there. But, in the name of goodness, let us make our learning of use to us or not. Was not this a shame, that a philosopher should be thus directed by a cobler? I will be sworn, if it were known how many have suffered in this kind by false spelling since the union, this matter would not long lie thus. What makes these evils the more insupportable is, that they are so easily amended, and nothing done in it. But it is so far from that, that the evil goes on in other arts as well as orthography; places are confounded, as well for want of proper distinctions, as things for want of true characters. Had I not come by the other day very early in the morning, there might have been mischief done: for a worthy North Briton was swearing at Stocks Market, that they would not let him in at his lodgings; but I knowing the gentleman, and observing him look often at the king on horseback, and then double his oaths that he was sure he was right, found that he had mistook that for Charing Cross, by the ercetion of the like statue in each place. I grant, private men may distinguish their abodes as they please: as one of my acquaintance who lives at Marybone, has put a good sentence of his own invention upon his dwelling-place, to find out where he lives: he is so near London, that his conceit is this, the country in town;' or, 'the town in the country;' for, you know, if they are both in one, they are all one. Besides that, the ambiguity is not of great consequence; if you are safe at the place, it is no matter if you do not distinctly know where the place is. But to return to the orthography of public places: I propose, that every tradesman in the cities of London and Westminster shall give me six-pence a quarter for keeping their signs in repair as to the grammatical part; and I will take into my house a Swiss count of my acquaintance, who can remember all their names without book, for despatch sake, setting up the head of the said foreigner for my sign; the features being strong, and fit for hanging high. St. James's Coffee-house, May 20. This day a mail arrived from Holland, by which there are advices from Paris, that the kingdom of France is in the utmost misery and distraction. The merchants of Lyons have been at Court, to remonstrate their great sufferings by the failure of their public credit; but have received no other satisfaction, than promises of a sudden peace; and that their debts will be made good by funds out of the revenue, which will not answer, but in case of the peace which is promised. In the mean time, the cries of the common people are loud for want of bread, the gentry have lost all spirit and zeal for their country, and the king himself seems to languish under the anxiety of the pressing calamities of the nation, and retires from hearing those grievances which he hath not power to redress. Instead of preparations for war, and the defence of their country, there is nothing to be seen but evident marks of a general despair; processions, fastings, public mournings and humiliations, are become the sole employments of a people, who were lately the most vain and gay in the universe. The Pope has written to the French King on the subject of a peace; and his Majesty has auswered in the lowliest terms, that he entirely submits his affairs to Divine Providence, and shall soon show the world, that he prefers the tranquility of his people to the glory of his arms, and extent of his conquests. Letters from the Hague of the twenty-fourth say, that His Excellency the Lord Townshend delivered his eredentials on that day to the States-General, as Plenipotentiary from the Queen of Great Britain; as did also Count Zinzendorf, who bears the same character from the Emperor. Prince Eugene intended to set out the next day for Brussels, and His Grace the Duke of Marlborough on the Tuesday following. The Marquis de Torcy talks daily of going, but still continues there. The army of the allies is to assemble on the seventh of next month at Helchin; though it is generally believed that the preliminaries to a treaty are fully adjusted. The approach of the peace strikes a panic through our armies, though that of a battle could never do it, and they almost repent of their bravery, that made such haste to humble themselves and the French King. The Duke of Marlborough, though otherwise the greatest general of the age, has plainly shewn himself unacquainted with the arts of husbanding a war. He might have grown as old as the Duke of Alva, or Prince Waldeck in the Low Countries, and yet have got reputation enough every year for any reasonable man: for the command of general in Flanders hath been ever looked upon as a provision for life. For my part I cannot see how his Grace can answer it to the world, for the great eagerness he hath shewn to send a hundred thousand of the bravest fellows in Europe a-begging. But the private gentleman of the infantry will be able to shift for themselves; a brave man can never starve in a country stocked with hen-roosts. There is not a yard of linen,' says my honoured progenitor Sir John Falstaff, in my whole company: but, as for that, says the worthy knight, I am in no great pain; we shall find shirts on every hedge.' There is another sort of gentlemen whom I am much more concerned for, and that is the ingenious fraternity of which I have the honour to be an unworthy member; I mean the news-writers of Great Britain, whether post-men or post-boys, or by what other name or title soever dignified or distinguished. The case of these gentlemen is, I think, more hard than that of the soldiers, considering that they have taken more towns, and fought more battles. They have been upon parties and skirmishes, when our armies have lain still; and given the general assault to many a place, when the besiegers were quiet in their trenches. They have made us masters of several strong towns many weeks before our generals could do it; and completed victories, when our greatest captains have been glad tə come off with a drawn battle. Where Prince Eugene has slain his thousands, Boyer has slain his ten thousands. This gentleman can indeed be never enough commended for his courage and intrepidity during this whole war: he has laid about him with an inexpressible fury; and, like the offended Marius of ancient Rome, made such havoc among his countrymen, as must be the work of two or three ages to repair. It must be confessed, the redoubted Mr. Buckley has shed as much blood as the former; but I cannot forbear saying (and I hope it will not look like envy) that we regard our brother Buckley as a kind of Drawcan sir, who spares neither friend nor foe; but generally kills as many of his own side as the enemy's. It is impossible for this ingenious sort of men to subsist after a peace: every one remembers the shifts that they were driven to in the reign of King Charles the Second, when they could not furnish out a single paper of news without lighting up a comet in Germany, or a fire in Moscow. There scarce appeared a letter without a paragraph on an earthquake. Prodigies were grown so familiar, that they had lost their name, as a great poet of that age has it. I remember Mr. Dyer, who is justly looked upon by all the fox-hunters in the nation as the greatest statesman our country has produced, was particularly famous for dealing in whales; insomuch, that in five months time (for I had the curiosity to examine his letters on that occasion) he brought three into the mouth of the river Thames, besides two porpoises and a sturgeon. The judicious and wary Mr. Ichabod Dawks hath all along been the rival of this great writer, and got himself a reputation from plagues and famines; by which, in those days, he destroyed as great multitudes as he has lately done by the sword. In every dearth of news, Grand Cairo was sure to be unpeopled. It being therefore visible, that our society will be greater sufferers by the peace than the soldiery itself, insomuch that the Daily Courant is in danger of being broken, my friend Dyer of being reformed, and the very best of the whole band of being reduced to half-pay; might I presume to offer any thing in the behalf of my distressed brethren, I would humbly move, that an appendix of proper apartments, furnished with pen, ink, and paper, and other necessaries of life, should be added to the hospital of Chelsea, for the relief of such decayed news-writers as have served their country in the wars; and that, for their exercise, they should compile the annals of their brother veterans, who have been engaged in the same service, and are still obliged to do duty after the same manner. I cannot be thought to speak this out of an eye to any private interest; for as my chief scenes of action are coffee-houses, play-houses, and my own apartment, I am in no need of camps, fortifications, and fields of battle to support me; I do not call for heroes and generals to my assistance. Though the officers are broken, and the armies disbanded I shall still be safe, as long as there are men, or women, or politicians, or lovers, or poets, or nymphs, or swains, or cits, or courtiers, in being. No. 19.] TUESDAY, MAY 24, 1709. From my own Apartment, May 23. There is nothing can give a man of any consideration greater pain, than to see order and distinction laid aside amongst men, especially when the rank (of which he himself is member) is intruded upon by such as have no pretence to that honour. The appellation of Esquire is the most notoriously abused in this kind, of any class amongst men; insomuch, that it is become almost the subject of derision: but I will be bold to say, this behaviour towards it proceeds from the ignorance of the people in its true origin. I shall therefore as briefly as possible, do myself and all true Esquires the justice to look into antiquity upon this subject. In the first ages of the world, before the invention of jointures and settlements, when the noble passion of love had possession of the hearts of men, and the fair sex were not yet cultivated into the merciful disposition which they have showed in latter centuries, it was natural for great and heroic spirits to retire to rivulets, woods, and caves, to lament their destiny, and the cruelty of the fair persons who are deaf to their lamentations. The hero in this distress was generally in armour, and in à readiness to fight any man he met with, especially if distinguished by any extraordinary qualifications: it being the nature of heroic love to hate all merit, lest it should come within the observation of the cruel one by whom its own perfections are neglected. A lover of this kind had always about him a person of a second value, and subordinate to him, who could hear his afflictions, carry an enchantment for his wounds, hold his helmet when he was eating (if ever he did eat) or in his absence, when he was retired to his apartment in any king's palace, tell the prince himself, or perhaps his daughter, the birth, parentage, and adventures of his valiant master. This trusty companion was styled his Esquire, and was always fit for any offices about him; was as gentle and chaste as a gentleman-usher, quick and active as an equerry, smooth and eloquent as the masters of the ceremonies. A man thus qualified was the first, as the ancients affirm, who was called an Esquire; and none without these accomplishments ought to assume our order: but, to the utter disgrace and confusion of the heralds, every pretender is admitted into this fraternity, even persons the most foreign to this courteous institution. I have taken an inventory of all within this city, and looked over every letter in the Postoffice, for my better information. There are of the middle Temple, including all in the buttery-books, and in the lists of the house, five thousand. In the Inner, four thousand. In the King's-Bench Walks, the whole buildings are inhabited by Esquires only. The adjacent street of Essex, from Morris's Coffeehouse, and the turning towards the Grecian, you cannot meet one who is not an Esquire, until you take water. Every house in Norfolk and Arundel streets is also governed by an Esquire, or his Lady: Soho-square, Bloomsbury-square, and all other places where the floors rise above nine feet, are so many universities, where you enter yourself, and become of our order. However, if this were the worst of the evil, it were to be supported, because they are generally men of some figure and use: though I know no pretence they have to an honour which had its rise from chivalry. But if you travel into the countries of Great Britain, we are still more imposed upon by innovation. We are indeed derived from the field but shall that give title to all that ride mad after foxes; that halloo when they see a hare, or venture their necks full speed after a hawk, immediately to commence Esquires? No; our order is temperate, cleanly, sober, and chaste; but these rural Esquires commit immodesties upon hay-cocks, wear shirts half a week, and are drunk twice a day. These men are also, to the last degree, excessive in their food: an Esquire of Norfolk eats two pounds of dumplin every meal, as if obliged to it by our order: an Esquire of Hampshire is as ravenous in devouring hogs' flesh: one of Essex has as little mercy on calves. But I must take the liberty to protest against them, and acquaint those persons, that it is not the quantity they eat, but the manner of eating, that shows an Esquire. But, above all, I am most offended at small-quillmen, and tran scribing clerks, who are all come into our order, for no reason that I know of, but that they can easily flourish at the end of their name. I will undertake that, if you read the superscriptions to all the offices in the kingdom, you will not find three letters directed to any but Esquires. I have myself a couple of clerks, and the rogues make nothing of leaving messages upon each other's desk: one directs, To Gregory Goosequill, Esquire;' to which the other replies by a note, 'To Nehemiah Dashwell, Esquire, with respect;' in a word, it is now Populus Ārmigerorum, a people of Esquires. And I do not know but, by the late act of naturalization, foreigners will assume that title, as part of the immunity of being Englishmen. All these improprieties flow from the negligence of the Heralds office. Those gentlemen in party-coloured habits do not so rightly, as they ought, understand themselves; though they are dressed cap-a-pee in hieroglyphics, they are inwardly but ignorant men. I asked an acquaintance of mine, who is a man of wit, but of no fortune, and is forced to appear as a jack-pudding on the stage to a mountebank: 'Pry'thee, Jack, why is your coat of so many colours?' He replied, I act as fool; and this spotted dress is to signify, that every man living has a weak place about him; for I am knight of the shire, and represent you all.' I wish the heralds would know as well as this man does, in his way, that they are to act for us in the case of our arms and appellations: we should not then be jumbled together in so promiscuous and absurd a manner. I design to take this matter into further consideration; and no man shall be received as an Esquire, who cannot bring a certificate, that he has conquered some lady's obdurate heart; that he can lead up a country-dance; or carry a message between her and her lover, with address, secrecy, and diligence. A Squire is properly born for the service of the sex, and his credentials shall be signed by three toasts and one prude, before his title shall be received in my office. I received yours, and am sensible of the address and capacity with which you have hitherto transacted the great affairs under your management. You well observe, that our wants here are not to be concealed: and that it is vanity to use artifices with the knowing men with whom you are to deal. Let me beg you, therefore, in this representation of our circumstances, to lay aside art, which ceases to be such when it is seen, and make use of all your skill to gain us what advantages you can from the enemy's jealousy of each other's greatness; which is the place where only you have room for any dexterity. If you have any passion for your unhappy country, or any affection for your distressed master, come home with peace. Oh heaven! do I live to talk of Lewis the Great, as the object of pity? The king shows a great uneasiness to be informed of all that passes: but, at the same time, is fearful of every one who appears in his presence, lest he should ring an account of some new calamity. I know not in what terms to represent my thoughts to you, when I speak of the king, with relation to his bodily health. Figure to yourself that immortal man, who stood in our public places represented with trophies, armour, and terrors, on his pedestal: com sider, the invincible, the great, the good, the pious, the mighty, which were the usual epithets we gare On Saturday last was presented the Busy Body, a him, both in our language and thoughts. I saỹ, comedy, written (as I have heretofore remarked) by consider him whom you knew the greatest and mos; a woman, The plot and incidents of the play are laid glorious of monarchs, and now think you see the same with that subtilty of spirit which is peculiar to females man an unhappy lazar, in the lowest circumstances of of wit, and is very seldom well performed by those of human nature itself, without regard to the state from the other sex, in whom craft in love is an act of inven- | whence he is fallen. I write from his bedside; he is tion, and not, as with women, the effect of nature and at present in a slumber. I have many, many things instinct. to add; but my tears flow too fast, and my sorrow is too big for utterance, Will's Coffee-house, May 23. 'I am, &c! There is such a veneration due from all men to the Tomorrow will be acted a play, called, The Trip to the Jubilee. This performance is the greatest instance that we can have of the irresistible force of proper action. The dialogue in itself has something too low to bear a criticism upon it: but Mr. Wilks Persons of princes, that it were a sort of dishonesty enters into the part with so much skill, that the gal-in; but it is certain, that, soon after the receipt of to represent further the condition which the king is lantry, the youth, and gaiety of a young man of a these advices, Monsieur Torcy waited upon his grace plentiful fortune, are looked upon with as much the Duke of Marlborough and the Lord Townshend: indulgence on the stage, as in real life, without any and in that conference gave up many points, which he of those intermixtures of wit and humour, which had before said were such as he must return to France usually prepossess us in favour of such characters in before he could answer. other plays. St. James's Coffee-house, May 23. Letters from the Hague of the twenty-third instant, N. S. say, that Mr. Walpole (who is since arrived) was going with all expedition to Great Britain, whither they doubted not but he carried with him the preliminaries to a treaty of peace. The French Minister, monsieur Torcy, has been observed, in this whole negociation, to turn his discourse upon the calamities sent down by heaven upon France, and imputed the necessities they were under to the immediate hand of Providence, in inflicting a general scarcity of provision, rather than the superior genius of the generals, or the bravery of the armies against them. It would be impious not to acknowledge the indulgence of heaven to us; but, at the same time, as we are to love our enemies, we are glad to see them mortified enough to mix Christianity with their politics. An authentic letter from Madam Maintenon to Monsieur Torcy has been stolen by a person about him, who has communicated a copy of it to some of the dependents of a minister of the allies. That epistle is writ in the most pathetic manner imaginable, and in a style which shows her genius, that has so long engrossed the heart of this great monarch, No. 20,] THURSDAY, MAY 26, 1709. White's Chocolate-house, May 24. It is not to be imagined how far prepossession will run away with people's understandings, in cases wherein they are under present uneasiness. The following narration is a sufficient testimony of the truth of this observation. I had the honour the other day of a visit from a gentlewoman (a stranger to me) who seemed to be about thirty. Her complexion is brown; but the air of her face has an agreeableness which surpasses the beauties of the fairest women. There appeared in her look and mien a sprightly health; and her eyes had too much vivacity to become the language of complaint, which she began to enter into. She seemed sensible of it; and therefore, with downcast looks, she said, 'Mr. Bickerstaff, you see before you the unhappiest of women; and therefore, as you are esteemed by all the world both a great civilian, as well as an astrologer, I must desire your advice and assistance, in putting me in a method of obtaining a divorce from a marriage, which I know the law will pronounce void,' Madam,' said I, ' your grievance is of such a nature, that you must be very ingenious in representing the causes of your complaint, or I cannot give you the satisfaction you desire. Sir,' she answers, I believe there would be no need of half your skill in the art of divination, to guess why a woman would part from her husband,' It is true,' said I; but suspicions, or guesses at what you mean, nay certainty of it, except you plainly speak it, are no foundation for a formal suit. She clapped her fan before her face; My husband,' said she, is no more a husband' (here she burst into tears) than one of the Italian singers." · Madan,' said I, the affliction you complain of is to be redressed by law; but, at the same time, consider what mortifications you are to go through, in bringing it into open court; how will you be able to bear the impertinent whispers of the people present at the trial, the licentious reflections of the pleaders, and the interpretations that will in general be put upon your conduct by all the world? How little (will they say) could that lady command her passions!" Besides, consider, that curbing our desire is the greatest glory that we can arrive at in this world, and will be most rewarded in the next.' She answered, like a prudent matron: Sir, if you please to remember the office of matrimony, the first cause of its institution is that of having posterity. Therefore, as to the curbing desires, I am willing to undergo any abstinence from food as you please to enjoin me; but I cannot, with any quiet of mind, live in the neglect of a necessary duty, and an express commandment, Increase and multiply.' Observing she was learned, and knew so well the duties of life, I turned my arguments rather to dehort her from this public procedure by examples than precepts. Do but consider, madam, what crowds of beauteous women live in nunneries, secluded for ever from the sight and conversation of men, with all the alacrity of spirit imaginable; they spend their time in heavenly raptures, in constant and frequent devotions, and at proper hours in agreeable conversations.' Sir,' said she hastily, tell not me of Papists, or any of their idolatries.' Well then, madam, consider how many fine ladies live innocently in the eye of the world, and this gay town, in the midst of temptation: there is the witty Mrs, W- is a virgin of forty-four, Mrs. T-s is thirty-nine, Mrs. L- ce thirty-three; yet you see they laugh, and are gay, at the park, at the playhouse, at balls, and at visits; and so much at ease, that all this seems hardly a self-denial.' Mr. Bickerstaff, said she, with some emotion, you are an excellent casuist; but the last word destroyed your whole argument; if it is not self-denial, it is no virtue. I presented you with an half-guinea, in hopes not only to have my conscience eased, but my fortune told. Yet'- Well, madam,' said I, pray of what age is your husband?' He is,' replied my injured client, fifty; and I have been his wife fifteen years.' 'How happened it you never communicated your distress, in all this time, to your friends and relations?" She answered, He has been thus but a fortnight.' I am the most serious man in the world to look at, and yet could not forbear laughing out. Why, madam, in case of infirmity which proceeds only from age, the law gives no remedy.' Sir,' said she, I find you have no more learning than Dr. Case; and I am told of a young man, not five-and-twenty, just come from Oxford, to whom I will communicate this whole matter, and doubt not but he will appear to have seven times more useful and satisfactory knowledge than you and all your boasted family.' Thus I have entirely lost my client but if this tedious narrative preserves Pastorella from the intended marriage with one twenty years her senior to save a fine lady, I am contented to have my learning decried, and my predictions bound up with poor Robin's almanacks. Will's Coffee-house, May 25. This evening was acted the Recruiting Officer, in which Mr. Eastcourt's proper sense and observation There is not, in my is what supports the play. humble opinion, the humour hit in Sergeant Kite; but it is admirably supplied by his action. If I have skill to judge, that man is an excellent actor; but the crowd of the audience are fitter for representations at May-fair, than a theatre-royal. Yet that fair is now broke, as well as the theatre is breaking; but it is allowed still to sell animals there. Therefore, if any lady or gentleman have occasion for a tame elephant, let them enquire of Mr. Pinkethman, who has one to The downfall of dispose of at a reasonable rate, May-fair has quite sunk the price of this noble creature, as well as of many other curiosities of nature. A tiger will sell almost as cheap as an ox; and, I am credibly informed, a man may purchase a cat with three legs, for very near the value of one with four. I hear likewise that there is a great desolation among the gentlemen and ladies who were the ornaments of the town, and used to shine in plumes and diadems; the heroes being most of them pressed, and the Mrs. Sarabrand, so famous queens beating hemp. for her ingenious puppet-show, has set up a shop in the Exchange, where she sells her little troop under the term of jointed babies, I could not but be solicitous to know of her, how she had disposed of that rakehell, Punch, whose lewd life and conversation had given so much scandal, and did not a little contribute to the ruin of the fair. She told me with a sigh, That, despairing of ever reclaiming him, she would not offer to place him in a civil family, but got him in a post upon a stall in Wapping, where he may be seen from sun-rising to sun-setting, with a glass in one hand, and a pipe in the other, as centry to a brandy-shop.' The great revolutions of this nature bring to my mind the distresses of the unfortunate Camilla, who has had the ill luck to break before her voice, and to disappear at a time when her beauty was in the height of its bloom. This lady entered so thoroughly into the great characters she acted, that when she had finished her parts she could not think of retrenching her equipage, but would appear in her own lodgings with the same magnificence that she did upon the stage. This greatness of soul had reduced that unhappy princess to an involuntary retirement, where she now passes her time among the woods and forests, thinking on the crowns and sceptres she has lost, and often humming over in her solitude, I was born of royal race, Yet must wander in disgrace, &c. Naqui al regno, naqui al trono, I venturata pastorella. Since I have touched upon this subject, I shall communicate to my reader part of a letter I have received from an ingenious friend at Amsterdam, where there is a very nobie theatre; though the manner of furnishing with actors is something peculiar to that place, and gives us occasion to admire both the politeness and frugality of the people, My friends have kept me here a week longer than ordinary, to see one of their plays, which was performed last night with great applause. The actors are all of them tradesmen; who, after their day's work is over, earn about a guilder a-night by personating kings and generals. The hero of the tragedy I saw was a journeyman tailor, and his first minister of state a coffee-man. The empress made me think of Parthenope in the Rehearsal; for her mother keeps an alehouse in the suburbs of Amsterdam. When the tragedy was over, they entertained us with a short farce, in which the cobbler did his part to a miracle; but, upon enquiry, I found he had really been working at his own trade, and representing on the stage what he acted every day in his shop. The profits of the theatre maintain an hospital; for, as here they do not think the profession of an actor the only trade that a man ought to exercise; so they will not allow any body to grow rich in a profession that, in their opinion, so little conduces to the good of the commonwealth. If I am not mistaken, your playhouses in England have done the same thing; for, unless I am misinformed, the hospital at Dulwich was erected and endowed by Mr. Alleyn, a player: and it is also said, a famous she-tragedian has settled her estate, after her death, for the maintenance of decayed wits, who are to be taken in as soon as they grow dull, at whatever time of their life that shall happen.' St. James's Coffee-house, May 25. Letters from the Hague of the thirty-first instant, N. S. say, that the articles preliminary to a general peace were settled, communicated to the statesgeneral, and all the foreign ministers residing there, and transmitted to their respective masters on the twenty-eighth. Monsieur Torcy immediately returned to the court of France, from whence he is expected again on the fourth of the next month with those articles ratified by that court. The Hague is agreed upon for the place of treaty, and the fifteenth of the next month the day on which it is to commence. The terms whereon this negotiation is founded are not yet delivered by public authority; but, what is most generally received, is as follows: Her Majesty's right and title, and the Protestant succession to these dominions is forthwith to be acknowledged. King Charles is to be owned the lawful sovereign of Spain. The French King shall not only recall his troops out of that kingdom, and deliver up to the allies the towns of Roses, Fontarabia, and Pampelona; but, in case the Duke of Anjou shall not retire out of the Spanish dominions, he shall be obliged to assist the allies to force him from thence. A cessation of arms is agreed upon for two months from the first day of the treaty. The port and fortifications of Dunkirk are to be demolished within four months; but the town itself left in the hands of the French. The pretender is to be obliged to leave France. All Newfoundland is to be restored to the English. As to the other parts of America, the French are to restore whatever they may have taken from the English, as the English in like manner are to give up what they may have taken from the French, before the commencement of the treaty. The trade between Great Britain and France shall be settled upon the same foundation as in the reign of King Charles the Second. The Dutch are to have for their barriers, Newport, Berg, St. Vinox, Furnes, Ipres, Lisle, Tournay, Douay, Valenciennes, Conde, Maubeuge, Mons, Charleroy, Namur, and Luxemburg; all which places shall be delivered up to the allies before the end of June. The trade between Holland and France shall be on the same foot as in 1664. The cities of Strasburg, Brisac, and Alsatia, shall be restored to the Emperor and empire; and the King of France, pursuant to the treaty of Westphalia in 1648, shall only retain the protection of ten imperial cities, viz. Colmar, Schlestat, Haguenau, Munster, Turkeim, Keisember, Obrenheim, Rosheim, Weisemberg, and Landau. Huninguan, Fort-Louis, Fort-Khiel, and NewBrisac shall be demolished, and all the fortifications from Basil to Philipsburg. The King of Prussia shall remain in the peaceable possession of Neufchatel. The affair of Orange, as also the pretensions of his Prussian Majesty in the Franche Comté, shall be determined at this general negotiation of peace. The Duke of Savoy shall have a restitution made of all that has been taken from him by the French, and remain master of Exilles, Chamont, Fenestrelles, and the valley of Pragelas. No. 21.] SATURDAY, MAY 28, 1709. White's Chocolate-house, May 26. A gentleman has writ to me out of the country a very civil letter, and said things which I suppress with great violence to my vanity. There are many terms in my narratives which he complains want explaining; and has therefore desired that, for the benefit of my country readers, I would let him know what I mean by a Gentleman, a Pretty Fellow, a Toast, a Coquet, a Critic, a Wit, and all other appellations of those now in the gayer world, who are in possession of these several characters; together with an account of those who unfortunately pretend to them. I shall begin with him we usually call a Gentleman, or man of conversation. It is generally thought, that warmth of imagination, quick relish of pleasure, and a manner of becoming it, are the most essential qualities for forming this sort of man. But any one that is much in company will observe, that the height of good breeding is shown rather in never giving offence, than in doing obliging things. Thus he that never shocks you, though he is seldom entertaining is more likely to keep your favour, than he who oftens entertains, and sometimes displeases you. The most necessary talent therefore in a man of conversation, which is what we ordinarily intend by a fine gentleman, is a good judgment. He that has this in perfection, is master of his companion, without letting him see it; and has the same advantage over men of any other qualifications whatsoever, as one that can see would have over a blind man of ten times his strength. This is what makes Sophronius the darling of all who converse with him, and the most powerful with his acquaintance of any man in town. By the light of this faculty he acts with great ease and freedom among the men of pleasure, and acquits himself with skill and despatch among the men of business. All which he performs with such success, that, with as much discretion in life as any man ever had, he neither is, nor appears cunning. But as he does a good office, if ever he does it, with readiness and alacrity, so he denies what he does not care to engage in, in a manner that convinces you that you ought not to have asked it. His judgment is so good and unerring, and accompanied with so cheerful a spirit, that his conversation is a continual feast, at which he helps some, and is helped by others, in |