_Ordered_, That the Inspector I employ about Wonders, enquire at the _Golden-Lion_, opposite to the _Half-Moon_ Tavern in _Drury-Lane_, into the Merit of this Silent Sage, and report accordingly.
T.
[Footnote 1: Used for giving a drench to horses.]
[Footnote 2: Falconbridge in King John Act. I sc. i.]
[Footnote 3: This letter was by Steele’s old college friend, Richard Parker, who took his degree of M.A. in 1697, became fellow of Merton, and died Vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland. This is the friend whose condemnation of the comedy written by him in student days Steele had accepted without question.]
[Footnote 4: See note p. 421, vol. ii. [Footnote 4 of No. 323.]]
* * * * *
No. 475. Thursday, September 4, 1712. Addison.
‘–Quae res in se neque Consilium neque modum Habet ullum, eam consilio regere non potes.’
Ter.
It is an old Observation, which has been made of Politicians who would rather ingratiate themselves with their Sovereign, than promote his real Service, that they accommodate their Counsels to his Inclinations, and advise him to such Actions only as his Heart is naturally set upon. The Privy-Counsellor of one in Love must observe the same Conduct, unless he would forfeit the Friendship of the Person who desires his Advice. I have known several odd Cases of this Nature. _Hipparchus_ was going to marry a common Woman, but being resolved to do nothing without the Advice of his Friend _Philander_, he consulted him upon the Occasion. _Philander_ told him his Mind freely, and represented his Mistress to him in such strong Colours, that the next Morning he received a Challenge for his Pains, and before Twelve a Clock was run through the Body by the Man who had asked his Advice. _Celia_ was more prudent on the like occasion; she desired _Leonilla_ to give her Opinion freely upon a young Fellow who made his Addresses to her. _Leonilla_, to oblige her, told her with great Frankness, that, she looked upon him as one of the most worthless–_Celia_, foreseeing what a Character she was to expect, begged her not to go on, for that she had been privately married to him above a Fortnight. The truth of it is, a Woman seldom asks Advice before she has bought her Wedding-Cloaths. When she has made her own Choice, for Form’s sake she sends a _Conge d’elire_ to her Friends.
If we look into the secret Springs and Motives that set People at work in these Occasions, and put them upon asking Advice, which they never intend to take; I look upon it to be none of the least, that they are incapable of keeping a Secret which is so very pleasing to them. A Girl longs to tell her Confident, that she hopes to be married in a little time, and, in order to talk of the pretty Fellow that dwells so much in her Thoughts, asks her very gravely, what she would advise her to do in a case of so much Difficulty. Why else should _Melissa_, who had not a Thousand Pound in the World, go into every Quarter of the Town to ask her Acquaintance whether they would advise her to take _Tom Townly_, that made his Addresses to her with an Estate of Five Thousand a Year? ‘Tis very pleasant on this occasion, to hear the Lady propose her Doubts, and to see the Pains she is at to get over them.
I must not here omit a Practice that is in use among the vainer Part of our own Sex, who will often ask a Friend’s Advice, in relation to a Fortune whom they are never likely to come at. WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is now on the Verge of Threescore, took me aside not long since, and asked me in his most serious Look, whether I would advise him to marry my Lady _Betty Single_, who, by the way, is one of the greatest Fortunes about Town. I star’d him full in the Face upon so strange a Question; upon which he immediately gave me an Inventory of her Jewels and Estate, adding, that he was resolved to do nothing in a matter of such Consequence without my Approbation. Finding he would have an Answer, I told him, if he could get the Lady’s Consent, he had mine. This is about the Tenth Match which, to my knowledge, WILL, has consulted his Friends upon, without ever opening his Mind to the Party herself.
I have been engaged in this Subject by the following Letter, which comes to me from some notable young Female Scribe, who, by the Contents of it, seems to have carried Matters so far, that she is ripe for asking Advice; but as I would not lose her Good-Will, nor forfeit the Reputation which I have with her for Wisdom, I shall only communicate the Letter to the Publick, without returning any Answer to it.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
Now, Sir, the thing is this: Mr. _Shapely_ is the prettiest Gentleman about Town. He is very tall, but not too tall neither. He dances like a Angel. His Mouth is made I don’t know how, but ’tis the prettiest that I ever saw in my Life. He is always laughing, for he has an infinite deal of Wit. If you did but see how he rolls his Stockins! He has a thousand pretty Fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, you would like him. He is a very good Scholar, and can talk _Latin_ as fast as _English_. I wish you could but see him dance. Now you must understand poor Mr. _Shapely_ has no Estate; but how can he help that, you know? And yet my Friends are so unreasonable as to be always teazing me about him, because he has no Estate: but I am sure he has that that is better than an Estate; for he is a Good-natured, Ingenious, Modest, Civil, Tall, Well-bred, Handsome Man, and I am obliged to him for his Civilities ever since I saw him. I forgot to tell you that he has black Eyes, and looks upon me now and then as if he had tears in them. And yet my Friends are so unreasonable, that they would have me be uncivil to him. I have a good Portion which they cannot hinder me of, and I shall be fourteen on the 29th Day of _August_ next, and am therefore willing to settle in the World as soon as I can, and so is Mr. _Shapely_. But every body I advise with here is poor Mr. _Shapely’s_ Enemy. I desire therefore you will give me your Advice, for I know you are a wise Man; and if you advise me well, I am resolved to follow it. I heartily wish you could see him dance, and am,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
B. D.
He loves your _Spectators_ mightily.
C.
* * * * *
No. 476. Friday, September 5, 1712. Addison.
‘–lucidus Ordo–‘
Hor.
Among my Daily-Papers which I bestow on the Publick, there are some which are written with Regularity and Method, and others that run out into the Wildness of those Compositions which go by the Names of _Essays_. As for the first, I have the whole Scheme of the Discourse in my Mind before I set Pen to Paper. In the other kind of Writing, it is sufficient that I have several Thoughts on a Subject, without troubling my self to range them in such order, that they may seem to grow out of one another, and be disposed under the proper Heads. _Seneca_ and _Montaigne_ are Patterns for Writing in this last kind, as _Tully_ and _Aristotle_ excel in the other. When I read an Author of Genius who writes without Method, I fancy myself in a Wood that abounds with a great many noble Objects, rising among one another in the greatest Confusion and Disorder. When I read a methodical Discourse, I am in a regular Plantation, and can place my self in its several Centres, so as to take a view of all the Lines and Walks that are struck from them. You may ramble in the one a whole Day together, and every Moment discover something or other that is new to you; but when you have done, you will have but a confused imperfect Notion of the Place: In the other, your Eye commands the whole Prospect, and gives you such an Idea of it, as is not easily worn out of the Memory.
Irregularity and want of Method are only supportable in Men of great Learning or Genius, who are often too full to be exact, and therefore chuse to throw down their Pearls in Heaps before the Reader, rather than be at the Pains of stringing them.
Method is of advantage to a Work, both in respect to the Writer and the Reader. In regard to the first, it is a great help to his Invention. When a Man has plann’d his Discourse, he finds a great many Thoughts rising out of every Head, that do not offer themselves upon the general Survey of a Subject. His Thoughts are at the same time more intelligible, and better discover their Drift and Meaning, when they are placed in their proper Lights, and follow one another in a regular Series, than when they are thrown together without Order and Connexion. There is always an Obscurity in Confusion, and the same Sentence that would have enlightened the Reader in one part of a Discourse, perplexes him in another. For the same reason likewise every Thought in a methodical Discourse shews [it [1]] self in its greatest Beauty, as the several Figures in a piece of Painting receive new Grace from their Disposition in the Picture. The Advantages of a Reader from a methodical Discourse, are correspondent with those of the Writer. He comprehends every thing easily, takes it in with Pleasure, and retains it long.
Method is not less requisite in ordinary Conversation than in Writing, provided a Man would talk to make himself understood. I, who hear a thousand Coffee-house Debates every Day, am very sensible of this want of Method in the Thoughts of my honest Countrymen. There is not one Dispute in ten which is managed in those Schools of Politicks, where, after the three first Sentences, the Question is not entirely lost. Our Disputants put me in mind of the Cuttle-Fish, that when he is unable to extricate himself, blackens all the Water about him till he becomes invisible. The Man who does not know how to methodize his Thoughts, has always, to borrow a Phrase from the Dispensary, _a barren Superfluity of Words;_ [2] the Fruit is lost amidst the Exuberance of Leaves.
_Tom Puzzle_ is one of the most Eminent Immethodical Disputants of any that has fallen under my Observation. _Tom_ has read enough to make him very Impertinent; his Knowledge is sufficient to raise Doubts, but not to clear them. It is pity that he has so much Learning, or that he has not a great deal more. With these Qualifications _Tom_ sets up for a Free-thinker, finds a great many things to blame in the Constitution of his Country, and gives shrewd Intimations that he does not believe another World. In short, _Puzzle_ is an Atheist as much as his Parts will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen common-place Topicks, into which he never fails to turn the Conversation, whatever was the Occasion of it: Tho’ the matter in debate be about _Doway_ or _Denain_, it is ten to one but half his Discourse runs upon the Unreasonableness of Bigottry and Priest-craft. This makes Mr. _Puzzle_ the Admiration of all those who have less Sense than himself, and the Contempt of those who have more. There is none in Town whom _Tom_ dreads so much as my Friend _Will Dry_. _Will_, who is acquainted with _Tom’s_ Logick, when he finds him running off the Question, cuts him short with a _What then? We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our present Purpose?_ I have known _Tom_ eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the Superiority of the Argument, when he has been non-plus’d on a sudden by Mr. _Dry’s_ desiring him to tell the Company what it was that he endeavoured to prove. In short, _Dry_ is a Man of a clear methodical Head, but few Words, and gains the same Advantage over _Puzzle_, that a small Body of regular Troops would gain over a numberless undisciplined Militia.
C.
[Footnote 1: [its]]
[Footnote 2: It is said of Colon in the second Canto,
‘Hourly his learn’d Impertinence affords A barren Superfinity of Words.’]
* * * * *
No. 477. Saturday, September 6, 1712. Addison.
‘–An me ludit amabilis
Insania? audire et videor pios
Errare per lucos, amoenae
Quos et aquae subeunt et aurae.’
Hor.
_SIR_,
Having lately read your Essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, I was so taken with your Thoughts upon some of our _English_ Gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a Letter upon that Subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as an Humorist in Gardening. I have several Acres about my House, which I call my Garden, and which a skilful Gardener would not know what to call. It is a Confusion of Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie so mixt and interwoven with one another, that if a Foreigner who had seen nothing of our Country should be convey’d into my Garden at his first landing, he would look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in several Parts of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy and Profusion. I am so far from being fond of any particular one, by reason of its Rarity, that if I meet with any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a place in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is surprized to see several large Spots of Ground cover’d with ten thousand different Colours, and has often singled out Flowers that he might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field, or in a Meadow, as some of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I observe in this Particular, is to range in the same Quarter the Products of the same Season, that they may make their Appearance together, and compose a Picture of the greatest Variety. There is the same Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a Labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the next Tree I shall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a Pear-Tree. My Kitchin has likewise its particular Quarters assigned it; for besides the wholesome Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought a Kitchin-Garden a more pleasant Sight than the finest Orangery, or artificial Greenhouse. I love to see everything in its Perfection, and am more pleased to survey my Rows of Coleworts and Cabbages, with a thousand nameless Pot-herbs, springing up in their full Fragrancy and Verdure, than to see the tender Plants of Foreign Countries kept alive by artificial Heats, or withering in an Air and Soil that are not adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a Fountain rising in the upper part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and administers to the Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have so conducted it, that it visits most of my Plantations; and have taken particular Care to let it run in the same manner as it would do in an open Field, so that it generally passes through Banks of Violets and Primroses, Plats of Willow, or other Plants, that seem to be of its own producing. There is another Circumstance in which I am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimsical: As my Garden invites into it all the Birds of the Country, by offering them the Conveniency of Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not suffer any one to destroy their Nests in the Spring, or drive them from their usual Haunts in Fruit-time. I value my Garden more for being full of Blackbirds than Cherries, and very frankly give them Fruit for their Songs. By this means I have always the Musick of the Season in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to see the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across the several little Glades and Alleys that I pass thro’. I think there are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower-Gardens, are Epigrammatists and Sonneteers in this Art: Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto’s, Treillages and Cascades, are Romance Writers. _Wise_ and _London_ are our heroick Poets; and if, as a Critick, I may single out any Passage of their Works to commend, I shall take notice of that Part in the upper Garden at _Kensington_, which was at first nothing but a Gravel-Pit. It must have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming such an unsightly Hollow into so beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye with so uncommon and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now wrought into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the greater Effect, they have made a very pleasing Contrast; for as on one side of the Walk you see this hollow Basin, with its several little Plantations lying so conveniently under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other side of it there appears a seeming Mount, made up of Trees rising one higher than another in proportion as they approach the Center. A Spectator, who has not heard this Account of it, would think this Circular Mount was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hollow Space which I have before mention’d. I never yet met with any one who had walked in this Garden, who was not struck with that Part of it which I have here mention’d. As for my self, you will find, by the Account which I have already given you, that my Compositions in Gardening are altogether after the _Pindarick_ Manner, and run into the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affecting the nicer Elegancies of Art. What I am now going to mention, will, perhaps, deserve your Attention more than any thing I have yet said. I find that in the Discourse which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter, you are against filling an _English_ Garden with Ever-Greens; and indeed I am so far of your Opinion, that I can by no means think the Verdure of an Ever-Green comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our Trees in the Summer-Season. But I have often wonder’d that those who are like my self, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a _Winter Garden_, which would consist of such Trees only as never cast their Leaves. We have very often little Snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts of the Year; and have frequently several Days in _November_ and _January_ that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At such times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure, than to walk in such a _Winter-Garden_ as I have proposed. In the Summer-Season the whole Country blooms, and is a kind of Garden, for which reason we are not so sensible of those Beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her Desolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren Prospects, there is something unspeakably chearful in a Spot of Ground which is covered with Trees that smile amidst all the Rigours of Winter, and give us a View of the most gay Season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged my self in this Thought, that I have set apart a whole Acre of Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Hornbeam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants of the same nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively Scene. The glowing Redness of the Berries, with which they are hung at this time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to inspire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former papers. [1] It is very pleasant, at the same time, to see the several kinds of Birds retiring into this little Green Spot, and enjoying themselves among the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before mention’d to you, does not afford a single Leaf for their Shelter.
You must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleasure which we take in a Garden, as one of the most innocent Delights in Human Life. A Garden was the Habitation of our first Parents before the Fall. It is naturally apt to fill the Mind with Calmness and Tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent Passions at rest. It gives us a great insight into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I cannot but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in these Works of Nature, to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which Reasons I hope you will pardon the Length of my present Letter. _I am,_
_SIR, &c._
C.
[Footnote 1: In No. 393.]
* * * * *
No. 478. Monday, September 8, 1712. Steele.
‘–Usus
Quem penes Arbitrium est, et Jus et Norma–‘
Mr. SPECTATOR,
It happened lately, that a Friend of mine, who had many things to buy for his Family, would oblige me to walk with him to the Shops. He was very nice in his way, and fond of having every thing shewn, which at first made me very uneasy; but as his Humour still continu’d, the things which I had been staring at along with him, began to fill my Head, and led me into a Set of amusing Thoughts concerning them.
I fancied it must be very surprizing to any one who enters into a detail of Fashions, to consider how far the Vanity of Mankind has laid it self out in Dress, what a prodigious number of People it maintains, and what a Circulation of Money it occasions. Providence in this Case makes use of the Folly which we will not give up, and it becomes instrumental to the Support of those who are willing to labour. Hence it is that Fringe-Makers, Lace-Men, Tire-Women, and a number of other Trades, which would be useless in a simple State of Nature, draw their Subsistence; tho’ it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely rich, because their original Fault of being founded upon Vanity, keeps them poor by the light Inconstancy of its Nature. The Variableness of Fashion turns the Stream of Business which flows from it now into one Channel, and anon into another; so that different Sets of People sink or flourish in their turns by it.
From the Shops we retir’d to the Tavern, where I found my Friend express so much satisfaction for the Bargains he had made, that my moral Reflections, (if I had told them) might have pass’d for a Reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the Discourse run upon the use of Fashions.
Here we remembred how much Man is govern’d by his Senses, how lively he is struck by the Objects which appear to him in an agreeable manner, how much Clothes contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and how much we owe it to our selves that we should appear so.
We considered Man as belonging to Societies; Societies as form’d of different Ranks; and different Ranks distinguished by Habits, that all proper Duty or Respect might attend their Appearance.
We took notice of several Advantages which are met with in the Occurrences of Conversation. How the bashful Man has been sometimes so rais’d, as to express himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines that his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming Manner: And again, how a Fool in fine Clothes shall be suddenly heard with Attention, till he has betray’d himself; whereas a Man of Sense appearing with a Dress of Negligence, shall be but coldly received, till he be proved by Time, and established in a Character. Such things as these we cou’d recollect to have happen’d to our knowledge so very often, that we concluded the Author had his Reasons, who advises his Son to go in Dress rather above his Fortune than under it.
At last the Subject seem’d so considerable, that it was proposed to have a Repository built for Fashions, as there are Chambers for Medals and other Rarities. The Building may be shap’d as that which stands among the Pyramids, in the Form of a Woman’s Head. This may be rais’d upon Pillars, whose Ornaments shall bear a just relation to the Design. Thus there may be an Imitation of Fringe carv’d in the Base, a sort of Appearance of Lace in the Frieze, and a Representation of curling Locks, with Bows of Ribband sloping over them, may fill up the Work of the Cornish. The Inside may be divided into two Apartments appropriated to each Sex. The Apartments may be fill’d with Shelves, on which Boxes are to stand as regularly as Books in a Library. These are to have Folding-Doors, which being open’d, you are to behold a Baby dressed out in some Fashion which has flourish’d, and standing upon a Pedestal, where the time of its Reign is mark’d down. For its further Regulation, let it be order’d, that every one who invents a Fashion shall bring in his Box, whose Front he may at pleasure have either work’d or painted with some amorous or gay Device, that, like Books with gilded Leaves and Covers, it may the sooner draw the Eyes of the Beholders. And to the end that these may be preserv’d with all due Care, let there be a Keeper appointed, who shall be a Gentleman qualify’d with a competent Knowledge in Clothes; so that by this means the Place, will be a comfortable Support for some Beau who has spent his Estate in dressing.
The Reasons offer’d by which we expected to gain the Approbation of the Publick, were as follows.
First, That every one who is considerable enough to be a Mode, and has any Imperfection of Nature or Chance, which it is possible to hide by the Advantage of Clothes, may, by coming to this Repository, be furnish’d her self, and furnish all who are under the same Misfortune, with the most agreeable Manner of concealing it; and that on the other side, every one who has any Beauty in Face or Shape, may also be furnished with the most agreeable Manner of shewing it.
Secondly, That whereas some of our young Gentlemen who travel, give us great reason to suspect that they only go abroad to make or improve a Fancy for Dress, a Project of this nature may be a means to keep them at home, which is in effect the keeping of so much Money in the Kingdom. And perhaps the Balance of Fashion in _Europe_, which now leans upon the side of _France_, may be so alter’d for the future, that it may become as common with _Frenchmen_ to come to _England_ for their finishing Stroke of Breeding, as it has been for _Englishmen_ to go to _France_ for it.
Thirdly, Whereas several great Scholars, who might have been otherwise useful to the World, have spent their time in studying to describe the Dresses of the Ancients from dark Hints, which they are fain to interpret and support with much Learning, it will from henceforth happen, that they shall be freed from the Trouble, and the World from useless Volumes. This Project will be a Registry, to which Posterity may have recourse, for the clearing such obscure Passages as tend that way in Authors; and therefore we shall not for the future submit our selves to the Learning of Etymology, which might persuade the Age to come, that the Farthingal was worn for Cheapness, or the Furbeloe for Warmth.
Fourthly, Whereas they who are old themselves, have often a way of railing at the Extravagance of Youth, and the whole Age in which their Children live; it is hoped that this ill Humour will be much suppress’d, when we can have recourse to the Fashions of their Times, produce them in our Vindication, and be able to shew that it might have been as expensive in Queen _Elizabeth’s_ time only to wash and quill a Ruff, as it is now to buy Cravats or Neck-Handkerchiefs.
We desire also to have it taken Notice of, That because we would shew a particular respect to Foreigners, which may induce them to perfect their Breeding here in a Knowledge which is very proper for pretty Gentlemen, we have conceived the Motto for the House in the Learned Language. There is to be a Picture over the Door, with a Looking-Glass and a Dressing-Chair in the Middle of it: Then on one side are to be seen, above one another, Patch-Boxes, Pin-Cushions, and little Bottles; on the other, Powder Baggs, Puffs, Combs and Brushes; beyond these, Swords with fine Knots, whose Points are hidden, and Fans almost closed, with the Handles downward, are to stand out interchangeably from the Sides till they meet at the Top, and form a Semicircle over the rest of the Figures: Beneath all, the Writing is to run in this pretty sounding Manner:
‘Adeste, O quotquot sunt, Veneres, Gratiae, Cupidines, [1] En vobis adsunt in promptu
Faces, Vincula, Spicula,
Hinc eligite, sumite, regite.’
I am, Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
_A. B_.
The Proposal of my Correspondent I cannot but look upon as an ingenious Method of placing Persons (whose Parts make them ambitious to exert themselves in frivolous things) in a Rank by themselves. In order to this, I would propose, That there be a Board of Directors of the fashionable Society; and because it is a Matter of too much Weight for a private Man to determine alone, I should be highly obliged to my Correspondents if they would give in Lists of Persons qualify’d for this Trust. If the chief Coffee-houses, the Conversations of which Places are carry’d on by Persons, each of whom has his little number of Followers and Admirers, would name from among themselves two or three to be inserted, they should be put up with great Faithfulness. Old Beaus are to be presented in the first place; but as that Sect, with relation to Dress, is almost extinct, it will, I fear, be absolutely necessary to take in all Time-Servers, properly so deem’d; that is, such as, without any Conviction of Conscience or View of Interest, change with the World, and that merely from a Terror of being out of Fashion. Such also, who from Facility of Temper, and too much Obsequiousness, are vicious against their Will, and follow Leaders whom they do not approve, for Want of Courage to go their own Way, are capable Persons for this Superintendency. Those who are both to grow old, or would do any thing contrary to the Course and Order of things, out of Fondness to be in Fashion, are proper Candidates. To conclude, those who are in Fashion without apparent Merit, must be supposed to have latent Qualities, which would appear in a Post of Direction; and therefore are to be regarded in forming these Lists. Any who shall be pleased, according to these, or what further Qualifications may occur to himself, to send a List, is desired to do it within fourteen days after this Date.
N. B. _The Place of the Physician to this Society, according to the last mentioned Qualification, is already engag’d._
T.
[Footnote 1:
‘All ye Venuses, Graces, and Cupids, attend: See prepared to your hands
Darts, torches, and bands:
Your weapons here choose, and your empire extend.’]
* * * * *
No. 479. Tuesday, September 9, 1712. Steele.
‘–Dare Jure maritis.’
Hor.
Many are the Epistles I every day receive from Husbands, who complain of Vanity, Pride, but above all Ill-nature, in their Wives. I cannot tell how it is, but I think I see in all their Letters that the Cause of their Uneasiness is in themselves; and indeed I have hardly ever observed the married Condition unhappy, but from want of Judgment or Temper in the Man. The truth is, we generally make Love in a Style, and with Sentiments very unfit for ordinary Life: They are half Theatrical, half Romantick. By this Means we raise our Imaginations to what is not to be expected in human Life; and because we did not beforehand think of the Creature we were enamoured of as subject to Dishumour, Age, Sickness, Impatience or Sullenness, but altogether considered her as the Object of Joy, human Nature it self is often imputed to her as her particular Imperfection or Defect.
I take it to be a Rule proper to be observed in all Occurrences of Life, but more especially in the domestick or matrimonial Part of it, to preserve always a Disposition to be pleased. This cannot be supported but by considering things in their right light, and as Nature has form’d them, and not as our own Fancies or Appetites would have them. He then who took a young Lady to his Bed, with no other Consideration than the Expectation of Scenes of Dalliance, and thought of her (as I said before) only as she was to administer to the Gratification of Desire; as that Desire flags, will, without her Fault, think her Charms and her Merit abated: From hence must follow Indifference, Dislike, Peevishness, and Rage. But the Man who brings his Reason to support his Passion, and beholds what he loves as liable to all the Calamities of human Life both in Body and Mind, and even at the best what must bring upon him new Cares and new Relations; such a Lover, I say, will form himself accordingly, and adapt his Mind to the Nature of his Circumstances. This latter Person will be prepared to be a Father, a Friend, an Advocate, a Steward for People yet unborn, and has proper Affections ready for every Incident in the Marriage State. Such a Man can hear the Cries of Children with Pity instead of Anger; and when they run over his Head, he is not disturb’d at their Noise, but is glad of their Mirth and Health. _Tom Trusty_ has told me, that he thinks it doubles his Attention to the most intricate Affair he is about, to hear his Children, for whom all his Cares are applied, make a Noise in the next Room: On the other side _Will Sparkish_ cannot put on his Perriwig, or adjust his Cravat at the Glass, for the Noise of those damned Nurses and [squaling [1] Brats; and then ends with a gallant Reflection upon the Comforts of Matrimony, runs out of the Hearing, and drives to the Chocolate-house.
According as the Husband is dispos’d in himself, every Circumstance of his Life is to give him Torment or Pleasure. When the Affection is well-placed, and supported by the Considerations of Duty, Honour, and Friendship, which are in the highest Degree engaged in this Alliance, there can nothing rise in the common Course of Life, or from the Blows or Favours of Fortune, in which a Man will not find Matters of some Delight unknown to a single Condition.
He who sincerely loves his Wife and Family, and studies to improve that Affection in himself, conceives Pleasure from the most indifferent things; while the married Man, who has not bid adieu to the Fashions and false Gallantries of the Town, is perplexed with every thing around him. In both these Cases Men cannot, indeed, make a sillier Figure, than in repeating such Pleasures and Pains to the rest of the World; but I speak of them only, as they sit upon those who are involved in them. As I visit all sorts of People, I cannot indeed but smile, when the good Lady tells her Husband what extraordinary things the Child spoke since he went out. No longer than yesterday I was prevail’d with to go home with a fond Husband: and his Wife told him, that his Son, of his own head, when the Clock in the Parlour struck two, said, Pappa would come home to Dinner presently. While the Father has him in a rapture in his Arms, and is drowning him with Kisses, the Wife tells me he is but just four Years old. Then they both struggle for him, and bring him up to me, and repeat his Observation of two a-Clock. I was called upon, by Looks upon the Child, and then at me, to say something; and I told the Father, that this Remark of the Infant of his coming home, and joining the Time with it, was a certain Indication that he would be a great Historian and Chronologer. They are neither of them Fools, yet received my Compliment with great Acknowledgment of my Prescience. I fared very well at Dinner, and heard many other notable Sayings of their Heir, which would have given very little Entertainment to one less turned to Reflection than I was; but it was a pleasing Speculation to remark on the Happiness of a Life, in which things of no Moment give Occasion of Hope, Self-Satisfaction, and Triumph. On the other Hand, I have known an ill-natur’d Coxcomb, who was hardly improved in any thing but Bulk, for want of this Disposition, silence the whole Family, as a Set of silly Women and Children, for recounting things which were really above his own Capacity.
When I say all this, I cannot deny but there are perverse Jades that fall to Mens Lots, with whom it requires more than common Proficiency in Philosophy to be able to live. When these are joined to Men of warm Spirits, without Temper or Learning, they are frequently corrected with Stripes; but one of our famous Lawyers is of Opinion, That this ought to be used sparingly. As I remember, those are his very Words; [1] but as it is proper to draw some spiritual Use out of all Afflictions, I should rather recommend to those who are visited with Women of Spirit, to form themselves for the World by Patience at home. _Socrates_, who is by all Accounts the undoubted Head of the Sect of the Hen-peck’d, own’d and acknowledged that he ow’d great part of his Virtue to the Exercise which his useful Wife constantly gave it. There are several good Instructions may be drawn from his wise Answers to People of less Fortitude than himself on her Subject. A Friend, with Indignation, asked how so good a Man could live with so violent a Creature? He observ’d to him, _That they who learn to keep a good Seat on horseback, mount the least managable they can get, and when they have master’d them, they are sure never to be discomposed on the Backs of Steeds less restive._ [2] At several times, to different Persons, on the same Subject, he has said, _My dear Friend, you are beholden to_ Xantippe, _that I bear so well your flying out in a Dispute._ To another, _My Hen clacks very much, but she brings me Chickens. They that live in a trading Street, are not disturbed at the Passage of Carts._ I would have, if possible, a wise Man be contented with his Lot, even with a Shrew; for tho’ he cannot make her better, he may, you see, make himself better by her means.
But instead of pursuing my Design of Displaying Conjugal Love in its natural Beauties and Attractions, I am got into Tales to the disadvantage of that State of Life. I must say, therefore, that I am verily persuaded that whatever is delightful in human Life, is to be enjoy’d in greater Perfection in the marry’d, than in the single Condition. He that has this Passion in Perfection, in Occasions of Joy can say to himself, besides his own Satisfaction, _How happy will this make my Wife and Children?_ Upon Occurrences of Distress or Danger can comfort himself, _But, all this while my Wife and Children are safe_. There is something in it that doubles Satisfactions, because others participate them; and dispels Afflictions, because others are exempt from them. All who are marry’d without this Relish of their Circumstance, are in either a tasteless Indolence and Negligence, which is hardly to be attain’d, or else live in the hourly Repetition of sharp Answers, eager Upbraidings, and distracting Reproaches. In a word the married State, with and without the Affection suitable to it, is the compleatest Image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in this Life.
T.
[Footnote 1: [squalwing]]
[Footnote 2: Henry de Bracton in his treatise of live books ‘de Legibus et Dounsuetudinibus Anglia’, written about the middle of the thirteen centry, says (Bk. I. ch. x.)
‘quaedam sunt sub virga, ut uxores, &c.’
but qualifies private right with the secondary claim of the community.]
[Footnote 3: Xenophon’s Symposium, Bk. II.]
* * * * *
No, 480. Wednesday, September 10, 1712. Steele.
‘Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores, Fortis, et in seipso totus teres, atque rotundus.’
Hor.
The other Day looking over those old Manuscripts, of which I have formerly given some Account, and which relate to the Character of the mighty _Pharamond_ of _France_, and the close Friendship between him and his Friend _Eucrate;_ [1] I found, among the Letters which had been in the custody of the latter, an Epistle from a Country Gentleman to _Pharamond_, wherein he excuses himself from coming to Court. The Gentleman, it seems, was contented with his Condition, had formerly been in the King’s Service, but at the writing the following Letter, had, from Leisure and Reflection, quite another Sense of things than that which he had in the more active Part of his Life.
_Monsieur_ Chezluy _to_ Pharamond.
_Dread Sir_,
‘I have from your own Hand (enclosed under the Cover of Mr. _Eucrate_ of your Majesty’s Bed-Chamber) a Letter which invites me to Court. I understand this great Honour to be done me out of Respect and Inclination to me, rather than Regard to your own Service: For which Reason I beg leave to lay before your Majesty my Reasons for declining to depart from Home; and will not doubt but, as your Motive in desiring my Attendance was to make me an happier Man, when you think that will not be effected by my Remove, you will permit me to stay where I am. Those who have an Ambition to appear in Courts, have ever an Opinion that their Persons or their Talents are particularly formed for the Service or Ornament of that Place; or else are hurried by downright Desire of Gain, or what they call Honour, or take upon themselves whatever the Generosity of their Master can give them Opportunities to grasp at. But your Goodness shall not be thus imposed upon by me: I will therefore confess to you, that frequent Solitude, and long Conversation with such who know no Arts which polish Life, have made me the plainest Creature in your Dominions. Those less Capacities of moving with a good Grace, bearing a ready Affability to all around me, and acting with ease before many, have quite left me. I am come to that, with regard to my Person, that I consider it only as a Machine I am obliged to take Care of, in order to enjoy my Soul in its Faculties with Alacrity; well remembering, that this Habitation of Clay will in a few years be a meaner Piece of Earth than any Utensil about my House. When this is, as it really is, the most frequent Reflection I have, you will easily imagine how well I should become a Drawing-Room: Add to this, What shall a Man without Desires do about the generous _Pharamond?_ Monsieur _Eucrate_ has hinted to me, that you have thoughts of distinguishing me with Titles. As for my self, in the Temper of my present Mind, Appellations of Honour would but embarrass Discourse, and new Behaviour towards me perplex me in every Habitude of Life. I am also to acknowledge to you, that my Children, of whom your Majesty condescended to enquire, are all of them mean, both in their Persons and Genius. The Estate my eldest Son is Heir to, is more than he can enjoy with a good Grace. My Self-love will not carry me so far, as to impose upon Mankind the Advancement of Persons (merely for their being related to me) into high Distinctions, who ought for their own Sakes, as well as that of the Publick, to affect Obscurity. I wish, my generous Prince, as it is in your power to give Honours and Offices, it were also to give Talents suitable to them: Were it so, the noble _Pharamond_ would reward the Zeal of my Youth with Abilities to do him Service in my Age.
‘Those who accept of Favour without Merit, support themselves in it at the Expence of your Majesty. Give me Leave to tell you, Sir, this is the Reason that we in the Country hear so often repeated the Word _Prerogative_. That Part of your Law which is reserved in your self for the readier Service and Good of the Publick, slight Men are eternally buzzing in our Ears to cover their own Follies and Miscarriages. It would be an Addition to the high Favour you have done me, if you would let _Eucrate_ send me word how often, and in what Cases you allow a Constable to insist upon the Prerogative. From the highest to the lowest Officer in your Dominions, something of their own Carriage they would exempt from Examination under the Shelter of the Word _Prerogative_. I would fain, most noble _Pharamond_, see one of your Officers assert your Prerogative by good and gracious Actions. When is it used to help the Afflicted, to rescue the Innocent, to comfort the Stranger? Uncommon Methods, apparently undertaken to attain worthy Ends, would never make Power invidious. You see, Sir, I talk to you with the Freedom your noble Nature approves, in all whom you admit to your Conversation.
‘But, to return to your Majesty’s Letter, I humbly conceive, that all Distinctions are useful to Men, only as they are to act in Publick; and it would be a romantick Madness, for a Man to be a Lord in his Closet. Nothing can be honourable to a Man apart from the World, but the Reflection upon worthy Actions; and he that places Honour in a Consciousness of Well-doing, will have but little Relish for any outward Homage that is paid him, since what gives him distinction to himself, cannot come within the Observation of his Beholders. Thus all the Words of Lordship, Honour, and Grace, are only Repetitions to a Man that the King has order’d him to be called so; but no Evidences that there is any thing in himself that would give the Man who applies to him those Ideas, without the Creation of his Master.
‘I have, most noble _Pharamond_, all Honours and all Titles in your own Approbation; I triumph in them as they are your Gift, I refuse them as they are to give me the Observation of others. Indulge me, my Noble Master, in this Chastity of Renown; let me know my self in the Favour of _Pharamond;_ and look down upon the Applause of the People.
I am,
in all Duty and Loyally,
Your Majesty’s most obedient
Subject and Servant,
Jean Chezluy.
_SIR_,
‘I need not tell you with what Disadvantages Men of low Fortunes and great Modesty come into the World; what wrong Measures their Diffidence of themselves, and Fear of offending, often obliges them to take; and what a Pity it is that their greatest Virtues and Qualities, that should soonest recommend them, are the main Obstacle in the way of their Preferment.
‘This, Sir, is my Case; I was bred at a Country-School, where I learned _Latin_ and _Greek_. The Misfortunes of my Family forced me up to Town, where a Profession of the politer sort has protected me against Infamy and Want. I am now Clerk to a Lawyer, and, in times of Vacancy and Recess from Business, have made my self Master of _Italian_ and _French;_ and tho’ the Progress I have made in my Business has gain’d me Reputation enough for one of my standing, yet my Mind suggests to me every day, that it is not upon that Foundation I am to build my Fortune.
‘The Person I have my present Dependance upon, has it in his Nature, as well as in his Power, to advance me, by recommending me to a Gentleman that is going beyond Sea in a publick Employment. I know the printing this Letter would point me out to those I want Confidence to speak to, and I hope it is not in your Power to refuse making any Body happy.
_September_ 9, 1712.
_Yours_, &c.
M. D. [2]
T.
[Footnote 1: See Nos. 76, 84, 97.]
[Footnote 2: Mr. Robert Harper, who died an eminent conveyancer of Lincoln’s Inn. He sent his letter on the 9th of August, and it appeared September the 10th with omissions and alterations by Steele.]
* * * * *
No. 481. Thursday, September 11, 1712. Addison.
‘–Uti non
Compositus melius cum Bitho Bacchius, in jus Acres procurrunt–‘
Hor.
It is [something [1]] pleasant enough to consider the different Notions, which different Persons have of the same thing. If Men of low Condition very often set a Value on Things, which are not prized by those who are in an higher Station of Life, there are many things these esteem which are in no Value among Persons of an inferior Rank. Common People are, in particular, very much astonished, when they hear of those solemn Contests and Debates, which are made among the Great upon the Punctilio’s of a publick Ceremony, and wonder to hear that any Business of Consequence should be retarded by those little Circumstances, which they represent to themselves as trifling and insignificant. I am mightily pleased with a Porter’s Decision in one of Mr. _Southern’s_ Plays, [2] which is founded upon that fine Distress of a Virtuous Woman’s marrying a second Husband, while her first was yet living. The first Husband, who was suppos’d to have been dead, returning to his House after a long Absence, raises a noble Perplexity for the Tragick Part of the Play. In the mean while, the Nurse and the Porter conferring upon the Difficulties that would ensue in such a Case, honest _Sampson_ thinks the matter may be easily decided, and solves it very judiciously, by the old Proverb, that if his first Master be still living, _The Man must have his Mare again_. There is nothing in my time which has so much surprized and confounded the greatest part of my honest Countrymen, as the present Controversy between Count _Rechteren_ and Monsieur _Mesnager_, which employs the wise Heads of so many Nations, and holds all the Affairs of _Europe_ in suspence. [3]
Upon my going into a Coffee-house yesterday, and lending an ear to the next Table, which was encompassed with a Circle of inferior Politicians, one of them, after having read over the News very attentively, broke out into the following Remarks. I am afraid, says he, this unhappy Rupture between the Footmen at _Utrecht_ will retard the Peace of Christendom. I wish the Pope may not be at the Bottom of it. His Holiness has a very good hand at fomenting a Division, as the poor _Suisse Cantons_ have lately experienced to their Cost. If Mo[u]nsieur [4] _What-d’ye-call-him’s_ Domesticks will not come to an Accommodation, I do not know how the Quarrel can be ended, but by a Religious War.
Why truly, says a _Wiseacre_ that sat by him, were I as the King of _France_, I would scorn to take part with the Footmen of either side: Here’s all the Business of _Europe_ stands still, because Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager’s_ Man has had his Head broke. If Count _Rectrum_ had given them a Pot of Ale after it, all would have been well, without any of this Bustle; but they say he’s a warm Man, and does not care to be made Mouths at.
Upon this, one, that had held his Tongue hitherto, [began [5]] to exert himself; declaring, that he was very well pleased the Plenipotentiaries of our Christian Princes took this matter into their serious Consideration; for that Lacqueys were never so saucy and pragmatical, as they are now-a-days, and that he should be glad to see them taken down in the Treaty of Peace, if it might be done without prejudice to [the] Publick Affairs.
One who sat at the other End of the Table, and seemed to be in the Interests of the _French_ King, told them, that they did not take the matter right, for that his most Christian Majesty did not resent this matter because it was an Injury done to Monsieur _Mesnager’s_ Footmen; for, says he, what are Monsieur _Mesnager’s_ Footmen to him? but because it was done to his Subjects. Now, says he, let me tell you, it would look very odd for a Subject of _France_ to have a bloody Nose, and his Sovereign not to take Notice of it. He is obliged in Honour to defend his People against Hostilities; and if the _Dutch_ will be so insolent to a Crowned Head, as, in any wise, to cuff or kick those who are under _His_ Protection, I think he is in the right to call them to an Account for it.
This Distinction set the Controversy upon a new Foot, and seemed to be very well approved by most that heard it, till a little warm Fellow, who declared himself a Friend to the House of _Austria_, fell most unmercifully upon his _Gallick_ Majesty, as encouraging his Subjects to make Mouths at their Betters, and afterwards screening them from the Punishment that was due to their Insolence. To which he added that the _French_ Nation was so addicted to Grimace, that if there was not a Stop put to it at the General Congress, there would be no walking the Streets for them in a time of Peace, especially if they continued Masters of the _West-Indies_. The little Man proceeded with a great deal of warmth, declaring that if the Allies were of his Mind, he would oblige the _French_ King to burn his Gallies, and tolerate the Protestant Religion in his Dominions, before he would Sheath his Sword. He concluded with calling Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ an Insignificant Prig.
The Dispute was now growing very Warm, and one does not know where it would have ended, had not a young Man of about One and Twenty, who seems to have been brought up with an Eye to the Law, taken the Debate into his Hand, and given it as his Opinion, that neither Count _Rechteren_ nor Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ had behaved themselves right in this Affair. Count _Rechteren_, says he, should have made Affidavit that his Servants had been affronted, and then Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ would have done him Justice, by taking away their Liveries from ’em, or some other way that he might have thought the most proper; for let me tell you, if a Man makes a Mouth at me, I am not to knock the Teeth out of it for his Pains. Then again, as for Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_, upon his Servants being beaten, why! he might have had his Action of Assault and Battery. But as the case now stands, if you will have my Opinion, I think they ought to bring it to Referees.
I heard a great deal more of this Conference, but I must confess with little Edification; for all I could learn at last from these honest Gentlemen, was, that the matter in Debate was of too high a Nature for such Heads as theirs, or mine, to Comprehend.
O.
[Footnote 1: [sometimes]]
[Footnote 2: The Fatal Marriage, or the Innocent Adultery.]
[Footnote 3: The negotiations for Peace which were going on at Utrecht had been checked by the complaint of Count Rechteren, deputy for the Province of Overyssel. On the 24th of July the French, under Marshal Villars, had obtained a great victory at Denain, capturing the Earl of Albemarle, the Princes of Anhalt, of Holstein, Nassau Seeken, and 2500 men, under the eyes of Prince Eugene, who was stopped at the bridge of Prouy on his way to rescue and entreated by the deputies of the States-general to retire. The allies lost a thousand killed and fifteen hundred drowned; the French only five hundred, and sixty flags were sent as trophies to Versailles. The insecure position taken by the Earl of Albemarle had been forced on Prince Eugene by the Dutch deputies, who found the arrangement cheapest. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘of the conquests of Alexander. He had no Dutch deputies in his army.’ Count Rechteren, deputy for Overyssel, complained that, a few days after this battle, when he was riding in his carriage by the gate of M. Menager, the French Plenipotentiary, that gentleman’s lackeys insulted his lackeys with grimaces and indecent gestures. He sent his secretary to complain to M. Menager, demand satisfaction, and say that if it were not given, he should take it. Menager replied, in writing, that although this was but an affair between lackeys, he was far from approving ill behaviour in his servants towards other servants, particularly towards servants of Count Rechteren, and he was ready to send to the Count those lackeys whom he had seen misbehaving, or even those whom his other servants should point out as guilty of the offensive conduct. Rechteren, when the answer arrived, was gone to the Hague, and it was forwarded to his colleague, M. Moerman. Upon his return to Utrecht, Rechteren sent his secretary again to Menager, with the complaint as before, and received the answer as before. He admitted that he had not himself seen the grimaces and insulting gestures, but he ought, he said, to be at liberty to send his servants into Menager’s house for the detection of the offenders. A few days afterwards Menager and Rechteren were on the chief promenade of Utrecht, with others who were Plenipotentiaries of the United Provinces, and after exchange of civilities, Rechteren said that he was still awaiting satisfaction. Menager replied as before, and said that his lackeys all denied the charge against them. Menager refused also to allow the accusers of his servants to come into his house and be their judges. Rechteren said he would have justice yet upon master and men. He was invested with a sovereign power as well as Menager. He was not a man to take insults. He spoke some words in Dutch to his attendants, and presently Menager’s lackeys came with complaint that the lackeys of Rechteren tripped them up behind, threw them upon their faces, and threatened them with knives. Rechteren told the French Plenipotentiary that he would pay them for doing that, and discharge them if they did not do it. Rechteren’s colleagues did what they could to cover or excuse his folly, and begged that the matter might not appear in a despatch to France or be represented to the States-general, but be left to the arbitration of the English Plenipotentiaries. This the French assented to, but they now demanded satisfaction against Rechteren, and refused to accept the excuse made for him, that he was drunk. He might, under other circumstances, says M. Torcy, the French minister of the time, in his account of the Peace Negociations, have dismissed the petty quarrel of servants by accepting such an excuse but, says M. de Torcy, ‘it was desirable to retard the Conferences, and this dispute gave a plausible reason.’ Therefore until the King of France and Bolingbroke had come to a complete understanding, the King of France ordered his three Plenipotentiaries to keep the States-general busy, with the task of making it clear to his French Majesty whether Rechteren’s violence was sanctioned by them, or whether he had acted under private passion, excited by the Ministers of the House of Austria. Then they must further assent to a prescribed form of disavowal, and deprive Rechteren of his place as a deputy. This was the high policy of the affair of the lackeys, which, as Addison says, held all the affairs of Europe in suspense, a policy avowed with all complacency by the high politician who was puller of the strings. (Memoires de Torcy, Vol. iii. pp. 411-13.)
[Footnote 4: It is Monsieur in the first issue and also in the first reprint.]
[Footnote 5: [begun]]
* * * * *
No. 482. Friday, September 12, 1712. Addison.
‘Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant.’
Lucr.
When I have published any single Paper that falls in with the Popular Taste, and pleases more than ordinary, it always brings me in a great return of Letters. My _Tuesday’s_ Discourse, wherein I gave several Admonitions to the Fraternity of the _Henpeck’d_, has already produced me very many Correspondents; the Reason I cannot guess at, unless it be that such a Discourse is of general Use, and every married Man’s Money. An honest Tradesman, who dates his Letter from _Cheapside_, sends me Thanks in the name of a Club, who, he tells me, meet as often as their Wives will give them leave, and stay together till they are sent for home. He informs me, that my Paper has administered great Consolation to their whole Club, and desires me to give some further Account of _Socrates_, and to acquaint them in whose Reign he lived, whether he was a Citizen or a Courtier, whether he buried _Xantippe_, with many other particulars: For that by his Sayings he appears to have been a very Wise Man and a good Christian. Another, who writes himself _Benjamin Bamboo_, tells me, that being coupled with a Shrew, he had endeavoured to tame her by such lawful means as those which I mentioned in my last _Tuesday’s_ Paper, and that in his Wrath he had often gone further than _Bracton_ allows in those cases; but that for the future he was resolved to bear it like a Man of Temper and Learning, and consider her only as one who lives in his House to teach him Philosophy. _Tom Dapperwit_ says, that he agrees with me in that whole Discourse, excepting only the last Sentence, where I affirm the married State to be either an Heaven or an Hell. _Tom_ has been at the charge of a Penny upon this occasion, to tell me, that by his Experience it is neither one nor the other, but rather that middle kind of State, commonly known by the Name of _Purgatory_.
The Fair Sex have likewise obliged me with their Reflections upon the same Discourse. A Lady, who calls herself _Euterpe_, and seems a Woman of Letters, asks me whether I am for establishing the _Salick_ Law in every Family, and why it is not fit that a Woman who has Discretion and Learning should sit at the Helm, when the Husband is weak and illiterate? Another, of a quite contrary Character, subscribes herself _Xantippe_, and tells me, that she follows the Example of her Name-sake; for being married to a Bookish Man, who has no Knowledge of the World, she is forced to take their Affairs into her own Hands, and to spirit him up now and then, that he may not grow musty, and unfit for Conversation.
After this Abridgment of some Letters which are come to my hands upon this Occasion, I shall publish one of them at large.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
You have given us a lively Picture of that kind of Husband who comes under the Denomination of the Hen-peck’d; but I do not remember that you have ever touched upon one that is of the quite different Character, and who, in several Places of _England_, goes by the Name of a Cot-Quean. I have the Misfortune to be joined for Life with one of this Character, who in reality is more a Woman than [I am. [1]] He was bred up under the Tuition of a tender Mother, till she had made him as good a House-wife as her self. He could preserve Apricots, and make Gellies, before he had been two Years out of the Nursery. He was never suffered to go abroad, for fear of catching Cold: when he should have been hunting down a Buck, he was by his Mother’s Side learning how to Season it, or put it in Crust; and was making Paper-Boats with his Sisters, at an Age when other young Gentlemen are crossing the Seas, or travelling into Foreign Countries. He has the whitest Hand that you ever saw in your Life, and raises Paste better than any Woman in _England_. These Qualifications make him a sad Husband: He is perpetually in the Kitchin, and has a thousand Squabbles with the Cook-maid. He is better acquainted with the Milk-Score, than his Steward’s Accounts. I fret to Death when I hear him find fault with a Dish that is not dressed to his liking, and instructing his Friends that dine with him in the best Pickle for a Walnut, or Sauce for an Haunch of Venison. With all this, he is a very good-natured Husband, and never fell out with me in his Life but once, upon the over-roasting of a Dish of Wild-Fowl: At the same time I must own I would rather he was a Man of a rough Temper, that would treat me harshly sometimes, than of such an effeminate busy Nature in a Province that does not belong to him. Since you have given us the Character of a Wife who wears the Breeches, pray say something of a Husband that wears the Petticoat. Why should not a Female Character be as ridiculous in a Man, as a Male Character in one of our Sex?
_I am_, &c.
O.
[Footnote 1: [my self.]]
* * * * *
No. 483. Saturday, September 13, 1712. Addison.
‘Nec Deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus Inciderit–‘
Hor.
We cannot be guilty of a greater Act of Uncharitableness, than to interpret the Afflictions which befal our Neighbours, as _Punishments_ and _Judgments_. It aggravates the Evil to him who suffers, when he looks upon himself as the Mark of Divine Vengeance, and abates the Compassion of those towards him, who regard him in so dreadful a Light. This Humour of turning every Misfortune into a Judgment, proceeds from wrong Notions of Religion, which, in its own nature, produces Goodwill towards Men, and puts the mildest Construction upon every Accident that befalls them. In this case, therefore, it is not Religion that sours a Man’s Temper, but it is his Temper that sours his Religion: People of gloomy unchearful Imaginations, or of envious malignant Tempers, whatever kind of Life they are engaged in, will discover their natural Tincture of Mind in all their Thoughts, Words, and Actions. As the finest Wines have often the Taste of the Soil, so even the most religious Thoughts often draw something that is particular from the Constitution of the Mind in which they arise. When Folly or Superstition strike in with this natural Depravity of Temper, it is not in the power, even of Religion it self, to preserve the Character of the Person who is possessed with it, from appearing highly absurd and ridiculous.
An old Maiden Gentlewoman, whom I shall conceal under the Name of _Nemesis_, is the greatest Discoverer of Judgments that I have met with. She can tell you what Sin it was that set such a Man’s House on fire, or blew down his Barns. Talk to her of an unfortunate young Lady that lost her Beauty by the Small-Pox, she fetches a deep Sigh, and tells you, that when she had a fine Face she was always looking on it in her Glass. Tell her of a Piece of good Fortune that has befallen one of her Acquaintance; and she wishes it may prosper with her, but her Mother used one of her Nieces very barbarously. Her usual Remarks turn upon People who had great Estates, but never enjoyed them, by reason of some Flaw in their own, or their Father’s Behaviour. She can give you the Reason why such a one died Childless: Why such an one was cut off in the Flower of his Youth: Why such an one was Unhappy in her Marriage: Why one broke his Leg on such a particular Spot of Ground, and why another was killed with a Back-Sword, rather than with any other kind of Weapon. She has a Crime for every Misfortune that can befal any of her Acquaintance, and when she hears of a Robbery that has been made, or a Murder that has been committed, enlarges more on the Guilt of the suffering Person, than on that of the Thief, or the Assassin. In short, she is so good a Christian, that whatever happens to her self is a Tryal, and whatever happens to her Neighbours is a Judgment.
The very Description of this Folly, in ordinary Life, is sufficient to expose it; but when it appears in a Pomp and Dignity of Style, it is very apt to amuse and terrify the Mind of the Reader. _Herodotus_ and _Plutarch_ very often apply their Judgments as impertinently as the old Woman I have before mentioned, though their manner of relating them, makes the Folly it self appear venerable. Indeed, most Historians, as well Christian as Pagan, have fallen into this idle Superstition, and spoken of ill [Success, [1]] unforeseen Disasters, and terrible Events, as if they had been let into the Secrets of Providence, and made acquainted with that private Conduct by which the World is governed. One would think several of our own Historians in particular had many Revelations of this kind made to them. Our old _English_ Monks seldom let any of their Kings depart in Peace, who had endeavoured to diminish the Power or Wealth of which the Ecclesiasticks were in those times possessed. _William the Conqueror’s_ Race generally found their Judgments in the _New Forest_, where their Father had pulled down Churches and Monasteries. In short, read one of the Chronicles written by an Author of this frame of Mind, and you would think you were reading an History of the Kings of _Israel_ or _Judah_, where the Historians were actually inspired, and where, by a particular Scheme of Providence, the Kings were distinguished by Judgments or Blessings, according as they promoted Idolatry or the Worship of the true God.
I cannot but look upon this manner of judging upon Misfortunes, not only to be very uncharitable, in regard to the Person whom they befall, but very presumptuous in regard to him who is supposed to inflict them. It is a strong Argument for a State of Retribution hereafter, that in this World virtuous Persons are very often unfortunate, and vicious Persons prosperous; which is wholly repugnant to the Nature of a Being who appears infinitely wise and good in all his Works, unless we may suppose that such a promiscuous and undistinguishing Distribution of Good and Evil, which was necessary for carrying on the Designs of Providence in this Life, will be rectified and made amends for in another. We are not therefore to expect that Fire should fall from Heaven in the ordinary Course of Providence; nor when we see triumphant Guilt or depressed Virtue in particular Persons, that Omnipotence will make bare its holy Arm in the Defence of the one, or Punishment of the other. It is sufficient that there is a Day set apart for the hearing and requiting of both according to their respective Merits.
The Folly of ascribing Temporal Judgments to any particular Crimes, may appear from several Considerations. I shall only mention two: First, That, generally speaking, there is no Calamity or Affliction, which is supposed to have happened as a Judgment to a vicious Man, which does not sometimes happen to Men of approved Religion and Virtue. When _Diagoras_ the Atheist [2] was on board one of the _Athenian_ Ships, there arose a very violent Tempest; upon which the Mariners told him, that it was a just Judgment upon them for having taken so impious a Man on board. _Diagoras_ begged them to look upon the rest of the Ships that were in the same Distress, and ask’d them whether or no _Diagoras_ was on board every Vessel in the Fleet. We are all involved in the same Calamities, and subject to the same Accidents: and when we see any one of the Species under any particular Oppression, we should look upon it as arising from the common Lot of human Nature, rather than from the Guilt of the Person who suffers.
Another Consideration, that may check our Presumption in putting such a Construction upon a Misfortune, is this, That it is impossible for us to know what are Calamities, and what are Blessings. How many Accidents have pass’d for Misfortunes, which have turned to the Welfare and Prosperity of the Persons in whose Lot they have fallen? How many Disappointments have, in their Consequences, saved a man from Ruin? If we could look into the Effects of every thing, we might be allowed to pronounce boldly upon Blessings and Judgments; but for a Man to give his Opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its Beginnings, is an unjustifiable Piece of Rashness and Folly. The Story of _Biton_ and _Clitobus_, which was in great Reputation among the Heathens, (for we see it quoted by all the ancient Authors, both _Greek_ and _Latin_, who have written upon the Immortality of the Soul,) may teach us a Caution in this Matter. These two Brothers, being the Sons of a Lady who was Priestess to _Juno_, drew their Mother’s Chariot to the Temple at the time of a great Solemnity, the Persons being absent who by their Office were to have drawn her Chariot on that Occasion. The Mother was so transported with this Instance of filial Duty, that she petition’d her Goddess to bestow upon them the greatest Gift that could be given to Men; upon which they were both cast into a deep Sleep, and the next Morning found dead in the Temple. This was such an Event, as would have been construed into a Judgment, had it happen’d to the two Brothers after an Act of Disobedience, and would doubtless have been represented as such by any Ancient Historian who had given us an Account of it.
O.
[Footnote 1: [Successes,]]
[Footnote 2: Diagoras the Melian, having attacked the popular religion and the Eleusinian mysteries, had a price set on his head, and left Athens B.C. 411. The Athenians called him Atheist, and destroyed his writings. The story in the text is from the third book of Cicero ‘de Natura Deorum.’]
* * * * *
No. 484. Monday, September 15, 1712. Steele.
‘Neque cuiquam tam statim clarum ingenium est, ut possit emergere; nisi illi materia, occasio, fautor etiam, commendatorque contingat.’
Plin. Epist.
_Mr._ SPECTATOR,
Of all the young Fellows who are in their Progress thro’ any Profession, none seem to have so good a Title to the Protection of the Men of Eminence in it as the modest Man; not so much because his Modesty is a certain Indication of his Merit, as because ’tis a certain Obstacle to the producing of it. Now, as of all Professions this Virtue is thought to be more particularly unnecessary in that of the Law than in any other, I shall only apply my self to the Relief of such who follow this Profession with this Disadvantage. What aggravates the matter is, that those Persons who, the better to prepare themselves for this Study, have made some Progress in others, have, by addicting themselves to Letters, encreased their natural Modesty, and consequently heighten’d the Obstruction to this sort of Preferment; so that every one of these may emphatically be said to be such a one as _laboureth and taketh pains, and is still the more behind_. It may be a Matter worth discussing then, Why that which made a Youth so amiable to the Ancients, should make him appear so ridiculous to the Moderns? and, Why in our days there should be Neglect, and even Oppression of young Beginners, instead of that Protection which was the Pride of theirs? In the Profession spoken of, ’tis obvious to every one whose Attendance is required at _Westminster-Hall_, with what Difficulty a Youth of any Modesty has been permitted to make an Observation, that could in no wise detract from the Merit of his Elders, and is absolutely necessary for the advancing his own. I have often seen one of these not only molested in his Utterance of something very pertinent, but even plunder’d of his Question, and by a strong Serjeant shoulder’d out of his Rank, which he has recover’d with much Difficulty and Confusion. Now as great part of the Business of this Profession might be dispatched by one that perhaps
‘–Abest virtute diserti
Messalae, nec scit quantum Causellius Aulus–‘
Hor.
so I can’t conceive the Injustice done to the Publick, if the Men of Reputation in this Calling would introduce such of the young ones into Business, whose Application to this Study will let them into the Secrets of it, as much as their Modesty will hinder them from the Practice: I say, it would be laying an everlasting Obligation upon a young Man, to be introduc’d at first only as a Mute, till by this Countenance, and a Resolution to support the good Opinion conceiv’d of him in his Betters, his Complexion shall be so well settled, that the Litigious of this Island may be secure of his obstreperous Aid. If I might be indulged to speak in the Style of a Lawyer, I would say, That any one about thirty years of Age, might make a common Motion to the Court with as much Elegance and Propriety as the most aged Advocates in the Hall.
I can’t advance the Merit of Modesty by any Argument of my own so powerfully, as by enquiring into the Sentiments the greatest among the Ancients of different Ages entertain’d upon this Virtue. If we go back to the Days of _Solomon_, we shall find Favour a necessary Consequence to a shame-fac’d Man. _Pliny_, the greatest Lawyer and most Elegant Writer of the Age he lived in, in several of his Epistles is very sollicitous in recommending to the Publick some young Men of his own Profession, and very often undertakes to become an Advocate, upon condition that some one of these his Favourites might be joined with him, in order to produce the Merit of such, whose Modesty otherwise would have suppressed it. It may seem very marvellous to a saucy Modern, that _Multum sanguinis, multum verecundiae, multum sollicitudinis in ore; to have the Face first full of Blood, then the Countenance dashed with Modesty, and then the whole Aspect as of one dying with Fear, when a Man begins to speak;_ should be esteem’d by _Pliny_ the necessary Qualifications of a fine Speaker [1]. _Shakespear_ has also express’d himself in the same favourable Strain of Modesty, when he says,
‘–In the Modesty of fearful Duty
I read as much as from the rattling Tongue Of saucy and audacious Eloquence–‘ [2]
Now since these Authors have profess’d themselves for the Modest Man, even in the utmost Confusions of Speech and Countenance, why should an intrepid Utterance and a resolute Vociferation thunder so successfully in our Courts of Justice? And why should that Confidence of Speech and Behaviour, which seems to acknowledge no Superior, and to defy all Contradiction, prevail over that Deference and Resignation with which the Modest Man implores that favourable Opinion which the other seems to command?
As the Case at present stands, the best Consolation that I can administer to those who cannot get into that Stroke of Business (as the Phrase is) which they deserve, is to reckon every particular Acquisition of Knowledge in this Study as a real Increase of their Fortune; and fully to believe, that one day this imaginary Gain will certainly be made out by one more substantial. I wish you would talk to us a little on this Head, you would oblige,
_SIR_,
_Your most humble Servant_.
The Author of this Letter is certainly a Man of good Sense; but I am perhaps particular in my Opinion on this Occasion; for I have observed, that under the Notion of Modesty, Men have indulged themselves in a Spiritless Sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves, their Families, their Friends, and their Country. When a Man has taken care to pretend to nothing but what he may justly aim at, and can execute as well as any other, without Injustice to any other; it is ever want of Breeding or Courage to be brow-beaten or elbow’d out of his honest Ambition. I have said often, Modesty must be an Act of the Will, and yet it always implies Self-Denial: For if a Man has an ardent Desire to do what is laudable for him to perform, and, from an unmanly Bashfulness, shrinks away, and lets his Merit languish in Silence, he ought not to be angry at the World that a more unskilful Actor succeeds in his Part, because he has not Confidence to come upon the Stage himself. The Generosity my Correspondent mentions of _Pliny_, cannot be enough applauded. To cherish the Dawn of Merit, and hasten its Maturity, was a Work worthy a noble _Roman_ and a liberal Scholar. That Concern which is described in the Letter, is to all the World the greatest Charm imaginable: but then the modest Man must proceed, and shew a latent Resolution in himself; for the Admiration of his Modesty arises from the Manifestation of his Merit. I must confess we live in an Age wherein a few empty Blusterers carry away the Praise of Speaking, while a Crowd of Fellows over-stock’d with Knowledge are run down by them. I say Over-stock’d, because they certainly are so as to their Service of Mankind, if from their very Store they raise to themselves Ideas of Respect, and Greatness of the Occasion, and I know not what, to disable themselves from explaining their Thoughts. I must confess, when I have seen _Charles Frankair_ rise up with a commanding Mien, and Torrent of handsome Words, talk a Mile off the Purpose, and drive down twenty bashful Boobies of ten times his Sense, who at the same time were envying his Impudence and despising his Understanding, it has been matter of great Mirth to me; but it soon ended in a secret Lamentation, that the Fountains of every thing praiseworthy in these Realms, the Universities, should be so muddied with a false Sense of this Virtue, as to produce Men capable of being so abused. I will be bold to say, that it is a ridiculous Education which does not qualify a Man to make his best Appearance before the greatest Man and the finest Woman to whom he can address himself. Were this judiciously corrected in the Nurseries of Learning, pert Coxcombs would know their Distance: But we must bear with this false Modesty in our young Nobility and Gentry, till they cease at _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ to grow dumb in the Study of Eloquence.
T.
[Footnote 1: The citation is from a charming letter in which Pliny (Bk. v. letter 17) tells Spurinna the pleasure he had just received from a recitation by a noble youth in the house of Calpurnius Piso, and how, when it was over, he gave the youth many kisses and praises, congratulated his mother and his brother, in whom, as the reciter tried his powers, first fear for him and then delight in him was manifest. To the sentences quoted above the next is
‘Etenim, nescio quo pacto, magis in studiis homines timor quam fiducia decet.’
‘I don’t know how it is, but in brain-work mistrust better becomes men than self-confidence.’]
[Footnote 2: Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act v. sc. 1.]
* * * * *
No. 485. Tuesday, September 16, 1712. Steele.
‘Nihil tam firmum est, cui periculum non sit, etiam ab Invalido.’
Quint. Curt.
_Mr._ SPECTATOR,
‘My Lord _Clarendon_ has observed, _That few Men have done more harm than those who have been thought to be able to do least; and there cannot be a greater Error, than to believe a Man whom we see qualified with too mean Parts to do good, to be therefore incapable of doing hurt. There is a Supply of Malice, of Pride, of Industry, and even of Folly, in the Weakest, when he sets his heart upon it, that makes a strange progress in Mischief_. [1] What may seem to the Reader the greatest Paradox in the Reflection of the Historian, is, I suppose, that Folly, which is generally thought incapable of contriving or executing any Design, should be so formidable to those whom it exerts it self to molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember that _Solomon_ says, _It is as Sport to a Fool to do mischief_; and that he might the more emphatically express the calamitous Circumstances of him who falls under the displeasure of this wanton Person, the same Author adds further, _That a Stone is heavy, and the Sand weighty, but a Fool’s Wrath is heavier than them both_. It is impossible to suppress my own Illustration upon this Matter, which is, That as the Man of Sagacity bestirs himself to distress his Enemy by Methods probable and reducible to Reason, so the same Reason will fortify his Enemy to elude these his regular Efforts; but your Fool projects, acts, and concludes with such notable Inconsistence, that no regular Course of Thought can evade or counterplot his prodigious Machinations. My Frontispiece, I believe, may be extended to imply, That several of our Misfortunes arise from Things, as well as Persons, that seem of very little consequence. Into what tragical Extravagancies does _Shakespear_ hurry _Othello_ upon the loss of an Handkerchief only? and what Barbarities does _Desdemona_ suffer from a slight Inadvertency in regard to this fatal Trifle? If the Schemes of all enterprizing Spirits were to be carefully examined, some intervening Accident, not considerable enough to occasion any Debate upon, or give ’em any apprehension of ill Consequence from it, will be found to be the occasion of their ill Success, rather than any Error in Points of Moment and Difficulty, which naturally engag’d their maturest Deliberations. If you go to the Levee of any great Man, you will observe him exceeding gracious to several very insignificant Fellows; and this upon this Maxim, That the Neglect of any Person must arise from the mean Opinion you have of his Capacity to do you any Service or Prejudice; and that this calling his Sufficiency in question, must give him Inclination, and where this is, there never wants Strength or Opportunity to annoy you. There is no body so weak of Invention, that can’t aggravate or make some little Stories to vilify his Enemy; and there are very few but have good Inclinations to hear ’em, and ’tis infinite Pleasure to the Majority of Mankind to level a Person superior to his Neighbours. Besides, in all matter of Controversy, that Party which has the greatest Abilities labours under this Prejudice, that he will certainly be supposed, upon Account of his Abilities, to have done an Injury, when perhaps he has received one. It would be tedious to enumerate the Strokes that Nations and particular Friends have suffer’d from Persons very contemptible.
I Think _Henry_ IV. of _France_, so formidable to his Neighbours, could no more be secur’d against the resolute Villany of _Ravillac_, than _Villiers_, Duke of _Buckingham_, could be against that of _Felton_. And there is no incens’d Person so destitute, but can provide himself with a Knife or a Pistol, if he finds stomach to apply them. That Things and Persons of no moment should give such powerful Revolutions to the progress of those of the greatest, seems a providential Disposition to baffle and abate the Pride of human Sufficiency; as also to engage the Humanity and Benevolence of Superiors to all below ’em, by letting them into this Secret, that the Stronger depends upon the Weaker.
_I am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant._
_Temple, Paper-Buildings._
_Dear Sir_,
‘I received a Letter from you some time ago, which I should have answered sooner, had you informed me in yours to what part of this Island I might have directed my Impertinence; but having been let into the Knowledge of that Matter, this handsome Excuse is no longer serviceable. My Neighbour _Prettyman_ shall be the Subject of this Letter; who falling in with the SPECTATOR’S Doctrine concerning the Month of _May_, began from that Season to dedicate himself to the Service of the Fair in the following Manner. I observed at the Beginning of the Month he bought him a new Night-gown, either side to be worn outwards, both equally gorgeous and attractive; but till the End of the Month I did not enter so fully into the knowledge of his Contrivance, as the Use of that Garment has since suggested to me. Now you must know that all new Clothes raise and warm the Bearer’s Imagination into a Conceit of his being a much finer Gentleman than he was before, banishing all Sobriety and Reflection, and giving him up to Gallantry and Amour. Inflam’d therefore with this way of thinking, and full of the Spirit of the Month of _May_, did this merciless Youth resolve upon the Business of Captivating. At first he confin’d himself to his Room only, now and then appearing at his Window in his Night-gown, and practising that easy Posture which expresses the very Top and Dignity of Languishment. It was pleasant to see him diversify his Loveliness, sometimes obliging the Passengers only with a Side-Face, with a Book in his Hand; sometimes being so generous as to expose the whole in the fulness of its Beauty; at the other times, by a judicious throwing back of his Perriwig, he would throw in his Ears. You know he is that Sort of Person which the Mob call a handsome jolly Man; which Appearance can’t miss of Captives in this part of the Town. Being emboldened by daily Success, he leaves his Room with a Resolution to extend his Conquests; and I have apprehended him in his Night-gown smiting in all Parts of this Neighbourhood.
This I, being of an amorous Complection, saw with Indignation, and had Thoughts of purchasing a Wig in these Parts; into which, being at a greater Distance from the Earth, I might have thrown a very liberal Mixture of white Horse-hair, which would make a fairer, and consequently a handsomer Appearance, while my Situation would secure me against any Discoveries. But the Passion to the handsome Gentleman seems to be so fixed to that part of the Building, that it will be extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am resolved to stand boldly to the Complection of my own Eye-brow, and prepare me an immense Black Wig of the same sort of Structure with that of my Rival. Now, tho’ by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the number of the Admirers of his Complection, I shall have a fair Chance to divide the Passengers by the irresistible Force of mine.
I expect sudden Dispatches from you, with Advice of the Family you are in now, how to deport my self upon this so delicate a Conjuncture; with some comfortable Resolutions in favour of the handsome black Man against the handsome fair one.
_I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant_,
C.
N. B. _He who writ this, is a black Man two Pair of Stairs; the Gentleman of whom he writes, is fair, and one Pair of Stairs_.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
‘I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much I am
_Yours_,
Robin Shorter.
_P. S._ ‘I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as much notice of this Epistle, as you have of the ingenious Mr. _Short’s_. I am not afraid to let the World see which is the Deeper Man of the two.
T.
[Footnote 1: When this was quoted Clarendon had been dead only 38 years, and his History of the Rebellion, first published in Queen Anne’s reign, was almost a new Book. It was published at Oxford in three folio volumes, which appeared in the successive years 1702, 3,4, and in this year, 1712, there had appeared a new edition of it (the sixth).]
* * * * *
ADVERTISEMENT.
London, September 15.
Whereas a young Woman on horseback, in an Equestrian Habit on the 13th Instant in the Evening, met the SPECTATOR within a Mile and an half of this Town, and flying in the Face of Justice, pull’d off her Hat, in which there was a Feather, with the Mein and Air of a young Officer, saying at the same time,
Your Servant Mr. SPEC. or Words to that Purpose; This is to give Notice,
that if any Person can discover the Name, and Place of Abode of the said Offender, so as she can be brought to Justice, the Informant shall have all fitting Encouragement.
* * * * *
No. 486. Wednesday, September 17, 1712. Steele.
‘–Audire est operae pretium procedere recte Qui mechis non vultis–‘
Hor.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
‘There are very many of my Acquaintance Followers of _Socrates_, with more particular regard to that part of his Philosophy which we, among, our selves, call his _Domesticks;_ under which Denomination, or Title, we include all the Conjugal Joys and Sufferings. We have indeed, with very great Pleasure, observed the Honour you do the whole Fraternity of the Hen-peck’d, in placing that illustrious Man at our Head, and it does in a very great measure baffle the Raillery of pert Rogues, who have no advantage above us, but in that they are single. But when you look about into the Crowd of Mankind, you will find the Fair Sex reigns with greater Tyranny over Lovers than Husbands. You shall hardly meet one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their Dominion, and those that are so, are capable of no Taste of Life, and breathe and walk about the Earth as Insignificants. But I am going to desire your further Favour in behalf of our harmless Brotherhood, and hope you will shew in a true light the un-married Hen-peck’d, as well as you have done Justice to us, who submit to the Conduct of our Wives. I am very particularly acquainted with one who is under entire Submission to a kind Girl, as he calls her; and tho’ he knows I have been Witness both to the ill Usage he has received from her, and his Inability to resist her Tyranny, he still pretends to make a Jest of me for a little more than ordinary Obsequiousness to my Spouse. No longer than _Tuesday_ last he took me with him to visit his Mistress; and he having, it seems, been a little in Disgrace before, thought by bringing me with him she would constrain herself, and insensibly fall into general Discourse with him; and so he might break the Ice, and save himself all the ordinary Compunctions and Mortifications she used to make him suffer before she would be reconciled after any Act of Rebellion on his Part. When we came into the Room, we were received with the utmost Coldness; and when he presented me as Mr. Such-a-one, his very good Friend, she just had Patience to suffer my Salutation; but when he himself, with a very gay Air, offered to follow me, she gave him a thundering Box on the Ear, called him pitiful poor-spirited Wretch, how durst he see her Face? His Wig and Hat fell on different Parts of the Floor. She seized the Wig too soon for him to recover it, and kicking it down Stairs, threw herself into an opposite Room, pulling the Door after her with a Force, that you would have thought the Hinges would have given Way. We went down, you must think, with no very good Countenances; and as we sneaked off, and were driving home together, he confessed to me, that her Anger was thus highly raised, because he did not think fit to fight a Gentleman who had said she was what she was; but, says he, a kind Letter or two, or fifty pieces, will put her in Humour again. I asked him why he did not part with her; he answered, he loved her with all the Tenderness imaginable, and she had too many Charms to be abandoned for a little Quickness of Spirit. Thus does this illegitimate Hen-pecked over-look the Hussy’s having no Regard to his very Life and Fame, in putting him upon an infamous Dispute about her Reputation; yet has he the Confidence to laugh at me, because I obey my poor Dear in keeping out of Harm’s Way, and not staying too late from my own Family, to pass through the Hazards of a Town full of Ranters and Debauchees. You that are a Philosopher should urge in our behalf, that when we bear with a froward Woman, our Patience is preserved, in consideration that a breach with her might be a Dishonour to Children who are descended from us, and whose Concern makes us tolerate a thousand Frailties, for fear they should redound Dishonour upon the Innocent. This and the like Circumstances, which carry with them the most valuable Regards of human Life, may be mentioned for our long Suffering; but in the case of Gallants, they swallow ill Usage from one to whom they have no Obligation, but from a base Passion, which it is mean to indulge, and which it would be glorious to overcome.
‘These Sort of Fellows are very numerous, and some have been conspicuously such, without Shame; nay they have carried on the Jest in the very Article of Death, and, to the Diminution of the Wealth and Happiness of their Families, in bar of those honourably near to them, have left immense Wealth to their Paramours. What is this but being a Cully in the Grave! Sure this is being Hen-peck’d with a Vengeance! But without dwelling upon these less frequent Instances of eminent Cullyism, what is there so common as to hear a Fellow curse his Fate that he cannot get rid of a Passion to a Jilt, and quote an Half-Line out of a Miscellany Poem to prove his Weakness is natural? If they will go on thus, I have nothing to say to it: But then let them not pretend to be free all this while, and laugh at us poor married Patients.
‘I have known one Wench in this Town carry an haughty Dominion over her Lovers so well, that she has at the same time been kept by a Sea-Captain in the _Straits_, a Merchant in the City, a Country Gentleman in _Hampshire_, and had all her Correspondences managed by one she kept for her own Uses. This happy Man (as the Phrase is) used to write very punctually every Post, Letters for the Mistress to transcribe. He would sit in his Night-Gown and Slippers, and be as grave giving an Account, only changing Names, that there was nothing in those idle Reports they had heard of such a Scoundrel as one of the other Lovers was; and how could he think she could condescend so low, after such a fine Gentleman as each of them? For the same Epistle said the same thing to and of every one of them. And so Mr. Secretary and his Lady went to Bed with great Order.
‘To be short, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, we Husbands shall never make the Figure we ought in the Imaginations of young Men growing up in the World, except you can bring it about that a Man of the Town shall be as infamous a Character as a Woman of the Town. But of all that I have met in my time, commend me to _Betty Duall_: She is the Wife of a Sailor, and the kept Mistress of a Man of Quality; she dwells with the latter during the Sea-faring of the former. The Husband asks no Questions, sees his Apartments furnished with Riches not his, when he comes into Port, and the Lover is as joyful as a Man arrived at his Haven when the other puts to Sea. _Betty_ is the most eminently victorious of any of her Sex, and ought to stand recorded the only Woman of the Age in which she lives, who has possessed at the same time two Abused, and two Contented…
T.
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No. 487. Thursday, September 18, 1712. Addison.
‘–Cum prostrata sopore
Urget membra quies, et mem sine pondere ludit–‘
Petr.
Tho’ there are many Authors, who have written on Dreams, they have generally considered them only as Revelations of what has already happened in distant parts of the World, or as Presages of what is to happen in future Periods of time.
I shall consider this Subject in another Light, as Dreams may give us some Idea of the great Excellency of an Human Soul, and some Intimation of its Independency on Matter. In the first Place, our Dreams are great Instances of that Activity which is natural to the human Soul, and which it is not in the power of Sleep to deaden or abate. When the Man appears tired and worn out with the Labours of the Day, this active part in his Composition is still busied and unwearied. When the Organs of Sense want their due Repose and necessary Reparations, and the Body is no longer able to keep pace with that spiritual Substance to which it is united, the Soul exerts her self in her several Faculties, and continues in Action till her Partner is again qualified to bear her Company. In this case Dreams look like the Relaxations and Amusements of the Soul, when she is disincumbred of her Machine, her Sports and Recreations, when she has laid her Charge asleep.
In the Second Place, Dreams are an Instance of that Agility and Perfection which is natural to the Faculties of the Mind, when they are disengaged from the Body. The Soul is clogged and retarded in her Operations, when she acts in Conjunction with a Companion that is so heavy and unwieldy in its Motions. But in Dreams it is wonderful to observe with what a Sprightliness and Alacrity she exerts her self. The slow of Speech make unpremeditated Harangues, or converse readily in Languages that they are but little acquainted with. The Grave abound in Pleasantries, the Dull in Repartees and Points of Wit. There is not a more painful Action of the Mind, than Invention; yet in Dreams it works with that Ease and Activity, that we are not sensible when the Faculty is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some time or other, dreams that he is reading Papers, Books, or Letters; in which case the Invention prompts so readily, that the Mind is imposed upon, and mistakes its own Suggestions for the Compositions of another.
I shall, under this Head, quote a Passage out of the _Religio Medici_, [1] in which the ingenious Author gives an account of himself in his dreaming and his waking Thoughts.
‘We are somewhat more than our selves in our Sleeps, and the Slumber of the Body seems to be but the Waking of the Soul. It is the Litigation of Sense, but the Liberty of Reason; and our waking Conceptions do not match the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my Nativity my Ascendant was the watery Sign of_ Scorpius: I _was born in the Planetary Hour of_ Saturn, _and I think I have a piece of that leaden Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can compose a whole Comedy, behold the Action, apprehend the Jests, and laugh my self awake at the Conceits thereof. Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my Dreams; and this time also would I chuse for my Devotions: but our grosser Memories have then so little hold of our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls a confused and broken Tale of that that has passed–Thus it is observed that Men sometimes, upon the Hour of their Departure, do speak and reason above themselves; for then the Soul beginning to be freed from the Ligaments