Books: Isaac Bickerstaff
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Richard Steele >> Isaac Bickerstaff
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XXIII.--TWO OLD LADIES.
From my own Apartment, December 2O, 171O.
It would be a good appendix to "The Art of Living and Dying" if any
one would write "The Art of growing Old," and teach men to resign
their pretensions to the pleasures and gallantries of youth in
proportion to the alteration they find in themselves by the approach
of age and infirmities. The infirmities of this stage of life would
be much fewer if we did not affect those which attend the more
vigorous and active part of our days; but instead of studying to be
wiser, or being contented with our present follies, the ambition of
many of us is also to be the same sort of fools we formerly have
been. I have often argued, as I am a professed lover of women, that
our sex grows old with a much worse grace than the other does; and
have ever been of opinion that there are more well-pleased old women
than old men. I thought it a good reason for this, that the
ambition of the fair sex being confined to advantageous marriages,
or shining in the eyes of men, their parts were over sooner, and
consequently the errors in the performance of them. The
conversation of this evening has not convinced me of the contrary;
for one or two fop-women shall not make a balance for the crowd of
coxcombs among ourselves, diversified according to the different
pursuits of pleasure and business.
Returning home this evening, a little before my usual hour, I scarce
had seated myself in my easy-chair, stirred the fire, and stroked my
cat, but I heard somebody come rumbling upstairs. I saw my door
opened, and a human figure advancing towards me so fantastically put
together that it was some minutes before I discovered it to be my
old and intimate friend Sam Trusty. Immediately I rose up, and
placed him in my own seat; a compliment I pay to few. The first
thing he uttered was, "Isaac, fetch me a cup of your cherry brandy
before you offer to ask any question." He drank a lusty draught,
sat silent for some time, and at last broke out: "I am come," quoth
he, "to insult thee for an old fantastic dotard, as thou art, in
ever defending the women. I have this evening visited two widows,
who are now in that state I have often heard you call an after-life;
I suppose you mean by it an existence which grows out of past
entertainments, and is an untimely delight in the satisfactions
which they once set their hearts upon too much to be ever able to
relinquish. Have but patience," continued he, "till I give you a
succinct account of my ladies and of this night's adventure. They
are much of an age, but very different in their characters. The one
of them, with all the advances which years have made upon her, goes
on in a certain romantic road of love and friendship, which she fell
into in her teens; the other has transferred the amorous passions of
her first years to the love of cronies, pets, and favourites, with
which she is always surrounded; but the genius of each of them will
best appear by the account of what happened to me at their houses.
About five this afternoon, being tired with study, the weather
inviting, and time lying a little upon my hands, I resolved, at the
instigation of my evil genius, to visit them; their husbands having
been our contemporaries. This I thought I could do without much
trouble; for both live in the very next street. I went first to my
lady Camomile; and the butler, who had lived long in the family, and
seen me often in his master's time, ushered me very civilly into the
parlour, and told me, though my lady had given strict orders to be
denied, he was sure I might be admitted, and bid the black boy
acquaint his lady that I was come to wait upon her. In the window
lay two letters; one broken open, the other fresh sealed with a
wafer; the first directed to the divine Cosmelia, the second to the
charming Lucinda; but both, by the indented characters, appeared to
have been writ by very unsteady hands. Such uncommon addresses
increased my curiosity, and put me upon asking my old friend the
butler if he knew who those persons were. 'Very well,' says he;
'this is from Mrs. Furbish to my lady, an old schoolfellow and great
crony of her ladyship's: and this the answer.' I inquired in what
county she lived. 'Oh, dear!' says he, 'but just by, in the
neighbourhood. Why, she was here all this morning, and that letter
came and was answered within these two hours. They have taken an
odd fancy, you must know, to call one another hard names; but, for
all that, they love one another hugely.' By this time the boy
returned with his lady's humble service to me, desiring I would
excuse her; for she could not possibly see me, nor anybody else, for
it was opera-night."
"Methinks," says I, "such innocent folly as two old women's
courtship to each other should rather make you merry than put you
out of humour." "Peace, good Isaac," says he, "no interruption, I
beseech you. I got soon to Mrs. Feeble's, she that was formerly
Betty Frisk; you must needs remember her; Tom Feeble, of Brazen
Nose, fell in love with her for her fine dancing. Well, Mrs.
Ursula, without further ceremony, carries me directly up to her
mistress's chamber, where I found her environed by four of the most
mischievous animals than can ever infest a family; an old shock dog
with one eye, a monkey chained to one side of the chimney, a great
grey squirrel to the other, and a parrot waddling in the middle of
the room. However, for awhile all was in a profound tranquillity.
Upon the mantle-tree, for I am a pretty curious observer, stood a
pot of lambative electuary, with a stick of liquorice, and near it a
phial of rose-water, and powder of tutty. Upon the table lay a pipe
filled with betony and colt's-foot, a roll of wax-candle, a silver
spitting-pot, and a Seville orange. The lady was placed in a large
wicker chair, and her feet wrapped up in flannel, supported by
cushions; and in this attitude--would you believe it, Isaac?--was
she reading a romance with spectacles on. The first compliments
over, as she was industriously endeavouring to enter upon
conversation, a violent fit of coughing seized her. This awakened
Shock, and in a trice the whole room was in an uproar; for the dog
barked, the squirrel squealed, the monkey chattered, the parrot
screamed, and Ursula, to appease them, was more clamorous than all
the rest. You, Isaac, who know how any harsh noise affects my head,
may guess what I suffered from the hideous din of these discordant
sounds. At length all was appeased, and quiet restored: a chair
was drawn for me; where I was no sooner seated, but the parrot fixed
his horny beak, as sharp as a pair of shears, in one of my heels,
just above the shoe. I sprang from the place with an unusual
agility, and so, being within the monkey's reach, he snatches off my
new bob-wig, and throws it upon two apples that were roasting by a
sullen sea-coal fire. I was nimble enough to save it from any
further damage than singeing the fore-top. I put it on; and
composing myself as well as I could, I drew my chair towards the
other side of the chimney. The good lady, as soon as she had
recovered breath, employed it in making a thousand apologies, and,
with great eloquence, and a numerous train of words, lamented my
misfortune. In the middle of her harangue, I felt something
scratching near my knee, and feeling what it should be, found the
squirrel had got into my coat-pocket. As I endeavoured to remove
him from his burrow, he made his teeth meet through the fleshy part
of my forefinger. This gave me an unexpressible pain. The Hungary
water was immediately brought to bathe it, and goldbeater's skin
applied to stop the blood. The lady renewed her excuses; but, being
now out of all patience, I abruptly took my leave, and hobbling
downstairs with heedless haste, I set my foot full in a pail of
water, and down we came to the bottom together." Here my friend
concluded his narrative, and, with a composed countenance, I began
to make him compliments of condolence; but he started from his
chair, and said, "Isaac, you may spare your speeches; I expect no
reply. When I told you this, I knew you would laugh at me; but the
next woman that makes me ridiculous shall be a young one."
XXIV.--MARIA CALLS IN SHIRE LANE.
From my own Apartment, November 7, 17O9.
I was very much surprised this evening with a visit from one of the
top Toasts of the town, who came privately in a chair, and bolted
into my room, while I was reading a chapter of Agrippa upon the
occult sciences; but, as she entered with all the air and bloom that
nature ever bestowed on woman, I threw down the conjurer, and met
the charmer. I had no sooner placed her at my right hand by the
fire, but she opened to me the reason of her visit. "Mr.
Bickerstaff," said the fine creature, "I have been your
correspondent some time, though I never saw you before; I have
written by the name of Maria. You have told me you were too far
gone in life to think of love. Therefore, I am answered as to the
passion I spoke of; and," continued she, smiling, "I will not stay
till you grow young again, as you men never fail to do in your
dotage, but am come to consult you about disposing of myself to
another. My person you see; my fortune is very considerable; but I
am at present under much perplexity how to act in a great
conjuncture. I have two lovers, Crassus and Lorio; Crassus is
prodigiously rich, but has no one distinguishing quality; though at
the same time he is not remarkable on the defective side. Lorio has
travelled, is well bred, pleasant in discourse, discreet in his
conduct, agreeable in his person; and, with all this, he has a
competency of fortune without superfluity. When I consider Lorio,
my mind is filled with an idea of the great satisfactions of a
pleasant conversation. When I think of Crassus, my equipage,
numerous servants, gay liveries, and various dresses, are opposed to
the charms of his rival. In a word when I cast my eyes upon Lorio,
I forget and despise fortune; when I behold Crassus, I think only of
pleasing my vanity, and enjoying an uncontrolled expense in all the
pleasures of life, except love." She paused here.
"Madam," said I, "I am confident that you have not stated your case
with sincerity, and that there is some secret pang which you have
concealed from me; for I see by your aspect the generosity of your
mind; and that open, ingenuous air lets me know that you have too
great a sense of the generous passion of love to prefer the
ostentation of life in the arms of Crassus to the entertainments and
conveniences of it in the company of your beloved Lorio: for so he
is indeed, madam; you speak his name with a different accent from
the rest of your discourse. The idea his image raises in you gives
new life to your features, and new grace to your speech. Nay, blush
not, madam; there is no dishonour in loving a man of merit. I
assure you, I am grieved at this dallying with yourself, when you
put another in competition with him, for no other reason but
superior wealth."--"To tell you, then," said she, "the bottom of my
heart, there is Clotilda lies by, and plants herself in the way of
Crassus, and I am confident will snap him if I refuse him. I cannot
bear to think that she will shine above me. When our coaches meet,
to see her chariot hung behind with four footmen, and mine with but
two: hers, powdered, gay, and saucy, kept only for show; mine, a
couple of careful rogues that are good for something: I own I
cannot bear that Clotilda should be in all the pride and wantonness
of wealth, and I only in the ease and affluence of it."
Here I interrupted: "Well, madam, now I see your whole affliction;
you could be happy, but that you fear another would be happier. Or
rather, you could be solidly happy, but that another is to be happy
in appearance. This is an evil which you must get over, or never
know happiness. We will put the case, madam, that you married
Crassus, and she Lorio." She answered: "Speak not of it; I could
tear her eyes out at the mention of it."--"Well, then, I pronounce
Lorio to be the man; but I must tell you that what we call settling
in the world is, in a kind, leaving it; and you must at once resolve
to keep your thoughts of happiness within the reach of your fortune,
and not measure it by comparison with others."
XXV.--SISTER JENNY AND HER HUSBAND.
From my own Apartment, October
24.
My brother Tranquillus, who is a man of business, came to me this
morning into my study, and after very many civil expressions in
return for what good offices I had done him, told me "he desired to
carry his wife, my sister, that very morning to his own house." I
readily told him "I would wait upon him" without asking why he was
so impatient to rob us of his good company. He went out of my
chamber, and I thought seemed to have a little heaviness upon him,
which gave me some disquiet. Soon after my sister came to me with a
very matron-like air, and most sedate satisfaction in her looks,
which spoke her very much at ease; but the traces of her countenance
seemed to discover that she had lately been in a passion, and that
air of content to flow from a certain triumph upon some advantage
obtained. She no sooner sat down by me but I perceived she was one
of those ladies who begin to be managers within the time of their
being brides. Without letting her speak, which I saw she had a
mighty inclination to do, I said, "Here has been your husband, who
tells me he has a mind to go home this very morning, and I have
consented to it."--"It is well," said she, "for you must know--"
"Nay, Jenny," said I, "I beg your pardon, for it is you must know.
You are to understand, that now is the time to fix or alienate your
husband's heart for ever; and I fear you have been a little
indiscreet in your expressions or behaviour towards him, even here
in my house." "There has," says she, "been some words; but I will
be judged by you if he was not in the wrong: nay, I need not be
judged by anybody, for he gave it up himself, and said not a word
when he saw me grow passionate but, 'Madam, you are perfectly in the
right of it:' as you shall judge--" " Nay, madam," said I, "I am
judge already, and tell you that you are perfectly in the wrong of
it; for if it was a matter of importance, I know he has better sense
than you; if a trifle, you know what I told you on your wedding day,
that you were to be above little provocations." She knows very well
I can be sour upon occasion, therefore gave me leave to go on.
"Sister," said I, "I will not enter into the dispute between you,
which I find his prudence put an end to before it came to extremity;
but charge you to have a care of the first quarrel, as you tender
your happiness; for then it is that the mind will reflect harshly
upon every circumstance that has ever passed between you. If such
an accident is ever to happen, which I hope never will, be sure to
keep the circumstance before you; make no allusions to what is
passed, or conclusions referring to what is to come; do not show a
hoard of matter for dissension in your breast; but, if it is
necessary, lay before him the thing as you understand it, candidly,
without being ashamed of acknowledging an error, or proud of being
in the right. If a young couple be not careful in this point they
will get into a habit of wrangling; and when to displease is thought
of no consequence, to please is always of as little moment. There
is a play, Jenny, I have formerly been at when I was a student; we
got into a dark corner with a porringer of brandy, and threw raisins
into it, then set it on fire. My chamber-fellow and I diverted
ourselves with the sport of venturing our fingers for the raisins;
and the wantonness of the thing was to see each other look like a
demon, as we burnt ourselves, and snatched out the fruit. This
fantastical mirth was called Snap-Dragon. You may go into many a
family, where you see the man and wife at this sport: every word at
their table alludes to some passage between themselves; and you see
by the paleness and emotion in their countenances that it is for
your sake and not their own that they forbear playing out the whole
game in burning each other's fingers. In this case, the whole
purpose of life is inverted, and the ambition turns upon a certain
contention, who shall contradict best, and not upon an inclination
to excel in kindnesses and good offices. Therefore, dear Jenny,
remember me, and avoid Snap-Dragon."
"I thank you, brother," said she, "but you do not know how he loves
me; I find I can do anything with him."--"If you can so, why should
you desire to do anything but please him? But I have a word or two
more before you go out of the room; for I see you do not like the
subject I am upon: let nothing provoke you to fall upon an
imperfection he cannot help; for, if he has a resenting spirit, he
will think your aversion as immovable as the imperfection with which
you upbraid him. But above all, dear Jenny, be careful of one
thing, and you will be something more than woman; that is, a levity
you are almost all guilty of, which is, to take a pleasure in your
power to give pain. It is even in a mistress an argument of
meanness of spirit, but in a wife it is injustice and ingratitude.
When a sensible man once observes this in a woman, he must have a
very great, or very little, spirit to overlook it. A woman ought,
therefore, to consider very often how few men there are who will
regard a meditated offence as a weakness of temper."
I was going on in my confabulation, when Tranquillus entered. She
cast all her eyes upon him with much shame and confusion, mixed with
great complacency and love, and went up to him. He took her in his
arms, and looked so many soft things at one glance that I could see
he was glad I had been talking to her, sorry she had been troubled,
and angry at himself that he could not disguise the concern he was
in an hour before. After which he says to me, with an air awkward
enough, but methought not unbecoming, "I have altered my mind,
brother; we will live upon you a day or two longer." I replied,
"That is what I have been persuading Jenny to ask of you, but she is
resolved never to contradict your inclination, and refused me."
We were going on in that way which one hardly knows how to express;
as when two people mean the same thing in a nice case, but come at
it by talking as distantly from it as they can; when very
opportunely came in upon us an honest, inconsiderable fellow, Tim
Dapper, a gentleman well known to us both. Tim is one of those who
are very necessary, by being very inconsiderable. Tim dropped in at
an incident when we knew not how to fall into either a grave or a
merry way. My sister took this occasion to make off, and Dapper
gave us an account of all the company he had been in to-day, who
was, and who was not at home, where he visited. This Tim is the
head of a species: he is a little out of his element in this town;
but he is a relation of Tranquillus, and his neighbour in the
country, which is the true place of residence for this species. The
habit of a Dapper, when he is at home, is a light broad-cloth, with
calamanco or red waistcoat and breeches; and it is remarkable that
their wigs seldom hide the collar of their coats. They have always
a peculiar spring in their arms, a wriggle in their bodies, and a
trip in their gait. All which motions they express at once in their
drinking, bowing or saluting ladies; for a distant imitation of a
forward fop, and a resolution to overtop him in his way, are the
distinguishing marks of a Dapper. These under-characters of men are
parts of the sociable world by no means to be neglected: they are
like pegs in a building; they make no figure in it, but hold the
structure together, and are as absolutely necessary as the pillars
and columns. I am sure we found it so this morning; for Tranquillus
and I should, perhaps, have looked cold at each other the whole day,
but Dapper fell in, with his brisk way, shook us both by the hand,
rallied the bride, mistook the acceptance he met with amongst us for
extraordinary perfection in himself, and heartily pleased, and was
pleased, all the while he stayed. His company left us all in good
humour, and we were not such fools as to let it sink before we
confirmed it by great cheerfulness and openness in our carriage the
whole evening.
XVII.--LOVE THAT WILL LIVE.
From my own Apartment, December 7.
My brother Tranquillus being gone out of town for some days, my
sister Jenny sent me word she would come and dine with me, and
therefore desired me to have no other company. I took care
accordingly, and was not a little pleased to see her enter the room
with a decent and matron-like behaviour, which I thought very much
became her. I saw she had a great deal to say to me, and easily
discovered in her eyes, and the air of her countenance, that she had
abundance of satisfaction in her heart, which she longed to
communicate. However, I was resolved to let her break into her
discourse her own way, and reduced her to a thousand little devices
and intimations to bring me to the mention of her husband. But,
finding I was resolved not to name him, she began of her own accord.
"My husband," said she, "gives his humble service to you;" to which
I only answered, "I hope he is well;" and, without waiting for a
reply, fell into other subjects. She at last was out of all
patience, and said, with a smile and manner that I thought had more
beauty and spirit than I had ever observed before in her, "I did not
think, brother, you had been so ill-natured. You have seen, ever
since I came in, that I had a mind to talk of my husband, and you
will not be so kind as to give me an occasion."--"I did not know,"
said I, "but it might be a disagreeable subject to you. You do not
take me for so old-fashioned a fellow as to think of entertaining a
young lady with the discourse of her husband. I know nothing is
more acceptable than to speak of one who is to be so; but to speak
of one who is so! indeed, Jenny, I am a better bred man than you
think me." She showed a little dislike at my raillery, and by her
bridling up, I perceived she expected to be treated hereafter not as
Jenny Distaff, but Mrs. Tranquillus. I was very well pleased with
this change in her humour; and, upon talking with her on several
subjects, I could not but fancy that I saw a great deal of her
husband's way and manner in her remarks, her phrases, the tone of
her voice, and the very air of her countenance. This gave me an
unspeakable satisfaction, not only because I had found her a husband
from whom she could learn many things that were laudable, but also
because I looked upon her imitation of him as an infallible sign
that she entirely loved him. This is an observation that I never
knew fail, though I do not remember that any other has made it. The
natural shyness of her sex hindered her from telling me the
greatness of her own passion; but I easily collected it from the
representation she gave me of his. "I have everything," says she,
"in Tranquillus that I can wish for; and enjoy in him, what indeed
you have told me were to be met with in a good husband, the fondness
of a lover, the tenderness of a parent, and the intimacy of a
friend." It transported me to see her eyes swimming in tears of
affection when she spoke. "And is there not, dear sister," said I,
"more pleasure in the possession of such a man than in all the
little impertinences of balls, assemblies, and equipage, which it
cost me so much pains to make you contemn?" She answered, smiling,
"Tranquillus has made me a sincere convert in a few weeks, though I
am afraid you could not have done it in your whole life. To tell
you truly, I have only one fear hanging upon me, which is apt to
give me trouble in the midst of all my satisfactions: I am afraid,
you must know, that I shall not always make the same amiable
appearance in his eye that I do at present. You know, brother
Bickerstaff, that you have the reputation of a conjurer; and if you
have any one secret in your art to make your sister always
beautiful, I should be happier than if I were mistress of all the
worlds you have shown me in a starry night." "Jenny," said I,
"without having recourse to magic, I shall give you one plain rule
that will not fail of making you always amiable to a man who has so
great a passion for you, and is of so equal and reasonable a temper,
as Tranquillus. Endeavour to please, and you must please; be always
in the same disposition as you are when you ask for this secret, and
you may take my word you will never want it. An inviolable
fidelity, good-humour, and complacency of temper outlive all the
charms of a fine face, and make the decays of it invisible."
We discoursed very long upon this head, which was equally agreeable
to us both; for I must confess, as I tenderly love her, I take as
much pleasure in giving her instructions for her welfare as she
herself does in receiving them. I proceeded, therefore, to
inculcate these sentiments by relating a very particular passage
that happened within my own knowledge.
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