at present : 
 but you have wisely provided, that they shall 
 one day see the light ; Avhen, I doubt not, they 
 will be deemed invaluable, and be as universally 
 admired, as the posthimious works of Lord 
 Bolingbroke. 
 
 I am, 
 May it please your Grace ! or, my Lord ! or Sir • 
 in liumble admiration of your excellences, 
 
 O. &C. &c. &c. 
 
 No. 123.] Thursday, June 23, 17o& 
 
 Quo patre sit naius, num ignotd tnaire inhonastusf 
 
 HoR. 
 
 Say, who can claim the foundling for her son ? 
 My Lord, and Molly ? or, her Grace and John ? 
 
 The notices in the public papers, that the 
 Foundling Hospital will be open for the recep- 
 tion of infants in general under a certain age, 
 have, I find, given universjil satisfaction. The 
 consequences of a big belly do not appear so 
 dreadful as heretofore : and it was but yesterday 
 that a young fellow of intrigue told me, he was 
 happy that his children would no longer be 
 thrown out of the hospital, as he himself had 
 been out of Arthur's, by bl:uk balls. For my 
 p;\rt, though I have no ludy in keeping, no child 
 
123."] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 209 
 
 oiy hotisekeeper, noi" any other affair of 
 
 f^^ .1; mtry on my hands, which makes me wish to 
 
 B\\< II tlie number of infants maintained by that 
 
 oh 1 ity, I must own myself to be exceedingly 
 
 rey iced at the extension of so benevolent a design. 
 
 I look upon it as the certain preservation of 
 
 many hundreds in embryo : nor shall we now 
 
 he- !• of so many helpless babes birth-strangled in 
 
 cessary, or smothered by the " ditch-delivered 
 
 '." As a bastard is accounted in law, quassi 
 
 ':...iusjilius, tiie child of nobody, and related to 
 
 noitody, and yet is blessed with as fair propor- 
 
 tio 8, and capable of an equal degree of perfec- 
 
 tioi-' with "honest madam's issue," it is sui'ely 
 
 ;■ ict of great humanity thus to rescue them 
 
 n untimely deaths and other miseries, which 
 
 ' do not merit, whatever may be the guilt of 
 
 r parents. 
 
 'liough it is obvious, that this hospital will be 
 ^uiAe the receptacle of many legitimate chil- 
 Aren ; it is no less certain, that the rich, as well 
 he poor, w^ill often send their baseborn bant- 
 s to this general nurser5^ The wealthy man 
 i«r juality, or substantial cit, may have their pri- 
 vaii' family reasons for not owning the fruits of 
 their secret amours, and be glad to put the little 
 living witness of their intrigues out of the way. 
 For this reason, a history of the foundlings re- 
 ceived there would be very curious and enter- 
 taining, as it would contain many anecdotes, not 
 to be learned from any parish register. The re- 
 flections that passed in my mind on this subject, 
 gave occasion the other evening, to the folio mng 
 dream. 
 
 Methought, as I was standing at the private 
 door of the hospital, where a crowd of females 
 (each of them with a child in her arms) were 
 pressing to get in, an elderly gentleman, who, 
 from his white staff, I took to be a governor of 
 the charity, very courteously invited me to come 
 in. I accepted his ofl^jr ; and having seated 
 myself near him, " Mr. Town," says he, " 1 
 am conscious, that you look upon most of these 
 little infants as the offsprings of so many un- 
 married fathers and maiden mothers, which 
 have been clandestinely smuggled into the 
 world. Know then, that I am one of those 
 guardian Genii, appointed to superintend the 
 fortunes of bastards ; therefore, as this hospital 
 is more immediately under my tuition, I have 
 put on this disguise; and if you please, will let 
 you into the secret history of those babes who 
 are my wards, and their parents." 
 
 I assured him, his intelligence would be high- 
 ly agreeable ; and several now coming up to of- 
 fer their children he resumed his discourse. 
 *' Observe," said he, " that jolly little rogue, 
 with plump cheeks, a florid complexion, blue 
 eyes, and sandy locks. We have here already 
 several of his brethren by the mother's side ; 
 some fair, some brown, and some black ; and yet 
 they are all supposed to have come by the same 
 
 father. The mother has for many years been 
 housekeeper to a gentleman, who cannot see that 
 her children bear the marks of his own servants, 
 and that this very brat is the exact resemblance 
 of his coachman. 
 
 " That puling, whining infant there, with 
 a pale face, emaciated body, and distorted limbs, 
 is the forced product of viper broth and cantha- 
 rides. It is the offspring of a worn-out buck of 
 quality, who, at the same time he debauched the 
 mother, ruined her constitution by a filthy dis- 
 ease ; in consequence of which, she, w^ith much 
 difficultj'^, brought forth this just image of him- 
 self in miniature. 
 
 " The next that offers is the issue of a careful 
 cit ; who, as he keeps a horse for his own rid- 
 ing on Sundays, which he lets out all the rest of 
 the week, keeps also a mistress for his recreation 
 on the seventh day, who lets herself out on the 
 other six. That other babe owes his birth like- 
 wise to the city : but is the joint product, as we 
 may say, of two fathers : who being great eco- 
 nomists in their pleasures, as well as in their 
 business, have set up a whore and a one-horse 
 chaise in partnership together. 
 
 " That pert young baggage there, who so bold- 
 ly presses forward with her brat, is not the mo- 
 ther of it, but is maid to a single lady of the 
 strictest honour and unblemished reputation. 
 About a twelvemonth ago, her mistress went to 
 Bath for the benefit of her health ; and ten 
 months after she travelled into North Wales to 
 see a relation : from whence she is just returned. 
 We may suppose, that she took a fancy to that 
 pretty babe, while in the country, and brought 
 it up to town with her, in order to place it here : 
 as she did a few years ago to another charming 
 boy, which being too old to begot into this hos- 
 pital is now at a school in "Yorkshire, where 
 young gentlemen are boarded, clothed and edu- 
 cated, and found in all necessaries, for ten pounds 
 a year. 
 
 " That chubby little boy, which you see in the 
 arms ot yonder strapping wench in a camblet 
 gown and red cloak, is her own son. She is by 
 profession a bed maker in one of the Universi- 
 ties, and of the same college, in which the father 
 (a grave tutor) holds a fellowship, under the 
 usual condition of not marrying. Many sober 
 gentlemen of the cloth, who are in the same 
 scrape, are glad to take the benefit of this chari- 
 ty : and if all of the same reverend order, like 
 the priests abroad, were laid under the same re- 
 strictions, you might expect to see a particular 
 hospital, erected for the reception of the sons of 
 the clergy. 
 
 " That next child belongs to a sea-captain's 
 lady, whose husband is expected to return every 
 moment from along voyage; the fears of which 
 have happily hastened the birth of this infant 
 a full month before its time. That other is the 
 posthumous child of a wealthy old gentleman, 
 Ee 
 
210 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 124. 
 
 who married a young girl for love, and died in 
 the honey-moon. This, his son and heir, was 
 not born till near a twelvemonth after his de- 
 cease, because its birth was I'etarded by the exces- 
 sive gi-ief of his widow; who, on that account 
 rather chose to lie-in privately, and to lodge 
 their only child here, than to have its legitimacy 
 and her own honour called in question by her 
 husband's relations. 
 
 My companion pointed out to me several 
 others, whose original was no less extraordinary ; 
 among which, I remember he told me, one was 
 the unhallowed brood of a Methodist teacher, and 
 another the premature spawn of a maid of ho- 
 noui\ A poor author eased himself of a A^ery 
 heavy load of two twin daughters, which, in an 
 evil hour he begot on a hawker of pamphlets, 
 after he had been writing a luscious novel ; but 
 I could not help smiling at the marks sent in 
 with these new Muses, signifying, that one had 
 been christened Terpsichore, and the other 
 Polyhymnia. Several bantlings were imported 
 from Islington, Hoxton, and other villages 
 within the sound of Bow bell : many were 
 transplanted hither out of the country ; and a 
 Avhole litter of brats were sent in from two or 
 three parishes in particulai', for which it is 
 doubtful whether they were most indebted to 
 the Parson or the Squire. 
 
 A modest looking woman now brought a very 
 fine babe to be admitted ; but the governors re- 
 jected it, as it appeared to be above two months 
 old. The mother on the contrary, persisting in 
 affirming, that it was but just born ; and ad- 
 dressing herself to me, desired me to look at it. 
 I accordingly took it in my arms ; and while I 
 was tossing it up and down, and praising its 
 beauty, the sly hussy contrived to slip away, 
 leaving the precious charge in my care. The 
 efforts which I made to bawl after her, and the 
 squalling of the brat, which rung piteously in 
 my ears, luckily awaked me ; and I was very 
 happy to find, that I had only been dandling my 
 pillow, instead of a bantling. W. 
 
 No. 124.] Thursday, June 10, 1756. 
 
 Accipe, perlongos tibi qui deserviat annos : 
 
 Accipe, qui pura norit amare fide. 
 Est nuUi cessura fides ; sine criinine mores ; 
 
 Nudaque simpUcitas, pnrpureusqiie ptidor. 
 Non miki mille placcnt ; non mm destiltor mnorit ; 
 
 Tu miki fsi qua fides) extra percnnis cris. Ovid. 
 
 Scorn me not, Chloe ; mo, whose faith well try'd 
 Long years approve, and honest passions guide : 
 My spotless soul no foul affections move. 
 But chaste simplicity, and modest love ; 
 Nor I, like shallow fops, from fair to fair 
 Roving at random, faithless passion swear ; 
 But thou alone shalt be my constant care. 
 
 Almost every man is or has been, or at least 
 
 thinks that he is or has been a lover. One has 
 fought for his mistress, another drank for her, 
 another wrote for her, and another has done all 
 three: and yet, perhaps, in spite of their duels, 
 poetry, and bumpers, not one of them ever enter- 
 tained a sincere passion. 1 have lately taken a 
 survey of the numerous tribe of Enamoratop, 
 and after having observed the various shapes 
 they wear, think I may safely pronounce that, 
 though all profess to have been in love, there 
 are very few who are really capable of it. 
 
 It is a maxim of Kochefoucault's, that, 
 "many men would never have been in love, if 
 they had never heard of love." The justic-e of 
 this remark is equal to its shrewdness. The ri- 
 diculous prate of a family has frequently great 
 influence on young minds, who learn to love, as 
 they do every thing else, by imitation. Young 
 creatures, almost mere children, have been con- 
 sumed with this second-hand flame lighted up 
 at another's passion ; and, in consequence of the 
 loves of the footman and chamber-maid, 1 have 
 known little master fancy himself a dying swain 
 at the age of thirteen, and little miss pining 
 away with love in a bib and hanging sleeves. 
 
 That vast heap of volumes, filled with love, 
 and sufficient in number to make a library, are 
 great inflamers, and seldom fail to produce that 
 kind of passion described by Kochefoucault. 
 The chief of these literary seducers are the old 
 romances, and their degenerate spawn, the mo- 
 dern novels. The young student reads of the 
 emotions of love, till he imagines that he feels 
 them throbbing and fluttering in his little breast ; 
 as valetudinarians study the history of a disease, 
 till they fancy themselves aff^ected witn every 
 symptom of it. For this reason, I am always 
 sorry to see any of this trash in the hands of 
 young people : 1 look upon Cassandra and Cleo- 
 patra, as well as Betty Barnes, Polly "Willis, 
 &c. as no better than bawds ; and consider Don 
 Bellianis of Greece, and Sir Amadis de Gaul, 
 with George Edwards, Loveill, &c. as arrant 
 pimps. But though romances and novels are 
 both equally stiraulatives, yet their operations 
 are very ditferent. The romance student be- 
 comes a fond Corydon of Sicily, or a very Da- 
 mon of Arcadia, and is in good truth such a 
 dying swain, that he believes he shall hang him- 
 self on the next willow, or drown himself in the 
 next pond, if he should lose the object of his 
 Avishes 1 but the young novelist turns out more 
 a man of the world, and, after having gained 
 the affections of his mistress, forms a hundred 
 schemes to secure the possession of her, and to 
 bam her relations. 
 
 There are, among the tribe of lovers, a sort 
 of lukewarm gentlemen, who can hardly be 
 said, in the language of love, to entertain a 
 flame for their mistress. These are your men 
 of superlative delicacy and refinement who 
 
No. 124.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 211 
 
 oathe the gross ideas annexed to the amours of 
 the vulgar, and aim at something more spirit- 
 ualized and sublime. These philosophers in 
 love doat on the mind alone of their mistress, 
 and would fain see her naked soul divested of 
 its material incumbrances. Gentlemen of this 
 complexion might perhaps not improperlj- be 
 ranged in the romantic class ; but they have as- 
 sumed to themselves the name of Platonic Lo- 
 vers. 
 
 Platonism, ho'svever, is in these days very 
 scarce; and there is another class, infinitely more 
 numerous, composed of a sort of lovers, whom 
 ^ve may justly distinguish by the title of Epicu- 
 reans. The principles of this sect are diametri- 
 cally opposite to those of the Platonics. They 
 think no moi'e of the soul of their mistress, than 
 a Mussulman, but are in raptures with her per- 
 son. A lover of this sort is in perpetual ecsta- 
 cies : his passion is so violent, that he even 
 scoi'ches you with his flame ; and he runs over 
 the perfections of his mistress in the same style 
 that a jockey praises his horse : " Such limbs ! 
 
 such eyes ! such a neck and breast ! such 
 
 oh, she's a rare piece !" Their ideas go no fai'- 
 ther than mere external accomplishments ; and, 
 as their w^ounds may be said to be only skin- 
 deep, we cannot allow their breasts to be smitten 
 with love, though perhaps they may rankle with 
 a much grosser passion. Yet it must be owned, 
 that nothing is more common, than for gentle- 
 men of this cast to be involved in what is called 
 a love-match : but then it is owing to the same 
 cause with the marriage of Sir John Brute, who 
 says, " I married my wife, because I wanted to 
 lie with her, and she would not let me." 
 
 Other gentlemen, of a gay disposition and 
 warm constitution, who go in the catalogue for 
 lovers, are adorers of almost every woman they 
 see. The flame of love is as easily kindled in 
 them, as the sparks are struck out of a flint ; 
 and it also expires as soon. A lover of this sort 
 dances, one day, with a lady at a ball, and loses 
 his heart to her in a minuet : the next, another 
 carries it off in the Mall ; and the next day, per- 
 haps, he goes out of town, and lodges it in the 
 possession of all the country beauties successive- 
 ly, till at last he brings it back to town with 
 him, and presents it to the flrst woman he meets. 
 This class is very numerous ; but ought by no 
 means to hold a place among the tribe of true 
 lovers, since a gentleman, who is thus in love 
 with every body, may fairly be said not to be in 
 love at all. 
 
 Love is universally allowed to be whimsical ; 
 and if whim is the essence of love, none can be 
 accounted truer lovei^s, than those who admire 
 their mistress for some particular charm, which 
 enchains them, though it would singly never 
 captivate any body else. Some gentlemen have 
 been won to conjugal embraces by a pair of fine 
 arms ; others have been held fast by an even 
 
 white set of teeth ; and I know a very good 
 scholar, who was ensnared by a set of golden 
 tresses, because it was the taste of the ancients, 
 and the true classical hair. Those ladies, whose 
 lovers are such piecemeal admirers, are in perpe- 
 tual danger of losing them. A rash, or a pim- 
 ple, may abate their affection. All those, the 
 object of whose adoration is merely a pretty face 
 or a fine person, are in the power of the like ac- 
 cidents ; and the small-pox has occasioned many 
 a poor lady the loss of her beauty and her lover 
 at the same time. 
 
 But, after all these spurious Enamoratos, 
 there are some few whose passion is sincere and 
 well-founded. True, genuine love is always 
 built upon esteem : not that I would mean, that 
 a man can reason and argue himself into love ; 
 but that a constant intercourse with an amiable 
 woman will lead him into a contemplation of 
 her excellent qualities, which will insensibly 
 win his heart, before he is himself aware of it, 
 and beget all those hopes, fears, and other ex- 
 travagancies which are the natural attendants 
 on a true passion. Love has been described ten 
 thousand times : but that I may be sure that 
 the little picture I would draw of it is taken 
 from nature, I will conclude this paper with 
 the story of honest Will Easy and his amiable 
 
 wife. Will Easy and Miss became very 
 
 early acquainted, and, from being familiarly in- 
 timate with the whole family, Will might be al- 
 most said to live there. He dined and supped 
 with them perpetually in town, and spent great 
 part of the summer with them at their seat in 
 the countrj'. Will and the lady were both uni- 
 versally allowed to have sense, and their fre- 
 quent convei'sations together gave them undoubt- 
 ed proofs of the goodness of each other's disposi- 
 tion. They delighted in the company, and ad- 
 mired the perfections, of each other, and gave a 
 thousand little indications of a growing passion, 
 not unobserved by others, even while it was yet 
 unknown and unsuspected by themselves. How- 
 ever, after some time. Will, by mutual agree- 
 ment, demanded the lady of her father in mar- 
 riage. But, alas ! " the course of true love 
 never yet run smooth :" the ill-judged ambition 
 of a parent induced the father, out of mere love 
 to his daughter, to refuse her hand to the only 
 man in the world with Avhom she could live 
 happily, because he imagined that he might, in 
 the Smithfield phrase, do better for her. But 
 love, grounded on just principles, is not easily 
 shaken ; and, as it appeared that their mutual 
 passion had taken too deep root ever to be extir- 
 pated, the father at last, reluctantly, half con- 
 sented to their imion. They enjoy a genteel 
 competency ; and Will, by his integrity and 
 abilities, is an honour to a learned profession, 
 and a blessing to his wife, whose greatest praise 
 is, that her virtues deserve such a huijband. She 
 is pleased with having " left dross to dutchessesi" 
 
£1: 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 125. 
 
 he considers her happiness as his main interest ; 
 and their example every day gives fresh convic- 
 tion to the father, that where two persons of 
 strong sense and good hearts conceive a recipro- 
 cal affection for each other, their passion is ge- 
 nuine and lasting, and their union is perhaps 
 the truest state of happiness under the sun. 
 
 O. 
 
 No. 125.] Thursbav, June 17, 1756. 
 
 Cervius heec inter viclnus garrit aniles 
 
 Ex refabellas Hor. 
 
 With Mr. Town when prose and precepts fail, 
 His friend supplies a poem or a tale. 
 
 Nothing has given me a more sensible pleasure, 
 in the course of this undertaking, than the 
 having been occasionally honoured with the cor- 
 respondence of several ingenious gentlemen of 
 hoth our universities. My paper of to-day 
 gives me unusual satisfaction on this account ; 
 and I cannot help looking on it with a great 
 deal of pleasure, as a sort of a little Cambridge 
 miscellany. The reader will see it is composed 
 of two poems, which I have lately i-eceived from 
 a correspondent in that learned university. 
 'I'hese little pieces, unless my regard for the 
 writer makes me partial to themi, contain many 
 beauties, and are written with that elegant pecu- 
 liarity of style and manner, which plainly speak 
 them to come from the same hand that has 
 already obliged the public with some other pieces 
 of poetry, published in this paper. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Sir, Trin. Coll. Cant. Jun. 6. 
 
 Your essay on th*e abuse of words was very 
 well received here ; but more especially that 
 part of it which contained the modern definition 
 of the word ruined. You must know. Sir, 
 that in the language of our old dons, every 
 young man is ruined who is not an arrant Tycho 
 Brake, Erra Pater. Yet it is remarkable, that, 
 though the servants of the Muses meet with 
 more than ordinary discouragement at this place, 
 Cambridge has produced many celebrated poets : 
 witness Spenser, Milton, Cowley, Dryden, &c. 
 not to mention some admired Avriters of the pre- 
 sent times. I myself. Sir, am grievously sus- 
 pected of being better acquainted with Homer 
 and Virgil than Euclid or Saunderson ; and am 
 universally agreed to be ruined, for having con- 
 cerned myself with Hexameter and Pentameter 
 more than Diameter. The equity of this deci- 
 sion I shall not dispute ; but content myself at 
 present with submitting to the public, by means 
 of your paper, a few lines on the impoj't of 
 another favourite word, occasioned by the essay 
 above-mentioned. 
 
 But fearing that so short a piece will not be 
 sufficient to eke out a whole paper, I have sub- 
 joined to it another little pnem, not originally 
 designed for the public view, but written as a 
 familiar epistle to a friend. The whole is no- 
 thing more than the natural result of many let- 
 ters and conversations, that had passed between 
 us on the present state of poetry in these king- 
 doms : in which I flattered myself, that I was 
 justifiable in my remarks on the bairenness of 
 invention in most modern compositions, as well 
 as in regard to the cause of it- We ai"e now, 
 indeed, all become such exact critics, that there 
 are scarce any tolerable poets : what I mean by 
 exact critics is, that we are grown, (I speak in 
 genera],) by the help of Addison and Pope, 
 better judges of composition, than heretofore. 
 We get an early knowledge of what chaste writ- 
 ing is, and even school-boys are checked in the 
 luxuriancy of their genius, and not suffered to 
 run riot in their imaginations. I must own I 
 cannot help looking on it as a bad omen to 
 poetry, that there is now-a-days scarce any such 
 thing to be met with as fustian and bombast : 
 for our authors, dreading the vice of incorrect- 
 ness above all others, gi'ow ridiculously precise 
 and affected. In short, however paradoxical it 
 may seem, vre have now, in my opinion, too coi*- 
 rect a taste. It is to no purpose for such pru- 
 dent sober wooers, as our modern bards, to knock 
 at the door of the Muses. They, as well as 
 mortal ladies, love to be attacked briskly. 
 Should we take a review even of Chaucer's 
 poetry, the most inattentive reader, in the very 
 thickest of old Geoffrey's woods, would find the 
 light sometimes pierce through, and break in 
 upon him like lightning ; and a man must have 
 no soul in him, who does not admire the fancy, 
 the strength, and elegance of Spenser, even 
 through that disagreeable habit, which the 
 fashion of the times obliged him to Avear. To 
 conclude, there is this material difference be- 
 tween the former and present age of poetry ; 
 that the ^vi-iters in the first tliought poetically ; 
 in the last, they only express tliemselves so. 
 Modern poets seem to me more to study the 
 manner how they shall write, than what is to 
 be written. The minute accui'acy of their pro- 
 ductions ; the bells of their rhjTnes, so well 
 matched, making most melodious tinkle ; and all 
 the mechanism of poetry, so exactly finislunl ; 
 (together Avith a total deficiency of spirit, which 
 should be the leaven of the whole) put me in 
 mind of a piece of furniture, generally found 
 in the studies of the learned, " in an odd angle 
 of the room," a mahogany case, elegantly carve<l 
 and fashioned on the outside, the specious cover- 
 ing of a — chamber-pot. 
 
 I am, Sir, vour humble servant, 
 
 R. L. 
 
No. 125.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 2J3 
 
 THE SATYR AND THE PEDLAR, 
 
 Words are, so Woilaston defines, 
 Of our ideas merely signs. 
 Which have a power at will to vary, 
 As being vague and arbitrary. 
 Now damn'd, for instance — All agree 
 Damn'd's the superlative Degree ; 
 Means that alone, and nothing more. 
 However taken heretofore. 
 Damn'd is a word can't stand alone. 
 Which has no meaning of its own : 
 But signifies or bad or good. 
 Just as its neighbour's understood. 
 Examples we may find enough : 
 Damn'd high, damn'd low, damn'd fine,damn'd stuff. 
 So fares it too with its relation, 
 I mean its substantive damnation. 
 The wit with metaphors makes bold, 
 And tells you he's damnation cold ? 
 Perhaps, that metaphor forgot. 
 The self-same wit's damnation hot. 
 
 And here a fable I remember- 
 Once, in the middle of December, 
 When ev'ry mead in snow Ls lost. 
 And ev'ry river bound with frost ; 
 When famihes get altogether. 
 And feelingly talk o'er the weather ; 
 When — pox of the descriptive rhyme — 
 In short, it was the winter time. 
 It was a pedlar's happy lot 
 To fall into a satyr's cot ; 
 Shiv'ring with cold, and almost froze. 
 With pearly drop upon his nose. 
 His fingers' ends all pinched to death. 
 He blew upon them with his breath. 
 " Friend," quoth the satyr, " what intends 
 That blowing on thy fingers' ends !" 
 " It is to warm them thus I blow. 
 For they are froze as cold as snow ; 
 And so inclement has it been, 
 I'm like a cake of ice within." 
 " Come," quoth the satyr, " comfort, man ! 
 I'll cheer thy inside if I can ; 
 You're welcome, in my homely cottage, 
 To a warm fire, and mess of pottage." 
 
 This said, the satyr, nothing loath, 
 A bowl prepar'd of sav'ry broth ; 
 Which with delight the pedlar view'd, 
 As smoking on the board it stood. 
 But, though the very steam arose 
 With grateful odour to his nose. 
 One single sip he ventured not. 
 The gruel was so wondrous hot. 
 What can be done ? — with gentle puff 
 He blows it till it's cool enough. 
 
 " Why, how now, pedlar, what's the matter ? 
 Still at thy blowing?" quoth the satyr. 
 " I blow to cool it," cries the clown, 
 " That I may get the liquor down ; 
 For, though I grant you've made it well, 
 You've boil'd it, sir, as hot as helL" 
 
 Then raising high his cloven stump, 
 The satyr smote him on the rump. 
 " Begone, thou double knave, or fool ; 
 With the same breath to warm and cool ! 
 Friendship with such I never hold, 
 Who're so damn'd hot, and so damn'd cold." 
 
 EPISTLE rO A FRIEND. 
 
 Again I urge my old objection, 
 That modern rules obstruct perfection. 
 And the severity of taste 
 Has laid the walk of genius waste. 
 Fancy's a flight we deal no more in. 
 Our authors creep instead of soaring, 
 And all the brave imagination 
 Is dwindled into declamation. 
 
 But still you cry, in sober sadness, 
 " There is discretion e'en in madness." 
 A pithy sentence ! but wants credit. 
 Because, I find, a poet said it : 
 Their verdict makes but small impression, 
 Who are known liars by profession. 
 Rise what exalted flights it will. 
 True genius will be genius stilL 
 And say, that horse would you prefer, 
 Which wants a bridle or a spur "> 
 The mettled steed may lose his tricks j 
 The jade grows callous to your kicks. 
 
 Had Shakspeare crept by modern rules. 
 We'd lost his v>ntche£, fairies, fools. 
 Instead of all that wild creation. 
 He'd form'd a regular plantation. 
 Or garden trim and all aiclos'd. 
 In nicest symmetry dispos'd. 
 The hedges cut in proper order. 
 Nor e'en a branch beyond its border. 
 Now like a forest he appears, 
 The growth of twice three hundred years ; 
 Where many a tree aspiring shrouds 
 It's very summit in the clouds. 
 While round its roof still loves to twine 
 The ivy and wild eglantine. 
 
 " But Shakspeare's all-Creative fancy 
 Made others love extravagancy. 
 While cloud-capt nonsense was their aim. 
 Like Hurlothrumbo's mad Lord Fame." 
 True. — Who can stop dull imitators. 
 Those younger brothers of translators. 
 Those insects, which from genius rise. 
 And buzz about, in swarms, like flies ? 
 Fashion, that sets the modes of dress. 
 Sheds too her influence o'er the press : 
 As formerly the sons of rhyme 
 Sought Shakspeare's fancy and sublime. 
 By cool correctness now they hope 
 To emulate the praise of Pope. 
 But Pope and Shakspeare both disclaim 
 These low retainers to their fame. 
 
 What task can dulness e'er affect 
 So easy, as to write correct ? 
 Poets, 'tis said, are sure to split 
 By too much or too little wit ; 
 So, to avoid the extremes of either. 
 They miss their mark, and follow neither 
 They so exactly poise the scale. 
 That neither measure will prevail ; 
 And mediocrity the Muse 
 Did never in her sons excuse. 
 *Tis true, their tawdry works are grac'd 
 With all the charms of modern taste. 
 And ev'ry senseless line is drest 
 In quaint expression's tinsel vest. 
 Say, did you ever chance to meet 
 A Monsieur Barber in the street. 
 Whose rufile, as it lank depends. 
 And dangles o'er his fingers' ends, 
 His olive-tann'd complexion gracpji. 
 With little dabs of Dresden laces -, 
 
214 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 126. 
 
 While for the body. Monsieur Puflf 
 Would think e'en dowlass fine enough ? 
 So fares it with oar men of rhymes. 
 Sweet tinklers of poetic chimes : 
 For lace, and fringe, and tawdry clothes. 
 Sure never yet were greater beaux ; 
 Howe'er they deck the outward frame 
 The inner skeleton's the same. 
 
 But shall these wretched bards commence, 
 Without or spirit, taste, or sense ? 
 And when they bring no other treasure. 
 Shall I admire them for their measure ? 
 Or do I scorn the critic's rules, 
 Because I will not learn of fools ? 
 Although Longinus' full-mouth'd prose 
 With all the force of genius glows; 
 Though Dionysius' learned taste 
 Is ever manly, just, and chaste. 
 Who, like a skilful, wise physician. 
 Dissects each part of composition. 
 And shows how beauty strikes the soul. 
 From a just compact of the whole ; 
 Though judgment in Quintilian's page 
 Holds forth her lamp for ev'ry age ; 
 Yet Hypercritics I disdain, 
 A race of blockheads, dull and vain. 
 And laugh at all those empty fools. 
 Who cramp a genius with dull rules. 
 And what their narrow science mocks 
 Damn with the name of Het'rodox. 
 These butchers of a poet's fame. 
 While they usurp the critic's name 
 Cry, " this is taste — that's my opinion :". 
 And poets dread their mock dominion. 
 So have you seen, with dire affright. 
 The petty monarch of the night. 
 Seated aloft in elbow-chair. 
 Command the pris'ners to appeal ; 
 Harangue an hour on watchman's praise. 
 And on the dire effect of frays ; 
 Then cry, " you'll suffer for your daring. 
 And damn you, you shall pay for swearing : 
 Then, turning, tell th' astonish'd ring, 
 " I sit to represent the King." 
 
 No. 126. Thursday, June 24, 17o6. 
 
 Provide tona eloquio, solifum tili.- 
 
 ViRG. 
 
 Rant, roar, and bellow, with theatric air. 
 And sink the reverend preacher in the player. 
 
 I REMEMBER fi rector of a parish at tlie court 
 end of the town, who Avas generally accounted 
 a very fine preacher, that nsed to aim at deliver- 
 ing himself in the most hold and animated style 
 of oratory. The tone of his voice was nicely 
 accommodated to the different hranches of 
 his discourse, and every thing was pronounced 
 with uncommon energy and emphasis: he also 
 indulged himself in equal freedom of action, 
 and abounded in various extraordinary gesticu- 
 lations : his sermons themselves were sown 
 thick with cropfls, metaphors, and similes, and 
 every where enriched with npostropfie and p7-oso- 
 fopccia. 
 
 As I knew that this reverend gentleman had 
 been abroad with a young nobleman in the ca- 
 pacity of a travelling tutor, I did not wonder 
 at the violent exertion of his voice and the ve- 
 hemence of his action ; this affected air being a 
 piece of clerical foppery, which an itinerant 
 clergyman is apt to adopt, while his pupil is 
 gleaning all the other follies of Paris : at which 
 place it is very common to see a capuchine so 
 heated with his subject, that he often seems in 
 danger of throwing himself cut of the pulpit. 
 But I was at a loss how to account for the glow- 
 ing style of his discourses; till happening to 
 turn over the works of a celebrated French 
 preacher, I found, that the oratorical perfor- 
 mances of my friend were no other than faith- 
 ful translations of them. 
 
 This sort of pulpit plagiarisms may perhaps 
 be more adapted to the taste of some of our fa- 
 shionable declaimers, than the more hackneyed 
 method of transcribing a page from Barrow, 
 Tillotson, or Atterbury. But, although such 
 practices may be less liable to detection, it is 
 cei'tainly more orthodox to rifle the works of 
 our own divines, than to ransack the treasures 
 of Romish priests ; and their inflamed orations 
 are undoubtedly less adapted to the genius of 
 our peoi^le, than the sober reasonings of our own 
 preachers. Voltaire, in his essay on epic poetry^ 
 has touched this point with his usual vivacity, 
 and given a very just description of the difte- 
 rent species of pulpit eloquence, that obtain in 
 France and England. The whole passage is as 
 follows: — " Discourses, aiming at the jmlhetic, 
 pronounced with vehemence, and accompanied 
 with violent gestures, would excite laughter 
 in an English congregation. For as they are 
 fond of bloated language and the most impas- 
 sioned eloquence on the stage, so in the pulpit 
 they affect the most unornamented simplicity. 
 A sermon in France is a long declamation, scru- 
 pulously divided into three parts, and delivered 
 with enthusiasm. In England, a sermon is a 
 solid, but sometimes dry, dissertation, which a 
 man reads to the people, without gesture, and 
 without any particular exaltation of the voice. 
 In Italy, (he adds) a sermon is a spiritual co- 
 medy:" or rather farce, he might have said; 
 since the preachers in that country hiu-angue 
 their audience, running to and fro on a sort of 
 raised stage, like a mountebank. It must be 
 owned, however, that some of our clergy are 
 greatly wanting in that life and spirit, which 
 would render their instructions more affecting 
 as well as more pleasing. Their sermons are 
 frequently drav.led out in one dull tone, without 
 any variation of voice or gesture : so that it is 
 no wonder, if some of the congregation should 
 be caught napping, when the preacher himself 
 hardly seems to be awake. But though this 
 di'owsy delivery is not to be commended, yet a 
 serious eaincstness is most likely to engage the 
 
No. 126.- 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 215 
 
 attention, and convince the reason. This 
 manner, as it is most decent in itself, is best 
 suited to an English audience : though it is 
 no wonder, that a different strain of oratory 
 should prevail in France ; since a Frenchman 
 accompanies almost every veord in ordinary 
 conversation with some fantastic gesture, and 
 even inquires concerning youi' health, and talks 
 of the weather, with a thousand shrugs and gri- 
 maces. 
 
 But though I do not like to see a preacher 
 lazily lolling on the cushion, or dozing over his 
 seraion-case, and haranguing his audience with 
 an unchristian apathy ; yet even this unanima- 
 ted delivery is perhaps less offensive, than to 
 observe a clergj-man not so assiduous to instruct 
 his audience, as to be admired by them : not to 
 mention, that even Voltaire himself seems to 
 think our manner of preaching preferable, on 
 the whole, to the declamatory style and affected 
 gestures, losed by the clergy of his own nation. 
 A sober divine should not ascend the pulpit with 
 the same passions, that a public orator mounts 
 the rostrum : much less should he assume the 
 voice, gesture, and deportment of a player, and 
 the language of the theatre. He should preserve 
 a temperance in the most earnest parts of his 
 discourse, and go through the whole of it in such 
 a manner, as best agrees with the solemn place 
 in w^hich it is uttered. Pompous nonsense, bel- 
 lowed out with a thundering accent, comes with 
 a worse grace from the pulpit, than bombast 
 and fustian injudiciously ranted forth by a 
 " periwig-pated felloTv" on the stage. I cannot 
 better illustrate the absurdity and indecency of 
 this manner, than by a familiar, though shame- 
 ful, instance of it. V>"hoever has occasionally join- 
 ed Avith the butchers in making up the audience 
 of the Clare-market orator, will agree with me, 
 that the impropriety of his style, and the extra- 
 vagance of his action, become still more shocking 
 and intolerable by the day which they profane, 
 and the ecclesiastical appearance of the place in 
 which the declaimer harangues. Thus while 
 those, who thunder out damnation froni parish 
 pulpits, may, from assuming the manners of the 
 theatre, be resembled to ranting players ; the 
 Clare-market orator, while he turns religion in- 
 to farce, must be considered as exhibiting shows 
 and interludes of an inferior nature, and himself 
 regarded as a Jack-pudding in a gown and cas- 
 sock. 
 
 A bloated stj'le is perhaps of all others least to 
 be commended. It is more frequently made a 
 shelter for nonsense, than a vehicle of truth : 
 but though improper on all occasions, it more 
 especially deviates from the chaste plainness and 
 simplicity of pulpit eloquence. Xor am I less 
 displeased with those, who are admired by some 
 as pretty preachers ; as I think a clergyman 
 may be a coxcomb in his style and manner, as 
 v^eU as a prig in his appearance. Flowers of 
 
 rhetoric, injudiciously scattered over a seraion, 
 are as disgusting in his discourse, as the snug 
 ■wig and scented white handkerchief in his di'ess. 
 The pretty preacher aims also at politeness and 
 good-breeding, takes the ladies to task in a gen- 
 teel vein of raillery, and handles their modish 
 foibles with the same air, that he gallants their 
 fans : but if he has a mind to put his abilities to 
 the stretch, and indulge himself in a more than 
 ordinary flow of rhetoric, he flitters away the 
 solemnity of some scriptiu-al subject ; and I have 
 heard a flourishing declaimer of this cast take off 
 from the avrful idea of the Passion, by dwelling 
 principally on the gracefulness of person, sweet- 
 ness of voice, and elegance of deportment, in the 
 Divine Sufferer ; and at another time, in speak- 
 ing of the fall, I have known him to enter into a 
 picturesque description of the "woods, groves, and 
 rivulets, pansies, pinks, and violets, that threw a 
 perpetual gayety over the face of nature in the 
 garden of Eden. 
 
 Affected oratory and an extravagant delivei-y 
 were first practised by those who vary from the 
 established chiu-ch : nor is there any manner so 
 unbecoming and indecent, which has not, at one 
 time or another, been accounted truly spiritual 
 and graceful. Snuffling through the nose Tvith 
 a harmonious twang, has been regarded as a 
 kind of church-music best calculated to raise de- 
 votion, and a piteous chorus of sighs and groans 
 has been thought the most efl'ectual call to repen- 
 tance. Ii'regular tremblings of the voice, and 
 contortions of the person, have long been the 
 eloquence of quakers and presbyterians ; and are 
 now the favom-ite mode of preaching practised 
 by those self-ordained teachers, who strike out 
 new lights in religion, and pom* forth their ex- 
 tempore rhapsodies in a torrent of enthusiastical 
 oratoi'v. An inspired cobbler will thunder out 
 anathemas, with the tone and gestm-e of St. 
 Paul, from a joint-stool ; and an enlightened 
 brick-layer will work himself up to such a pitch 
 of vehemence, as shall make his audience quake 
 again. I am sorry to see our regular divines 
 rather copj-ing, than reforming, this hot and ex- 
 traA-agant manner of preaching ; and have Avith 
 pain been witness to a wild intemperate delivery 
 in our parish churches, which I should only 
 have expected at the chapel in Long-acre, or at 
 the Foundery and Tabernacle in Moor-fields. 
 
 Asa serious earnestness in the delivery, and a 
 nervous simplicity in the style of a discourse, 
 are the most becoming ornaments of the pulpit, 
 so an affectation of eloquence is no where so of- 
 fensive. The deliveiy of a preacher, as well as 
 his diction, should, like the dress, be plain and 
 decent. Inflamed eloquence and wild gestures 
 are unsuitable to the place and his function ; and 
 though such vehement heat may perhaps kindle 
 the zeal of a few enthusiastic old beldams in the 
 isle, it has a veiy different effect on the more 
 iTitional part of the congregation. I would. 
 
216 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 127 
 
 therefore recommend it to our fashionable di- 
 vines, to aim at being preachers rather than 
 orators or actors, and to endeavour to make their 
 discourses appear like sermons rather than ora- 
 tions. O. 
 
 No. 127.] Thursday, Ji 
 
 1756. 
 
 Fervens difficili bile tumetjecur. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Rage in her eyes, distraction in her mien, 
 Her breast indignant swells with jealous spleen. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 We are told, that in Spain it is the custom for 
 husbands never to let their wives go abroad 
 without a watchful old woman to attend them ; 
 and in Turkey it is the fashion to lock up their 
 mistresses under the guard of a trusty eunuch : 
 but I never knew, that in any country the men 
 Avere put under the same restrictions. Alas ! 
 Sir, my wife is to me a very duenna : she is as 
 careful of me, as the keisler aga, or chief eunuch, 
 is of the grand signior's favourite sultana : and 
 whether she believes, that I am in love with 
 every woman, or that every womati is in love 
 with me, she will never trust me out of her 
 sight ; but sticks as close to me, as if she really 
 was, without a figure, bone of my bone, and 
 flesh of my flesh. I am never sutFered to stir 
 abroad without her, lest I should go astray ; and 
 at home she follows me up and down the house, 
 like a child in leading-strings : nay, if I do but 
 step down stairs on any ordinary occasion, she 
 is so afraid I shall give her the slip, that she al- 
 ways screams after me, " my dear, you are not 
 going out ;" though for better secui-ity, she ge- 
 nerally locks up my hat and cane, together with 
 her own gloves and cardinal, that one may not 
 stir out without the other. 
 
 I cannot flatter myself, that I am handsomer 
 or better made than other men : nor has she, in 
 my eyes at least, fewer charms than other wo- 
 men. Need I add, that my complexion is not 
 over sanguine, nor my constitution very robust? 
 and yet she is so very doubtful of my constancy, 
 that 1 cannot speak, or even pay the compliment 
 of my hat, to any young lady, though in public, 
 without giving new alarms to her jealousy. 
 Such a one, she is sure from her flaunting airs, 
 is a kept madam ; another is no better than she 
 should be ; and she saw another tip me the 
 Aviuk, or give me a nod, as a mark of some private 
 assignation between us. A nun. Sir, might as 
 80on force her way into a convent of monks, as 
 any young woman get admittance to our house : 
 she has therefore affronted all her acquaintance 
 of her own sex, that are not, or might not have 
 been, the grandmothers of many generations ; 
 
 and is at home to nobody, but maiden ladles in 
 the bloom of threescore, and beauties of the last 
 century. 
 
 She will scarce allow me to mix even with 
 persons of my own sex ; and she looks upon 
 bachelors in particular, as no better than pimps 
 and common seducers. One evening, indeed, 
 she vouchsafed to trust me out of doors at a ta- 
 vern with some of my male friends : but the 
 first bottle had scarce gone round, before word 
 was brought up, that my boy was come with the 
 lantern to light me home. I sent him back with 
 orders to call in an hour; when presently after 
 the maid was despatched, with notice that my 
 dear was gone to bed very ill, and wanted me 
 directly. I was preparing to obey the sum- 
 mons ; when, to our great surprise, the sick lady 
 herself bolted into the room, complained of my 
 cruel heart, and fell into a fit ; from which she 
 did not recover, till the coach had set us down 
 at our own house. She then called me the bas- 
 est of husbands, and said, that all taverns were 
 no better than bawd}'-houses, and that men only 
 went thither to meet naughty women : at last she 
 declared it to be her firm resolution, that I should 
 never set my foot in any one of them again, ex- 
 cept herself be allowed to make one of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 You will suppose. Sir, that while my wife is 
 thus cautious that I should not be led astray 
 when abroad, she takes particular care that 1 
 tnay not stumble on temptations at home. For 
 this reason, as soon as I had brought her to my 
 house, my two maid-servants were immediately 
 turned away at a moment's warning, not with- 
 out many covert hints, and some open accusa- 
 tions, of too near an intimacy between us ; 
 though, I protest to you, one was a feeble old 
 wrinkled creature, as haggard and frightful as 
 mother Shipton, and the other a strapping 
 wench, as coarse and brawny as the female 
 Samson. Even my man John, who had lived 
 in the family for thirty years, was packed off, 
 as being too well acquainted with his master's 
 sly ways. A char-woman was forced to do our 
 work for some time, before Madam could suit 
 herself with maids for her piu-pose. One was 
 too pert a hussy ; another went too fine ; ano- 
 ther was an impudent forward young baggage. 
 At present our household is made up of such 
 beautiful monsters, as Caliban himself might 
 fall in love with : my lady's own waiting wo- 
 man has a most inviting hump-back, and is so 
 charmingly paralytic, that she shakes all over 
 like a Chinese figure ; the housemaid squints 
 most delightfully with one solitary eye, which 
 weeps continually for the loss of its fellow; and 
 the cook, besides a most captivating red face nnd 
 protuberant waist, has a most graceful hobble in 
 her gait, occasioned by one leg being shorter 
 than the other. 
 
 I need not tell vou, that I must never wri;e 
 
No. 128.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 17 
 
 a letter, but my wife must see the contents, 
 before it is done up ; and that I never dare to 
 open one, till she has broke the seal ; or read it, 
 till she has first run it over. Every rap at the 
 door from the post-man makes her tremble ; 
 and I have known her ready to burst with spleen 
 at seeing a superscription, written in a fair 
 Italian hand, though perhaps it only comes from 
 my aunt in the coimtry. She can pick out an 
 intrigue even from the impression on the wax : 
 and a Cupid, or two hearts joined in union, or a 
 wafer pricked with a pin, or stamped with a 
 thimble she interprets as the certain tokens of a 
 billet-doux : and if there is a blank space left 
 in any part of the letter, she always holds it for 
 some time before the fire ; that, if it should 
 be filled with any secret contents, written in 
 juice of lemons, they may by that means become 
 visible. 
 
 About a month ago she found a mysterious 
 paper in my coat-pocket, which awakened all 
 her mistrust. This suspicious manuscript w^as 
 drawn up in hieroglyphics ; which as slie could 
 not interpret, she immediately concluded it to be 
 a billet-doux from some nasty creature, whom I 
 secretly maintained in a corner of the town ; 
 and that we corresponded together in cypher. 
 This terrible paper. Sir, was in truth no other 
 than a bill fi'om my blacksmith in the country ; 
 who, never having learnt to write, expressed his 
 meaning by characters of his own invention. 
 Thus, if he had mended a spade, he charged it 
 to my account, by drawing as well as he could, 
 the figure of a spade, and adding at a little dis- 
 tance six perpendicular lines, to signify sixpence ; 
 or, if he had repaired a plough, he sketched out 
 that also in the same kind of rough draught, 
 and annexed to it four curve lines, to denote four 
 shillings. This matter I explained to my wife 
 as fully as possible, but very little to her satisfac- 
 tion. It is absolutely impossible to quiet her 
 suspicions : she is perpetually reproaching me 
 with my private trull, nay upbraids me on this 
 account before strangers ; and it was but last 
 week, that she put me to inconceivable confusion 
 before a whole room full of company, by telling 
 them that I was in love with a blacksmith. 
 
 Jealousy, Sir, it is said, is a sign of love. It 
 may be so ; but it is a species of love, which is 
 attended with all the malevolent properties of 
 hate : nay, I will venture to say, that many a 
 modern wife hates her husband most heartily, 
 without causing him half that uneasiness, which 
 my loving consort's suspicious temper creates to 
 me. Her jealous whims disturb me the more, 
 because I am naturally of an even mind and 
 calm disposition ; one of the chief blessings I 
 promised myself in matrimony was, to enjoy 
 the sweets of domestic tranquillity. I loved my 
 wife passionately ; but I must OAvn, that these 
 perpetual attacks upon my peace make me regard 
 Ler with less and less tenderness every day ; and 
 
 though there is not a woman in the world that I 
 would prefer to my wife, yet I am apt to think, 
 that such violent suspicions without a cause, 
 have often created real matter for jealousy. 
 T. I am. Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 
 
 No. 128.] Thursday, July 8, 1736. 
 
 Quod optimum sit quceritis conviviinn f 
 In quod chorauels non venit. Mart. 
 
 Happy that house, where fiddles never come, 
 Horn, hautboy, harpsicord, nor kettle-drum. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 My wife is mad, stark mad ; and unless you can 
 prescribe some remedy for that strange phrenzy 
 which possesses her, my peace of mind must be 
 for ever broken, and ray fortune inevitably 
 ruined. You must know, Sir, that she is 
 afflicted with a disorder exactly opposite to the 
 bite of a tarantula ; for, as that is said to admit 
 of no cure but music, there is not a note in the 
 gamut, but what tends to heighten and inflame 
 my wife's lunacy. I find it is the fashion in this 
 age, for singers and fiddlers to publish appeals to 
 the public : wherefore, as you have hitherto 
 listened to the complaints of husbands, I must 
 beg you now to consider mine, and to suffer me 
 also to appeal to the public, by means of your 
 paper. 
 
 A few years ago business called me over to 
 Italy ; where this unfortunate w^oman received 
 the first touches of this disorder. She soon con- 
 ceived a violent passion for taste in general, 
 which settled at last in an unquenchable rage 
 after musical compositions. Solos, sonatas, 
 operas, and concertos, became her sole employ- 
 ment and delight, and singers and musicians her 
 only company. At length, fuU of Italian airs 
 she returned to England, where also her whole 
 happiness had been centred in the orchestra, and 
 it has been her whole pride to be thought a con- 
 noisseur in music. If there is an opera, oratorio, 
 or concert, to be performed w^ithin the bills of 
 mortality, I do not believe that the riches of the 
 Indies could prevail on her to be absent. Two, 
 and only two, good consequences flow from, this 
 madness ; and those are, that she constantly 
 attends St. James's chapel, for the sake of the 
 anthem and the rest of the music ; and, out of 
 the many pounds idly squandered on minims 
 and semiquavers, some li^w are dedicated to 
 charities, which are promoted by musical per- 
 formances. 
 
 But what makes this rage after catgut more 
 
 irksome and intolerable to nae is, that I have 
 
 not myself the least idea of what they call taste, 
 
 and it almost drives me mad to be pestered with 
 
 F f 
 
218 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 128. 
 
 It, 1 am a plain man, and have not the least 
 epice of a connoisseur in my composition : yet 
 nothing will satisfy my wife, unless I appear 
 as fond of such nonsense as herself. About a 
 month ago she prevailed on me to attend her to 
 the Opera, where every dying fall made her ex- 
 pire, as well as Lady Townly. She was ra- 
 vished with one air, in ecstacies at another, ap- 
 plauded Illcciarelli, encored Mingotti, and, in 
 sliort, acted like an absolute mad woman ; while 
 the performance, and her behaviour, had a quite 
 different effect upon me, who sat dumb with 
 confusion, "most musical, most melancholy," 
 at her elbow. When we came home again, she 
 seemed as happy as harmony could make her ; 
 but 1 must own, that I was all discord, and 
 most heartily vexed at being made a fool in pub- 
 lic. " Well, my deal'," said she, "how do you 
 
 like the opera?" " Zounds, Madam, I would 
 
 as soon be dragged through a horse- pond, as go 
 
 to an Opera with you again." "O fie! 
 
 but you must be delighted with the Mingotti." 
 
 " The Mingotti ! The devil." " Well, I 
 
 am sorry for it. Sir Aaron, but I find you have 
 
 no ear."- -"Ear, Madam! I had rather cut 
 
 off my ears, than suffer them to make me an 
 idiot." To this she made no reply, but began a 
 favourite opera tune : and, after taking a tour 
 round the room, like one of the singers, left me 
 alone. 
 
 If my wife could be satisfied, like other musi- 
 cal ladies, with attending public performances, 
 and now and then thrumming on her harpsi- 
 chord the tunes she hears there, X should be con- 
 tent : but she has always a concert of her own 
 constantly once a week. Here she is in still 
 greater raptures than at the opera, as all the 
 music is chosen and appointed by herself. The 
 expense of this whim is monstrous ; for not one 
 of these people will open their mouths, or rosin 
 a single string, without being very well paid for 
 it. Then she must have all the best liands and 
 voices ; and has almost as large a set of perfor- 
 mers in pay as the manager of the opera. It 
 puts me quite out of patience to see these fellows 
 strutting about my house, dressed up like lords 
 and gentlemen. Not a single fiddler, or singer, 
 but what appears in lace and embroidery; and 
 I once mistook my wife's chief musician for a 
 foreign ambassador. 
 
 It is impossible to recount the numberless 
 follies to which this ridiculous passion for mu- 
 sic exposes her. Her devotion to the art makes her 
 almost adore the professors of it. A musician 
 is a greater man, in her eye, than a duke ; and 
 she would sooner oblige an opera-singer than a 
 countess. She is as busy in promoting their be- 
 nefits, as if she was to have the receipts of the 
 house ; and quarrels with all her acquaintance, 
 who will not permit her to load them with 
 tickets. P>;erv fiddler in town makes it his 
 business: to scrupt- an acquaintance with iier ; 
 
 and an Italian is no sooner imported, than she 
 becomes a part of my wife's band of performers. 
 In the late opera disputes, she has been a most 
 furious partisan ; and it is impossible for any 
 patriot to feel more anxiety for the danger of 
 Blakeny and Minorca, than she has suffered on 
 account of the opera, and the loss of Mingotti. 
 
 I do not believe my wife has a single idea, ex- 
 cept recitative, airs, counter-tenor, thorough- 
 bass, &c. which are perpetually singing in her 
 head. When we sit together, instead of joining 
 in any agreeable conversation, she is always 
 either humming a tune, or " discoursing most 
 eloquent music." Nature has denied her a 
 voic« ; but, as Italy has given her taste and a 
 gi-aceful manner, she is continually squeaking 
 out strains less melodious than the harmony of 
 ballad-singing in our streets, or psalm-singing 
 in a country church. To make her still more 
 ridiculous, she learns to play on that masculine 
 instrument, the Bass-viol ; the pleasure of which 
 nothing can prevail on her to forego, as the bass- 
 viol, she daily tells me, contains the whole power 
 and very soul of harmony. 
 
 What method, Mr. Town, shall I pursue to 
 cure my wife of this musical frenzy? I have 
 some thoughts of holding weekly 3. burlesque 
 rorotorio, composed of mock airs, with grand 
 accompaniments of the jews-rjai"p, wooden 
 spoons, and marrow bones and cleavers, on the 
 same day with my wife's concert ; and have ac- 
 tually sent to two of Mrs. IMidnight's hands to 
 teach me the art and mystery of playing on 
 the broom-stick and hurdy-gurdy, at the 
 same time that my wife learns on the bass- 
 viol. I have also a ntrong rough voice, 
 which will enable me to roar out Bumper Squire 
 Jones, Roast Beef, or some other old English 
 ballad, whenever she begins to ti'ill forth her 
 melodious airs in Italian. If this has no effect, 
 I wlU learn to beat the drum, or wind the post 
 horn : and if I should still find it impossible for 
 noise and clamour to overcome the sound of her 
 voices and instruments, 1 have half resolvetl 
 peremptorily to shut my doors against singei-s 
 and fiddlers, and even to demolish her harpsi- 
 chord and bass-viol. 
 
 But this, alas ! is coming to extremities, which 
 I am almost afraid to venture, and would en- 
 deavour to avoid. I have no aversion to music ; 
 but I would not be a fiddler : nor do I dislike 
 company; but I would as soon keep an irn, as 
 convert my house into a theatre for all the idle 
 things of both sexes to assemble at. But my 
 wife's affections are so wedded to the gamxit, 
 that I cannot devise any means to wean her 
 from this folly. If I could make her fond of 
 dress, or teach her to love cards, plays, or any 
 thing but music, I should be happy. This me- 
 thod of destroying my peace with harmony, is no 
 better than tickling me to death ; and to squan- 
 der away sucli sums of money on a parcel of 
 
No. 129.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 219 
 
 bawling scraping rascais in laced coats and bag 
 wigs, is absolutely giving away my estate for an 
 old song. You, Mr. Town, are a professed 
 Connoisseur; therefore, eitber give me a little 
 taste, or teacb my wife to abandon it: for at 
 present we are but a jangling pair, and there is 
 not the least harmony between us, though, like 
 bass and treble, we are obliged to join in con- 
 cert. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
 T. Aaron Humkin. 
 
 No. 129.] Thursday, July 15, 1756. 
 
 ——Post cineres gloria sera venit. 
 
 Fame to our ashes comes, alas ! too late ; 
 And praise smells rank upon the cofEn-plate. 
 
 Mart. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I AM a rich old bachelor, and, like other an- 
 cient gentlemen of that order, am very fond of 
 being indulged in all my odd humours, and al- 
 ways having my own way. This is one reason 
 I never married ; for if my wife had been a 
 shrewish termagant, she would have killed me ; 
 and if she had been a tame domestic animal, I 
 should have killed her. But the way of life 1 
 have now fallen into is, of all others, the best 
 calculated to gratify ray fantastical temper. I 
 have no near relation, indeed, who will submit 
 to be treated as an humble cousin all my life, in 
 hopes of being happy at my death ; yet I abound 
 in sycophants and followers, every one of whom 
 I delude, like another Yolpone, with the expec- 
 tations of being made my heii". The abject spirit 
 of these wretches flatters me, and amuses me. 
 I am indolent, and hate contradiction ; and can 
 safely say, that not one of my acquaintance has 
 contradicted me for these seven years. There 
 is not one of them but would be glad if I would 
 spit in his face, or rejoice at a kick of the breech 
 from me, if they thought I meant it as a token 
 of my familiarity. When I am grave, they ap- 
 pear as duU as mutes at a funeral : when I 
 smile, they grin like monkeys ; when I tell a 
 silly story, they chuckle over every ridiculous 
 particular, and shake their sides in admiration 
 of my wit. Sometimes I pretend to be short- 
 sighted, and then not one of them sees farther 
 than his nose. They swallow sour wine, eat 
 musty Tictuals, and are proud to ride in my old 
 boots. 
 
 I have been told of a certain prelate, who 
 brought his chaplains to such a degree of civility, 
 that after every deal at whist, they would ask 
 him, what he would choose to have for trumps 
 next deal? I keep my fellows in equal good 
 order. They all think me a close old hunks ; 
 
 and imagining that winning their money will 
 put me in good humour with them, they prac- 
 tise all the arts of sharping to cheat themselves. 
 I have known them pack the cards at whist, 
 that I might hold all the four honours in my 
 own hand : they wiU load the dice in my favour 
 at hazard; pocket themselves on purpose, at 
 billiards ; and, at bowls, if any one is near win- 
 ning the game, he never fails in the next cast to 
 mistake his bias. It is impossible for the most 
 despotic monarch to be more absolute over his 
 subjects, than I am over these slaves and syco- 
 phants. Yet, in spite of all their endeavours to 
 oblige me, 1 most heartily despise them ; and 
 have already di-awn up a will, in which I have 
 bequeathed to each of them a shilling and a dog 
 coUar. 
 
 But, though I have settled in my mind what 
 legacies I shall leave them, I have not thorough- 
 ly resolved in what manner I shall dispose of 
 the bulk of my estate. Indeed, I am fully de- 
 termined, like most other wealthy bachelors, 
 either to leave my fortune to some ostentatious 
 pious uses, or to persons whom I have never 
 seen, and for whose characters I have not the 
 least regard or esteem. To speak sincerely, os- 
 tentation caiTies away my whole heart; but 
 then, it is a little difficult to find out a new ob- 
 ject to indulge my vanity, whilst I am on this 
 side of the grave, by securing to me a certain 
 prospect of posthumous fame, which is always 
 so agreeable to living pride. 
 
 The hospitals are so numerous, that my name 
 will be lost among those more known and esta- 
 blished of Guy, Morden, Bancroft, and I know 
 not who. Besides, in the space of four or five 
 centuries, perhaps, it may be thought, notwith- 
 standing my whole length picture and statue, 
 that I had assistance from parliament. If I 
 order my money to be laid out in churches, they 
 wiU never be built ; if in temples, gardens, 
 lakes, obelisks, and serpentine rivers, the next 
 generation of the sons of taste wiU demolish all 
 my works, turn my rounds into squares, and 
 my squares into rounds, and not leave even my 
 bust, although it were cast in plaster of Paris 
 by Mr. Rackstrow, or worked up in wax by 
 Mr. Goupy. Or supposing, in imitation of 
 some of my predecessors, I were to bequeath 
 my fortune to my housekeeper, and recommend 
 her in my will as a pattern of virtue, diligence, 
 and every good quality, what will be the eflfect ? 
 In three weeks after my death she will marry 
 an Irishman, and I shall not even enjoy my mo- 
 nument and marble periwig in Westminster 
 Abbey. 
 
 Nothing perplexes me so much as the disposal 
 of my money by my last will and testament. 
 While I am living,- it procures the most servile 
 compliance with all my whims from my syco- 
 phants, and several other conveniences : but I 
 would fain buy fame with it after my dcftth. 
 
220 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUK. 
 
 [No. 130. 
 
 Do but instruct me, how I may lay it out in 
 the most valuable purchases of this sort : only 
 discover some new object of charity, and per- 
 haps I may bequeath you a round sum of money 
 for your advice. 
 
 I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
 
 Thomas Vainall. 
 
 It is said by an old poet, that no man's life 
 can be called happy or unhappy till his death ; 
 in like manner, I have often thought, that no 
 words or actions are a bettor comment on a per- 
 son's temper and disposition, than his last will 
 and testament. This is a true portraiture of 
 himself, drawn at full length by his own hand, 
 in which the painting is commonly very lively, 
 and the features very strongly marked. In the 
 discharge of this solemn act, people sign and 
 seal themselves, either wise and good characters, 
 or villains and fools : and any person that makes 
 a ridiculous will, and bequeaths his money to 
 frivolous uses, only takes a great deal of pains, 
 like Dogberry in the play, " that he may be set 
 down an ass." 
 
 The love of fame governs our actions more 
 universally than any other passion. All the 
 rest gradually drop off, but this runs through 
 our whole lives. This, perhaps, is one of the 
 chief inducements, that influences wealthy per- 
 sons to bequeath their possessions to ostentatious 
 uses; and they would as willingly lay out a 
 considerable sum in buying a gi'eat name (if 
 possible) at their deaths, as they would bestow 
 it on the purchase of a coat of heraldry, during 
 their lives. They are pleased with leaving 
 some memorial of their existence behind them, 
 and to perpetuate the remembrance of them- 
 selves by the application of their money to some 
 vainglorious purposes ; though the good g entle- 
 men never did one act to make themselves re- 
 markable, or laid out a single shilling in a laud- 
 able manner, while they lived. If an Apothe- 
 osis were to be bought, how many rich scoun- 
 drels would be deified after their deaths ! not a 
 plum in the city but would purchase this ima- 
 ginary godship as readily as he paid for his free- 
 dom at his first setting up ; and I doubt not but 
 this fantastical distinction would be more fi'e- 
 quent on an escutcheon than a coronet. 
 
 The disposal of our fortunes by our last will 
 should be considered as the discharge of a sacred 
 trust which we should endeavour to execute in 
 a just manner ; and, as we have had the enjoy- 
 ment of rich possessions, we ought carefully to 
 provide, that they may devolve to those who 
 have the most natural claim to them. They 
 who may first demand our favour, are those 
 who are allied to us by the ties of blood ; next 
 to these, stand those persons to whom we are 
 connected by friendship : and, next to our friends 
 and relations, mankind in general. But the 
 humanity of a testator will not be thought very 
 
 extensive, though it reaches to posterity, or in- 
 cludes the poor in general, if it neglects the ob- 
 jects of charity immediately under his eye, or 
 those individuals, who have the best title to his 
 benevolence. Virgil has placed those rich 
 men, who bestowed none of their wealth on 
 their relations, among the chief personages in 
 his hell. Wherefore I would advise my good 
 correspondent Mr. Vainall first to consider, 
 whether he has not som.e poor relation, starving 
 perhaps in some distant part of the kingdom : 
 after that, let him look round whether he has 
 not some friends, whom he may possibly relieve 
 from misery and distress. But if he has no re- 
 lation, nor any person in the world that has any 
 regard for him, before he begins to endow a col- 
 lege, or found an hospital, 1 should take it as a 
 particular favour if he would leave his money 
 to me, and I will promise to immortalize his 
 memory in the Connoisseur. 
 
 k.'V«<W'V^%<».'V»%^ 
 
 No 130. Thursday, July 22, 1756. 
 
 -Jjyr<e solers, et cantor. 
 
 Hob. 
 
 Sweet Virtuosa ! with wliat art she sings 
 
 With what a gusto strikes the trembling strings ! 
 
 I have just received the following letter from 
 Lady Humkin, the musical consort of my late 
 correspondent Sir Aai-on. I shall not pretend 
 to moderate in family-disputes of so important 
 a nature, but leave each party to speak for them- 
 selves. 
 
 Mr. Town, 
 
 Pray hear both sides fairly, before you judge; 
 for (to use a vulgar expi'ession) one story is good 
 till the other is told. I am, Sir, the unfortunate 
 wife of that inelegant (I had almost said insen- 
 sible) husband, who, in your paper of the eighth 
 instant, pronounces and publishes me to be mad, 
 stai'k mad. 
 
 I confess and glory in my passion for music ; 
 and can there be a nobler or a more generous 
 one? My nerves are naturally strung to har- 
 mony, and variously affected by the various com- 
 binations of the gamut. Some stay in Italy added 
 skill and taste in composition to my natural hap- 
 py disposition to music -. and the best judges, as 
 well as the best performers in that country, al- 
 lowed me to have an uncommon share of virtu. I 
 both compose and perform. Sir ; and, though I say 
 it, perhaps few, even of the profession, possess the 
 contra-punto and the cromatic better ; and I have 
 had the unspeakable pleasure of hearing my 
 compositions and my performances dignified in 
 Italy with the unanimous appellations of squisi- 
 to, divino, and adorevole. 
 
 Is there any madness in this? Does not he 
 
No. 130.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 221 
 
 better deserve that imputation, Avhose breast is 
 insensible and impenetrable to all the charms 
 and powers of harmony? To be plain, I mean 
 my husband : whom I have frequently seen 
 yawn, nay leave the room, in the middle of 
 the most touching pathetic, sung by the 
 most affecting Signora Miugotti, accompanied 
 by the divine Signor di Giardino. And yet, — 
 pardon this digressive transport,— how irresisti- 
 ble is the expression, the melody, the cadences, 
 the appogiaturas of that incomparable virtuoso ! 
 What energy, what delicacy, and what variety 
 are in the inimitable compositions and exe- 
 cution of the charming Signor d' Giardino ! 
 What an arpeggio he has, what a staccato, what 
 an andante ! In short, I may, I am sure, with 
 truth assert, that whether in the allegro, or the 
 piano, the adagio, the largo, ov ih^ forte, he never 
 had his equal. Oh, Mr. Town, what an irre- 
 trievable loss has this country sustained ! My 
 good man, among his other qualifications, is a 
 politician, you must know ; and one of hisprin- 
 cipal objections against these virtuosi is, that 
 they are foreigners. He flew into a violent pas- 
 sion with me last Sunday night, because I had 
 a concert at my house, when (he said) such bad 
 news were received from abroad. I know not 
 what he, and other muddy-headed politicians, 
 may think : but let him talk what he will of 
 the Blakeney, the Governor, the Admiral, I 
 am sure the nation cannot sustain a greater evil, 
 than the loss of the Mingotti ; who, as the 
 public prints will inform you, " is gone to 
 Holland, till her affairs in England can be set- 
 tled." 
 
 But however gothic my husband may be, I 
 am fully determined to discharge the duty of a 
 good wife. Accordingly, whenever he comes 
 into my room, I sit down to my harpsichord, 
 and sing and play the most soothing pieces of 
 music, in hopes some time or other of hitting 
 his unison, but hitherto to no purpose ; and, to 
 say the truth, I fear he has not one harmonic 
 nerve in his whole system, though otherwise a 
 man of good plain sense. When he interrupts 
 my performances (as in his letter he owns that 
 he does) with wishing for the men from Mother 
 Midnight's, with their wooden spoons, salt- 
 boxes, jews-harps, and broomsticks, to play in 
 concei't with me ; I answer him with all the 
 gentleness and calmness imaginable — " Indeed, 
 my dear, you have not the least notion of these 
 things. It would be impossible to bring those 
 ridiculous instruments into a concert, and to 
 adopt a thorough-bass to them : they have not 
 above three notes at most, and those cannot be 
 sostenute.'"'' " I wish for all that," answers he, 
 " that they were here : I should like them bet- 
 ter than all your Signers and Signoras ; and I 
 am sure they would cost a great deal less." 
 
 This article of expense he often dwells upon, 
 and sometimes even with wannth ; to which I 
 
 reply, with all the mildness that becomes a good 
 wife, " My dear, you have a good fortune of 
 your own, and I brought you still a better. Of 
 what use is money, if not employed ? and how 
 can it be better employed, than in encouraging 
 and rewarding distinguished gusto and merit ? 
 These people, whom you call ballad-singers and 
 pipers, are people of birth, though for the moat 
 part of small fortunes; and they are much 
 more considered, as you know, in Italy, than all 
 the greatest ancient Roman heroes, if revived, 
 would now be. They leave their own country, 
 where they are so infinitely esteemed for their 
 moral as well as their musical characters, and 
 generously sacrifice all these advantages to our 
 diversion. Besides, my dear, what should we 
 do with our money ? Would you lavish it away 
 upon foundling bastai'ds; lying-in women, who 
 have either no husbands or too many ; impor- 
 tunate beggars, all whose cries and complaints 
 are the most shocking discords ? Or, suppose 
 that we were to save our money, and leave our 
 children better fortunes, who knows but they 
 might, as too many do, squander them away 
 idly? whereas what we give to these virtuosi^ 
 we know, is given to merit. For my own part, 
 my dear, I have infinite pleasure, when I can 
 get any of them to accept of fifty or a hundred 
 guineas ; which, by the way, cannot always be 
 brought about without some art and contri- 
 vance ; for they are most exceedingly nice and 
 delicate upon the point of honom-, especially in 
 the article of money. 1 look upon such trif- 
 ling presents as a debt due to superior talents 
 and merit ; and I endeavour to insinuate them 
 in a way, that the receiver may not blush." 
 — Here my husband breaks out into a violent 
 passion, and says, — " Ouns, Madam, show me 
 a virtuoso, or a virtuoso, (as you call them) who 
 ever blushed in their lives, and I will give 
 them the fee-simple of my estate." You see, 
 Mr. Town, what a strange man he is, that he 
 has no idea of elegance and divertimenti ; and 
 when he is so violently in alt, I will leave you 
 to judge, who it is that is mad, stark mad. 
 
 In short, Sir, my husband is insensible, un- 
 tunable, to the most noble, generous, and strong- 
 est of all human passions, a passion for music. 
 That divine passion alone engrosses the whole 
 soul, and leaves no room for lesser and vulgar 
 cares ; for you must certainly have observed, 
 Mr. Town, that whoever has a passion for, and 
 a thorough knowledge of, music, is fit for no 
 one other thing. Thus truly informed of my 
 case, I am sure you will judge equitably between 
 Sir Aaron and 
 
 Your very humble Servant, 
 
 Maria Humkin, 
 
222 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 131. 
 
 No. 131.] Thursday, July 29, 1756. 
 
 -Inter 
 
 Perfectos veferesque referri debet, an inter 
 Viles atque novos ? 
 
 HoR. 
 
 Here the wise youth is deem'd a reverend sage, 
 And shares the honours of grey hairs and age : 
 Th' old dotard here, whom childish passions rule, 
 Takes for his name, an infant and a fool. 
 
 No other disposition or turn of mind so totally 
 unfits a man for all the social offices of life, as 
 indolence. An idle man is a mere blank in the 
 creation : he seems made for no end, and lives 
 to no purpose. He cannot engage himself in 
 any employment or profession, because he will 
 never have diligence enough to follow it : he 
 can succeed in no undertaking, for he will never 
 pursue it ; he must be a bad husband, father, 
 and relation, for he will not take the least pains 
 to preserve his wife, children, and family, from 
 starving : and he must be a worthless friend, for 
 he would not draw his hand from his bosom, 
 though to prevent the destruction of the uni- 
 verse. If he is born poor, he will remain so all 
 his life, which he will probably end in a ditch, 
 or at the gallows : if he embarks in trade, he 
 Avill be a bankrupt : and if he is a person of 
 fortune, his stewards will acquire immense es- 
 tates, and he himself perhaps will die in the 
 Fleet. 
 
 It should be considered, that nature did not 
 bring us into the world in a state of perfection, 
 but has left us in a capacity of improvement ; 
 which should seem to intimate, that we should 
 labour to render ourselves excellent. Very few 
 are such absolute idiots, as not to be able to be- 
 come at least decent, if not eminent, in their se- 
 veral stations, by unwearied and keen applica- 
 tion : nor are there any possessed of such tran- 
 scendant genius and abilities, as to render all 
 pains and diligence unnecessary. Perseverance 
 will overcome difficulties, which at first appear 
 insuperable ; and it is amazing to consider, how 
 great and numerous obstacles may be removed 
 by a continual attention to any particular point. 
 I will not mention here the trite example of 
 Demosthenes, who got over the greatest natu- 
 ral impediments to oratory, but content myself 
 with a more modern and familiar instance. 
 Being at Sadler's Wells a few nights ago, I 
 could not but admire the surprising feats of 
 activity there exhibited, and at the same time 
 reflected, what incredible pains and labour it 
 must have cost the performers, to arrive at the 
 art of writhing their bodies into such various 
 and unnatural contortions. But I was most 
 taken with the ingenious artist, who, after fix- 
 ing two bells to each foot, the same number to 
 each hand, and with great propriety, ])lacing a 
 cap and bills on his head, played several tunes, 
 
 and went through as regular triple peals and 
 Bob Majors, as the boys of Christ-Church Hos- 
 pital ; all which he effected by the due jerk- 
 ing of his arms and legs, and nodding hia head 
 backward and forward. If this artist had 
 taken equal pains to employ his head in another 
 way, he might perhaps have been as deep a pro- 
 ficient in numbers as Jedediah Buxton, or at 
 least a tolerable modern rhj'mer, of which he 
 is now no bad emblem : and if our fine ladies 
 would use equal diligence, they icight fashion 
 their minds as successfully, as Madam Catha- 
 rina distorts her body. 
 
 There is not in the world a more useless idle 
 animal, than he who contents himself with 
 being merely a gentleman. He has an estate, 
 therefore he will not endeavour to acquire know- 
 ledge : he is not to labour in any vocation, 
 therefore he will do nothing. But the misfor- 
 tune is, that there is no such thing in nature as 
 negative virtue, and that absolute idleness is 
 impracticable. He, who does no good, will cer- 
 tainly do mischief; and the mind, if it is not 
 stored with useful knowledge, will necessarily 
 become a magazine of nonsense and trifles. 
 Wherefore a gentleman, though he is not oblig- 
 ed to rise to open his shop, or work at his trade, 
 may always find some w^ays of employing his 
 time to advantage. If he makes no advances in 
 wisdom, he will become more and more a slave 
 to folly : and he that does nothing, because he 
 has nothing to do, will become vicious and 
 abandoned, or at best ridiculous and contemp- 
 tible. 
 
 I do not know a more melancholy object, 
 than a man of an honest heart and fine natural 
 abilities, whose good qualities are thus destroy- 
 ed by indolence. Such a person is a constant 
 plague to all his friends and acquaintance, with 
 all the means in his power of adding to their 
 happiness ; and suff'ers himself to rank among 
 the lowest characters, when he might render 
 himself conspicuous among the highest. No- 
 body is more universally beloved, and more 
 universally avoided, than my friend Careless. 
 He is a humane man, who never did a bene- 
 ficent action : and a man of unshaken inte- 
 grity, on whom it is impossible to depend. 
 With the best head, and the best heart, he re- 
 gulates his conduct in the most absurd manner, 
 and frequently injures his friends ; for, whoever 
 neglects to do justice to himself, must inevitably 
 wrong those with whom he is connected ; and 
 it is by no means a true maxim, that an idle man 
 hurts nobody but himself. 
 
 Virtue then is not to be considered in the light 
 of mere innocence, or abstaining from harm ; 
 but as the exertion of our faculties in doing 
 good : as Titus, when he had let a day slip, un- 
 distinguished by some act of virtue, cried out, 
 " I have lost a day." if we regard our time 
 in this liglit, how many days shall we look bark 
 
No. 132.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSELR. 
 
 223 
 
 upon as irretrievably lost? and to how narrow 
 a compass would such a method of calculation 
 frequently reduce the longest life? If we were 
 to number our days, according as we have ap- 
 plied them to virtue, it would occasion strange 
 revolutions in the manner of reckoning the 
 ages of men. We should see some few arrived 
 to a good old age in the prime of their youth, 
 and meet with sevei'al young fellows of four- 
 score. 
 
 Agreeable to this way of thinking, I remem- 
 ber to have met with the epitaph of an aged 
 man, four years old : dating his existence from 
 the time of his reformation from evil courses. 
 The inscriptions on most tomb-stones comme- 
 morate no acts of virtue performed by the per- 
 sons who lie under them, but only record, that 
 they were born one day and died anothef. But 
 I would fain have those people, whose lives 
 have been useless, rendered of some service after 
 their deaths, by affording lessons of instruction 
 and morality to those they leave behind them. 
 Wherefore I could wish, that, in every parish, 
 several acres were marked out for a new and 
 spacious burying-ground : in which every per- 
 son, whose remains are thei-e deposited, should 
 have a small stone laid over them, reckoning 
 their age, according to the manner in which 
 they improved or abused the time allotted them 
 in their lives. In such circumstances, the 
 plate on a coffin might be the highest panegyric 
 which the deceased could receive; and a little 
 squai'e stone, inscribed with Ob. Ann. uEtat. 80, 
 would be a nobler eulogium, than all the lapi- 
 dary adulation of modern epitaphs. In a bury- 
 ing-ground of this nature, allowing for the par- 
 tiality of survivors, which would certainly 
 point out the most brilliant actions of their dead 
 friends, we might perhaps see some inscriptions, 
 not much unlike the following : — 
 
 Here lie the remains of a celebrated beauty, 
 aged 50, who died in her fifth year. She 
 was born in her eighteenth year, and was un- 
 timely killed by the small-pox in her twenty- 
 third. 
 
 Here rests in eternal sleep, the mortal part of 
 L. B. a freethinker, aged 88, an infant. He 
 came into the Avorld by chance in the year 
 
 , and was annihilated in the first year 
 
 of his age. 
 
 Here continue to rot the bones of a noted 
 buck, an embryo, who never showed any signs 
 of life ; but after twenty-three years was so 
 totally putrified that it could not be kept above 
 ground any longer. 
 
 Here lies the swoln carcass of a boon compa- 
 nion, who was born in a dropsy in his 40th year. 
 He lingered in this condition, till he was obliged 
 to be tapped ; when he relapsed into his former 
 condition, and died in the second year of his 
 age, and twenty-third of his drinking. 
 
 Here lies Isaac Da-Costa, a convert from Ju- 
 
 daism, aged 64. He was born and christened 
 in his sixty-first year, and died in the true faith 
 in the third year of his age. 
 
 Here is deposited the body of the celebrated 
 Beau Tawdry, who was born at court in tho 
 
 year , on a birthnight, and died of grief 
 
 in his second year, upon the court's going into 
 mourning. 
 
 Here rots A. B. still-born, who died of a 
 fright on the 20th of May, 1756. 
 
 Here rests from his labours the brave General 
 B. who died about the lOOth year of his age, 
 older than Methuselah. O. 
 
 No. 132.] Thursday, Aug 5, 1756. 
 
 Odi prqfamim valgus et arceo. Hor. 
 
 I hate the vulgar, nor will condescend 
 
 To call a foul-mouth 'd handicraftsman friend. 
 
 I KNOW not any greater misfortune that can 
 happen to a young fellow at his first setting out 
 iu life, than his falling into low company. He 
 that sinks to familiarity with persons much be- 
 low his own level, will be constantly weighed 
 down by his base connexions ; and, though he 
 may easily plunge still lower, he ^vill find it al- 
 most impossible ever to rise again. He will 
 also inevitably contract a mean air, and an illi- 
 beral disposition; and you can no more give 
 him an ingenious turn of mind, by a sudden in- 
 troduction to genteel company, than you can 
 make an apprentice a fine gentleman by dressing 
 him in embroidery: though experience teaches 
 us, that the mind is, unhappily, sooner distorted 
 than reformed; and a gentleman will as readily 
 catch the manners of the vulgar, by mixing with 
 such mean associates, as he would daub his 
 clothes with soot by running against a chimney- 
 sweeper, 
 
 A propensity to low company is owing, either 
 to an original meanness of spirit, a want of 
 education, or an ill-placed pride, commonly 
 arising from both the forementioned causes. 
 Those who are naturally of a grovelling disposi- 
 tion, show it even at school, by choosing their 
 play-fellows from the scum of the class, and are 
 never so happy as when they can steal down to 
 romp with the servants in the kitchen. They 
 have no emulation in them ; they entertain 
 none of that decent pride, which is so essential 
 a requisite in all chai-acters ; and the total ab- 
 sence of which in a boy, is a certain indication 
 that his riper age will be contemptible. I re- 
 member a young fellow of this cast, who, by his 
 early attachment to low company, gave up all 
 the advantages of a good family and ample for- 
 tunt'. He net only lost all his natural interest 
 Ti the counlrv ^vhere his estate was situated, 
 
224 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUH. 
 
 [No. 133. 
 
 but was not honoured with the acquaintance 
 of one gentlenaan in it. He lived, indeed, chiefly 
 in town, and at an expense sufficient to have 
 maintained him among those of the first rank ; 
 but he was so perpetually surrounded with men 
 of the lowest character, that people of fashion, 
 or even those of a much inferior fortune, Avould 
 have thought it infamous to be seen with him. 
 All the while, he was reckoned, by his asso- 
 ciates, to be a mighty good-natured gentleman, 
 and without the least bit of pride in him. 
 
 It is one of the greatest advantages of educa- 
 tion, that it encourages an ingenuous spirit, and 
 cultivates a liberal disposition. We do not won- 
 der, that a lad who has never been sent to school, 
 and whose faculties have been suffered to rust 
 at the hall-house, should form too close an inti- 
 macy with his best friends, the groom and the 
 game-keeper : but it would amaze us, to see a 
 boy, well educated, cherish this ill-placed pride 
 of being, as it is called, the head of the company. 
 A person of this humble ambition will be very 
 well content to pay the reckoning, for the honour 
 of being distinguished by the title of The Gen- 
 tleman : while he is unwilling to associate with 
 men of fashion, lest they should be his superiors 
 in rank or fortune ; or with men of parts, lest 
 they should excel him in abilities. Sometimes, 
 indeed, it happens, that a person of learning and 
 genius will stoop to receive the incense of mean 
 and illiterate flatterers in a porter-house or 
 cyder-cellar ; and I remember to have heard of 
 a poet, Avho -was once caught in a bawdy-house, 
 in the very fact of reading his verses to the good 
 old mother and a circle of her daughters. 
 
 There are some few who have been led into 
 low company, merely from an affectation of hu- 
 mour ; and from a desire of seeing the droller 
 scenes of life, have descended to associate with 
 the meanest of the mob, and picked their cronies 
 from lanes and alleys. The most striking in- 
 stance I know of this low passion for drollery is 
 Toby Bumper, a young fellow of family and 
 fortune, and not without talents, who has taken 
 more than ordinary pains to degrade himself ; 
 and is now become almost as low a character as 
 any of those whom he has chosen for his com- 
 panions. Toby will drink purl in a mortiing, 
 smoke his pipe in a night-cellar, dive for a din- 
 ner, or eat black-puddings at Bartholomew fair, 
 for the humour of the thing. He has also stu- 
 died, and practises, all the plebeian arts and exer- 
 cises under the best masters ; and has, disgraced 
 himself with every impolite accomplishment. 
 He has had many a set-to with Biickhorse ; and 
 has now and then had the honoin* of receiving a 
 fall from the great Broughton himself. Nobody 
 is better known among the hackney-coachmen 
 as a brother whip : at the noble game of prison- 
 bars, he is a match even for the natives of Essex 
 or Cheshire; and he is frequently engacod in 
 the Artillery-ground with Faulkner and Din- 
 
 gate at cricket, and is himseif esteemed as good 
 a bat as either of the Bennets. Another ot 
 Toby's favourite amusements is, to attend the 
 executions at Tyburn : and it once happened, 
 that one of his familiar Intimates was unfortu- 
 nately brought thither ; when Toby carried his 
 regard to his deceased friend so far, as to get 
 himself knocked down in endeavouring to rescue 
 the body from the surgeons. 
 
 As Toby affects to mimic, in every particular, 
 the air and manner of the vulgar, he never fails 
 to enrich his conversation with their emphatic 
 oaths and expressive dialect; which recommend 
 him as a man of excellent humour and high fun, 
 among the high spirits at Comus's court, or at 
 the meetings of the "sons of sound sense and 
 satisfaction." He is also particularly famous 
 for singing those cant songs, drawn up in the 
 barbarous dialect of sharpers and pickpoc£.tts ; 
 the humour of which he often heightens, by 
 screwing up his mouth, and rolling about a large 
 quid of tobacco between his jaws. These and 
 other like accomplishments frequently promote 
 him to the chair in these facetious societies. 
 
 Toby has indulged the same notions of hu- 
 mour even in his amours; and is well known to 
 every street-walker between Chai-ing-cross and 
 Cheapside. This has given several shocks to 
 his constitution, and often involved him in un- 
 lucky scrapes. He has been frequently bmised, 
 beaten, and kicked, by the bullies of Wapping, 
 and Fleet-ditch ; and was once soundly drub- 
 bed by a soldier, for engaging with his trull, in 
 St. James's park. The last time I saw him, he 
 was laid up with two black eyes and a broken 
 pate, which he got in a midnight skirmish, about 
 a mistress, in a night-cellar. 
 
 No. 133.] Thursday, Aug. 12, 1756. 
 
 Sex floras smmto, ioticfan dcs legibtis/equis s 
 
 Quatuor orubis, dcs epulUtquc duas. 
 Quod supercst, idiro sacris largire C<im4cnis * 
 
 Co. LiTT. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 Sir, Middle Temple, 
 
 If we look into the several Inns of court, the 
 professed students of the law compose a very 
 numerous body : but if we afterwards turn our 
 eyes on those i'ew who are employed in exercis- 
 ing their talents in Westminster-hall, this pro- 
 digious army of lawyers shrinks to a very thin 
 inconsiderable corps. Thousands, it seems, are 
 disgusted with the unpleasing dryness of the 
 study, as it is now managed, and conceive an 
 unconquerable aversion to the white leaves and 
 
 * See the translation in the body of the paper. 
 
No. ]33.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 225 
 
 the old black letter. This early dislike to legal 
 inquiries certainly proceeds from the fatal mis- 
 takes in the plan of study hitherto recommend- 
 ed. According to all systems now extant, it is 
 absolutely impossible to be at once a lawyer and 
 a fine gentleman. Seeing with concern the 
 many evils arising from these erroneous princi- 
 ples, I have at length devised a method to re- 
 medy all these inconveniences ; a method now 
 very successfully practised by several young 
 gentlemen. Wherefore 1 must beg leave to 
 submit my thoughts to the public by means of 
 your paper, and to chalk out the outlines of a 
 treatise, now ready for the press, entitled, The 
 Complete Barrister, or A New Institute of the 
 Laws of England. 
 
 My Lord Coke prescribes to our student to 
 follow the advice given in the ancient verses, 
 prefixed to this letter, for the good spending of 
 the day : " Six hours to sleep, six to the study 
 of the law, four to prayer, two to meals, and 
 the rest to the Muses." But Avhat an absurd 
 and unfashionable distribution of the four-and- 
 twenty hours ! I will venture a thousand 
 pounds to a shilling, that not one student in the 
 kingdom divides his time in this manner. Here 
 is not a single word of Vauxhall, Ranelagh, the 
 theatres, or other public diversions ; not to men- 
 tion, that nobody but a Methodist would ever 
 think of praying four hours ; and that it would 
 be impossible, though we were content with 
 snapping up a chop every day at Betty's, to des- 
 patch even dinner in two. Ho^v then shall we 
 reconcile these precepts, scarce practicable by a 
 hermit, to the life of a young gentleman, who 
 keeps the best company ? or how can these 
 rules for severe application be made consistent 
 with the practice of those who divide their 
 whole time between eating, drinking, sleeping, 
 and amusements? Well knowing that the vo- 
 latile dispositions of the yonng gentlemen of 
 the present age can never submit the ordering of 
 their lives to any prescribed rules, I have endea- 
 voured to square my precepts to their lives ; and 
 have so contrived the matter, that, amidst the 
 keenest pursuit of their pleasures, they shall be 
 engaged in the most improving course of the 
 law. 
 
 As laws are chiefly nothing else but rules of 
 action, what can be more cruel and absurd, than 
 to coop up a brisk young man, to learn, in his 
 chambers, what he can so much better teach 
 himself by going abroad into the world ? I pro- 
 pose to dose gentlemen with study, as Dr. Rock 
 does with physic, to be taken at home or abroad, 
 without loss of time, orhinderance of business. 
 This, I am convinced, is not only the best me- 
 thod, but also the only scheme which several 
 inhabitants of the inns of court would ever fol- 
 low. I shall not at present forestall the contents 
 of my treatise, by presenting you with a dry 
 abstract of it, but rather endeavour to give you 
 
 ' an idea of the spirit and manner in which it is 
 written, by delineating the plan diligently pur- 
 sued by one of my favourite pupils : and I can- 
 not but congratulate the bar, that so many 
 young men, instead of blinding their eyes and 
 bewildering their understandings with Coke, 
 Plowden, Salkeld, &c. have sense enough to 
 follow the same course of study. 
 
 Tom Riot, the principal ornament of my class 
 of students, was sent to the Temple, not with 
 any intention that he should become a great 
 lawyer, but merely because, for a few years, his 
 father did not know how to dispose of him 
 otherwise : but so unwearied has been his appli- 
 cation to the new method, that his father and 
 the rest of his friends will, I doubt not, be sur- 
 prised at his wonderful proficiency. As nothing 
 is of more consequence to those gentlemen, who 
 intend to harangue at the bar, than the acquir- 
 ing a ready elocution, and an easy habit of de- 
 livering their thoughts in public, to this I paid 
 particular attention. For this purpose, 1 ad- 
 vised him to a diligent attendance on the thea- 
 tres ; and I assure you, IMr. Town, he never 
 fails to take notes at a new play, and seldom or 
 ever misses appearing, at one house or the other, 
 in the green boxes. He has also gathered many 
 beautiful flowers of rhetoric, unblown upon by 
 any other orators, ancient or modern, from the 
 Robin Hood Society ; and at the same place he 
 has collected the strongest arguments on every 
 subject, and habituated himself to modes of rea- 
 soning never hitherto introduced into courts of 
 justice. But what has been of more than ordi- 
 nary service to him, and is particularly recom- 
 mended by Lord Coke himself, who calls " con- 
 ference the life of study," is his so frequent at- 
 tendance at George's and the other cofiiee-houses 
 about the Temple, where every student has so 
 many opportunities of benefiting himself by 
 daily conversation with counsellors, attorneys, 
 clerks to attorneys, and other sages of the 
 law. 
 
 The law is intended to take cognizance of all 
 our actions ; wherefore my pupil, who is fond 
 of exerting his faculties in polite life, has al- 
 ready digested almost all the grand leading points 
 of the law into a journal of his transactions, 
 which I shall lay before my readers at large in 
 my treatise, as the best method for a common- 
 place-book. Thus, for instance, having been fre- 
 quently employed, after leaving the Shakspeare, 
 in what is called beating the rounds, it has hap- 
 pened him to be taken into custody by the ma- 
 gistrate of the night, and carried the next morn- 
 ing before a justice; by which means he has 
 attained as full a knowledge of certain parts of 
 the duty of a constable and justice of peace, as 
 could be collected from Dalton, Blackerby, or 
 Burn. Certain impertinences of his tailor and 
 other tradesmen have given him a very clear 
 notion of the laws of arrest, and been of as 
 
2'26 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No 134. 
 
 much service to him as the best ti'eatlses on bail 
 and mainpvize. Besides which, the several sums 
 of money which he has taken up at different 
 times, payable on his father's death, have opened 
 to him some difficult points in conveyancing, by 
 teaching him the nature of bonds, deeds, &c. 
 and have at the same time shown him what 
 Lord Coke calls, "the amiable and admirable 
 secrets of the common law," by unravelling to 
 him the intricate doctrines of reversion and 
 remainder, as well as the general nature of es- 
 tates. Thus he is continually improving ; and 
 whenever he shall happen to commit a rape, or a 
 genteel murder, it will serve him for matter of 
 instruction, as well as any history of the pleas 
 of the crown, and give him an insight into the 
 nature of the practice and extent of the juris- 
 diction of our courts of justice. 
 
 By this plan of study no time is lost ; so that, 
 while other students are idling away their va- 
 cation in the country, my pupil is daily improv- 
 ing there. As he is a member of the associa- 
 tion, he is very conversant in all the laws enact- 
 ed for the preservation of the game ; and be 
 picks up all the learning of the circuit, by 
 dancing at the balls at the assizes. As his fa- 
 ther has a place, he is employed in canvassing 
 for votes at the time of an election, which in- 
 structs him in all the points of law touching 
 those matters. He was principally concerned 
 in discovering the Customary Tenants, that 
 new species of freeholders unknown to Little- 
 ton, Coke, and all the lawyers of antiquity : 
 and he is so intimately acquainted with all the 
 doctrine contained in the several clauses of the 
 bribery act, that I propose publishing in the 
 body of my treatise, Les Readings Del Mon 
 Seignior Riot Sur L'Estatute de 2 Geo. II. S^c. 
 
 By this time, Mr. Town, you must perceive, 
 that the ground of my scheme is, in short, no 
 more than this, viz. that the student should re- 
 gard his life as a kind of commentary on the 
 law, as it is recommended to the clergy to be- 
 conje examples of the doctrine they teach. Or, 
 to bring my illustration more home to these gen- 
 tlemen, let them learn the law by being occa- 
 sionally interested in different parts of it ; as 
 they become, in some measure, doctors of phy- 
 sic from frequent need of it, and can cure them- 
 selves in certain cases, as well as Rock himself. 
 Instead of poring over books, a gentleman need 
 only observe, how far the law and his actions 
 tally with each other ; and as it is said by Lord 
 Coke, " that the knowledge of the law is like a 
 deep well, out of which each man draweth ac- 
 cording to the strength of his understanding," 
 so, in pursuance of my plan, the student will 
 improve according to the eagerness with which 
 he engages in his pleasures: and this, no doubt, 
 was intended by Lord Coke, as it is the most 
 obvious interpretation of his v.ords, when he 
 concludes the comparison by saying, that " when 
 
 the professor of the law can dive into the depth, 
 it is delightful, easy, and without any heavy 
 burthen, so long as he keeps himself in his own 
 proper element." 
 
 What plan, Mr. Town, can be more delight- 
 ful, easy, and without any heavy burthen, than 
 institutes of this nature? I have indeed, often 
 looked with concern upon those unhappy gentle- 
 men, who have impaired their health by the old 
 method of study, and considered them as mar- 
 tyrs to huge volumes of reports and statutes at 
 large : my pupil will be in no danger of these 
 misfortunes. It is recorded of an eminent coun- 
 sellor, of the North family, (who, being one of 
 the ablest practitioners at the bar, was over- 
 loaded w^ith business,) that sometimes choosing 
 to retire a while from hurry and perplexity, he 
 would say to his clerk, " Tell the people I do 
 not practise this term." This proper relaxa- 
 tion I always recommend to my pupils, and 
 have some reason to think they are prudent 
 enough to embrace it ; for, as I am acquainted 
 with several students on the new plan, and do 
 not remember to have seen them doing any 
 business in the courts for some time, I suppose 
 they have given notice to their clerks, " to tell 
 the people that they did not practise in those 
 terms." 
 W. I am, Sir, yours, &c. IGNORAMUS. 
 
 No. 134. Thursday, Aug. 19, 175G. 
 
 Dtiida inaJoru7n immeritus lues, 
 Rotmine, donee templa rtfeceris 
 JEdesque labentes Deonim, et 
 Foeda nigro simulacra fumo. 
 
 H.R. 
 
 The tottering tower, and mouldering walls repair. 
 And fill with decency the house of prayer : 
 Quick to the needy curate bring relief. 
 And deck the parish-church without a brief. 
 
 MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Dear Cousin, 
 The country at present, no less than the me- 
 tropolis, abounding with politicians of every 
 kind, I began to despair of picking up any in- 
 telligence, that might possibly be entertaining 
 to your readers. However, I have lately visited 
 some of the most distant parts of the kingdom 
 with a clergyman of my acquaintance: I shall 
 not trouble you with an account of the improve- 
 ments that have been made in the seats we saw 
 according to the modern taste, but proceed to 
 give you some reflections, which occurred to us 
 on observing several country churches, and the 
 behaviour of their congregations. 
 
 The ruinous condition of some of these edi- 
 fices gave me great offence ; and I could not 
 help wishing, that the honest vicar, instead of 
 indulging liis genius for improvements, by ei'.- 
 
No. 134>] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 227 
 
 closing his goose-berry bushes within a Chinese 
 rail, and converting half an acre of his glebe 
 land into a bowling-green, would have applied 
 part of his income to the more laudable purpose 
 of sheltering his parishioners from the weather, 
 during their attendance on divine service. It 
 is no uncommon thing to see the parsonage 
 house well thatched, and in exceeding good re- 
 pair, while the church perhaps has scarce any 
 other roof than the ivy that grows over it. The 
 noise of owls, bats, and magpies, makes a prin 
 cipal part of the church-music in many of these 
 ancient edifices; and the walls, like a large 
 map, seem to be portioned out into capes, seas, 
 and promontories, by the various colours w^ith 
 which the damps have stained them. Some- 
 times, the foundation being too weak to support 
 the steeple any longer, it has been found expe- 
 dient to pull down that part of the building, 
 and to hang the bells under a wooden shed on 
 the ground beside it. This is the case in a 
 parish in Norfolk, through which I lately 
 passed, and where the clerk and the sexton, like 
 the two figures at St. Dunstan's, serve the bells 
 in capacity of clappers, by sticking them alter- 
 nately with a hammer. 
 
 In other churches I have observed, that no- 
 thing unseemly or ruinous is to be found, except 
 in the clergyman, and the appendages of his 
 person. The squire of the parish, or his an- 
 cestors perhaps, to testify their devotion, and to 
 leave a lasting monument to their magnificence, 
 have adorned the altar-piece w^ith the richest 
 crimson velvet, embroidered with vine-leaves 
 and ears of wheat : and have dressed up the 
 pulpit with the same splendour and expense ; 
 while the gentleman who fills it, is exalted, in 
 the midst of all this finery, with a surplice as 
 dirty as a farmer's frock, and a periwig that 
 seems to have transferred its faculty of curling 
 to the band, w^hich appears in full buckle be- 
 neath it. 
 
 But if I was concerned to see several distress- 
 ed pastors, as well as many of our country 
 churches in a tottering condition, I was more 
 offended with the indecency of worship in 
 others. I could wish that the clergy would in- 
 form their congregations, that there is no occa- 
 sion to scream themselves hoarse in making the 
 responses ; that the town-crier is not the only 
 person qualified to pray with due devotion ; 
 and that he who bawls the loudest may, never- 
 theless, be the wickedest fellow in the parish. 
 The old Avomen too in the aisle might be told, 
 that their time would be better employed in at- 
 tending to the sermon, than in fumbling over 
 their tattered Testaments till they have found 
 the text; by which time the discourse is near 
 Jrawing to a conclusion : while a word or two 
 of instruction might not be thrown away upon 
 the younger part of the congregation, to teach 
 them, that making posies in summer time, and 
 
 cracking nuts in autumn, is no pai't of the re 
 ligious ceremony. 
 
 The good old practice of psalm-singing is, 
 indeed, wonderfully improved in many country 
 churches since the days of Sternhold and Hop- 
 kins; and there is scarce a parish-clerk, who 
 has so little taste as not to pick his staves out of 
 the New Version. This has occasioned great 
 complaints in some places where the clerk has 
 been forced to bawl by himself, because the rest 
 of the congregation cannot find the psalm at 
 the end of their prayer-books ; while others are 
 highly disgusted at the innovation, and stick vHs 
 obstinately to the Old Version as to the old 
 style. The tunes themselves have also been 
 new-set to jiggish measures, and the sober drawl, 
 which used to accompany the first two staves of 
 the hundredth psalm with the Gloria Patri, is 
 now split into as many quavers as an Italian 
 air. For this purpose, there is in every county 
 an itinerant band of vocal musicians, who make 
 it their business to go round to all the churches 
 in their turns, and after a prelude with the 
 pitch pipe, astonish the audience with hymcs 
 set to the new Winchester measure, and an. 
 thems of their own composing. As these new- 
 fashioned psalmodists are necessarily made up 
 of young men and maids, we may naturally 
 suppose, that there is a perfect concord and sym- 
 phony between them : and, indeed, I have 
 known it happen, that these sweet singers have 
 more than once been brought into disgrace by 
 too close an unison between the thorough-bass 
 and the treble. 
 
 It is a difficult matter to decide, which is 
 looked upon as the greatest man in a country 
 church, the parson or his clerk. The latter is 
 most certainly held in higher veneration, where 
 the former happens to be only a poor curate, 
 who rides post every sabbath from village to 
 village, and mounts and dismounts at the church- 
 door. The clerk's office is not only to tag the 
 prayers vrith an amen, or usher in the sermon 
 with a stave ; but he is also the universal fa- 
 ther to give away the brides, and the standing 
 god- father to all the new-born bantlings. But 
 in many places there is a still greater man be- 
 longing to the church, than either the parson or 
 the clerk himself. The person I mean is the 
 Squire; who, like the king, may be styled head 
 of the church in his own parish. If the bene- 
 fice be in his own gift, the vicar is his creature, 
 and of consequence entirely at his devotion ; or, 
 if the care of the church be left to a curate, the 
 Sunday fees of roast beef and plum pudding, 
 and a liberty to shoot in the manor, will bring 
 him as much under the Squire's command as 
 his dog and horses. For this reason the bell is 
 often kept tolling, and the people waiting in the 
 church-yard, an hour longer than the usual 
 time ; nor must the service begin till the Squire 
 has strutted up the aisle, and seated himself ia 
 
228 
 
 THE CONxNOISSEUR. 
 
 [Xo. 135. 
 
 the great pew in the chancel. The length of 
 the sermon is also measured by the will of the 
 Squire, as formerly by the hour-glass : and 1 
 know one parish, where the preacher has always 
 the complaisance to conclude his discourse, 
 however abruptly, the minute that the Squire 
 gives the signal, by rising up after his nap. 
 
 In a village church, the Squire's lady or the 
 vicar's wife are perhaps the only females that 
 are stared at for their finery ; but in the larger 
 cities and towns, where the newest fashions are 
 brought down weekly by the stage-coach or 
 w^aggon, all the wives and daughters of the niost 
 topping tradesmen vie with each other every 
 Sunday in the elegance of their apparel. I 
 could even trace the gradations in their dress, 
 according to the opulence, the extent, and the 
 distance of the place from London. 1 was at 
 church in a populous city in the North, where 
 the macebearer cleared the way for Mrs. May- 
 oress, who came sidling after him in an enor- 
 mous fan-hoop, of a pattern which had never 
 been seen before in those parts. At another 
 church, in a corporation town, I saw several 
 Negligees, Avith furbelowed aprons, which had 
 long disputed the prize of superiority : but 
 these w^ere most wofully eclipsed by a burgess's 
 daughter, just come from London, who appeared 
 In a TroUoppeeor Slammerkin, with treble ruffles 
 to the cuffs, pinked and gymped, and the sides 
 of the petticoat dravrn up in festoons. In some 
 lesser borough towns, the contest, I found, lay 
 between three or four black and green bibs and 
 aprons : at one a grocer's wife attracted our 
 eyes by a new-fashioned cap, called a Joan ; and 
 at another, they were Avholly taken up by a 
 mercer's daughter, in a Nun's Hood. 
 
 I need not say any thing of the behaviour of 
 the congregations in these more polite places of 
 religious resort ; as the same genteel ceremonies 
 are practised there, as at the most fashionable 
 churches in town. The ladies immediately on 
 their entrance, breathe a pious ejaculation 
 through their fan-sticks, and the beaux very 
 gravely address themselves to the haberdasher's 
 bills, glued upon the linings of their hats. This 
 pious duty is no sooner performed, than the exer- 
 cise of bowing and curtsying succeeds : the 
 locking and unlocking of the pews drowns the 
 rfcadei"'s voice at the beginning of the service ; 
 and the rustling of silks, added to the whisper- 
 ing and tittering of so much good company, 
 renders him totally unintelligible to the very 
 end of it. 
 
 I am, 
 T. dear Cousin, 
 
 yours, S:c-. 
 
 No. 135.] Thursday, Aug. 26, 1756. 
 
 Vos sapere, et solos iiio bene vivae, quorum 
 Conspicitur nitidis fundata pccunki vlHs. 1 1 ■ i 
 
 O Cit thrice happy, that cann range 
 To Bow or Clapham from tlie 'Change j 
 In whose spruce vilia is displayed 
 The plum thou hast acquired by trade ! 
 
 I AM sorry to have provoked the resentment of 
 many of our present poets by rejecting their com- 
 positions ; which, as they abound in high-flown 
 metaphors and compound epithets, were, J 
 feared, too sublime for my humble province of 
 plain prose. I have found, that the same poeti- 
 cal genius, which could soar to an Ode, can be 
 whetted to a most cutting Satire against me and 
 my works; and one in particular has poured 
 forth his whole wrath upon me in an Acrostic. 
 But I need not offer any apology for laying the 
 following verses before the public, which may 
 be considered as a supplement to a former paper 
 on the like subject. The easy elegance, which 
 runs through the whole, will readily distinguish 
 them to come from the same hand, that has 
 more than once obliged us in the course of this 
 undertaking. 
 
 The wealthy cit, grown old in trade, 
 Now wishes for the rural shade, 
 And buckles to his one-horse chair 
 Old Dobbin, or the foundered mare ; 
 While wedged in closely by his side 
 Sits madam, his unwieldy bride. 
 With Jacky on a stool before 'em ; 
 And out they jog in due decorum. 
 Scarce past the turnpike half a mile. 
 How all the country seems to smile ! 
 And as they slowly jog together, 
 The cit commends the road and weather : 
 While Madam doats upon the trees. 
 And longs for every house she sees ; 
 Admires its views, its situation ; 
 And thus she opens her oration. 
 
 " What signifies the loads of wealth. 
 Without that richest jewel, health ? 
 Excuse the fondness of a wife, 
 W' ho doats upon your precious life ! 
 Such ceaseless toil, such constant care. 
 Is more than human strength can bear : 
 One may observe it in your face- 
 Indeed, my dear, you break apace : 
 And nothing can your health rcixiir, 
 But exercise and country air, 
 Sir Trafiic has a house, you know. 
 About a mile from Cheney Row : 
 He's a good man, indeed, 'tis true ; 
 But not so warm, my dear, as you : 
 And folks are always apt to sneer — 
 One would not be outdone, my dc.ir.' 
 
 Sir Traffic's name, so well applied. 
 Awaked his broUier merchant's pride ; 
 And Thrifty, who had all his life 
 Paid utmost deference to his wife. 
 Confessed the argument had reason ; 
 And by the approaching summer season, 
 l>raws a few hundreds from the stocks. 
 And purchases his country box. 
 
No. 136,] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 229 
 
 Some three or four miles out of town, 
 (An hour's ride will bring you down,) 
 He fixes on his choice abode. 
 Not half a furlong from the road : 
 And so convenient does it lay. 
 That stages pass it every day, 
 And then so snug, so mighty pretty, 
 To have a house so near the city ! 
 Take but your places at the Boar, 
 You're set down at the very door. 
 
 Well then, suppose them fix'd at last, 
 White-washing, painting, scrubbing past ; 
 With all the fuss of moving over : 
 Hugging themselves in ease and clover, 
 Lo ! a new heap of whims are bred. 
 And wanton in my lady's head. 
 " Well ! to l:e sure, it must be own'd, 
 It is a charming spot of ground ; 
 So sweet a distance for a ride. 
 And all about so countryfied ! 
 'T would come to but a trifling price. 
 To make it quite a paradise. 
 I cannot bear those nasty rails. 
 Those ugly, broken, mouldy pales ; 
 Suppose, my dear, instead of these. 
 We build a railing all Chinese. 
 Although one hates to be expos'd, 
 'Tis dismal to be thus enclos'd : 
 One hardly any object sees — 
 I wish you'd fell those odious trees. 
 Objects continual passing by. 
 Were something to amuse the eye : 
 But to be pent within the Walls— 
 One might as well be at St. Paul's. 
 Our house-beholders would adore. 
 Was there a level lawn before ; 
 Nothing its views to incommode. 
 But quite laid open to the road ; 
 While ev'ry trav'ller, in amaze. 
 Should on our little mansion g?.zc. 
 And, pointing to the choice retreat, 
 Cry, • That's Sir Thrifty's country scat. " 
 
 No doubt, her arguments prevail 
 For Madam's taste can never fail. 
 
 Blest age! when all men may procure 
 The title of a Connoisseur ; 
 When noble and ignoble herd 
 Are^overn'd by a single word ; 
 Though like the royal German dames. 
 It bears a hundred Christian names ; 
 As Genius, Fancy, Judgment, Goiit, 
 Whim, Caprice, Je-nescai-quoi, Virtu ; 
 Which appellations all describe 
 Taste, and the modern tasteful tribe. 
 
 Now bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners. 
 With Chinese artists and designers. 
 Produce their schemes of alteration, 
 To work this wondrous reformation. 
 The useful dome, which secret stood 
 Embosom'd in the yew-tree's wood. 
 The traveller with amazement sees 
 A temple, Gothic or Chinese. 
 With many a bell and tawdry rag on. 
 And crested with a sprawling dragon. 
 A wooden arch is bent astride 
 A ditch of water four feet wide : 
 With angles, curves, and zigzag lines. 
 From Halfpenny's exact designs. 
 In front a level lawn is seen. 
 Without a shrub upon the green : 
 Where taste would want its first great law, 
 But for the skulking sly ha-ha : 
 By whoso miraculous assistance 
 You gain a prospect two fields distance. 
 
 And now from Hyde Park corner come 
 The Gods of Athens and of Rome : 
 Here squabby Cupids take their places, 
 With Venus and the clumsy Graces : 
 Apollo there, with aim so clever. 
 Stretches his leaden bow for ever ; 
 And there without the power to fly. 
 Stands fix'd a tip-toe Mercury. 
 
 The villa thus completely grae'd. 
 All own that Thrifty has a taste : 
 And madam's female friends and cousins. 
 With common-council-men by dozens. 
 Flock ev'ry Sunday to the seat, 
 To stare about them, and to eat. 
 
 No. IZG.] Thursday, Sept. 2, 1756. 
 
 — -HGmlnem pagmia nostra sapit. Mart. 
 
 To paint mankind, ouj- sole pretence ; 
 And all our wisdom, common sense. 
 
 We, whose business it is to write loose essays, 
 and Avho never talk above a quarter of an hour 
 together on any one subject, are not expected to 
 enter into philosophical disquisitions, or engage 
 in abstract speculations ; but it is supposed to 
 be our principal aim to amuse and instruct the 
 reader, by a lively representation of what passes 
 I'ound about him. Thus, like those painters 
 who delineate the scenes of familiar life, we 
 sometimes give a sketch of a marriage a la mode, 
 sometimes draw the outlines of a modern mid- 
 night conversation, at another time paint the 
 comical distresses of itinerant tragedians in a 
 barn, and at another give a full draught of the 
 rake's or harlot's progress. Sometimes we 
 divert the public by exhibiting single portraits'; 
 and when we meet with a subject where the 
 features are strongly marked by nature, and 
 there is something peculiarly characteristic in 
 the whole manner, we employ ourselves in 
 drawing the piece at full length. In a word, 
 we consider all mankind as sitting for their pic- 
 tures, and endeavour to work up our pieces with 
 lively traits, and embellish them Avith beautiful 
 colouring : and though, pei'haps, they are not 
 always highly finished, yet they seldom fail 
 of pleasing some few, at least, of the vast mul- 
 titude of Critics and Connoisseurs, if we are so 
 happy as to hit off a striking likeness. 
 
 There is perhaps no knowledge more requi- 
 site, and certainly none at present more ardently 
 sought after, than the knowledge of the world. 
 In this science we are more particularly expect- 
 ed to be adepts, as well as to initiate, or at least 
 improve, our readers in it. And though this 
 knowledge cannot be collected altogether from 
 books, yet (as Pope says) "men may be read, 
 as well as books, too much ;" and it is to be 
 lamented, that many, who have only consulted 
 the volume of life, as it lay open before them, 
 
430 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 137. 
 
 have rather become worse than better by theii* 
 studies. They who have lived wholly in the 
 Avorld without regarding the comments on it, 
 are generally tainted with all its vices, to which 
 the gathering part of their instructions from 
 books would perhaps have proved an antidote. 
 There, indeed, though they would have seen 
 the faults and foibles of mankind fairly repre- 
 sented, yet vice would appear in an odious, and 
 virtue in an amiable light; but those who un- 
 warned go abroad into the world, are often 
 dazzled by the splendour with which wealth 
 gilds vice and infamy ; and being accustomed to 
 see barefoot honesty treated with scorn, are 
 themselves induced to consider it as contempti- 
 ble. For this reason, I am a good deal offended 
 at the ingenious contrivance of our modern 
 novelists and writers of comedy, who often 
 gloss over a villanous character with the same 
 false varnish that lackers so many scoundrels in 
 real life ; and while they are exhibiting a fel- 
 low Avho debauches your daughter or lies with 
 your wife, represent him as an agreeable crea- 
 ture, a man of gallantry, and a fine gentleman. 
 
 The Avorld, even the gayest part of it, may 
 be painted like itself, and yet become a lesson of 
 instruction. The pieces of Hogarth (to recur 
 to the illustration 1 first made use of) are faith- 
 ful delineations of certain scenes of life, and 
 yet vice and folly always appear odious and con- 
 temptible. I could wish it were possible to 
 learn the knowledge of the world, witbcut 
 being "hackneyed in the ways of man :" but 
 as that is impracticable, it is still our duty so 
 to live in it, as to avoid being corrupted by our 
 intercourse with mankind. We should endea- 
 vour to guard against fraud, without becoming 
 ourselves deceitful; and to see every species of 
 vice and folly practised round about us, without 
 growing knaves and fools. The villany of 
 others is but a poor excuse for the loss of our 
 own integrity : and though, indeed, if 1 am at- 
 tacked on Hounslow- Heath, I may lawfully 
 kill the highwayman in my own defence ; yet 
 I should be very deservedly brought to the 
 gallows, if I took a puise from the next person 
 I met, because I had been robbed myself. 
 
 The knowledge of the world, as it is general- 
 ly used and understood, consists not so much in 
 a due reflection on its vices and follies, as in the 
 practice of them ; and those, who consider 
 themselves as best acquainted with it, are either 
 the dupes of fashion, or slaves of interest. _It 
 is also supposed to lie within the narrow com- 
 pass of every man's own sphere of life, and re- 
 ceives a different interpretation in difforcirt sta- 
 tions. Thus, for instance, the man of fashion 
 seeks it no where but in the polite circle of the 
 beau-mo mle ; Avhilc the mnn of business looks 
 no farther for it than t!>e alley. I ahaU beg 
 leave to illustrate this, by concluding this paper 
 with a description vi' (wo characters; each of 
 
 whom, though diametrically opposite to the 
 other, has acquired a thorough knowledge of 
 the world. 
 
 Sir Han*y Flash had the good luck to be born 
 before his brother Richard : consequently, the 
 heir to the estate was bred a gentleman, and 
 the other condemned to plod in the dull drud- 
 gery of business. The merchant was sent to 
 learn accompts at the Academy upon Tower- 
 Hill, and the baronet had the finishing of bis 
 education in France. Sir Harry is now a most 
 accomplished fine gentleman, is an excellent 
 judge of fashions, and can calculate the odds at 
 any game, as readily as Hoyle or Demoi^Te : 
 the Alderman is the most knowing man upon 
 'Change, and understands the rise and fall of 
 stocks better than any Jew. Both of them 
 know the world ; but with this difference, that 
 one by his consummate knowledge has run out 
 of a large estate, while the other lias raised a 
 plum by it. O. 
 
 No. 1S7.] Tkursday, Sept, 9, 1756. 
 
 Fliinc comcikndmn ct dcridendum vclis profiri k 
 
 'ItH. 
 
 To all his guests a joke, the glutton loid 
 Seems the jack -pudding of liis own rich board. 
 
 TO MR. TOWN. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 What cloying meat is love, when " matrimony 
 is the sauce to it !" says Sir John Brute. But 
 if he had been married to such an Epicurean 
 consort as I am joined with, those expressions, 
 that savour of the kitchen, would have been 
 real, instead of metaphorical. We live in aland 
 really flowing with milk and honey, and keep 
 a house of entertainment for all comers and 
 goers. We hardly ever sit down to table less 
 in number than twenty or thirty, and very 
 often to above double that number of dishes. 
 In short. Sir, so much feasting has given nie a 
 surfeit. 
 
 There are, T see, scattered up and down your 
 papers, several accounts of the petty distresses 
 and domestic concerns of private families. As 
 you have listened to many complaints from 
 husbands, 1 flatter myself, you will not refuse 
 your attention to the humble remonstrance of a 
 wife ; being assured, that my only reason for 
 thus serving up my dear lord as a new dish to 
 gratify the public taste, is to check (if possible) 
 his violent passion for giving his friends enter- 
 tainments of another kind ; which, if indulged 
 much longer, must eat us out of house and 
 home. 
 
 The magnificent feasts of Timon of Athen.-', 
 or the stories of old English Hosi)it3lity, would 
 t;ivo youbut a faint idea (d" the ]»orpetual riot 
 
No. 137.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 231 
 
 and luxury of our family. Our house is always 
 stored with as large a quantity of provisions as 
 a garrison in expectation of a siege, and those 
 too of the dearest and most extravagant kind. 
 Ortolans and woodcocks are as common as 
 sparrows, and red mullets are scarce a greater 
 rarity with us than gudgeons or sprats ; while 
 turtle and venison are regarded as branches 
 of citizen-luxury, which scarce deserve notice 
 among the many other delicacies in which we 
 abound. Authors, they say, (you will pardon 
 me, Mr. Town,) are seldom admitted to great 
 entertainments ; and I can assure you, that it 
 is not easy for any, but those who are present, 
 to conceive the parade and extravagance dis- 
 played in our house. I myself am condemned 
 to sit at the head of the table, while my lord is 
 placed at the other end, in pain and uneasiness 
 at my awkward mistakes in doing the honours. 
 You must know. Sir, that I was bred up under 
 a housewifely aunt in the countiy, who taught 
 me to pickle and preserve, and gave me, as I 
 thought, a tolerable notion of cookery. But, 
 alas ! though I understand plain boiled and 
 roast, and have a very good notion of a pudding, 
 I am often totally ignorant of the names and 
 compositions of the delicacies before me, and 
 have imagined fish to be fowl, and mistaken a 
 jietit patee for a plebeian mince-pie. In the 
 mean time, my lord is displaying his exquisite 
 taste, by deciding upon every dish, and pro- 
 nouncing, with a critical smack, upon the fla- 
 vour of the wines ; all the while not a little 
 solicitous about the exactness of the removes, 
 and the duly adjusting the entremets. Claret, 
 Burgundy, and Champagne abound, like ale or 
 small-beer; and even Hermitage and Tokay 
 are swallowed with as little remorse as Port or 
 Lisbon. To add to all this, is most absurdly 
 introduced the French custom of serving in les 
 liqueurs ; which consist of almost as many sorts 
 as are contained in the advertisements from the 
 Rich Cordial Warehouse. In a word, every 
 common dinner with us is a feast ; and when 
 we have what my lord calls an entertainment, 
 it is an absolute debauch. 
 
 But there is no part of this monstrous ex- 
 pense affects me so much, as the vast sums ridi- 
 culously lavished on a dessert. This piece of 
 folly and extravagance could be nothing but the 
 joint product of a Frenchman and a confec- 
 tioner. After the gratification of the appetite 
 with more substantial fare, this whip-syllabub 
 raree-show is served up, chiefly to feed the eye ; 
 not but that the materials, of which the dessert 
 Js composed, are as expensive as the several in- 
 gredients in the dinner : and I will leave you to 
 your own method of rating the rest, after telling 
 you, that my lord thinks himself an excellent 
 economist, by having reduced the expense of 
 the hot-house to a thousand per ann. which per- 
 haps the admirers of exotic fruits will not 
 
 think dear, since we have pine-apples in as 
 gi-eat plenty as golden pippins or nonpareils. 
 
 One would think, that the first requisite in 
 eating was extravagance ; and that, in order to 
 have any thing very good, it must be produced 
 at a time when it is out of season. Therefore 
 one of the principal uses of our hot-house is to 
 invert the order of nature, and to turn winter 
 into summer. We should be ashamed to see 
 peas upon our table, while they are to be had at 
 a common market; but we never spare any 
 cost to provide a good crop, by the assistance of 
 our hot-beds, at Christmas. We have no relish 
 for cucumbers during the summer months, when 
 they are no rarity ; but we take care to have 
 them forced in November. But my lord mostly 
 prides himself on the improvements that he 
 has made in his mushroom-beds ; which he has 
 at length brought to so great perfection, that by 
 the help of horse-dung, and throwing artificial 
 sunbeams through a burning-glass we can raise 
 any quantity of mushrooms, of the right Italian 
 kind, at two hours warning. 
 
 From the hot-house we may make a very na- 
 tural transition to the kitchen ; and as in the 
 former every thing must be produced out of 
 season, so every thing in the latter must undergo 
 a strange metamorphosis. The ordinary dis- 
 tinctions of fish, flesh, and fowl, are quite de- 
 stroyed ; and nothing comes upon table under 
 its proper form and appellation. It is impossi- 
 ble to conceive what vast sums are melted down 
 into sauces ! We have a cargo of hams every 
 year fi-om Westphalia, only to extract the es- 
 sence of them for our soups ; and we kiU a 
 brace of bucks every week, to make a coulis of 
 the haunches. Half a dozen turkeys have been 
 killed in one day, merely for the sake of the 
 pinions ; I have known a whole pond dragged, 
 to furnish a dish of carp's palates ; and ten legs 
 of mutton mangled raw, to make out a dish of 
 pope's eyes. 
 
 The concomitant charges of the cellar, you 
 wiU imagine, are no less extravagant ; and, in- 
 deed, it is not enough that we abound in the 
 best French and Italian wines, (which, by the 
 bye, are purchased on the spot at an extraordi- 
 nary price) but we must have several other 
 kinds of the highest value, and consequently of 
 most delicious flavour ; and though but a taste 
 of each has been sipped round by the company, 
 the same bottles must never be brought a se- 
 cond time upon table, but are secured as per- 
 quisites by the butler, who sells them to the 
 merchant, who sells them back again to my 
 lord. Besides these, his lordship has lately 
 been at an immense charge in raising a Pinery, 
 in order to try the experiment of making Cyder 
 of Pine-apples ; which he hopes to do at little 
 more than treble the expense of Champagne. 
 To this article I might also add the charge of 
 his Ice-houses : for although these are stored 
 
232 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 138. 
 
 with a home commodity, originallj' of no value, 
 yet I may venture to say, that every drop of 
 water comes as dear to us, as the most costly of 
 our wines. 
 
 As all our liquors, I have told you, are of fo- 
 reign gi-owth, and all our dishes distinguished 
 by foreign titles, you will readily conceive, that 
 our household is chiefly composed of foreigners. 
 The Maitre d' hotel is a Frenchman : the butler 
 out of livery, and his two under butlers, are 
 Frenchmen: the clerk of the kitchen is a 
 Frenchman : and Monsieur Fricando, the head 
 cook, to be sure is a Frenchman. This gentle- 
 man never soils his fingers in touching the least 
 bit of any thing; but gives his orders (like a 
 general) to four subalterns, who are likewise 
 Frenchmen. The baker, the confectioner, the 
 very scullions, and even the fellow that looks 
 after the poultry, are all of them Frenchmen. 
 These, you may be sure, are maintained at 
 very high salaries : and though Monsieur Fri- 
 cando had the pay of a captain in a marching 
 regiment, my lord was forced to double his wages 
 at the beginning of the war, and allow him the 
 free exercise of his religion, to prevent his 
 leaving the kingdom. 
 
 I am sorry to add, that this pride of keeping 
 a table has visibly impaired my lord's fortune : 
 and this very summer he has been obliged to 
 fell all the timber on his estate, as I may say, 
 to keep up his kitchen fire. The only satisfac- 
 tion, which he can possibly reap from all this 
 expense, is the vanity of having it said, " that 
 nobody treats so elegantly as his lordship ;" and 
 now and then, perhaps, reading in the news- 
 papers, " that such a day the right honourable 
 
 gave a grand entertainment at his house 
 
 in , at which were present the principal 
 
 officers of state and foreign ministers." 
 
 1 am. Sir, your humble servant, &c. 
 
 No. 138.] Thursday, Sept. 16, 1756. 
 
 Sfita/d semper lege et ratioiic loqucndi. Hon. 
 
 Youi- talk to decency and reason suit, 
 Nor prate like fools or gabble like a brute. 
 
 Im the comedy of the Frenchman in London, 
 which we are told was acted at Paris with uni- 
 versal applause for several nights together, there 
 is a character of a rough Englishman, who is 
 represented as quite unskilled in the graces of 
 conversation ; and his dialogue consists almost 
 entirely of a repetition of the common saluta- 
 tion of how do you? Our nation has, in- 
 deed, been generally supposed to be of a sullen, 
 and uncommunicative disposition ; while, on 
 the otlier hand, the loquacious French have been 
 allowed to possess the ai t of conversing beyond 
 
 all other people. The Englishman requires to 
 be wound up frequently, and stops as soon as 
 he is down ; but the Frenchman runs on in a 
 continual alarum. Yet it must be acknowledged, 
 that, as the English consist of very different 
 humours, their manner of discourse admits of 
 great variety : but the whole French nation 
 converse alike ; and there is no difference in 
 their address between a Marquis and a Valet de 
 Chambre. We may frequently see a couple of 
 French barbers accosting each other in the 
 street, and paying their compliments with the 
 same volubility of speech, the same grimace 
 and action, as two courtiers on the Thuilleries. 
 
 1 shall not attempt to lay down any particu- 
 lar rules for conversation, but rather point out 
 such faults in discourse and behaviour, as render 
 the company of half mankind rather tedious 
 than amusing. It is in vain, indeed, to look for 
 conversation where we might expect to find it 
 in the greatest perfection, among persons of 
 fashion : there it is almost annihilated by univer- 
 sal card-playing : insomuch that I have heard 
 it given as a reason, why it is impossible for 
 our present writers to succe-ed in the dialogue 
 of genteel comedy, that our people of quality 
 scarce ever meet but to game. All their dis- 
 course turns upon the odd trick and the four 
 honours ; and it is no less a maxim with the 
 votaries of Whist than with those of Bacchus, 
 that talking spoils company. 
 
 Every one endeavours to make himself as 
 agreeable to society as he can : but it often hap- 
 pens, that those who most aim at shining in 
 conversation, overshoot their mark. Though a 
 man succeeds, he should not (as is frequently 
 the case) engi'oss the whole talk to himself; for 
 that destroys the very essence of conversation, 
 which is talking together. We should try to 
 keep up conversation like a ball bandied to and 
 fro from one to the other, rather than seize it 
 all to ourselves, and drive it before us like a 
 foot-ball. We should likewise be cautious to 
 adapt the matter of our discourse to our com- 
 pany; and not talk Greek bf^fore ladies, or of 
 the last new furbelow to a meeting of country 
 justices. 
 
 But nothing throws a more ridiculous air 
 over our whole conversation, than certain pecu- 
 liarities easily acquired, but very difficultly con- 
 quered and discarded. In order to display these 
 absurdities in a truer light, it is my present 
 purpose to enumerate such of them as are most 
 commonly to be met with ; and first to take 
 notice of those buifoons in society, the Attitudi- 
 narians and Face-makers. These accompany 
 every word with a peculiar grimace or gesture : 
 they assent with a shrug, and contradict with a 
 twisting of the neck ; are angry by a wry mouth, 
 and pleased in a caper or a minuet step. They 
 may be considered as speaking Harlequins ; an 1 
 their rules of eloquence are taken from the po-- 
 
No. 138.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 233 
 
 ture-master. These should be condemned to 
 converse only in dumb show with their own 
 pei-sons in tin; looking-glass ; as well as the 
 Smirkers and Smilers, who so prettily set off 
 their faces, together with their words, hjaje- 
 ne-scai-quoi between a grin and a dimple. With 
 these we may likewise rank the affected tribe of- 
 Mimics, who are constantly taking off the pe- 
 culiar tone of voice or gesture of their acquain- 
 tance ; though they are such wretched imitators, 
 tliat (like bad painters) they are frequently 
 forced to write the name under the picture, be- 
 fore we can discover any likeness. 
 
 Next to these, whose elocution is absorbed in 
 action, and who converse chiefly with their 
 arms and legs, we may consider the Professed 
 Speakers. And first, the Emphatical, who 
 squeeze, and press, and ram down every syllable 
 with excessive vehemence and energy. These 
 orators are remarkable for their distinct elocu- 
 tion and force of expression : they dwell on the 
 important particles of and the, and the signifi- 
 cant conjunction and; which they seem 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. These 
 should be suffered only to syringe, (as it were) 
 the ears of a deaf man, through a hearing- 
 trumpet : though I must confess, that I am 
 equally offended with the Whisperers or Low- 
 speakers, who seem to fancy all their acquain- 
 tance deaf, and come up so close to you, that 
 they may be said to measure noses with you, 
 and frequently overcome you with the full exha- 
 lations of a stinking breath. 1 would have 
 these oracular gentry obliged to talk at a dis- 
 tance through a speaking-trumpet, or apply 
 their lips tO; the walls of a whispering-gallery. 
 The Wits, who will not condescend to utter 
 any tiling but a ho7i mot, and the Whistlers or 
 Tune-hummers, who never articulate at all, 
 may be joined very agi-eeably together in con- 
 cert ; and to these tinkling cymbals I would 
 also add the sounding brass ; the Bawler, who 
 inquii-es after your health with the bellowing of 
 a town- crier. 
 
 The Tatlers, whose pliable pipes are admi- 
 rably adapted to the " soft parts of conversation," 
 and sweetly '< prattling out of fashion," make 
 very pretty music from a beautiful face and a 
 female tongue ; but from a rough manly voice 
 and coarse features, mere nonsense is as harsh 
 and dissonant as a jig from a hurdy-gurdy. The 
 Swearers I have spoken of in a former paper ; 
 but the Half-swearers, who split, and mince, 
 and fritter their oaths into gad's bud, ad's fish, 
 and demme, the Gothic Humbuggers, and those 
 who nick-name God's creatures, and call a man 
 a cabbage, a crab, a queer cub, ai> odd fish, and 
 an unaccountable muskin, should never come 
 into company, without an interpreter. But I 
 will not tire my reader's patience by pointing 
 
 out all the pests of convei'sation ; nor dwell 
 particularly on the Sensibles, who pronounce 
 dogmatically on the most trivial points, and 
 speak in sentences ; the Wonderers, who are 
 always wondering what o'clock it is, or wonder- 
 ing whether it will rain or no, or wondering 
 when the moon changes ; the Phraseologists, 
 who explain a thing by all that, or enter into 
 particulars, v.ith this and that and t'other ; and, 
 lastly, the Silent Men, who seem afraid of open- 
 ing their mouths, lest they should catch cold, 
 and literally observe the precept of the Gospel, 
 by letting their conversation be only yea yea, 
 and nay nay. 
 
 The rational intercourse kept up by conversa- 
 tion, is one of our principal distinctions from 
 brutes. We should therefore endeavour to tura 
 this peculiar talent to our advantage, and con- 
 sider the organs of speech as the instruments of 
 understanding : we should 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 lessen the 
 value of such an inestimable prerogative. It is, 
 indeed, imagined by some philosophers, that 
 even birds and beasts (though without the 
 power of articulation) perfectly understand one 
 another by the sounds they utter ; and that dogs, 
 cats, &c. have each a particular language to 
 themselves, like different nations. Thus it 
 may be supposed, that the nightingales of Italy 
 have as fine an ear for their own native wood- 
 notes, as any Signer or Signora for an Italian 
 Air; that the boars of Westphalia gruntle as 
 expressively through the nose, 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. However 
 this may be, we may consider those, whose 
 tongues hardly seem to be under the influence 
 of reason, and do not keep up the proper con- 
 versation of human creatures, as imitating the 
 language of different animals. Thus, for in- 
 stance, the aflSnity between Chatterers and 
 Monkeys, and Praters ^and Parrots, is too ob- 
 vious not to occur at once; Grunters and 
 Growlers may be justly compared to Hogs; 
 Snarlers are Curs, that continually show their 
 teeth, but never bite; and the Spitfire passionate 
 are a sort of wild cats, that will not bear strok- 
 ing, but will purr when they are pleased. Com- 
 plainers are Screech-Owls ; and Story-tellers, 
 always repeating the same duU note, are Cuckoos. 
 Poets, that prick up their ears at their own 
 hideous braying, are no better than Asses : Cri- 
 tics in general are venomous Serpents, that de- 
 light in hissing ; and some of them, who have 
 got by heart a few technical terms without 
 knowing their meaning, are no other than 
 Magpies. I myself, who have crowed to the 
 whole town for near three years past, may per- 
 haps put my readers in mind of a Dunghill 
 Hh 
 
234 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 139. 
 
 Cock; but as I must acquaint them, that they 
 will hear the last of me on this day fortnight, I 
 hope they will then consider me as a Swan, 
 who is supposed to sing sweetly at his dying 
 
 moments. 
 
 W. 
 
 No. 139.] Thursday, Sept. 23, 1756. 
 
 •Sui/u: superbiam 
 
 Qiupsifam meriiis.- 
 
 Now to the utmost all your labours charge, 
 And show your mighty consequence at large. 
 
 1 WROTE to my Cousin Village, informing him 
 of my design to finish with the next number ; 
 and have received the following answer from 
 him, which I shall lay before my readers. 
 Dear Cousin, 
 It was not without some regret, that I re- 
 ceived advice of your intentions to bid adieu to 
 the public : for, as you had been so kind as to 
 introduce me to their notice, I began to indulge 
 all the weakness and vanity of a young author ; 
 and had almost persuaded myself that I was 
 the principal support of your papers. Con- 
 scious of my own importance, I expect that 
 you will do me the justice to acknowledge, how 
 much you are indebted to the assistance of your 
 very ingenious Cousin ; and I care not how 
 many compliments you pay me on my wit and 
 learning : but at the same time I must beg leave 
 to put in a caveat against your disposing of me 
 in what manner you yourself please. Writers 
 of essays think themselves at liberty to do what 
 they will with the characters they have intro- 
 duced into their works ; as writers of tragedy, 
 in order to heighten the plot, have often brought 
 their heroes to an untimely end, when they have 
 died quietly many years before in their beds ; 
 or as our chroniclers of daily occurrences put a 
 duke to death, give away an heiress in marriage, 
 or shoot off an admiral's legs whenever they 
 please. Mr. Addison, while he was caiTying 
 on the Spectator, said, " he would kill Sir Roger 
 de Coverly, that nobody else might murder 
 him." In like manner, my dear Cousin, you 
 may take it into your head to cut me off j you 
 may perhaps make an end of me by a cold 
 caught in partridge-shooting, or break my neck 
 in a stag-hunt. Or you may rather choose to 
 settle me perhaps with a rich old country dowa- 
 ger, or press me into the army, or clap me on 
 board of a man of war. But I desire that 
 you will 'not get rid of me by any of these 
 means ; but permit me to assure your readers, 
 that I am alive and merry ; and this is to let 
 them know, that I am in good health at this 
 present writing. 
 
 Your papers, I assure vou, have made a great 
 
 noise in the country; and the most intelligent 
 among us read you with as much satisfaction as 
 the Evening Posts or the Weekly Journals. I 
 know more than one squire, who takes them In 
 constantly with the Magazines; and I was 
 told by the post-master of a certain town, that 
 they came down every, week, under cover to 
 the butler of a member of parliament. There 
 is a club of country parsons, who meet every 
 Saturday at a neighbouring market-town, to be 
 shaved and exchange sermons : they have a 
 subscription for books and pamphlets : and the 
 only periodical works ordered in by them are 
 the Connoisseur, and the Critical nnd Monthly 
 Reviews. I was lately introduced to this so- 
 ciety, when the conversation happened to turn 
 upon Mr. Town. A young curate, just come 
 from Oxford, said he knew you very well at 
 Christ Church, and that you was a comical 
 dog : but a Cantab, declared, no less positively, 
 that you was either a pensioner of Trinitj', or 
 a commoner of Bennet's. People, indeed, are 
 very much perplexed about the real author: 
 some affirm, that you are a nobleman, and 
 others will have it that you are an actor : some 
 say you are a young lawyer, some a physician, 
 some a parson, and some an old woman. 
 
 The subjects of your papers have often been 
 wrested to various interpretations by our pene« 
 trating geniuses ; and you have hardly drawn a 
 character, that has not been fixed on one or 
 other of the greatest pei-souages in the nation. 
 1 once heard a country justice express his won- 
 der, that you was not taken up, and set in the 
 pillory; and I myself, by some of my rural 
 intelligence, have brought upon you the resent- 
 ment of several honest squires, who long to 
 horsewhip the scoundrel for putting them in 
 print. Others again are quite at a loss how to 
 pick out your meaning, and in vain turn over 
 their Bailey's Dictionary for an explanation of 
 several fashionable phrases ; which, though they 
 have enriched the town-language, have not yet 
 made their way into the dialect of tbc country. 
 Many exquisite strokes of humour are also lost 
 upon us, on account of our distance from the 
 scene of action ; and that wit, which is very 
 brisk and lively upon the spot, oftentimes whol- 
 ly evaporates in the post-bag. 
 
 You moralists are very apt to flatter your- 
 selves, that you are doing a vast deal of good by 
 your labours ; but whatever reformation you 
 may have worked in town, give me leave to tell 
 you, that you have sometimes done us harm in 
 the country, by the bare mention of the vices 
 and follies now in vogue. From your intelli- 
 gence, some of our most polite ladies have learn- 
 ed, that it is highly genteel to have a rout ; and 
 have copied the fashion^so exactly, as to play at 
 cards on Sundays. Your papers upon dress set 
 all our helles at work in following the mode : 
 you no sooner took notice of cocked hats, but 
 
No. 140.] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 235 
 
 every bat in the parish was turned up behind 
 and before ; and when you told us, that the 
 town beauties went naked, our rural damsels 
 immediately began to throw off their clothes. 
 Our gentlemen have been also taught by you 
 all the new arts of betting and gaming : and 
 the only coffee-house in one little town, where 
 the most topping inhabitants are used to meet 
 to play at draughts and back-gammon, has, from 
 the great increase of gamesters who resort to 
 it, been elegantly christened by the name of 
 White's, 
 
 As to the small share which I myself have 
 bad in your work, you may be sure every body 
 here is hugely delighted with it; at least you 
 may be sure, that I will say nothing to the 
 contrary. I have done my best to contribute to 
 the entertainment of your readers ; and, as the 
 name of Steele is not forgotten in the Spectator, 
 though Addison has run away with almost all 
 the honour, I am in hopes, that whenever the 
 great Mr. Town is mentioned, they may possi- 
 bly think at the same time on 
 
 Your affectionate Cousin and Coadjutor, 
 
 Village. 
 
 After 'this account, which my Cousin has 
 sent me, of the reception I have met with in 
 the country, it will be proper to say something 
 of my reception here in town. I shall there- 
 fore consider myself in the threefold capacity 
 of Connoisseur, Critic, and Censor General. 
 As a Connoisseur, in the confined sense of the 
 word, I must own I have met with several 
 mortifications. I have neither been made 
 F. R. S, nor even a member of the Academy 
 of Bourdeaux or Fetersburgh. They have left 
 me out of the list of trustees to the British 
 Museum; and his Majesty of Naples, though 
 he presented an " Account of the Curiosities 
 found in Herculaneum" to each of the Uni- 
 versities, never sent one to me. I have not 
 been celebrated in the Philosophical Transac- 
 tions, or in any of our Magazines of Arts and 
 Sciences; nor have I been styled tres-illustre, 
 tres-sqavant in any of the foreign Mercuries or 
 Journals Litteraires. Once, indeed, I soothed 
 myself in the vain thought of having been dis- 
 tinguished by the great Swedish Botanist, Lin- 
 naeus, under the title of Eruditissimus Urbanus, 
 which I conceived to be the name of Town la- 
 tinized ; but, to my great disappointment, I 
 afterwards discovered, that this was no other 
 than the learned naturalist, Mr. Silvanus Ur- 
 ban, author of the Gentleman's Magazine. 
 This n^Iect of me as a Connoisseur, I can at- 
 tribute to no other cause, than to my not having 
 made myself known by my Musaeum, or Ca- 
 binet of Curiosities : and, to say the truth, I 
 am not worth a farthing in antique coins ; nor 
 have I so much as one single shell or butterfly. 
 All my complaints against the modern innova- 
 tions of taste have been therefore disregarded ; 
 and with concern I still see the villas of our 
 
 citizens fantastically adorned with Chinese 
 palings, and our streets encumbered with su- 
 perb colonnades, porticos, Gothic arches, and 
 Venetian windows, the ordinary decorations of 
 the shops of our tradesmen. 
 
 Nor have I, as a Critic, met with greater 
 success or encouragement, in my endeavours to 
 reform the present taste in literature. I ex- 
 pected to have the privilege of eating beef gi-a- 
 tis every night at Vauxhall, for advising the 
 garden poets to put a little meaning in their 
 songs : but, though I was there several nights 
 this summei', I could not say (with Cassio) of 
 any of their productions, " that is a more ex- 
 quisite song than the other." I have not been 
 able to write the operas out of the kingdom, 
 and, though I have more than once showed my 
 contempt for Harlequin, I am assured there are 
 no less than three Pantomimes to be brought on 
 this season. As I invested myself with the 
 dignity of supreme judge in theatrical matters, 
 I was in hopes that my Lord Chamberlain 
 would at least have appointed me his Deputy- 
 Licenser ; but he has not even consulted me on 
 any one new play. I made no doubt but the 
 managers would pay their court to me ; but 
 they have not once sent for me to dinner ; and, 
 so far from having the freedom of the house, I 
 declare I have not had so much as a single order 
 from any of the under-actors. 
 
 In my office of Censor General, though I 
 cannot boast of having over-turned the card- 
 tables at routs and assemblies, or brok^ up the 
 club at Arthur's, I can safely boast, that I 
 have routed the many-headed monster at the 
 Disputant society at the Robin Hood, and put 
 to silence the gi-eat Clare-market Orator. In a 
 word, I have laboured to prevent the growth of 
 vice and immorality ; and with as much effect 
 as the justices of the quarter-sessions. For this 
 reason 1 expected to have been put in the com- 
 mission, and to have had the power of licensing 
 all places of public diversion vested solely in my 
 hands. . But as I find my merits have been 
 hitherto over-looked, I am determined to lay 
 down my office ; and in ray next number I shall 
 take my final leave of the public, when 1 shall 
 give them an account of my correspondents, to- 
 gether with a full and particular account of my- 
 self. T. 
 
 Pers. 
 
 No. 140.] Thursday, Sept. 30, 1756. 
 
 Vel duo, vel nenw. 
 
 Censor nor he, nor he ; or both or none : 
 A two-fold author, Messieurs Mr. Town. 
 
 -Penc gemelli. 
 
 Fraternis animw. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Sure in the self-saHie mould their miads were cast, 
 Twins in affection, judgment, humour, taste. 
 
 p£RiowcAL writers, who retail their sense oi 
 
236 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 [No. 140. 
 
 nonsense to the world slieet by sheet, acquire a 
 sort of familiarity and intimacy with the public, 
 peculiar to themselves. Had these three vo- 
 lumes, which have swelled by degrees to their 
 present bulk, burst forth at once, Mr. Town 
 must have introduced himself to the acquain- 
 tance of the public with the awkward air and 
 distance of a stranger : but he now flatters him- 
 self, that they will look upon him as an old 
 companion, whose conversation they are pleased 
 with : and, as they will see him no more after 
 this time, will now and then perhaps miss their 
 usual visitor. 
 
 However this may be, the authors of the Con- 
 noisseur now think proper to close the under- 
 taking, in which they have been engaged for 
 near three years past : and among their general 
 thanks to the indulgent readers of their papers, 
 they must include in a particular manner their 
 acknowledgments to those, who have been 
 pleased to appear in them as writers. They 
 have, therefore, at the close of their work, 
 brought Mr. Town and his associates on the 
 scene together, like the dramatis persona; at the 
 end of the last act. 
 
 Our earliest and most frequent correspondent 
 distinguished his favours by the signatures 
 G. K. and we are sorry, that he will not allow 
 us to mention his name ; since it Avould reflect 
 as much credit on our work, as we are sure will 
 redound to it from his contributions. To him 
 we are proud to own ourselves indebted for 
 most part of No. 14 and 17 ; for the letter signed 
 Goliah English, in No. 19 ; for a great part of 
 No. S3 and 40 ; and for the letters, signed, Re- 
 ginald Fitzworm, Michael Krawbridge, Moses 
 Orthodox, and Tho. Vaiuall, No. 102, 107, 113, 
 and 129. 
 
 The next, in priority of time, is a gentleman 
 of Cambridge who signed himself A. B. and 
 we cannot but regret that he withdrew his as- 
 sistance, after having obliged us with the best 
 part of the letters in No. 46, 49, and 52, and of 
 the essays in No. 62 and 64. 
 
 The letters in No. 82, 98, 112, and 130, came 
 from various hands, equally unknown to us. 
 The imitation of Horace, in No. 11, was 
 written (as we are informed) by a gentleman 
 of Oxford : and from two gentlemen of Cam- 
 bridge we received the letter signed W. Manly, 
 in No. 65, and another, signed B. A. in No. 
 107. 
 
 These unexpected marks of favour, conferred 
 on us by strangers, demand our highest grati- 
 tude ; but we are no less happy in being able to 
 boast the assistance of some other gentlemen, 
 whom we are proud to call friends, though we 
 are not at liberty to introduce them to the ac- 
 quaintance of our readers. From a friend en- 
 gaged in the Law, we had the tirst sketches and 
 most striking passages of No. 75, 78, 87, and 
 lOl; though it may be regretted by the public 
 
 as well as ourselves, that his leisure would not 
 pei-mit him to put the finishing hand to them. 
 From a friend, a gentleman of the Temple, we 
 received No. Ill, 115, and 119. To a friend, a 
 member of Trinity College, Cambridge, we 
 are indebted for the song in No. 72, and the 
 verses in No. 67, 90, 125, and 135. The list of 
 contributions from such capable friends would 
 doubtless have been much larger, had they been 
 sooner let into the secret : but as Mr. Town, 
 like a great prince, chose to appear mcog. in 
 order to avoid the impertinence of the multi- 
 tude, he did not even make himself known to 
 those about his person, till at last they them- 
 selves found him out through his disguise. 
 
 There are still remaining two correspondents, 
 who must stand by themselves : as they have 
 wrote to us not in an assumed charactfer, but in 
 p7'opria persona : the first is no less a personage 
 than the great Orator Henly, who obliged U8 
 with that truly original letter, printed in No. 
 37. The other, who favoured us with a 
 letter, no less original, in No. 70, we have rea- 
 son to believe is a Methodist teacher and mecha- 
 nic ; and we do not know either his name or 
 his trade. 
 
 We now come to the most important disco- 
 very of ourselves, and to answer the often re- 
 peated question of, who is Mr. Town? it being 
 the custom for pei'iodical writers, at the same 
 time that they send the hawkers abroad with 
 their last dying speech like the malefactors, like 
 them also to coixple it with a confession. The 
 general method of unravelling this mystery is 
 by declaring, to whom the diff^erent signatures, 
 affixed to different papers, are appropriated. 
 For ever since the days of the inimitable Spec- 
 tator, it has been usual for a bold capital to 
 stand, like a sentry, at the end of our essays, to 
 guard the author in seci-ecy : and it is commonly 
 supposed^ the writer, who does not choose to put 
 his name to his work, has in this manner, like 
 the painters and statuaries of old, at least set 
 his mark. But the authors of the Connoisseur 
 confess, that the several letters at first pitched 
 upon to bring up the rear of their essays, have 
 been annexed to different papers at random, 
 and sometimes omitted, on purpose to put the 
 sagacious reader on a wrong scent. It is parti- 
 cularly the interest of a writer, who prints him- 
 self out week by week, to remain unknown, 
 during the course of this piece-meal publication. 
 The best method, therefore to prevent a disco- 
 very, is to make the road to it as intricate as 
 possible ; and, instead of seeming to aim at 
 keeping the reader entirely in the dark, to hang 
 out a kind of wandering light, which only 
 serves to load him astray. The desire of giving 
 each writer his due, according to the signatures, 
 has, in the course of this undertaking, often 
 confused the curious in their inquiries. Soon 
 after the publication of our first papers, some 
 
No. im] 
 
 THE CONNOISSEUR. 
 
 237 
 
 ingenious gentlemen found out, that T, O; W, K, 
 being the letters thai formed the name of 
 TOWN, there were four authors, each of 
 whom sheltered himself under a particular 
 letter ; hut no paper appearing with an N. af- 
 tixed to it, they Tivera obliged to give up this no- 
 tion. But, if they had been more able decy- 
 pherers, they would have made out, that though 
 T, O, W, will not compose the name of TOWN, 
 yet, by a different arrangement of the letters it 
 will form the word TWO ; which is the grand 
 mystery of our signatures, and couches under it 
 the true and I'eal number of the authors of the 
 Connoisseur. 
 
 Having thus declared 2»Ir. Town to consist 
 of two separate individuals, it will perhaps be 
 expected, that, like two tradesmen, who have 
 agreed to dissolve their partnership, we should 
 exactly balance our accounts, and assign to each 
 his due parcel of the stock. But our accounts 
 are of so intricate a nature, that it would be 
 impossible for us to adjust them in that manner. 
 We have not only joined in the ■work taken to- 
 gether, but almost every single paper is the 
 joint product of both : and, as we have laboured 
 oqually in erecting the fabric, we cannot pretend, 
 tiiat any one particular part is the sole work- 
 manship of either. A hint has perhaps been 
 started by one of us, improved by the other, 
 and still further heightened by a happy coalition 
 of sentiment in both ; as fire is struck out by a 
 mutual collision of flint and •teel. Sometimes, 
 like Strada's lovers conversing with the sym- 
 pathetic needles, we have written papers toge- 
 ther at fifty miles distance from each other : the 
 first rough draught or loose minutes of an essay 
 have often travelled in a stage-coach from town 
 to country, and from country to town ; and we 
 have frequently waited for the postman (whom 
 we expected to bring us the precious remainder 
 of a Connoisseur) with the same anxiety, as 
 we should wait for the half of a bank note, 
 Avithout which the other half would be of no 
 value. These our joint labours it may easily 
 be imagined, would have soon broke off abrupt- 
 ly, if either had been too fondly attached to his 
 own little conceits, or if we had conversed to- 
 gether with the jealousy of a rival, or the com- 
 plaisance of a formal acquaintance, who smiles 
 at every word that is said by his companion. 
 Nor could this work have been caiTied on, with 
 so much cheerfulness and good humour on both 
 sides, if the Two had not been as closely united; 
 
 as the two Students, whom the Spectator men- 
 tions, as recorded by a Torres Filius at Oxford, 
 " to have had but one mind, one purse, one 
 chamber, and one hat." 
 
 It has been often remarked, that the reader is 
 very desirous of picking up some little particu- 
 lars concerning the author of the book which he 
 is perusing. To gratify this passion, msny li- 
 terary anecdotes have been published, and an 
 account of their life, character, and behaviour, 
 has been prefixed to the works of our most cele- 
 brated writers. Essayists are commonly ex- 
 pected to be their own Biographers : and per- 
 haps our readers may require some further in- 
 telligence concerning the Authors of the Con- 
 noisseur. But, as they have all along appeared 
 as a sort of Socias in literature, they cannot now 
 describe themselves any otherwise, than as one 
 and the same person ; and can only satisfy the 
 curiosity of the public, by giving a short ac- 
 count of that respectable personage Mr. Town, 
 considering him as of the plural, or rather (ac- 
 cording to the Grecians) of the dual number. 
 
 Mr, Town is a fair, black, middle-sized, very 
 short man. He wears his own hair, and a 
 periwig. He is about thirty yeai's of age, and 
 not more than four-and-twenty. He is a stu- 
 dent of the law, and a bachelor of physic. He 
 was bred at the university of Oxford ; where 
 having taken no less than three degrees, he looks 
 down on many learned professors, as his infe- 
 riors : yet, having been tliere but little longer 
 than to take the first degree of bachelor of arts, 
 it has more than once happened, that the Cen- 
 sor-General of all England has been reprimand- 
 ed by the Censor of his College, for neglecting 
 to furnish the usual essay, or, (in the collegiate 
 phrase) the theme of the v/eek. 
 
 This joint description of ourselves will, we 
 hope, satisfy the reader, without any further in- 
 formation. For our own parts, we cannot but 
 be pleased with having raised this monument of 
 our mutual friendship, and if these essays shall 
 continue to be read, when they will no longer 
 make their appeai'auce as the fugitive pieces of 
 the week, we shall be happy in considering, 
 that we are mentioned at the same tinle. We 
 have all the while gone on, as it were, hand in 
 hand together : and while we are both employed 
 in furnishing matter for the paper now before 
 us, v/e amnot help smiling at our thus making 
 our exit together, like the tuo Kings of Brent- 
 ford smelling at one nose^av. W. O. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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