The Spectator, Volume 1 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele (page 9)

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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