[Footnote 260:  “Grandfather” (folio).]

No. 23. [STEELE.

From Tuesday, May 31, to Thursday, June 2, 1709.

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White’s Chocolate-house, May 31.

The generality of mankind are so very fond of this world, and of staying in it, that a man cannot have eminent skill in any one art, but they will, in spite of his teeth, make him a physician also, that being the science the worldlings have most need of.  I pretended, when I first set up, to astrology only; but I am told, I have deep skill also in medicine.  I am applied to now by a gentleman for my advice in behalf of his wife, who, upon the least matrimonial difficulty, is excessively troubled with fits, and can bear no manner of passion without falling into immediate convulsions.  I must confess, it is a case I have known before, and remember the party was recovered by certain words pronounced in the midst of the fit by the learned doctor who performed the cure.  These ails have usually their beginning from the affections of the mind:  therefore you must have patience to let me give you an instance, whereby you may discern the cause of the distemper, and then proceed in the cure as follows: 

A fine town lady was married to a gentleman of ancient descent in one of the counties of Great Britain, who had good humour to a weakness, and was that sort of person, of whom it is usually said, he is no man’s enemy but his own:  one who had too much tenderness of soul to have any authority with his wife; and she too little sense to give him authority for that reason.  His kind wife observed this temper in him, and made proper use of it.  But knowing it was below a gentlewoman to wrangle, she resolved upon an expedient to save decorum, and wear her dear to her point at the same time.  She therefore took upon her to govern him, by falling into fits whenever she was repulsed in a request, or contradicted in a discourse.  It was a fish-day, when in the midst of her husband’s good humour at table, she bethought herself to try her project.  She made signs that she had swallowed a bone.  The man grew pale as ashes, and ran to her assistance, calling for drink.  “No, my dear,” said she, recovering, “it is down; don’t be frightened.”  This accident betrayed his softness enough.  The next day she complained, a lady’s chariot, whose husband had not half his estate, had a crane-neck, and hung with twice the air that hers did.  He answered, “Madam, you know my income; you know I have lost two coach-horses this spring.”—­Down she fell.—­“Hartshorn!  Betty, Susan, Alice, throw water in her face.”  With much care and pains she was at last brought to herself, and the vehicle in which she visited was amended in the nicest manner, to prevent relapses; but they frequently happened during that husband’s whole life, which he had the good fortune to end in few years after.  The disconsolate soon pitched upon a very agreeable successor, whom she very prudently