Whereas it has been signified to the Censor, that under the pretence
that he has encouraged the Moving Picture,[255] and particularly admired
the Walking Statue, some persons within the Liberties of Westminster
have vended Walking Pictures, insomuch that the said pictures have
within few days after sales by auction returned to the habitation of
their first proprietors; that matter has been narrowly looked into, and
orders are given to Pacolet to take notice of all who are concerned in
such frauds, with directions to draw their pictures, that they may be
hanged in effigy, _in terrorem_ of all auctions for the future.
[Footnote 250: See Nos. 1, 71, 157. On the 25th of April 1710, there was
given for Betterton's benefit, "The Maid's Tragedy" of Beaumont and
Fletcher, in which he himself performed his celebrated part of
Melantius. This, however, was the last time he was to appear on the
stage, for, having been suddenly seized with the gout, and being
impatient at the thought of disappointing his friends, he made use of
outward applications to reduce the swellings of his feet, which enabled
him to walk on the stage, though obliged to have his foot in a slipper.
But the fomentations he had used occasioning a revulsion of the gouty
humour to the nobler parts, threw the distemper up into his head, and
terminated his life on the 28th of April. On the 2nd of May his body was
interred with much ceremony in the cloister of Westminster.--"This day
is published, 'The Life of Mr. Thomas Betterton'" (_Postboy_, Sept. 16
to 19, 1710). This book, attributed to Gildon, is dedicated to Richard
Steele, Esq. "I have chosen," says the author, "to address this
discourse to you, because the Art of which it treats is of your familiar
acquaintance, and the graces of action and utterance come naturally
under the consideration of a dramatic writer."]
[Footnote 251: Cicero.]
[Footnote 252: "Macbeth," act v. sc. 5, quoted inaccurately by Steele.]
[Footnote 253: Betterton married, in 1662, Maria Saunderson, an actress
who seems to have been as good as she was clever. She lost her reason
after the death of her husband, but recovered it before her death at the
end of 1711. By her will she bequeathed to Mrs. Bracegirdle, Mrs. Barry,
Mr. Doggett, Mr. Wilks, and Mr. Dent, twenty shillings a piece for
rings; and her husband's picture to Mrs. Anne Stevenson, whom she
appointed her residuary legatee.]
[Footnote 254: Possibly Lady Elizabeth Hastings (see Nos. 42, 49), or
perhaps Queen Anne, though it is not likely that she consulted Steele by
letter on the subject. The Queen gave Mrs. Betterton a pension on the
death of her husband, "but," says Cibber, "she lived not to receive more
than the first half year of it."]
[Footnote 255: See No. 129.]
No. 168. [STEELE.
From _Thursday, May 4_, to _Saturday, May 6, 1710_.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, May 5._
Never was man so much teased, or suffered half the uneasiness, as I have
done this evening, between a couple of fellows with whom I was
unfortunately engaged to sup, where there were also several others in
company. One of them is the most invincibly impudent, and the other as
incorrigibly absurd. Upon hearing my name, the man of audacity, as he
calls himself, began to assume an awkward way of reserve, by way of
ridicule upon me as a Censor, and said, he must have a care of his
behaviour, for there would notes be writ upon all that should pass. The
man of freedom and ease (for such the other thinks himself) asked me,
whether my sister Jenny was breeding or not? After they had done with
me, they were impertinent to a very smart, but well-bred man, who stood
his ground very well, and let the company see they ought, but could not
be out of countenance. I look upon such a defence as a real good action;
for while he received their fire, there was a modest and worthy young
gentleman sat secure by him, and a lady of the family at the same time,
guarded against the nauseous familiarity of the one, and the more
painful mirth of the other. This conversation, where there were a
thousand things said not worth repeating, made me consider with myself,
how it is that men of these disagreeable characters often go great
lengths in the world, and seldom fail of outstripping men of merit; nay,
succeed so well, that with a load of imperfections on their heads, they
go on in opposition to general disesteem, while they who are every way
their superiors, languish away their days, though possessed of the
approbation and goodwill of all who know them.
If we would examine into the secret spring of action in the impudent and
the absurd, we shall find, though they bear a great resemblance in their
behaviour, that they move upon very different principles. The impudent
are pressing, though they know they are disagreeable; the absurd are
importunate, because they think they are acceptable. Impudence is a
vice, and absurdity a folly. Sir Francis Bacon talks very agreeably upon
the subject of impudence.[256] He takes notice, that the orator being
asked, what was the first, second, and third requisite, to make a fine
speaker, still answered, "Action." This, said he, is the very outward
form of speaking, and yet it is what with the generality has more force
than the most consummate abilities. Impudence is to the rest of mankind
of the same use which action is to orators.
The truth is, the gross of men are governed more by appearances than
realities, and the impudent man in his air and behaviour undertakes for
himself that he has ability and merit, while the modest or diffident
gives himself up as one who is possessed of neither. For this reason,
men of front carry things before them with little opposition, and make
so skilful a use of their talent, that they can grow out of humour like
men of consequence, and be sour, and make their satisfaction do them the
same service as desert. This way of thinking has often furnished me with
an apology for great men who confer favours on the impudent. In
carrying on the government of mankind, they are not to consider what men
they themselves approve in their closets and private conversations, but
what men will extend themselves furthest, and more generally pass upon
the world for such as their patrons want in such and such stations, and
consequently take so much work off the hands of those who employ them.
Far be it that I should attempt to lessen the acceptance which men of
this character meet with in the world; but I humbly propose only, that
they who have merit of a different kind, would accomplish themselves in
some degree with this quality of which I am now treating. Nay, I allow
these gentlemen to press as forward as they please in the advancement of
their interests and fortunes, but not to intrude upon others in
conversation also: let them do what they can with the rich and the
great, as far as they are suffered, but let them not interrupt the easy
and agreeable. They may be useful as servants in ambition, but never as
associates in pleasure. However, as I would still drive at something
instructive in every Lucubration, I must recommend it to all men who
feel in themselves an impulse towards attempting laudable actions, to
acquire such a degree of assurance, as never to lose the possession of
themselves in public or private, so far as to be incapable of acting
with a due decorum on any occasion they are called to. It is a mean want
of fortitude in a good man, not to be able to do a virtuous action with
as much confidence as an impudent fellow does an ill one. There is no
way of mending such false modesty, but by laying it down for a rule,
that there is nothing shameful but what is criminal.
The Jesuits, an order whose institution is perfectly calculated for
making a progress in the world, take care to accomplish their disciples
for it, by breaking them of all impertinent bashfulness, and accustoming
then to a ready performance of all indifferent things. I remember in my
travels, when I was once at a public exercise in one of their schools, a
young man made a most admirable speech, with all the beauty of action,
cadence of voice, and force of argument imaginable, in defence of the
love of glory. We were all enamoured with the grace of the youth, as he
came down from the desk where he spoke to present a copy of his speech
to the head of the society. The principal received it in a very obliging
manner, and bid him go to the market-place and fetch a joint of meat,
for he should dine with him. He bowed, and in a trice the orator
returned, full of the sense of glory in this obedience, and with the
best shoulder of mutton in the market.
This treatment capacitates them for every scene of life. I therefore
recommend it to the consideration of all who have the instruction of
youth, which of the two is the most inexcusable, he who does everything
by the mere force of his impudence, or who performs nothing through the
oppression of his modesty? In a word, it is a weakness not to be able to
attempt what a man thinks he ought, and there is no modesty but in
self-denial.
P.S. Upon my coming home I received the following petition and letter:
"The humble petition of Sarah Lately:
"SHEWETH,
"That your petitioner has been one of those ladies who has had fine
things constantly spoken to her in general terms, and lived, during
her most blooming years, in daily expectation of declarations of
marriage, but never had one made to her.
"That she is now in her grand climacteric; which being above the
space of four virginities, accounting at 15 years each,
"Your petitioner most humbly prays, that in the lottery for the
Bass-viol[257] she may have four tickets, in consideration that her
single life has been occasioned by the inconstancy of her lovers,
and not through the cruelty or forwardness of your petitioner.
"And your Petitioner shall," &c.
"MR. BICKERSTAFF, "_May 3, 1710_.
"According to my fancy, you took a much better way to dispose of a
Bass-viol in yesterday's paper than you did in your table of
marriage.[258] I desire the benefit of a lottery for myself too----
The manner of it I leave to your own discretion: only if you
can----allow the tickets at above five farthings a piece. Pray
accept of one ticket for your trouble, and I wish you may be the
fortunate man that wins.
"Your very humble Servant till then,
"ISABELLA KIT."
I must own the request of the aged petitioner to be founded upon a very
undeserved distress; and since she might, had she had justice done her,
been mother of many pretenders to this prize, instead of being one
herself, I do readily grant her demand; but as for the proposal of Mrs.
Isabella Kit, I cannot project a lottery for her, until I have security
she will surrender herself to the winner.
[Footnote 256: Essay xii., "Of Boldness."]
[Footnote 257: See No. 166.]
[Footnote 258: See Nos. 157, 160.]
No. 169. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, May 6_, to _Tuesday, May 9, 1710_.
O rus! Quando ego te aspiciam? quandoque licebit
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis,
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitae?
HOR., 2 Sat. vi. 60.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, May 8._
The summer season now approaching, several of our family have invited me
to pass away a month or two in the country, and indeed nothing could be
more agreeable to me than such a recess, did I not consider that I am by
two quarts a worse companion than when I was last among my relations:
and I am admonished by some of our club, who have lately visited
Staffordshire, that they drink at a greater rate than they did at that
time. As every soil does not produce every fruit or tree, so every vice
is not the growth of every kind of life; and I have, ever since I could
think, been astonished that drinking should be the vice of the country.
If it were possible to add to all our senses, as we do to that of sight,
by perspectives, we should methinks more particularly labour to improve
them in the midst of the variety of beauteous objects which Nature has
produced to entertain us in the country; and do we in that place destroy
the use of what organs we have? As for my part, I cannot but lament the
destruction that has been made of the wild beasts of the field, when I
see large tracts of earth possessed by men who take no advantage of
their being rational, but lead mere animal lives, making it their whole
endeavour to kill in themselves all they have above beasts; to wit, the
use of reason, and taste of society. It is frequently boasted in the
writings of orators and poets, that it is to eloquence and poesy we owe
that we are drawn out of woods and solitudes into towns and cities, and
from a wild and savage being become acquainted with the laws of humanity
and civility. If we are obliged to these arts for so great service, I
could wish they were employed to give us a second turn; that as they
have brought us to dwell in society (a blessing which no other creatures
know), so they would persuade us, now they have settled us, to lay out
all our thoughts in surpassing each other in those faculties in which
only we excel other creatures. But it is at present so far otherwise,
that the contention seems to be, who shall be most eminent in
performances wherein beasts enjoy greater abilities than we have. I'll
undertake, were the butler and swineherd, at any true esquire's in Great
Britain, to keep and compare accounts of what wash is drunk up in so
many hours in the parlour and the pigsty, it would appear, the gentleman
of the house gives much more to his friends than his hogs.
This, with many other evils, arises from the error in men's judgments,
and not making true distinctions between persons and things. It is
usually thought, that a few sheets of parchment, made before a male and
female of wealthy houses come together, give the heirs and descendants
of that marriage possession of lands and tenements; but the truth is,
there is no man who can be said to be proprietor of an estate, but he
who knows how to enjoy it. Nay, it shall never be allowed, that the land
is not a waste, when the master is uncultivated. Therefore, to avoid
confusion, it is to be noted, that a peasant with a great estate is but
an incumbent, and that he must be a gentleman to be a landlord. A
landlord enjoys what he has with his heart, an incumbent with his
stomach. Gluttony, drunkenness, and riot, are the entertainments of an
incumbent; benevolence, civility, social and human virtues, the
accomplishments of a landlord. Who, that has any passion for his native
country, does not think it worse than conquered, when so large
diversions of it are in the hands of savages, that know no use of
property but to be tyrants; or liberty, but to be unmannerly? A
gentleman in a country life enjoys Paradise with a temper fit for it; a
clown is cursed in it with all the cutting and unruly passions man could
be tormented with when he was expelled from it.
There is no character more deservedly esteemed than that of a country
gentleman, who understands the station in which heaven and nature have
placed him. He is father to his tenants, and patron to his neighbours,
and is more superior to those of lower fortune by his benevolence than
his possessions. He justly divides his time between solitude and
company, so as to use the one for the other. His life is spent in the
good offices of an advocate, a referee, a companion, a mediator, and a
friend. His counsel and knowledge are a guard to the simplicity and
innocence of those of lower talents, and the entertainment and happiness
of those of equal. When a man in a country life has this turn, as it is
to be hoped thousands have, he lives in a more happy condition than any
is described in the pastoral descriptions of poets, or the
vainglorious solitudes recorded by philosophers.
To a thinking man it would seem prodigious, that the very situation in a
country life does not incline men to a scorn of the mean gratifications
some take in it. To stand by a stream, naturally lulls the mind into
composure and reverence; to walk in shades, diversifies that pleasure;
and a bright sunshine makes a man consider all nature in gladness, and
himself the happiest being in it, as he is the most conscious of her
gifts and enjoyments. It would be the most impertinent piece of
pedantry imaginable to form our pleasures by imitation of others. I will
not therefore mention Scipio and Laelius, who are generally produced on
this subject as authorities for the charms of a rural life. He that does
not feel the force of agreeable views and situations in his own mind,
will hardly arrive at the satisfactions they bring from the reflections
of others. However, they who have a taste that way, are more
particularly inflamed with desire when they see others in the enjoyment
of it, especially when men carry into the country a knowledge of the
world as well as of nature. The leisure of such persons is endeared and
refined by reflection upon cares and inquietudes. The absence of past
labours doubles present pleasures, which is still augmented, if the
person in solitude has the happiness of being addicted to letters. My
cousin Frank Bickerstaff gives me a very good notion of this sort of
felicity in the following letter:
"SIR,
"I write this to communicate to you the happiness I have in the
neighbourhood and conversation of the noble lord whose health you
inquired after in your last. I have bought that little hovel which
borders upon his royalty; but am so far from being oppressed by his
greatness, that I who know no envy, and he who is above pride,
mutually recommend ourselves to each other by the difference of our
fortunes. He esteems me for being so well pleased with a little,
and I admire him for enjoying so handsomely a great deal. He has
not the little taste of observing the colour of a tulip, or the
edging of a leaf of box, but rejoices in open views, the regularity
of this plantation, and the wildness of another, as well as the
fall of a river, the rising of a promontory, and all other objects
fit to entertain a mind like his, that has been long versed in
great and public amusements. The make of the soul is as much seen
in leisure as in business. He has long lived in Courts, and been
admired in assemblies, so that he has added to experience a most
charming eloquence; by which he communicates to me the ideas of my
own mind upon the objects we meet with, so agreeably, that with his
company in the fields, I at once enjoy the country, and a landscape
of it. He is now altering the course of canals and rivulets, in
which he has an eye to his neighbour's satisfaction, as well as his
own. He often makes me presents by turning the water into my
grounds, and sends me fish by their own streams. To avoid my
thanks, he makes Nature the instrument of his bounty, and does all
good offices so much with the air of a companion, that his
frankness hides his own condescension, as well as my gratitude.
Leave the world to itself, and come see us.
"Your affectionate Cousin,
"FRANCIS BICKERSTAFF."
No. 170. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, May 9_, to _Thursday, May 11, 1710_.
Fortuna saevo laeta negotio et
Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax
Transmutat incertos honores,
Nunc mihi, nunc alii, benigna.
HOR., 3 Od. xxix. 49.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, May 10._
Having this morning spent some time in reading on the subject of the
vicissitude of human life, I laid aside my book, and began to ruminate
on the discourse which raised in me those reflections. I believed it a
very good office to the world, to sit down and show others the road in
which I am experienced by my wanderings and errors. This is Seneca's way
of thinking, and he had half convinced me, how dangerous it is to our
true happiness and tranquillity to fix our minds upon anything which is
in the power of Fortune. It is excusable only in animals who have not
the use of reason, to be catched by hooks and baits. Wealth, glory, and
power, which the ordinary people look up at with admiration, the learned
and wise know to be only so many snares laid to enslave them. There is
nothing further to be sought for with earnestness, than what will clothe
and feed us. If we pamper ourselves in our diet, or give our
imaginations a loose in our desires, the body will no longer obey the
mind. Let us think no further than to defend ourselves against hunger,
thirst, and cold. We are to remember, that everything else is
despicable, and not worth our care. To want little is true grandeur, and
very few things are great to a great mind. Those who form their thoughts
in this manner, and abstract themselves from the world, are out of the
way of Fortune, and can look with contempt both on her favours and her
frowns. At the same time, they who separate themselves from the
immediate commerce with the busy part of mankind, are still beneficial
to them, while by their studies and writings they recommend to them the
small value which ought to be put upon what they pursue with so much
labour and disquiet. Whilst such men are thought the most idle, they are
the most usefully employed. They have all things, both human and divine,
under consideration. To be perfectly free from the insults of fortune,
we should arm ourselves with their reflections. We should learn, that
none but intellectual possessions are what we can properly call our own.
All things from without are but borrowed. What Fortune gives us, is not
ours; and whatever she gives, she can take away.
It is a common imputation to Seneca, that though he declaimed with so
much strength of reason, and a stoical contempt of riches and power, he
was at the same time one of the richest and most powerful men in Rome. I
know no instance of his being insolent in that fortune, and can
therefore read his thoughts on those subjects with the more deference. I
will not give philosophy so poor a look, as to say it cannot live in
courts; but I am of opinion, that it is there in the greatest eminence,
when amidst the affluence of all the world can bestow, and the addresses
of a crowd who follow him for that reason, a man can think both of
himself and those about him abstracted from these circumstances. Such a
philosopher is as much above an anchorite, as a wise matron, who passes
through the world with innocence, is preferable to the nun who locks
herself up from it.
Full of these thoughts I left my lodgings, and took a walk to the Court
end of the town; and the hurry, and busy faces I met with about
Whitehall, made me form to myself ideas of the different prospects of
all I saw, from the turn and cast of their countenances. All, methought,
had the same thing in view, but prosecuted their hopes with a different
air: some showed an unbecoming eagerness, some a surly impatience, some
a winning deference, but the generality a servile complaisance.
I could not but observe, as I roved about the offices, that all who were
still but in expectation, murmured at Fortune; and all who had obtained
their wishes, immediately began to say, there was no such being. Each
believed it an act of blind chance that any other man was preferred, but
owed only to service and merit what he had obtained himself. It is the
fault of studious men to appear in public with too contemplative a
carriage; and I began to observe, that my figure, age, and dress, made
me particular: for which reason I thought it better to remove a studious
countenance from among busy ones, and take a turn with a friend in the
Privy Garden.[259]
When my friend was alone with me there, "Isaac," said he, "I know you
came abroad only to moralise and make observations, and I will carry you
hard by, where you shall see all that you have yourself considered or
read in authors, or collected from experience, concerning blind Fortune
and irresistible Destiny, illustrated in real persons and proper
mechanisms. The Graces, the Muses, the Fates, all the beings which have
a good or evil influence upon human life, are, you'll say, very justly
figured in the persons of women; and where I am carrying you, you'll see
enough of that sex together, in an employment which will have so
important an effect upon those who are to receive their manufacture, as
will make them be respectively called Deities or Furies, as their labour
shall prove disadvantageous or successful to their votaries." Without
waiting for my answer, he carried me to an apartment contiguous to the
Banqueting House, where there were placed at two long tables a large
company of young women, in decent and agreeable habits, making up
tickets for the lottery appointed by the Government. There walked
between the tables a person who presided over the work. This gentlewoman
seemed an emblem of Fortune, she commanded as if unconcerned in their
business; and though everything was performed by her direction, she did
not visibly interpose in particulars. She seemed in pain at our near
approach to her, and most to approve us, when we made her no advances.
Her height, her mien, her gesture, her shape, and her countenance, had
something that spoke both familiarity and dignity. She therefore
appeared to me not only a picture of Fortune, but of Fortune as I liked
her; which made me break out in the following words:
"MADAM,
"I am very glad to see the fate of the many who now languish in
expectation of what will be the event of your labours in the hands
of one who can act with so impartial an indifference. Pardon me,
that have often seen you before, and have lost you for want of the
respect due to you. Let me beg of you, who have both the furnishing
and turning of that wheel of lots, to be unlike the rest of your
sex, repulse the forward and the bold, and favour the modest and
the humble. I know you fly the importunate, but smile no more on
the careless. Add not to the coffers of the usurer, but give the
power of bestowing to the generous. Continue his wants who cannot
enjoy or communicate plenty; but turn away his poverty, who can
bear it with more ease than he can see it in another."