The Spectator, Volume 1
by
Joseph Addison and Richard Steele
Part 9 out of 19
the Time being short, and Paper little, no more from your
never-failing Lover till Death, James ...
Poor James! Since his Time and Paper were so short; I, that have more
than I can use well of both, will put the Sentiments of his kind Letter
(the Stile of which seems to be confused with Scraps he had got in
hearing and reading what he did not understand) into what he meant to
express.
Dear Creature, Can you then neglect him who has forgot all his
Recreations and Enjoyments, to pine away his Life in thinking of you?
When I do so, you appear more amiable to me than _Venus_ does in the
most beautiful Description that ever was made of her. All this
Kindness you return with an Accusation, that I do not love you: But
the contrary is so manifest, that I cannot think you in earnest. But
the Certainty given me in your Message by _Molly_, that you do not
love me, is what robs me of all Comfort. She says you will not see me:
If you can have so much Cruelty, at least write to me, that I may kiss
the Impression made by your fair Hand. I love you above all things,
and, in my Condition, what you look upon with Indifference is to me
the most exquisite Pleasure or Pain. Our young Lady, and a fine
Gentleman from _London_, who are to marry for mercenary Ends, walk
about our Gardens, and hear the Voice of Evening Nightingales, as if
for Fashion-sake they courted those Solitudes, because they have heard
Lovers do so. Oh _Betty!_ could I hear these Rivulets murmur, and
Birds sing while you stood near me, how little sensible should I be
that we are both Servants, that there is anything on Earth above us.
Oh! I could write to you as long as I love you, till Death it self.
_JAMES_.
_N. B._ By the Words _Ill-Conditions_, James means in a Woman
_Coquetry_, in a Man _Inconstancy_.
R.
[Footnote 1: The next couplet Steele omits:]
[Footnote 2: James Hirst, a servant to the Hon. Edward Wortley (who was
familiar with Steele, and a close friend of Addison's), by mistake gave
to his master, with a parcel of letters, one that he had himself written
to his sweetheart. Mr. Wortley opened it, read it, and would not return
it.
'No, James,' he said, 'you shall be a great man. This letter must
appear in the Spectator.'
And so it did. The end of the love story is that Betty died when on the
point of marriage to James, who, out of love to her, married her
sister.]
* * * * *
No. 72. Wednesday, May 23, 1711. Addison.
'... Genus immortale manet, multosque per annos
Stat fortuna Domus, et avi numerantur avorum.'
Virg.
Having already given my Reader an Account of several extraordinary Clubs
both ancient and modern, I did not design to have troubled him with any
more Narratives of this Nature; but I have lately received Information
of a Club which I can call neither ancient nor modern, that I dare say
will be no less surprising to my Reader than it was to my self; for
which Reason I shall communicate it to the Publick as one of the
greatest Curiosities in its kind.
A Friend of mine complaining of a Tradesman who is related to him, after
having represented him as a very idle worthless Fellow, who neglected
his Family, and spent most of his Time over a Bottle, told me, to
conclude his Character, that he was a Member of the _Everlasting Club_.
So very odd a Title raised my Curiosity to enquire into the Nature of a
Club that had such a sounding Name; upon which my Friend gave me the
following Account.
The Everlasting Club consists of a hundred Members, who divide the whole
twenty four Hours among them in such a Manner, that the Club sits Day
and Night from one end of the Year to [another [1]], no Party presuming
to rise till they are relieved by those who are in course to succeed
them. By this means a Member of the Everlasting Club never wants
Company; for tho' he is not upon Duty himself, he is sure to find some
[who [2]] are; so that if he be disposed to take a Whet, a Nooning, an
Evening's Draught, or a Bottle after Midnight, he goes to the Club and
finds a Knot of Friends to his Mind.
It is a Maxim in this Club That the Steward never dies; for as they
succeed one another by way of Rotation, no Man is to quit the great
Elbow-chair [which [2]] stands at the upper End of the Table, 'till his
Successor is in a Readiness to fill it; insomuch that there has not been
a _Sede vacante_ in the Memory of Man.
This Club was instituted towards the End (or, as some of them say, about
the Middle) of the Civil Wars, and continued without Interruption till
the Time of the _Great Fire_, [3] which burnt them out and dispersed
them for several Weeks. The Steward at that time maintained his Post
till he had like to have been blown up with a neighbouring-House, (which
was demolished in order to stop the Fire;) and would not leave the Chair
at last, till he had emptied all the Bottles upon the Table, and
received repeated Directions from the Club to withdraw himself. This
Steward is frequently talked of in the Club, and looked upon by every
Member of it as a greater Man, than the famous Captain [mentioned in my
Lord _Clarendon_, [who [2]] was burnt in his Ship because he would not
quit it without Orders. It is said that towards the close of 1700, being
the great Year of Jubilee, the Club had it under Consideration whether
they should break up or continue their Session; but after many Speeches
and Debates it was at length agreed to sit out the other Century. This
Resolution passed in a general Club _Nemine Contradicente_.
Having given this short Account of the Institution and Continuation of
the Everlasting Club, I should here endeavour to say something of the
Manners and Characters of its several Members, which I shall do
according to the best Lights I have received in this Matter.
It appears by their Books in general, that, since their first
Institution, they have smoked fifty Tun of Tobacco; drank thirty
thousand Butts of Ale, One thousand Hogsheads of Red Port, Two hundred
Barrels of Brandy, and a Kilderkin of small Beer. There has been
likewise a great Consumption of Cards. It is also said, that they
observe the law in _Ben. Johnson's_ Club, which orders the Fire to be
always kept in (_focus perennis esto_) as well for the Convenience of
lighting their Pipes, as to cure the Dampness of the Club-Room. They
have an old Woman in the nature of a Vestal, whose Business it is to
cherish and perpetuate the Fire [which [2]] burns from Generation to
Generation, and has seen the Glass-house Fires in and out above an
Hundred Times.
The Everlasting Club treats all other Clubs with an Eye of Contempt, and
talks even of the Kit-Cat and October as of a couple of Upstarts. Their
ordinary Discourse (as much as I have been able to learn of it) turns
altogether upon such Adventures as have passed in their own Assembly; of
Members who have taken the Glass in their Turns for a Week together,
without stirring out of their Club; of others [who [2]] have smoaked an
Hundred Pipes at a Sitting; of others [who [2]] have not missed their
Morning's Draught for Twenty Years together: Sometimes they speak in
Raptures of a Run of Ale in King Charles's Reign; and sometimes reflect
with Astonishment upon Games at Whisk, [which [2]] have been
miraculously recovered by Members of the Society, when in all human
Probability the Case was desperate.
They delight in several old Catches, which they sing at all Hours to
encourage one another to moisten their Clay, and grow immortal by
drinking; with many other edifying Exhortations of the like Nature.
There are four general Clubs held in a Year, at which Times they fill up
Vacancies, appoint Waiters, confirm the old Fire-Maker or elect a new
one, settle Contributions for Coals, Pipes, Tobacco, and other
Necessaries.
The Senior Member has out-lived the whole Club twice over, and has been
drunk with the Grandfathers of some of the present sitting Members.
C.
[Footnote 1: The other]
[Footnotes 2 (several): that]
[Footnote 3: Of London in 1666.]
* * * * *
No. 73. Thursday, May 24, 1711. Addison.
'... O Dea certe!'
Virg.
It is very strange to consider, that a Creature like Man, who is
sensible of so many Weaknesses and Imperfections, should be actuated by
a Love of Fame: That Vice and Ignorance, Imperfection and Misery should
contend for Praise, and endeavour as much as possible to make themselves
Objects of Admiration.
But notwithstanding Man's Essential Perfection is but very little, his
Comparative Perfection may be very considerable. If he looks upon
himself in an abstracted Light, he has not much to boast of; but if he
considers himself with regard to it in others, he may find Occasion of
glorying, if not in his own Virtues at least in the Absence of another's
Imperfections. This gives a different Turn to the Reflections of the
Wise Man and the Fool. The first endeavours to shine in himself, and the
last to outshine others. The first is humbled by the Sense of his own
Infirmities, the last is lifted up by the Discovery of those which he
observes in other men. The Wise Man considers what he wants, and the
Fool what he abounds in. The Wise Man is happy when he gains his own
Approbation, and the Fool when he Recommends himself to the Applause of
those about him.
But however unreasonable and absurd this Passion for Admiration may
appear in such a Creature as Man, it is not wholly to be discouraged;
since it often produces very good Effects, not only as it restrains him
from doing any thing [which [1]] is mean and contemptible, but as it
pushes him to Actions [which [1]] are great and glorious. The Principle
may be defective or faulty, but the Consequences it produces are so
good, that, for the Benefit of Mankind, it ought not to be extinguished.
It is observed by Cicero,[2]--that men of the greatest and the most
shining Parts are the most actuated by Ambition; and if we look into the
two Sexes, I believe we shall find this Principle of Action stronger in
Women than in Men.
The Passion for Praise, which is so very vehement in the Fair Sex,
produces excellent Effects in Women of Sense, who desire to be admired
for that only which deserves Admiration:
And I think we may observe, without a Compliment to them, that many of
them do not only live in a more uniform Course of Virtue, but with an
infinitely greater Regard to their Honour, than what we find in the
Generality of our own Sex. How many Instances have we of Chastity,
Fidelity, Devotion? How many Ladies distinguish themselves by the
Education of their Children, Care of their Families, and Love of their
Husbands, which are the great Qualities and Atchievements of Womankind:
As the making of War, the carrying on of Traffic, the Administration of
Justice, are those by which Men grow famous, and get themselves a Name.
But as this Passion for Admiration, when it works according to Reason,
improves the beautiful Part of our Species in every thing that is
Laudable; so nothing is more Destructive to them when it is governed by
Vanity and Folly. What I have therefore here to say, only regards the
vain Part of the Sex, whom for certain Reasons, which the Reader will
hereafter see at large, I shall distinguish by the Name of _Idols_. An
_Idol_ is wholly taken up in the Adorning of her Person. You see in
every Posture of her Body, Air of her Face, and Motion of her Head, that
it is her Business and Employment to gain Adorers. For this Reason your
_Idols_ appear in all publick Places and Assemblies, in order to seduce
Men to their Worship. The Play-house is very frequently filled with
_Idols_; several of them are carried in Procession every Evening about
the Ring, and several of them set up their Worship even in Churches.
They are to be accosted in the Language proper to the Deity. Life and
Death are in their Power: Joys of Heaven and Pains of Hell are at their
Disposal: Paradise is in their Arms, and Eternity in every Moment that
you are present with them. Raptures, Transports, and Ecstacies are the
Rewards which they confer: Sighs and Tears, Prayers and broken Hearts,
are the Offerings which are paid to them. Their Smiles make Men happy;
their Frowns drive them to Despair. I shall only add under this Head,
that _Ovid's_ Book of the Art of Love is a kind of Heathen Ritual, which
contains all the forms of Worship which are made use of to an _Idol_.
It would be as difficult a Task to reckon up these different kinds of
_Idols_, as _Milton's_ was [3] to number those that were known in
_Canaan_, and the Lands adjoining. Most of them are worshipped, like
_Moloch_, in _Fire and Flames_. Some of them, like _Baal_, love to see
their Votaries cut and slashed, and shedding their Blood for them. Some
of them, like the _Idol_ in the _Apocrypha_, must have Treats and
Collations prepared for them every Night. It has indeed been known, that
some of them have been used by their incensed Worshippers like the
_Chinese Idols_, who are Whipped and Scourged when they refuse to comply
with the Prayers that are offered to them.
I must here observe, that those Idolaters who devote themselves to the
_Idols_ I am here speaking of, differ very much from all other kinds of
Idolaters. For as others fall out because they Worship different
_Idols_, these Idolaters quarrel because they Worship the same.
The Intention therefore of the _Idol_ is quite contrary to the wishes of
the Idolater; as the one desires to confine the Idol to himself, the
whole Business and Ambition of the other is to multiply Adorers. This
Humour of an _Idol_ is prettily described in a Tale of _Chaucer_; He
represents one of them sitting at a Table with three of her Votaries
about her, who are all of them courting her Favour, and paying their
Adorations: She smiled upon one, drank to another, and trod upon the
other's Foot which was under the Table. Now which of these three, says
the old Bard, do you think was the Favourite? In troth, says he, not one
of all the three. [4]
The Behaviour of this old _Idol_ in _Chaucer_, puts me in mind of the
Beautiful _Clarinda_, one of the greatest _Idols_ among the Moderns. She
is Worshipped once a Week by Candle-light, in the midst of a large
Congregation generally called an Assembly. Some of the gayest Youths in
the Nation endeavour to plant themselves in her Eye, whilst she sits in
form with multitudes of Tapers burning about her. To encourage the Zeal
of her Idolaters, she bestows a Mark of her Favour upon every one of
them, before they go out of her Presence. She asks a Question of one,
tells a Story to another, glances an Ogle upon a third, takes a Pinch of
Snuff from the fourth, lets her Fan drop by accident to give the fifth
an Occasion of taking it up. In short, every one goes away satisfied
with his Success, and encouraged to renew his Devotions on the same
Canonical Hour that Day Sevennight.
An _Idol_ may be Undeified by many accidental Causes. Marriage in
particular is a kind of Counter-_Apotheosis_, or a Deification inverted.
When a Man becomes familiar with his Goddess, she quickly sinks into a
Woman.
Old Age is likewise a great Decayer of your _Idol_: The Truth of it is,
there is not a more unhappy Being than a Superannuated _Idol_,
especially when she has contracted such Airs and Behaviour as are only
Graceful when her Worshippers are about her.
Considering therefore that in these and many other Cases the _Woman_
generally outlives the _Idol_, I must return to the Moral of this Paper,
and desire my fair Readers to give a proper Direction to their Passion
for being admired; In order to which, they must endeavour to make
themselves the Objects of a reasonable and lasting Admiration. This is
not to be hoped for from Beauty, or Dress, or Fashion, but from those
inward Ornaments which are not to be defaced by Time or Sickness, and
which appear most amiable to those who are most acquainted with them.
C.
[Footnotes 1: that]
[Footnote 2: 'Tuscul. Quaest.' Lib. v. Sec. 243.]
[Footnote 3: 'Paradise Lost', Bk. I.]
[Footnote 4: The story is in 'The Remedy of Love' Stanzas 5--10.]
* * * * *
No. 74. Friday, May 25, 1711. Addison.
'... Pendent opera interrupta ...'
Virg.
In my last _Monday's_ Paper I gave some general Instances of those
beautiful Strokes which please the Reader in the old Song of
_Chevey-Chase_; I shall here, according to my Promise, be more
particular, and shew that the Sentiments in that Ballad are extremely
natural and poetical, and full of [the [1]] majestick Simplicity which
we admire in the greatest of the ancient Poets: For which Reason I shall
quote several Passages of it, in which the Thought is altogether the
same with what we meet in several Passages of the _AEneid_; not that I
would infer from thence, that the Poet (whoever he was) proposed to
himself any Imitation of those Passages, but that he was directed to
them in general by the same Kind of Poetical Genius, and by the same
Copyings after Nature.
Had this old Song been filled with Epigrammatical Turns and Points of
Wit, it might perhaps have pleased the wrong Taste of some Readers; but
it would never have become the Delight of the common People, nor have
warmed the Heart of Sir _Philip Sidney_ like the Sound of a Trumpet; it
is only Nature that can have this Effect, and please those Tastes which
are the most unprejudiced or the most refined. I must however beg leave
to dissent from so great an Authority as that of Sir _Philip Sidney_, in
the Judgment which he has passed as to the rude Stile and evil Apparel
of this antiquated Song; for there are several Parts in it where not
only the Thought but the Language is majestick, and the Numbers
[sonorous; [2]] at least, the _Apparel_ is much more _gorgeous_ than
many of the Poets made use of in Queen _Elizabeth's_ Time, as the Reader
will see in several of the following Quotations.
What can be greater than either the Thought or the Expression in that
Stanza,
_To drive the Deer with Hound and Horn
Earl_ Piercy _took his Way;
The Child may rue that was unborn
The Hunting of that Day!_
This way of considering the Misfortunes which this Battle would bring
upon Posterity, not only on those who were born immediately after the
Battle and lost their Fathers in it, but on those also who [perished
[3]] in future Battles which [took their rise [4]] from this Quarrel of
the two Earls, is wonderfully beautiful, and conformable to the Way of
Thinking among the ancient Poets.
'Audiet pugnas vilio parentum
Rara juventus'.
Hor.
What can be more sounding and poetical, resemble more the majestic
Simplicity of the Ancients, than the following Stanzas?
_The stout Earl of_ Northumberland
_A Vow to God did make,
His Pleasure in the_ Scotish _Woods
Three Summers Days to take.
With fifteen hundred Bowmen bold,
All chosen Men of Might,
Who knew full well, in time of Need,
To aim their Shafts aright.
The Hounds ran swiftly thro' the Woods
The nimble Deer to take,
And with their Cries the Hills and Dales
An Eccho shrill did make_.
... Vocat ingenti Clamore Cithseron
Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum:
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit.
_Lo, yonder doth Earl_ Dowglas _come,
His Men in Armour bright;
Full twenty Hundred_ Scottish _Spears,
All marching in our Sight_.
_All Men of pleasant Tividale,
Fast by the River Tweed, etc_.
The Country of the _Scotch_ Warriors, described in these two last
Verses, has a fine romantick Situation, and affords a couple of smooth
Words for Verse. If the Reader compares the forgoing six Lines of the
Song with the following Latin Verses, he will see how much they are
written in the Spirit of _Virgil_.
_Adversi campo apparent, hastasque reductis
Protendunt longe dextris; et spicula vibrant;
Quique altum Preneste viri, quique arva Gabinae
Junonis, gelidumque Anienem, et roscida rivis
Hernica saxa colunt: ... qui rosea rura Velini,
Qui Terticae horrentes rupes, montemque Severum,
Casperiamque colunt, Forulosque et flumen Himellae:
Qui Tiberim Fabarimque bibunt_ ...
But to proceed.
_Earl_ Dowglas _on a milk-white Steed,
Most like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the Company,
Whose Armour shone like Gold._
Turnus ut antevolans tardum precesserat agmen, &c. Vidisti, quo Turnus
equo, quibus ibat in armis Aureus ...
_Our_ English _Archers bent their Bows
Their Hearts were good and true;
At the first Flight of Arrows sent,
Full threescore_ Scots _they slew.
They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side,
No Slackness there was found.
And many a gallant Gentleman
Lay gasping on the Ground.
With that there came an Arrow keen
Out of an_ English _Bow,
Which struck Earl_ Dowglas _to the Heart
A deep and deadly Blow._
AEneas was wounded after the same Manner by an unknown Hand in the midst
of a Parly.
_Has inter voces, media inter talia verba,
Ecce viro stridens alis allapsa sagitta est,
Incertum qua pulsa manu ...
But of all the descriptive Parts of this Song, there are none more
beautiful than the four following Stanzas which have a great Force and
Spirit in them, and are filled with very natural Circumstances. The
Thought in the third Stanza was never touched by any other Poet, and is
such an one as would have shined in _Homer_ or in _Virgil_.
So thus did both those Nobles die,
Whose Courage none could stain:
An _English_ Archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain.
He had a Bow bent in his Hand,
Made of a trusty Tree,
An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long
Unto the Head drew he.
Against Sir _Hugh Montgomery_
So right his Shaft he set,
The Gray-goose Wing that was thereon
In his Heart-Blood was wet.
This Fight did last from Break of Day
Till setting of the Sun;
For when they rung the Evening Bell
The Battle scarce was done.
One may observe likewise, that in the Catalogue of the Slain the Author
has followed the Example of the greatest ancient Poets, not only in
giving a long List of the Dead, but by diversifying it with little
Characters of particular Persons.
And with Earl _Dowglas_ there was slain
Sir _Hugh Montgomery_,
Sir _Charles Carrel_, that from the Field
One Foot would never fly:
Sir _Charles Murrel_ of Ratcliff too,
His Sister's Son was he;
Sir _David Lamb_, so well esteem'd,
Yet saved could not be.
The familiar Sound in these Names destroys the Majesty of the
Description; for this Reason I do not mention this Part of the Poem but
to shew the natural Cast of Thought which appears in it, as the two last
Verses look almost like a Translation of _Virgil_.
... Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus aequi,
Diis aliter visum est ...
In the Catalogue of the _English_ [who [5]] fell, _Witherington's_
Behaviour is in the same manner particularized very artfully, as the
Reader is prepared for it by that Account which is given of him in the
Beginning of the Battle [; though I am satisfied your little Buffoon
Readers (who have seen that Passage ridiculed in _Hudibras_) will not be
able to take the Beauty of it: For which Reason I dare not so much as
quote it].
Then stept a gallant Squire forth,
_Witherington_ was his Name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To _Henry_ our King for Shame,
That e'er my Captain fought on Foot,
And I stood looking on.
We meet with the same Heroic Sentiments in _Virgil_.
Non pudet, O Rutuli, cunctis pro talibus unam
Objectare animam? numerone an viribus aequi
Non sumus ... ?
What can be more natural or more moving than the Circumstances in which
he describes the Behaviour of those Women who had lost their Husbands on
this fatal Day?
Next Day did many Widows come
Their Husbands to bewail;
They washed their Wounds in brinish Tears,
But all would not prevail.
Their Bodies bath'd in purple Blood,
They bore with them away;
They kiss'd them dead a thousand Times,
When they were clad in Clay.
Thus we see how the Thoughts of this Poem, which naturally arise from
the Subject, are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble; that
the Language is often very sounding, and that the whole is written with
a true poetical Spirit.
If this Song had been written in the _Gothic_ Manner, which is the
Delight of all our little Wits, whether Writers or Readers, it would not
have hit the Taste of so many Ages, and have pleased the Readers of all
Ranks and Conditions. I shall only beg Pardon for such a Profusion of
_Latin_ Quotations; which I should not have made use of, but that I
feared my own Judgment would have looked too singular on such a Subject,
had not I supported it by the Practice and Authority of _Virgil_.
C.
[Footnote 1: that]
[Footnote 2: very sonorous;]
[Footnote 3: should perish]
[Footnote 4: should arise]
[Footnote 5: that]
* * * * *
No. 75. Saturday, May 26, 1711. Steele.
'Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res.'
Hor.
It was with some Mortification that I suffered the Raillery of a Fine
Lady of my Acquaintance, for calling, in one of my Papers, _Dorimant_ a
Clown. She was so unmerciful as to take Advantage of my invincible
Taciturnity, and on that occasion, with great Freedom to consider the
Air, the Height, the Face, the Gesture of him who could pretend to judge
so arrogantly of Gallantry. She is full of Motion, Janty and lively in
her Impertinence, and one of those that commonly pass, among the
Ignorant, for Persons who have a great deal of Humour. She had the Play
of Sir _Fopling_ in her Hand, and after she had said it was happy for
her there was not so charming a Creature as _Dorimant_ now living, she
began with a Theatrical Air and Tone of Voice to Read, by way of Triumph
over me, some of his Speeches. _'Tis she, that lovely Hair, that easy
Shape, those wanton Eyes, and all those melting Charms about her Mouth,
which_ Medley _spoke of; I'll follow the Lottery, and put in for a Prize
with my Friend_ Bellair.
_In Love the Victors from the Vanquish'd fly;
They fly that wound, and they pursue that dye,
Then turning over the Leaves, she reads alternately, and speaks,
_And you and_ Loveit _to her Cost shall find
I fathom all the Depths of Womankind_.
Oh the Fine Gentleman! But here, continues she, is the Passage I admire
most, where he begins to Teize _Loveit_, and mimick Sir _Fopling_: Oh
the pretty Satyr, in his resolving to be a Coxcomb to please, since
Noise and Nonsense have such powerful Charms!
_I, that I may Successful prove,
Transform my self to what you love_.
Then how like a Man of the Town, so Wild and Gay is that
_The Wife will find a Diff'rence in our Fate,
You wed a Woman, I a good Estate_.
It would have been a very wild Endeavour for a Man of my Temper to offer
any Opposition to so nimble a Speaker as my Fair Enemy is; but her
Discourse gave me very many Reflections, when I had left her Company.
Among others, I could not but consider, with some Attention, the false
Impressions the generality (the Fair Sex more especially) have of what
should be intended, when they say a _Fine Gentleman_; and could not help
revolving that Subject in my Thoughts, and settling, as it were, an Idea
of that Character in my own Imagination.
No Man ought to have the Esteem of the rest of the World, for any
Actions which are disagreeable to those Maxims which prevail, as the
Standards of Behaviour, in the Country wherein he lives. What is
opposite to the eternal Rules of Reason and good Sense, must be excluded
from any Place in the Carriage of a Well-bred Man. I did not, I confess,
explain myself enough on this Subject, when I called _Dorimant_ a Clown,
and made it an Instance of it, that he called the _Orange Wench_,
_Double Tripe_: I should have shewed, that Humanity obliges a Gentleman
to give no Part of Humankind Reproach, for what they, whom they
Reproach, may possibly have in Common with the most Virtuous and Worthy
amongst us. When a Gentleman speaks Coarsly, he has dressed himself
Clean to no purpose: The Cloathing of our Minds certainly ought to be
regarded before that of our Bodies. To betray in a Man's Talk a
corrupted Imagination, is a much greater Offence against the
Conversation of Gentlemen, than any Negligence of Dress imaginable. But
this Sense of the Matter is so far from being received among People even
of Condition, that _Vocifer_ passes for a fine Gentleman. He is Loud,
Haughty, Gentle, Soft, Lewd, and Obsequious by turns, just as a little
Understanding and great Impudence prompt him at the present Moment. He
passes among the silly Part of our Women for a Man of Wit, because he is
generally in Doubt. He contradicts with a Shrug, and confutes with a
certain Sufficiency, in professing such and such a Thing is above his
Capacity. What makes his Character the pleasanter is, that he is a
professed Deluder of Women; and because the empty Coxcomb has no Regard
to any thing that is of it self Sacred and Inviolable, I have heard an
unmarried Lady of Fortune say, It is pity so fine a Gentleman as
_Vocifer_ is so great an Atheist. The Crowds of such inconsiderable
Creatures that infest all Places of Assembling, every Reader will have
in his Eye from his own Observation; but would it not be worth
considering what sort of Figure a Man who formed himself upon those
Principles among us, which are agreeable to the Dictates of Honour and
Religion, would make in the familiar and ordinary Occurrences of Life?
I hardly have observed any one fill his several Duties of Life better
than _Ignotus_. All the under Parts of his Behaviour and such as are
exposed to common Observation, have their Rise in him from great and
noble Motives. A firm and unshaken Expectation of another Life, makes
him become this; Humanity and Good-nature, fortified by the Sense of
Virtue, has the same Effect upon him, as the Neglect of all Goodness has
upon many others. Being firmly established in all Matters of Importance,
that certain Inattention which makes Men's Actions look easie appears in
him with greater Beauty: By a thorough Contempt of little Excellencies,
he is perfectly Master of them. This Temper of Mind leaves him under no
Necessity of Studying his Air, and he has this peculiar Distinction,
that his Negligence is unaffected.
He that can work himself into a Pleasure in considering this Being as an
uncertain one, and think to reap an Advantage by its Discontinuance, is
in a fair way of doing all things with a graceful Unconcern, and
Gentleman-like Ease. Such a one does not behold his Life as a short,
transient, perplexing State, made up of trifling Pleasures, and great
Anxieties; but sees it in quite another Light; his Griefs are Momentary,
and his Joys Immortal. Reflection upon Death is not a gloomy and sad
Thought of Resigning every Thing that he Delights in, but it is a short
Night followed by an endless Day. What I would here contend for is, that
the more Virtuous the Man is, the nearer he will naturally be to the
Character of Genteel and Agreeable. A Man whose Fortune is Plentiful,
shews an Ease in his Countenance, and Confidence in his Behaviour, which
he that is under Wants and Difficulties cannot assume. It is thus with
the State of the Mind; he that governs his Thoughts with the everlasting
Rules of Reason and Sense, must have something so inexpressibly Graceful
in his Words and Actions, that every Circumstance must become him. The
Change of Persons or Things around him do not at all alter his
Situation, but he looks disinterested in the Occurrences with which
others are distracted, because the greatest Purpose of his Life is to
maintain an Indifference both to it and all its Enjoyments. In a word,
to be a Fine Gentleman, is to be a Generous and a Brave Man. What can
make a Man so much in constant Good-humour and Shine, as we call it,
than to be supported by what can never fail him, and to believe that
whatever happens to him was the best thing that could possibly befal
him, or else he on whom it depends would not have permitted it to have
befallen him at all?
R.
* * * * *
No. 76. Monday, May 28, 1711. Steele.
'Ut tu Fortunam, sic nos te, Celse, feremus.'
Hor.
There is nothing so common as to find a Man whom in the general
Observations of his Carriage you take to be of an uniform Temper,
subject to such unaccountable Starts of Humour and Passion, that he is
as much unlike himself and differs as much from the Man you at first
thought him, as any two distinct Persons can differ from each other.
This proceeds from the Want of forming some Law of Life to our selves,
or fixing some Notion of things in general, which may affect us in such
Manner as to create proper Habits both in our Minds and Bodies. The
Negligence of this, leaves us exposed not only to an unbecoming Levity
in our usual Conversation, but also to the same Instability in our
Friendships, Interests, and Alliances. A Man who is but a mere Spectator
of what passes around him, and not engaged in Commerces of any
Consideration, is but an ill Judge of the secret Motions of the Heart of
Man, and by what Degrees it is actuated to make such visible Alterations
in the same Person: But at the same Time, when a Man is no way concerned
in the Effects of such Inconsistences in the Behaviour of Men of the
World, the Speculation must be in the utmost Degree both diverting and
instructive; yet to enjoy such Observations in the highest Relish, he
ought to be placed in a Post of Direction, and have the dealing of their
Fortunes to them. I have therefore been wonderfully diverted with some
Pieces of secret History, which an Antiquary, my very good Friend, lent
me as a Curiosity. They are memoirs of the private Life of _Pharamond of
France_. [1]
'_Pharamond_, says my Author, was a Prince of infinite Humanity and
Generosity, and at the same time the most pleasant and facetious
Companion of his Time. He had a peculiar Taste in him (which would have
been unlucky in any Prince but himself,) he thought there could be no
exquisite Pleasure in Conversation but among Equals; and would
pleasantly bewail himself that he always lived in a Crowd, but was the
only man in _France_ that never could get into Company. This Turn of
Mind made him delight in Midnight Rambles, attended only with one Person
of his Bed-chamber: He would in these Excursions get acquainted with Men
(whose Temper he had a Mind to try) and recommend them privately to the
particular Observation of his first Minister. He generally found himself
neglected by his new Acquaintance as soon as they had Hopes of growing
great; and used on such Occasions to remark, That it was a great
Injustice to tax Princes of forgetting themselves in their high
Fortunes, when there were so few that could with Constancy bear the
Favour of their very Creatures.'
My Author in these loose Hints has one Passage that gives us a very
lively Idea of the uncommon Genius of _Pharamond_. He met with one Man
whom he had put to all the usual Proofs he made of those he had a mind
to know thoroughly, and found him for his Purpose: In Discourse with him
one Day, he gave him Opportunity of saying how much would satisfy all
his Wishes. The Prince immediately revealed himself, doubled the Sum,
and spoke to him in this manner.
'Sir, _You have twice what you desired, by the Favour of_ Pharamond;
_but look to it, that you are satisfied with it, for 'tis the last you
shall ever receive. I from this Moment consider you as mine; and to make
you truly so, I give you my Royal Word you shall never be greater or
less than you are at present. Answer me not_, (concluded the Prince
smiling) _but enjoy the Fortune I have put you in, which is above my own
Condition; for you have hereafter nothing to hope or to fear_.'
His Majesty having thus well chosen and bought a Friend and Companion,
he enjoyed alternately all the Pleasures of an agreeable private Man and
a great and powerful Monarch: He gave himself, with his Companion, the
Name of the merry Tyrant; for he punished his Courtiers for their
Insolence and Folly, not by any Act of Publick Disfavour, but by
humorously practising upon their Imaginations. If he observed a Man
untractable to his Inferiors, he would find an Opportunity to take some
favourable Notice of him, and render him insupportable. He knew all his
own Looks, Words and Actions had their Interpretations; and his Friend
Monsieur _Eucrate_ (for so he was called) having a great Soul without
Ambition, he could communicate all his Thoughts to him, and fear no
artful Use would be made of that Freedom. It was no small Delight when
they were in private to reflect upon all which had passed in publick.
_Pharamond_ would often, to satisfy a vain Fool of Power in his Country,
talk to him in a full Court, and with one Whisper make him despise all
his old Friends and Acquaintance. He was come to that Knowledge of Men
by long Observation, that he would profess altering the whole Mass of
Blood in some Tempers, by thrice speaking to them. As Fortune was in his
Power, he gave himself constant Entertainment in managing the mere
Followers of it with the Treatment they deserved. He would, by a skilful
Cast of his Eye and half a Smile, make two Fellows who hated, embrace
and fall upon each other's Neck with as much Eagerness, as if they
followed their real Inclinations, and intended to stifle one another.
When he was in high good Humour, he would lay the Scene with _Eucrate_,
and on a publick Night exercise tho Passions of his whole Court. He was
pleased to see an haughty Beauty watch the Looks of the Man she had long
despised, from Observation of his being taken notice of by _Pharamond_;
and the Lover conceive higher Hopes, than to follow the Woman he was
dying for the Day before. In a Court where Men speak Affection in the
strongest Terms, and Dislike in the faintest, it was a comical Mixture
of Incidents to see Disguises thrown aside in one Case and encreased on
the other, according as Favour or Disgrace attended the respective
Objects of Men's Approbation or Disesteem. _Pharamond_ in his Mirth upon
the Meanness of Mankind used to say,
'As he could take away a Man's Five Senses, he could give him an
Hundred. The Man in Disgrace shall immediately lose all his natural
Endowments, and he that finds Favour have the Attributes of an Angel.'
He would carry it so far as to say, 'It should not be only so in the
Opinion of the lower Part of his Court, but the Men themselves shall
think thus meanly or greatly of themselves, as they are out or in the
good Graces of a Court.'
A Monarch who had Wit and Humour like _Pharamond_, must have Pleasures
which no Man else can ever have Opportunity of enjoying. He gave Fortune
to none but those whom he knew could receive it without Transport: He
made a noble and generous Use of his Observations; and did not regard
his Ministers as they were agreeable to himself, but as they were useful
to his Kingdom: By this means the King appeared in every Officer of
State; and no Man had a Participation of the Power, who had not a
Similitude of the Virtue of _Pharamond_.
R.
[Footnote 1: Pharamond, or _Faramond_, was the subject of one of
the romances of M. de Costes de la Calprenede, published at Paris (12
vols.) in 1661. It was translated into English (folio) by J. Phillips in
1677.]
* * * * *
No. 77. Tuesday, May 29, 1711. Budgell.
'Non convivere licet, nec urbe tota
Quisquam est tam prope tam proculque nobis.'
Mart.
My Friend WILL HONEYCOMB is one of those Sort of Men who are very often
absent in Conversation, and what the _French_ call _a reveur_ and _a
distrait_. A little before our Club-time last Night we were walking
together in _Somerset_ Garden, where WILL, had picked up a small Pebble
of so odd a Make, that he said he would present it to a Friend of his,
an eminent _Virtuoso_. After we had walked some time, I made a full stop
with my Face towards the West, which WILL, knowing to be my usual Method
of asking what's a Clock, in an Afternoon, immediately pulled out his
Watch, and told me we had seven Minutes good. We took a turn or two
more, when, to my great Surprize, I saw him squirr away his Watch a
considerable way into the _Thames_, and with great Sedateness in his
Looks put up the Pebble, he had before found, in his Fob. As I have
naturally an Aversion to much Speaking, and do not love to be the
Messenger of ill News, especially when it comes too late to be useful, I
left him to be convinced of his Mistake in due time, and continued my
Walk, reflecting on these little Absences and Distractions in Mankind,
and resolving to make them the Subject of a future Speculation.
I was the more confirmed in my Design, when I considered that they were
very often Blemishes in the Characters of Men of excellent Sense; and
helped to keep up the Reputation of that Latin Proverb, [1] which Mr.
_Dryden_ has Translated in the following Lines:
_Great Wit to Madness sure is near ally'd,
And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide._
My Reader does, I hope, perceive, that I distinguish a Man who is
_Absent_, because he thinks of something else, from one who is _Absent_,
because he thinks of nothing at all: The latter is too innocent a
Creature to be taken notice of; but the Distractions of the former may,
I believe, be generally accounted for from one of these Reasons.
Either their Minds are wholly fixed on some particular Science, which is
often the Case of Mathematicians and other learned Men; or are wholly
taken up with some Violent Passion, such as Anger, Fear, or Love, which
ties the Mind to some distant Object; or, lastly, these Distractions
proceed from a certain Vivacity and Fickleness in a Man's Temper, which
while it raises up infinite Numbers of _Ideas_ in the Mind, is
continually pushing it on, without allowing it to rest on any particular
Image. Nothing therefore is more unnatural than the Thoughts and
Conceptions of such a Man, which are seldom occasioned either by the
Company he is in, or any of those Objects which are placed before him.
While you fancy he is admiring a beautiful Woman, 'tis an even Wager
that he is solving a Proposition in _Euclid_; and while you may imagine
he is reading the _Paris_ Gazette, it is far from being impossible, that
he is pulling down and rebuilding the Front of his Country-house.
At the same time that I am endeavouring to expose this Weakness in
others, I shall readily confess that I once laboured under the same
Infirmity myself. The Method I took to conquer it was a firm Resolution
to learn something from whatever I was obliged to see or hear. There is
a way of Thinking if a Man can attain to it, by which he may strike
somewhat out of any thing. I can at present observe those Starts of good
Sense and Struggles of unimproved Reason in the Conversation of a Clown,
with as much Satisfaction as the most shining Periods of the most
finished Orator; and can make a shift to command my Attention at a
_Puppet-Show_ or an _Opera_, as well as at _Hamlet_ or _Othello_. I
always make one of the Company I am in; for though I say little myself,
my Attention to others, and those Nods of Approbation which I never
bestow unmerited, sufficiently shew that I am among them. Whereas WILL.
HONEYCOMB, tho' a Fellow of good Sense, is every Day doing and saying an
hundred Things which he afterwards confesses, with a well-bred
Frankness, were somewhat _mal a propos_, and undesigned.
I chanced the other Day to go into a Coffee-house, where WILL, was
standing in the midst of several Auditors whom he had gathered round
him, and was giving them an Account of the Person and Character of _Moll
Hinton_. My Appearance before him just put him in mind of me, without
making him reflect that I was actually present. So that keeping his Eyes
full upon me, to the great Surprize of his Audience, he broke off his
first Harangue, and proceeded thus:
'Why now there's my Friend (mentioning me by my Name) he is a Fellow
that thinks a great deal, but never opens his Mouth; I warrant you he
is now thrusting his short Face into some Coffee-house about
_'Change_. I was his Bail in the time of the _Popish-Plot_, when he
was taken up for a Jesuit.'
If he had looked on me a little longer, he had certainly described me so
particularly, without ever considering what led him into it, that the
whole Company must necessarily have found me out; for which Reason,
remembering the old Proverb, _Out of Sight out of Mind_, I left the
Room; and upon meeting him an Hour afterwards, was asked by him, with a
great deal of Good-humour, in what Part of the World I had lived, that
he had not seen me these three Days.
Monsieur _Bruyere_ has given us the Character of _an absent_ Man [2],
with a great deal of Humour, which he has pushed to an agreeable
Extravagance; with the Heads of it I shall conclude my present Paper.
'_Menalcas_ (says that excellent Author) comes down in a Morning,
opens his Door to go out, but shuts it again, because he perceives
that he has his Night-cap on; and examining himself further finds that
he is but half-shaved, that he has stuck his Sword on his right Side,
that his Stockings are about his Heels, and that his Shirt is over his
Breeches. When he is dressed he goes to Court, comes into the
Drawing-room, and walking bolt-upright under a Branch of Candlesticks
his Wig is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the Air.
All the Courtiers fall a laughing, but _Menalcas_ laughs louder than
any of them, and looks about for the Person that is the Jest of the
Company. Coming down to the Court-gate he finds a Coach, which taking
for his own, he whips into it; and the Coachman drives off, not
doubting but he carries his Master. As soon as he stops, _Menalcas_
throws himself out of the Coach, crosses the Court, ascends the
Staircase, and runs thro' all the Chambers with the greatest
Familiarity, reposes himself on a Couch, and fancies himself at home.
The Master of the House at last comes in, _Menalcas_ rises to receive
him, and desires him to sit down; he talks, muses, and then talks
again. The Gentleman of the House is tired and amazed; _Menalcas_ is
no less so, but is every Moment in Hopes that his impertinent Guest
will at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, when _Menalcas_ is
hardly undeceived.
When he is playing at Backgammon, he calls for a full Glass of Wine
and Water; 'tis his turn to throw, he has the Box in one Hand and his
Glass in the other, and being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose
Time, he swallows down both the Dice, and at the same time throws his
Wine into the Tables. He writes a Letter, and flings the Sand into the
Ink-bottle; he writes a second, and mistakes the Superscription: A
Nobleman receives one of them, and upon opening it reads as follows:
_I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon the Receipt of this,
take in Hay enough to serve me the Winter._ His Farmer receives the
other and is amazed to see in it, _My Lord, I received your Grace's
Commands with an entire Submission to_--If he is at an Entertainment,
you may see the Pieces of Bread continually multiplying round his
Plate: 'Tis true the rest of the Company want it, as well as their
Knives and Forks, which _Menalcas_ does not let them keep long.
Sometimes in a Morning he puts his whole Family in an hurry, and at
last goes out without being able to stay for his Coach or Dinner, and
for that Day you may see him in every Part of the Town, except the
very Place where he had appointed to be upon a Business of Importance.
You would often take him for every thing that he is not; for a Fellow
quite stupid, for he hears nothing; for a Fool, for he talks to
himself, and has an hundred Grimaces and Motions with his Head, which
are altogether involuntary; for a proud Man, for he looks full upon
you, and takes no notice of your saluting him: The Truth on't is, his
Eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and neither sees you, nor
any Man, nor any thing else: He came once from his Country-house, and
his own Footman undertook to rob him, and succeeded: They held a
Flambeau to his Throat, and bid him deliver his Purse; he did so, and
coming home told his Friends he had been robbed; they desired to know
the Particulars, _Ask my Servants, _says_ Menalcas, for they were with
me_.
X.
[Footnote 1: Seneca 'de Tranquill. Anim.' cap. xv.
'Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae'
Dryden's lines are in Part I of 'Absalom and Achitophel'.]
[Footnote 2: 'Caracteres', Chap. xi. de l'Homme. La Bruyere's Menalque
was identified with a M. de Brancas, brother of the Duke de Villars. The
adventure of the wig is said really to have happened to him at a
reception by the Queen-Mother. He was said also on his wedding-day to
have forgotten that he had been married. He went abroad as usual, and
only remembered the ceremony of the morning upon finding the changed
state of his household when, as usual, he came home in the evening.]
* * * * *
No. 78. Wednesday, May 30, 1711. Steele.
Cum Talis sis, Utinam noster esses!
The following Letters are so pleasant, that I doubt not but the Reader
will be as much diverted with them as I was. I have nothing to do in
this Day's Entertainment, but taking the Sentence from the End of the
_Cambridge_ Letter, and placing it at the Front of my Paper; to shew the
Author I wish him my Companion with as much Earnestness as he invites me
to be his.
SIR,
'I Send you the inclosed, to be inserted (if you think them worthy of
it) in your SPECTATORS; in which so surprizing a Genius appears, that
it is no Wonder if all Mankind endeavours to get somewhat into a Paper
which will always live.
As to the _Cambridge_ Affair, the Humour was really carried on in the
Way I described it. However, you have a full Commission to put out or
in, and to do whatever you think fit with it. I have already had the
Satisfaction of seeing you take that Liberty with some things I have
before sent you. [1]
'Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes of
_SIR, Your very Affectionate,
and Obliged Humble Servant._'
_Cambridge_.
_Mr, SPECTATOR_,
'You well know it is of great Consequence to clear Titles, and it is
of Importance that it be done in the proper Season; On which Account
this is to assure you, that the CLUB OF UGLY FACES was instituted
originally at _CAMBRIDGE_ in the merry Reign of King _Charles_ II. As
in great Bodies of Men it is not difficult to find Members enough for
such a Club, so (I remember) it was then feared, upon their Intention
of dining together, that the Hall belonging to _CLAREHALL_, (the
ugliest _then_ in the Town, tho' _now_ the neatest) would not be large
enough HANDSOMELY to hold the Company. Invitations were made to great
Numbers, but very few accepted them without much Difficulty. ONE
pleaded that being at _London_ in a Bookseller's Shop, a Lady going by
with a great Belly longed to kiss him. HE had certainly been excused,
but that Evidence appeared, That indeed one in _London_ did pretend
she longed to kiss him, but that it was only a _Pickpocket_, who
during his kissing her stole away all his Money. ANOTHER would have
got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved upon _him_, that he
had, by coming into a Room, made a Woman miscarry, and frightened two
Children into Fits. A THIRD alledged, That he was taken by a Lady for
another Gentleman, who was one of the handsomest in the University;
But upon Enquiry it was found that the Lady had actually lost one Eye,
and the other was very much upon the Decline. A FOURTH produced
Letters out of the Country in his Vindication, in which a Gentleman
offered him his Daughter, who had lately fallen in Love with him, with
a good Fortune: But it was made appear that the young Lady was
amorous, and had like to have run away with her Father's Coachman, so
that it was supposed, that her Pretence of falling in Love with him
was only in order to be well married. It was pleasant to hear the
several Excuses which were made, insomuch that some made as much
Interest to be excused as they would from serving Sheriff; however at
last the Society was formed, and proper Officers were appointed; and
the Day was fix'd for the Entertainment, which was in _Venison
Season_. A pleasant _Fellow of King's College_ (commonly called CRAB
from his sour Look, and the only Man who did not pretend to get off)
was nominated for Chaplain; and nothing was wanting but some one to
sit in the Elbow-Chair, by way of PRESIDENT, at the upper end of the
Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Contention for
Superiority _there_. This Affair made so great a Noise, that the King,
who was then at _Newmarket_, heard of it, and was pleased merrily and
graciously to say, HE COULD NOT BE THERE HIMSELF, BUT HE WOULD SEND
THEM A BRACE OF BUCKS.
I would desire you, Sir, to set this Affair in a true Light, that
Posterity may not be misled in so important a Point: For when _the
wise Man who shall write your true History_ shall acquaint the World,
That you had a DIPLOMA sent from the _Ugly Club at OXFORD_, and that
by vertue of it you were admitted into it, what a learned Work will
there be among _future Criticks_ about the Original of that Club,
which both Universities will contend so warmly for? And perhaps some
hardy _Cantabrigian_ Author may then boldly affirm, that the Word
_OXFORD_ was an interpolation of some _Oxonian_ instead of
_CAMBRIDGE_. This Affair will be best adjusted in your Life-time; but
I hope your Affection to your MOTHER will not make you partial to your
AUNT.
To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho' I cannot find any ancient
Records of any Acts of the SOCIETY OF THE UGLY FACES, considered in a
_publick_ Capacity; yet in a _private_ one they have certainly
Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded they will hardly give Place to
the LOWNGERS, and the LOWNGERS are of the same Standing with the
University itself.
Tho' we well know, Sir, you want no Motives to do Justice, yet I am
commission'd to tell you, that you are invited to be admitted _ad
eundem_ at _CAMBRIDGE_; and I believe I may venture safely to deliver
this as the Wish of our Whole University.'
_To Mr_. SPECTATOR.
_The humble Petition of WHO and WHICH_.
Sheweth,
'THAT your Petitioners being in a forlorn and destitute Condition,
know not to whom we should apply ourselves for Relief, because there
is hardly any Man alive who hath not injured us. Nay, we speak it with
Sorrow, even You your self, whom we should suspect of such a Practice
the last of all Mankind, can hardly acquit your self of having given
us some Cause of Complaint. We are descended of ancient Families, and
kept up our Dignity and Honour many Years, till the Jack-sprat THAT
supplanted us. How often have we found ourselves slighted by the
Clergy in their Pulpits, and the Lawyers at the Bar? Nay, how often
have we heard in one of the most polite and august Assemblies in the
Universe, to our great Mortification, these Words, _That THAT that
noble Lord urged_; which if one of us had had Justice done, would have
sounded nobler thus, _That WHICH that noble Lord urged_. Senates
themselves, the Guardians of _British_ Liberty, have degraded us, and
preferred THAT to us; and yet no Decree was ever given against us. In
the very Acts of Parliament, in which the utmost Right should be done
to every _Body_, _WORD_ and _Thing_, we find our selves often either
not used, or used one instead of another. In the first and best Prayer
Children are taught, they learn to misuse us: _Our_ _Father WHICH art
in Heaven_, should be, _Our Father WHO_ _art in Heaven_; and even a
CONVOCATION after long Debates, refused to consent to an Alteration of
it. In our _general Confession_ we say,--_Spare thou them, O God,
WHICH confess their Faults_, which ought to be, _WHO confess their
Faults_. What Hopes then have we of having Justice done so, when the
Makers of our very Prayers and Laws, and the most learned in all
Faculties, seem to be in a Confederacy against us, and our Enemies
themselves must be our Judges.'
The _Spanish_ Proverb says, _Il sabio muda consejo, il necio no_; i.
e. _A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will_. So that we think
You, Sir, a very proper Person to address to, since we know you to be
capable of being convinced, and changing your Judgment. You are well
able to settle this Affair, and to you we submit our Cause. We desire
you to assign the Butts and Bounds of each of us; and that for the
future we may both enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by our
Counsel, but that we fear in their very Pleadings they would betray
our Cause: Besides, we have been oppressed so many Years, that we can
appear no other way, but _in forma pauperis_. All which considered, we
hope you will be pleased to do that which to Right and Justice shall
appertain.
_And your Petitioners, &c_.
R.
[Footnote 1: This letter is probably by Laurence Eusden, and the
preceding letter by the same hand would be the account of the Loungers
in No. 54. Laurence Eusden, son of Dr. Eusden, Rector of Spalsworth, in
Yorkshire, was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, took orders, and
became Chaplain to Lord Willoughby de Broke. He obtained the patronage
of Lord Halifax by a Latin version of his Lordship's poem on the Battle
of the Boyne, in 1718. By the influence of the Duke of Newcastle, then
Lord Chamberlain, he was made Poet-laureate, upon the death of Rowe.
Eusden died, rector of Conington, Lincolnshire, in 1730, and his death
was hastened by intemperance. Of the laurel left for Cibber Pope wrote
in the Dunciad,
_Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise;
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days._]
* * * * *
No. 79. Thursday, May 31, 1711. Steele.
'Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore.'
Hor.
I have received very many Letters of late from my Female Correspondents,
most of whom are very angry with me for Abridging their Pleasures, and
looking severely upon Things, in themselves, indifferent. But I think
they are extremely Unjust to me in this Imputation: All that I contend
for is, that those Excellencies, which are to be regarded but in the
second Place, should not precede more weighty Considerations. The Heart
of Man deceives him in spite of the Lectures of half a Life spent in
Discourses on the Subjection of Passion; and I do not know why one may
not think the Heart of Woman as Unfaithful to itself. If we grant an
Equality in the Faculties of both Sexes, the Minds of Women are less
cultivated with Precepts, and consequently may, without Disrespect to
them, be accounted more liable to Illusion in Cases wherein natural
Inclination is out of the Interests of Virtue. I shall take up my
present Time in commenting upon a Billet or two which came from Ladies,
and from thence leave the Reader to judge whether I am in the right or
not, in thinking it is possible Fine Women may be mistaken.
The following Address seems to have no other Design in it, but to tell
me the Writer will do what she pleases for all me.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I am Young, and very much inclin'd to follow the Paths of Innocence:
but at the same time, as I have a plentiful Fortune, and of Quality, I
am unwilling to resign the Pleasures of Distinction, some little
Satisfaction in being Admired in general, and much greater in being
beloved by a Gentleman, whom I design to make my Husband. But I have a
mind to put off entering into Matrimony till another Winter is over my
Head, which, (whatever, musty Sir, you may think of the Matter) I
design to pass away in hearing Music, going to Plays, Visiting, and
all other Satisfactions which Fortune and Youth, protected by
Innocence and Virtue, can procure for,'
SIR,
_Your most humble Servant_,
M. T.
'My Lover does not know I like him, therefore having no Engagements
upon me, I think to stay and know whether I may not like any one else
better.'
I have heard WILL. HONEYCOMB say,
_A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript_.
I think this Gentlewoman has sufficiently discovered hers in this. I'll
lay what Wager she pleases against her present Favourite, and can tell
her that she will Like Ten more before she is fixed, and then will take
the worst Man she ever liked in her Life. There is no end of Affection
taken in at the Eyes only; and you may as well satisfie those Eyes with
seeing, as controul any Passion received by them only. It is from loving
by Sight that Coxcombs so frequently succeed with Women, and very often
a Young Lady is bestowed by her Parents to a Man who weds her as
Innocence itself, tho' she has, in her own Heart, given her Approbation
of a different Man in every Assembly she was in the whole Year before.
What is wanting among Women, as well as among Men, is the Love of
laudable Things, and not to rest only in the Forbearance of such as are
Reproachful.
How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination is _Eudosia!
Eudosia_ has all the Arts of Life and good Breeding with so much Ease,
that the Virtue of her Conduct looks more like an Instinct than Choice.
It is as little difficult to her to think justly of Persons and Things,
as it is to a Woman of different Accomplishments, to move ill or look
awkward. That which was, at first, the Effect of Instruction, is grown
into an Habit; and it would be as hard for _Eudosia_ to indulge a wrong
Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for _Flavia_ the fine Dancer to
come into a Room with an unbecoming Air.
But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their own State of
Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the following Letter, which
is but an Extract of a kind Epistle from my charming mistress
_Hecatissa_, who is above the Vanity of external Beauty, and is the best
Judge of the Perfections of the Mind.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
"I Write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well as
myself, spend many Hours more than we used at the Glass, for want of
the Female Library of which you promised us a Catalogue. I hope, Sir,
in the Choice of Authors for us, you will have a particular Regard to
Books of Devotion. What they are, and how many, must be your chief
Care; for upon the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I
have known those among us who think, if they every Morning and Evening
spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many Prayers in six or
seven Books of Devotion, all equally nonsensical, with a sort of
Warmth, (that might as well be raised by a Glass of Wine, or a Drachm
of Citron) they may all the rest of their time go on in whatever their
particular Passion leads them to. The beauteous _Philautia_, who is
(in your Language) an _Idol_, is one of these Votaries; she has a very
pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed Hours:
This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chapel; she has constantly
before her a large Looking-glass, and upon the Table, according to a
very witty Author,
_Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint,
At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint_.
It must be a good Scene, if one could be present at it, to see this
_Idol_ by turns lift up her Eyes to Heaven, and steal Glances at her
own dear Person. It cannot but be a pleasing Conflict between Vanity
and Humiliation. When you are upon this Subject, choose Books which
elevate the Mind above the World, and give a pleasing Indifference to
little things in it. For want of such Instructions, I am apt to
believe so many People take it in their Heads to be sullen, cross and
angry, under pretence of being abstracted from the Affairs of this
Life, when at the same time they betray their Fondness for them by
doing their Duty as a Task, and pouting and reading good Books for a
Week together. Much of this I take to proceed from the Indiscretion of
the Books themselves, whose very Titles of Weekly Preparations, and
such limited Godliness, lead People of ordinary Capacities into great
Errors, and raise in them a Mechanical Religion, entirely distinct
from Morality. I know a Lady so given up to this sort of Devotion,
that tho' she employs six or eight Hours of the twenty-four at Cards,
she never misses one constant Hour of Prayer, for which time another
holds her Cards, to which she returns with no little Anxiousness till
two or three in the Morning. All these Acts are but empty Shows, and,
as it were, Compliments made to Virtue; the Mind is all the while
untouched with any true Pleasure in the Pursuit of it. From hence I
presume it arises that so many People call themselves Virtuous, from
no other Pretence to it but an Absence of Ill. There is _Dulcianara_
is the most insolent of all Creatures to her Friends and Domesticks,
upon no other Pretence in Nature but that (as her silly Phrase is) no
one can say Black is her Eye. She has no Secrets, forsooth, which
should make her afraid to speak her Mind, and therefore she is
impertinently Blunt to all her Acquaintance, and unseasonably
Imperious to all her Family. Dear Sir, be pleased to put such Books in
our Hands, as may make our Virtue more inward, and convince some of us
that in a Mind truly virtuous the Scorn of Vice is always accompanied
with the Pity of it. This and other things are impatiently expected
from you by our whole Sex; among the rest by,
SIR,
_Your most humble Servant_,'
B.
* * * * *
No. 80. Friday, June 1, 1711. Steele.
'Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.'
Hor.
In the Year 1688, and on the same Day of that Year, were born in
_Cheapside, London_, two Females of exquisite Feature and Shape; the one
we shall call _Brunetta_, the other _Phillis_. A close Intimacy between
their Parents made each of them the first Acquaintance the other knew in
the World: They played, dressed Babies, acted Visitings, learned to
Dance and make Curtesies, together. They were inseparable Companions in
all the little Entertainments their tender Years were capable of: Which
innocent Happiness continued till the Beginning of their fifteenth Year,
when it happened that Mrs. _Phillis_ had an Head-dress on which became
her so very well, that instead of being beheld any more with Pleasure
for their Amity to each other, the Eyes of the Neighbourhood were turned
to remark them with Comparison of their Beauty. They now no longer
enjoyed the Ease of Mind and pleasing Indolence in which they were
formerly happy, but all their Words and Actions were misinterpreted by
each other, and every Excellence in their Speech and Behaviour was
looked upon as an Act of Emulation to surpass the other. These
Beginnings of Disinclination soon improved into a Formality of
Behaviour; a general Coldness, and by natural Steps into an
irreconcilable Hatred.
These two Rivals for the Reputation of Beauty, were in their Stature,
Countenance and Mien so very much alike, that if you were speaking of
them in their Absence, the Words in which you described the one must
give you an Idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you
would think, when they were apart, tho' extremely different when
together. What made their Enmity the more entertaining to all the rest
of their Sex was, that in Detraction from each other neither could fall
upon Terms which did not hit herself as much as her Adversary. Their
Nights grew restless with Meditation of new Dresses to outvie each
other, and inventing new Devices to recal Admirers, who observed the
Charms of the one rather than those of the other on the last Meeting.
Their Colours failed at each other's Appearance, flushed with Pleasure
at the Report of a Disadvantage, and their Countenances withered upon
Instances of Applause. The Decencies to which Women are obliged, made
these Virgins stifle their Resentment so far as not to break into open
Violences, while they equally suffered the Torments of a regulated
Anger. Their Mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the Quarrel, and
supported the several Pretensions of the Daughters with all that
ill-chosen Sort of Expence which is common with People of plentiful
Fortunes and mean Taste. The Girls preceded their Parents like Queens of
_May_, in all the gaudy Colours imaginable, on every _Sunday_ to Church,
and were exposed to the Examination of the Audience for Superiority of
Beauty.
During this constant Straggle it happened, that _Phillis_ one Day at
publick Prayers smote the Heart of a gay _West-Indian_, who appear'd in
all the Colours which can affect an Eye that could not distinguish
between being fine and tawdry. This _American_ in a Summer-Island Suit
was too shining and too gay to be resisted by _Phillis_, and too intent
upon her Charms to be diverted by any of the laboured Attractions of
_Brunetta_. Soon after, _Brunetta_ had the Mortification to see her
Rival disposed of in a wealthy Marriage, while she was only addressed to
in a Manner that shewed she was the Admiration of all Men, but the
Choice of none. _Phillis_ was carried to the Habitation of her Spouse in
_Barbadoes_: _Brunetta_ had the Ill-nature to inquire for her by every
Opportunity, and had the Misfortune to hear of her being attended by
numerous Slaves, fanned into Slumbers by successive Hands of them, and
carried from Place to Place in all the Pomp of barbarous Magnificence.
_Brunetta_ could not endure these repeated Advices, but employed all her
Arts and Charms in laying Baits for any of Condition of the same Island,
out of a mere Ambition to confront her once more before she died. She at
last succeeded in her Design, and was taken to Wife by a Gentleman whose
Estate was contiguous to that of her Enemy's Husband. It would be
endless to enumerate the many Occasions on which these irreconcileable
Beauties laboured to excel each other; but in process of Time it
happened that a Ship put into the Island consigned to a Friend of
_Phillis_, who had Directions to give her the Refusal of all Goods for
Apparel, before _Brunetta_ could be alarmed of their Arrival. He did so,
and _Phillis_ was dressed in a few Days in a Brocade more gorgeous and
costly than had ever before appeared in that Latitude. _Brunetta_
languished at the Sight, and could by no means come up to the Bravery of
her Antagonist. She communicated her Anguish of Mind to a faithful
Friend, who by an Interest in the Wife of _Phillis's_ Merchant, procured
a Remnant of the same Silk for _Brunetta_. _Phillis_ took pains to
appear in all public Places where she was sure to meet _Brunetta_;
_Brunetta_ was now prepared for the Insult, and came to a public Ball in
a plain black Silk Mantua, attended by a beautiful Negro Girl in a
Petticoat of the same Brocade with which _Phillis_ was attired. This
drew the Attention of the whole Company, upon which the unhappy
_Phillis_ swooned away, and was immediately convey'd to her House. As
soon as she came to herself she fled from her Husband's House, went on
board a Ship in the Road, and is now landed in inconsolable Despair at
_Plymouth_.
_POSTSCRIPT_.
After the above melancholy Narration, it may perhaps be a Relief to the
Reader to peruse the following Expostulation.
_To Mr._ SPECTATOR.
_The just Remonstrance of affronted THAT._
'Tho' I deny not the Petition of Mr. _Who_ and _Which_, yet You should
not suffer them to be rude and call honest People Names: For that
bears very hard on some of those Rules of Decency, which You are
justly famous for establishing. They may find fault, and correct
Speeches in the Senate and at the Bar: But let them try to get
_themselves_ so _often_ and with so much _Eloquence_ repeated in a
Sentence, as a great Orator doth frequently introduce me.
My Lords! (says he) with humble Submission, _That_ that I say is
this; that, _That_ that that Gentleman has advanced, is not _That_,
that he should have proved to your Lordships. Let those two
questionary Petitioners try to do thus with their _Who's_ and their
_Whiches_.
'What great advantage was I of to Mr. _Dryden_ in his _Indian
Emperor_,
_You force me still to answer You in_ That,
to furnish out a Rhyme to _Morat_? And what a poor Figure would Mr.
_Bayes_ have made without his _Egad and all That_? How can a judicious
Man distinguish one thing from another, without saying _This here_, or
_That there_? And how can a sober Man without using the _Expletives_
of Oaths (in which indeed the Rakes and Bullies have a great advantage
over others) make a Discourse of any tolerable Length, without _That
is_; and if he be a very grave Man indeed, without _That is to say_?
And how instructive as well as entertaining are those usual
Expressions in the Mouths of great Men, _Such Things as That_ and _The
like of That_.
I am not against reforming the Corruptions of Speech You mention, and
own there are proper Seasons for the Introduction of other Words
besides _That_; but I scorn as much to supply the Place of a _Who_ or
a _Which_ at every Turn, as they are _unequal_ always to fill mine;
And I expect good Language and civil Treatment, and hope to receive it
for the future: _That_, that I shall only add is, that I am,
_Yours_,
THAT.'
R.
* * * * *
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
CHARLES LORD HALLIFAX. [1]
_My_ LORD,
Similitude of Manners and Studies is usually mentioned as one of the
strongest motives to Affection and Esteem; but the passionate Veneration
I have for your Lordship, I think, flows from an Admiration of Qualities
in You, of which, in the whole course of these Papers I have
acknowledged myself incapable. While I busy myself as a Stranger upon
Earth, and can pretend to no other than being a Looker-on, You are
conspicuous in the Busy and Polite world, both in the World of Men, and
that of Letters; While I am silent and unobserv'd in publick Meetings,
You are admired by all that approach You as the Life and Genius of the
Conversation. What an happy Conjunction of different Talents meets in
him whose whole Discourse is at once animated by the Strength and Force
of Reason, and adorned with all the Graces and Embellishments of Wit:
When Learning irradiates common Life, it is then in its highest Use and
Perfection; and it is to such as Your Lordship, that the Sciences owe
the Esteem which they have with the active Part of Mankind. Knowledge of
Books in recluse Men, is like that sort of Lanthorn which hides him who
carries it, and serves only to pass through secret and gloomy Paths of
his own; but in the Possession of a Man of Business, it is as a Torch in
the Hand of one who is willing and able to shew those, who are
bewildered, the Way which leads to their Prosperity and Welfare. A
generous Concern for your Country, and a Passion for every thing which
is truly Great and Noble, are what actuate all Your Life and Actions;
and I hope You will forgive me that I have an Ambition this Book may be
placed in the Library of so good a Judge of what is valuable, in that
Library where the Choice is such, that it will not be a Disparagement to
be the meanest Author in it. Forgive me, my Lord, for taking this
Occasion of telling all the World how ardently I Love and Honour You;
and that I am, with the utmost Gratitude for all Your Favours,
_My Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most Obliged,
Most Obedient, and
Most Humble Servant,
THE SPECTATOR._
[Footnote 1: When the 'Spectators' were reissued in volumes, Vol. I.
ended with No. 80, and to the second volume, containing the next 89
numbers, this Dedication was prefixed.
Charles Montague, at the time of the dedication fifty years old, and
within four years of the end of his life, was born, in 1661, at Horton,
in Northamptonshire. His father was a younger son of the first Earl of
Manchester. He was educated at Westminster School and at Trinity
College, Cambridge.
Apt for wit and verse, he joined with his friend Prior in writing a
burlesque on Dryden's 'Hind and Panther', 'Transversed to the Story of
the Country and the City Mouse.' In Parliament in James the Second's
reign, he joined in the invitation of William of Orange, and rose
rapidly, a self-made man, after the Revolution. In 1691 he was a Lord of
the Treasury; in April, 1694, he became Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
in May, 1697, First Lord of the Treasury, retaining the Chancellorship
and holding both offices till near the close of 1699. Of his dealing
with the currency, see note on p. 19. In 1700 he was made Baron Halifax,
and had secured the office of Auditor of the Exchequer, which was worth
at least L4000 a year, and in war time twice as much. The Tories, on
coming to power, made two unsuccessful attempts to fix on him charges of
fraud. In October, 1714, George I made him Earl of Halifax and Viscount
Sunbury. Then also he again became Prime Minister. He was married, but
died childless, in May, 1715. In 1699, when Somers and Halifax were the
great chiefs of the Whig Ministry, they joined in befriending Addison,
then 27 years old, who had pleased Somers with a piece of English verse
and Montague with Latin lines upon the Peace of Ryswick.
Now, therefore, having dedicated the First volume of the 'Spectator' to
Somers, it is to Halifax that Steele and he inscribe the Second.
Of the defect in Charles Montague's character, Lord Macaulay writes
that, when at the height of his fortune,
"He became proud even to insolence. Old companions ... hardly knew
their friend Charles in the great man who could not forget for one
moment that he was First Lord of the Treasury, that he was Chancellor
of the Exchequer, that he had been a Regent of the kingdom, that he
had founded the Bank of England, and the new East India Company, that
he had restored the Currency, that he had invented the Exchequer
Bills, that he had planned the General Mortgage, and that he had been
pronounced, by a solemn vote of the Commons, to have deserved all the
favours which he had received from the Crown. It was said that
admiration of himself and contempt of others were indicated by all his
gestures, and written in all the lines of his face."]
* * * * *
No. 81. Saturday, June 2, 1711. Addison.
'Qualis ubi audito venantum murmure Tigris
Horruit in maculas ...'
Statins.
About the Middle of last Winter I went to see an Opera at the Theatre in
the _Hay-Market_, where I could not but take notice of two Parties of
very fine Women, that had placed themselves in the opposite Side-Boxes,
and seemed drawn up in a kind of Battle-Array one against another. After
a short Survey of them, I found they were Patch'd differently; the Faces
on one Hand, being spotted on the right Side of the Forehead, and those
upon the other on the Left. I quickly perceived that they cast hostile
Glances upon one another; and that their Patches were placed in those
different Situations, as Party-Signals to distinguish Friends from Foes.
In the Middle-Boxes, between these two opposite Bodies, were several
Ladies who Patched indifferently on both Sides of their Faces, and
seem'd to sit there with no other Intention but to see the Opera. Upon
Inquiry I found, that the Body of _Amazons_ on my Right Hand, were
Whigs, and those on my Left, Tories; And that those who had placed
themselves in the Middle Boxes were a Neutral Party, whose Faces had not
yet declared themselves. These last, however, as I afterwards found,
diminished daily, and took their Party with one Side or the other;
insomuch that I observed in several of them, the Patches, which were
before dispersed equally, are now all gone over to the Whig or Tory Side
of the Face. The Censorious say, That the Men, whose Hearts are aimed
at, are very often the Occasions that one Part of the Face is thus
dishonoured, and lies under a kind of Disgrace, while the other is so
much Set off and Adorned by the Owner; and that the Patches turn to the
Right or to the Left, according to the Principles of the Man who is most
in Favour. But whatever may be the Motives of a few fantastical Coquets,
who do not Patch for the Publick Good so much as for their own private
Advantage, it is certain, that there are several Women of Honour who
patch out of Principle, and with an Eye to the Interest of their
Country. Nay, I am informed that some of them adhere so stedfastly to
their Party, and are so far from sacrificing their Zeal for the Publick
to their Passion for any particular Person, that in a late Draught of
Marriage-Articles a Lady has stipulated with her Husband, That, whatever
his Opinions are, she shall be at liberty to Patch on which Side she
pleases.
I must here take notice, that _Rosalinda_, a famous Whig Partizan, has
most unfortunately a very beautiful Mole on the Tory Part of her
Forehead; which being very conspicuous, has occasioned many Mistakes,
and given an Handle to her Enemies to misrepresent her Face, as tho' it
had Revolted from the Whig Interest. But, whatever this natural Patch
may seem to intimate, it is well known that her Notions of Government
are still the same. This unlucky Mole, however, has mis-led several
Coxcombs; and like the hanging out of false Colours, made some of them
converse with _Rosalinda_ in what they thought the Spirit of her Party,
when on a sudden she has given them an unexpected Fire, that has sunk
them all at once. If _Rosalinda_ is unfortunate in her Mole,
_Nigranilla_ is as unhappy in a Pimple, which forces her, against her
Inclinations, to Patch on the Whig Side.
I am told that many virtuous Matrons, who formerly have been taught to
believe that this artificial Spotting of the Face was unlawful, are now
reconciled by a Zeal for their Cause, to what they could not be prompted
by a Concern for their Beauty. This way of declaring War upon one
another, puts me in mind of what is reported of the Tigress, that
several Spots rise in her Skin when she is angry, or as Mr. _Cowley_ has
imitated the Verses that stand as the Motto on this Paper,
... _She swells with angry Pride,
And calls forth all her Spots on ev'ry Side_. [1]
When I was in the Theatre the Time above-mentioned, I had the Curiosity
to count the Patches on both Sides, and found the Tory Patches to be
about Twenty stronger than the Whig; but to make amends for this small
Inequality, I the next Morning found the whole Puppet-Show filled with
Faces spotted after the Whiggish Manner. Whether or no the Ladies had
retreated hither in order to rally their Forces I cannot tell; but the
next Night they came in so great a Body to the Opera, that they
out-number'd the Enemy.
This Account of Party Patches, will, I am afraid, appear improbable to
those who live at a Distance from the fashionable World: but as it is a
Distinction of a very singular Nature, and what perhaps may never meet
with a Parallel, I think I should not have discharged the Office of a
faithful SPECTATOR, had I not recorded it.
I have, in former Papers, endeavoured to expose this Party-Rage in
Women, as it only serves to aggravate the Hatreds and Animosities that
reign among Men, and in a great measure deprive the Fair Sex of those
peculiar Charms with which Nature has endowed them.
When the _Romans_ and _Sabines_ were at War, and just upon the Point of
giving Battel, the Women, who were allied to both of them, interposed
with so many Tears and Intreaties, that they prevented the mutual
Slaughter which threatned both Parties, and united them together in a
firm and lasting Peace.
I would recommend this noble Example to our _British_ Ladies, at a Time
when their Country is torn with so many unnatural Divisions, that if
they continue, it will be a Misfortune to be born in it. The _Greeks_
thought it so improper for Women to interest themselves in Competitions
and Contentions, that for this Reason, among others, they forbad them,
under Pain of Death, to be present at the _Olympick_ Games,
notwithstanding these were the publick Diversions of all _Greece_.
As our _English_ Women excel those of all Nations in Beauty, they should
endeavour to outshine them in all other Accomplishments [proper [2]] to
the Sex, and to distinguish themselves as tender Mothers, and faithful
Wives, rather than as furious Partizans. Female Virtues are of a
Domestick Turn. The Family is the proper Province for Private Women to
shine in. If they must be shewing their Zeal for the Publick, let it not
be against those who are perhaps of the same Family, or at least of the
same Religion or Nation, but against those who are the open, professed,
undoubted Enemies of their Faith, Liberty and Country. When the _Romans_
were pressed with a Foreign Enemy, the Ladies voluntarily contributed
all their Rings and Jewels to assist the Government under a publick
Exigence, which appeared so laudable an Action in the Eyes of their
Countrymen, that from thenceforth it was permitted by a Law to pronounce
publick Orations at the Funeral of a Woman in Praise of the deceased
Person, which till that Time was peculiar to Men. Would our _English_
Ladies, instead of sticking on a Patch against those of their own
Country, shew themselves so truly Publick-spirited as to sacrifice every
one her Necklace against the common Enemy, what Decrees ought not to be
made in Favour of them?
Since I am recollecting upon this Subject such Passages as occur to my
Memory out of ancient Authors, I cannot omit a Sentence in the
celebrated Funeral Oration of _Pericles_ [3] which he made in Honour of
those brave _Athenians_ that were slain in a fight with the
_Lacedaemonians_. After having addressed himself to the several Ranks
and Orders of his Countrymen, and shewn them how they should behave
themselves in the Publick Cause, he turns to the Female Part of his
Audience;
'And as for you (says he) I shall advise you in very few Words:
Aspire only to those Virtues that are peculiar to your Sex; follow
your natural Modesty, and think it your greatest Commendation not to
be talked of one way or other'.
C.
[Footnote 1: 'Davideis', Bk III. But Cowley's Tiger is a Male.]
[Footnote 2: that are proper]
[Footnote 3: Thucydides, Bk II.]
* * * * *
No. 82. Monday, June 4, 1711. Steele.
'... Caput domina venate sub hasta.'
Juv.
Passing under _Ludgate_ [1] the other Day, I heard a Voice bawling for
Charity, which I thought I had somewhere heard before. Coming near to
the Grate, the Prisoner called me by my Name, and desired I would throw
something into the Box: I was out of Countenance for him, and did as he
bid me, by putting in half a Crown. I went away, reflecting upon the
strange Constitution of some Men, and how meanly they behave themselves
in all Sorts of Conditions. The Person who begged of me is now, as I
take it, Fifty; I was well acquainted with him till about the Age of
Twenty-five; at which Time a good Estate fell to him by the Death of a
Relation. Upon coming to this unexpected good Fortune, he ran into all
the Extravagancies imaginable; was frequently in drunken Disputes, broke
Drawers Heads, talked and swore loud, was unmannerly to those above him,
and insolent to those below him. I could not but remark, that it was the
same Baseness of Spirit which worked in his Behaviour in both Fortunes:
The same little Mind was insolent in Riches, and shameless in Poverty.
This Accident made me muse upon the Circumstances of being in Debt in
general, and solve in my Mind what Tempers were most apt to fall into
this Error of Life, as well as the Misfortune it must needs be to
languish under such Pressures. As for my self, my natural Aversion to
that sort of Conversation which makes a Figure with the Generality of
Mankind, exempts me from any Temptations to Expence; and all my Business
lies within a very narrow Compass, which is only to give an honest Man,
who takes care of my Estate, proper Vouchers for his quarterly Payments
to me, and observe what Linnen my Laundress brings and takes away with
her once a Week: My Steward brings his Receipt ready for my Signing; and
I have a pretty Implement with the respective Names of Shirts, Cravats,
Handkerchiefs and Stockings, with proper Numbers to know how to reckon
with my Laundress. This being almost all the Business I have in the
World for the Care of my own Affairs, I am at full Leisure to observe
upon what others do, with relation to their Equipage and Oeconomy.
When I walk the Street, and observe the Hurry about me in this Town,
_Where with like Haste, tho' diff'rent Ways they run;
Some to undo, and some to be undone;_ [2]
I say, when I behold this vast Variety of Persons and Humours, with the
Pains they both take for the Accomplishment of the Ends mentioned in the
above Verse of _Denham,_ I cannot much wonder at the Endeavour after
Gain, but am extremely astonished that Men can be so insensible of the
Danger of running into Debt. One would think it impossible a Man who is
given to contract Debts should know, that his Creditor has, from that
Moment in which he transgresses Payment, so much as that Demand comes to
in his Debtor's Honour, Liberty, and Fortune. One would think he did not
know, that his Creditor can say the worst thing imaginable of him, to
wit, _That he is unjust_, without Defamation; and can seize his Person,
without being guilty of an Assault. Yet such is the loose and abandoned
Turn of some Men's Minds, that they can live under these constant
Apprehensions, and still go on to encrease the Cause of them. Can there
be a more low and servile Condition, than to be ashamed, or afraid, to
see any one Man breathing? Yet he that is much in Debt, is in that
Condition with relation to twenty different People. There are indeed
Circumstances wherein Men of honest Natures may become liable to Debts,
by some unadvised Behaviour in any great Point of their Life, or
mortgaging a Man's Honesty as a Security for that of another, and the
like; but these Instances are so particular and circumstantiated, that
they cannot come within general Considerations: For one such Case as one
of these, there are ten, where a Man, to keep up a Farce of Retinue and
Grandeur within his own House, shall shrink at the Expectation of surly
Demands at his Doors. The Debtor is the Creditor's Criminal, and all the
Officers of Power and State, whom we behold make so great a Figure, are
no other than so many Persons in Authority to make good his Charge
against him. Human Society depends upon his having the Vengeance Law
allots him; and the Debtor owes his Liberty to his Neighbour, as much as
the Murderer does his Life to his Prince.
Our Gentry are, generally speaking, in Debt; and many Families have put
it into a kind of Method of being so from Generation to Generation. The
Father mortgages when his Son is very young: and the Boy is to marry as
soon as he is at Age, to redeem it, and find Portions for his Sisters.
This, forsooth, is no great Inconvenience to him; for he may wench, keep
a publick Table or feed Dogs, like a worthy _English_ Gentleman, till he
has out-run half his Estate, and leave the same Incumbrance upon his
First-born, and so on, till one Man of more Vigour than ordinary goes
quite through the Estate, or some Man of Sense comes into it, and scorns
to have an Estate in Partnership, that is to say, liable to the Demand
or Insult of any Man living. There is my Friend Sir ANDREW, tho' for
many Years a great and general Trader, was never the Defendant in a
Law-Suit, in all the Perplexity of Business, and the Iniquity of Mankind
at present: No one had any Colour for the least Complaint against his
Dealings with him. This is certainly as uncommon, and in its Proportion
as laudable in a Citizen, as it is in a General never to have suffered a
Disadvantage in Fight. How different from this Gentleman is _Jack
Truepenny,_ who has been an old Acquaintance of Sir ANDREW and my self
from Boys, but could never learn our Caution. _Jack_ has a whorish
unresisting Good-nature, which makes him incapable of having a Property
in any thing. His Fortune, his Reputation, his Time and his Capacity,
are at any Man's Service that comes first. When he was at School, he was
whipped thrice a Week for Faults he took upon him to excuse others;
since he came into the Business of the World, he has been arrested twice
or thrice a Year for Debts he had nothing to do with, but as a Surety
for others; and I remember when a Friend of his had suffered in the Vice
of the Town, all the Physick his Friend took was conveyed to him by
_Jack_, and inscribed, 'A Bolus or an Electuary for Mr. _Truepenny_.'
_Jack_ had a good Estate left him, which came to nothing; because he
believed all who pretended to Demands upon it. This Easiness and
Credulity destroy all the other Merit he has; and he has all his Life
been a Sacrifice to others, without ever receiving Thanks, or doing one
good Action.
I will end this Discourse with a Speech which I heard _Jack_ make to one
of his Creditors, (of whom he deserved gentler Usage) after lying a
whole Night in Custody at his Suit.
SIR,
'Your Ingratitude for the many Kindnesses I have done you, shall not
make me unthankful for the Good you have done me, in letting me see
there is such a Man as you in the World. I am obliged to you for the
Diffidence I shall have all the rest of my Life: _I shall hereafter
trust no Man so far as to be in his Debt_.'
R.
[Footnote 1: Ludgate was originally built in 1215, by the Barons who
entered London, destroyed houses of Jews and erected this gate with
their ruins. It was first used as a prison in 1373, being then a free
prison, but soon losing that privilege. Sir Stephen Forster, who was
Lord Mayor in 1454, had been a prisoner at Ludgate and begged at the
grate, where he was seen by a rich widow who bought his liberty, took
him into her service, and eventually married him. To commemorate this he
enlarged the accommodation for the prisoners and added a chapel. The old
gate was taken down and rebuilt in 1586. That second gate was destroyed
in the Fire of London.
The gate which succeeded and was used, like its predecessors, as a
wretched prison for debtors, was pulled down in 1760, and the prisoners
removed, first to the London workhouse, afterwards to part of the
Giltspur Street Compter.]
[Footnote 2: Sir John Denham's 'Cooper's Hill.']
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