The tickets which were delivered out for the benefit of Signor Nicolini
Grimaldi[112] on the 24th instant, will be taken on Thursday the 2nd of
March, his benefit being deferred till that day.
N.B. In all operas for the future, where it thunders and lightens in
proper time and in tune, the matter of the said lightning is to be of
the finest resin; and, for the sake of harmony, the same which is used
to the best Cremona fiddles.
Note also, that the true perfumed lightning is only prepared and sold by
Mr. Charles Lillie, at the corner of Beauford Buildings.
The lady who has chosen Mr. Bickerstaff for her valentine, and is at a
loss what to present him with, is desired to make him, with her own
hands, a warm nightcap.[113]
[Footnote 108: A portion of Henry VIII.'s palace at Whitehall. When
Whitehall was burned down in 1697, the Cockpit escaped, and was used as
a Court for the Committee of the Privy Council.]
[Footnote 109: "Henry the Fifth," Prologue.]
[Footnote 110: "Julius Caesar," act iii. sc. i.]
[Footnote 111: "AEneid," i. 294.]
[Footnote 112: See Nos. 115, 142.]
[Footnote 113: A description of the custom of drawing valentines, and of
the hope and fear shown on the faces of the drawers, who in their
earnestness gave to a scrap of paper the same effect as the person
represented, is to be found in Lillie's "Letters sent to the _Tatler_
and _Spectator_" (1725), i. 30. See No. 141.]
No. 138. [STEELE.
From _Thursday, Feb. 23_, to _Saturday, Feb. 25, 1709-10_.
Secretosque pios, his dantem jura Catonem.
VIRG., AEn. viii. 670.
* * * * *
_Sheer Lane, February 24._
It is an argument of a clear and worthy spirit in a man, to be able to
disengage himself from the opinions of others, so far as not to let the
deference due to the sense of mankind ensnare him to act against the
dictates of his own reason. But the generality of the world are so far
from walking by any such maxim, that it is almost a standing rule to do
as others do, or be ridiculous. I have heard my old friend Mr. Hart[114]
speak it as an observation among the players, that it is impossible to
act with grace, except the actor has forgot that he is before an
audience. Till he has arrived at that, his motion, his air, his every
step and gesture, has something in them which discovers he is under a
restraint for fear of being ill received; or if he considers himself as
in the presence of those who approve his behaviour, you see an
affectation of that pleasure run through his whole carriage. It is as
common in life, as upon the stage, to behold a man in the most
indifferent action betray a sense he has of doing what he is about
gracefully. Some have such an immoderate relish for applause, that they
expect it for things, which in themselves are so frivolous, that it is
impossible, without this affectation, to make them appear worthy either
of blame or praise. There is Will Glare, so passionately intent upon
being admired, that when you see him in public places, every muscle of
his face discovers his thoughts are fixed upon the consideration of what
figure he makes. He will often fall into a musing posture to attract
observation, and is then obtruding himself upon the company when he
pretends to be withdrawn from it. Such little arts are the certain and
infallible tokens of a superficial mind, as the avoiding observation is
the sign of a great and sublime one. It is therefore extremely difficult
for a man to judge even of his own actions, without forming to himself
an idea of what he should act, were it in his power to execute all his
desires without the observation of the rest of the world. There is an
allegorical fable in Plato,[115] which seems to admonish us, that we are
very little acquainted with ourselves, while we know our actions are to
pass the censures of others; but had we the power to accomplish all our
wishes unobserved, we should then easily inform ourselves how far we are
possessed of real and intrinsic virtue. The fable I was going to
mention, is that of Gyges, who is said to have had an enchanted ring,
which had in it a miraculous quality, making him who wore it visible or
invisible, as he turned it to or from his body. The use Gyges made of
his occasional invisibility, was, by the advantage of it, to violate a
queen, and murder a king. Tully takes notice of this allegory, and says
very handsomely, that a man of honour who had such a ring, would act
just in the same manner as he would do without it.[116] It is indeed no
small pitch of virtue under the temptation of impunity, and the hopes
of accomplishing all a man desires, not to transgress the rules of
justice and virtue; but this is rather not being an ill man, than being
positively a good one; and it seems wonderful, that so great a soul as
that of Tully, should not form to himself a thousand worthy actions
which a virtuous man would be prompted to by the possession of such a
secret. There are certainly some part of mankind who are guardian beings
to the other. Sallust could say of Cato, "that he had rather be than
appear good";[117] but indeed, this eulogium rose no higher than (as I
just now hinted) to an inoffensiveness, rather than an active virtue.
Had it occurred to the noble orator to represent, in his language, the
glorious pleasures of a man secretly employed in beneficence and
generosity, it would certainly have made a more charming page than any
he has now left behind him. How might a man, furnished with Gyges'
secret, employ it in bringing together distant friends, laying snares
for creating goodwill in the room of groundless hatred; in removing the
pangs of an unjust jealousy, the shyness of an imperfect reconciliation,
and the tremor of an awful love! Such a one could give confidence to
bashful merit, and confusion to overbearing impudence.
Certain it is, that secret kindnesses done to mankind, are as beautiful
as secret injuries are detestable. To be invisibly good, is as godlike,
as to be invisibly ill, diabolical. As degenerate as we are apt to say
the age we live in is, there are still amongst us men of illustrious
minds, who enjoy all the pleasures of good actions, except that of being
commended for them. There happens among others very worthy instances of
a public spirit, one of which I am obliged to discover, because I know
not otherwise how to obey the commands of the Benefactor. A citizen of
London has given directions to Mr. Rayner, the writing-master of Paul's
School,[118] to educate at his charge ten boys (who shall be nominated
by me) in writing and accounts, till they shall be fit for any trade. I
desire therefore such as know any proper objects for receiving this
bounty, to give notice thereof to Mr. Morphew, or Mr. Lillie, and they
shall, if properly qualified, have instructions accordingly.
Actions of this kind have in them something so transcendent, that it is
an injury to applaud them, and a diminution of that merit which consists
in shunning our approbation. We shall therefore leave them to enjoy that
glorious obscurity, and silently admire their virtue, who can contemn
the most delicious of human pleasures, that of receiving due praise.
Such celestial dispositions very justly suspend the discovery of their
benefactions, till they come where their actions cannot be
misinterpreted, and receive their first congratulations in the company
of angels.