[36] This article may be by Addison; see note to No. 50.
[37] Probably Lord Archibald Hamilton, son to William, third Duke of
Hamilton. He was M.P. for Lanarkshire, and afterwards Governor of
Jamaica. He married Lady Jane Hamilton, youngest daughter of James,
sixth Earl of Abercorn, and died in 1754.
[38] Charles Lillie ("British Perfumer," p. 191) gives directions for
making jessamine hair powder. It was usually prepared from orange
flowers, which had been sifted from orange-flower hair powder, placed
between alternate layers of starch powder.
[39] Gay wrote a poem on "The Fan," in three books, and Addison devoted
a paper (_Spectator_, No. 102) to an elaborate account of the exercise
of this female weapon.
[40] See No. 50.
[41] "The Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and, indeed, the
masterpiece of the whole exercise.... There is an infinite variety of
motions to be made use of in the Flutter of a Fan" (_Spectator_, No.
102).
[42] The allusion is to Sir Christopher Wren, who died in 1723, in his
ninety-first year. He lived, according to the inscription by his son in
St. Paul's Cathedral, _non sibi, sed bono publico_.
[43] This passage alludes to an opposition which was made to a digest
of designs for the reparation of St. Paul's, laid before the King
and the commissioners in the beginning of 1666, which, the author
insinuates, was rather an opposition to Sir C. Wren, than to his plan;
it continued, however, till within a few days of the fire on September
2 in that year, which put the reparation of the cathedral out of the
question. There was likewise another model of St. Paul's, to which Sir
Christopher (certainly the best judge, and far from being mercenary)
gave the preference, and which he would have executed with more
cheerfulness and satisfaction, had he not been overruled by those whom
it was his duty to obey. (Nichols.)
[44] Wren was not able to carry out the scheme for rebuilding the City
in the way he had hoped. It appears that he received only about £200 a
year for building St. Paul's, and £100 a year for rebuilding the other
City churches.
No. 53. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, August 9_, to _Thursday, August 10, 1709_.
* * * * *
_White's Chocolate-house, August 10._
_The Civil Husband._[45]
The fate and character of the inconstant Osmyn, is a just excuse for
the little notice taken by his widow, of his departure out of this
life, which was equally troublesome to Elmira his faithful spouse, and
to himself. That life passed between them after this manner, is the
reason that the town has just now received a lady with all that gaiety,
after having been a relict but three months, which other women hardly
assume under fifteen after such a disaster. Elmira is the daughter
of a rich and worthy citizen, who gave her to Osmyn with a portion
which might have obtained her an alliance with our noblest houses,
and fixed her in the eye of the world, where her story had not been
now to be related: for her good qualities had made her the object of
universal esteem among the polite part of mankind, from whom she has
been banished and immured till the death of her gaoler. It is now full
fifteen years since that beauteous lady was given into the hands of
the happy Osmyn, who in the sense of all the world received at that
time a present more valuable than the possession of both the Indies.
She was then in her early bloom, with an understanding and discretion
very little inferior to the most experienced matrons. She was not
beholden to the charms of her sex, that her company was preferable to
any Osmyn could meet with abroad; for were all she said considered,
without regard to her being a woman, it might stand the examination of
the severest judges: for she had all the beauty of her own sex, with
all the conversation-accomplishments of ours. But Osmyn very soon grew
surfeited with the charms of her person by possession, and of her mind
by want of taste; for he was one of that loose sort of men, who have
but one reason for setting any value on the fair sex, who consider even
brides but as new women, and consequently neglect them when they cease
to be such. All the merit of Elmira could not prevent her becoming a
mere wife within few months after her nuptials; and Osmyn had so little
relish for her conversation, that he complained of the advantages
of it. "My spouse," said he to one of his companions, "is so very
discreet, so good, so virtuous, and I know not what, that I think her
person is rather the object of esteem than of love; and there is such a
thing as a merit, which causes rather distance than passion." But there
being no medium in the state of matrimony, their life began to take
the usual gradations to become the most irksome of all beings. They
grew in the first place very complaisant; and having at heart a certain
knowledge that they were indifferent to each other, apologies were made
for every little circumstance which they thought betrayed their mutual
coldness. This lasted but few months, when they showed a difference of
opinion in every trifle; and as a sign of certain decay of affection,
the word "perhaps" was introduced in all their discourse. "I have a
mind to go to the Park," says she; "but perhaps, my dear, you will want
the coach on some other occasion." He would very willingly carry her to
the play; but perhaps, she had rather go to Lady Centaur's[46] and play
at ombre.[47] They were both persons of good discerning, and soon found
that they mortally hated each other, by their manner of hiding it.
Certain it is, that there are some genios which are not capable of pure
affection, and a man is born with talents for it as much as for poetry
or any other science. Osmyn began too late to find the imperfection of
his own heart, and used all the methods in the world to correct it,
and argue himself into return of desire and passion for his wife, by
the contemplation of her excellent qualities, his great obligations to
her, and the high value he saw all the world except himself did put
upon her. But such is man's unhappy condition, that though the weakness
of the heart has a prevailing power over the strength of the head,
yet the strength of the head has but small force against the weakness
of the heart. Osmyn therefore struggled in vain to revive departed
desire; and therefore resolved to retire to one of his estates in the
country, and pass away his hours of wedlock by the noble diversions of
the field; and in the fury of a disappointed lover, made an oath, to
leave neither stag, fox, nor hare living, during the days of his wife.
Besides that country sports would be an amusement, he hoped also, that
his spouse would be half killed by the very sense of seeing this town
no more, and would think her life ended as soon as she left it. He
communicated his design to Elmira, who received it (as now she did all
things) like a person too unhappy to be relieved or afflicted by the
circumstance of place. This unexpected resignation made Osmyn resolve
to be as obliging to her as possible; and if he could not prevail upon
himself to be kind, he took a resolution at least to act sincerely, and
to communicate frankly to her the weakness of his temper, to excuse the
indifference of his behaviour. He disposed his household in the way
to Rutland, so as he and his lady travelled only in the coach for the
convenience of discourse. They had not gone many miles out of town,
when Osmyn spoke to this purpose:
"My dear, I believe I look quite as silly, now I am going to
tell you I do not love you, as when I first told you I did. We
are now going into the country together, with only one hope for
making this life agreeable, survivorship: desire is not in our
power; mine is all gone for you. What shall we do to carry it with
decency to the world, and hate one another with discretion?"
The lady answered without the least observation on the extravagance of
his speech:
"My dear, you have lived most of your days in a Court, and I have not
been wholly unacquainted with that sort of life. In Courts, you see
good-will is spoken with great warmth, ill will covered with great
civility. Men are long in civilities to those they hate, and short in
expressions of kindness to those they love. Therefore, my dear, let us
be well-bred still, and it is no matter, as to all who see us, whether
we love or hate: and to let you see how much you are beholden to me
for my conduct, I have both hated and despised you, my dear, this half
year; and yet neither in language nor behaviour has it been visible
but that I loved you tenderly. Therefore, as I know you go out of town
to divert life in pursuit of beasts, and conversation with men just
above them; so, my life, from this moment, I shall read all the learned
cooks who have ever writ, study broths, plaisters, and conserves, till
from a fine lady I become a notable woman. We must take our minds a
note or two lower, or we shall be tortured by jealousy or anger. Thus
I am resolved to kill all keen passions by employing my mind on little
subjects, and lessening the easiness of my spirit; while you, my dear,
with much ale, exercise, and ill company, are so good as to endeavour
to be as contemptible as it is necessary for my quiet I should think
you."
To Rutland they arrived, and lived with great, but secret impatience
for many successive years, till Osmyn thought of a happy expedient to
give their affairs a new turn. One day he took Elmira aside, and spoke
as follows:
"My dear, you see here the air is so temperate and serene, the
rivulets, the groves, and soil, so extremely kind to nature, that we
are stronger and firmer in our health since we left the town; so that
there is no hope of a release in this place: but if you will be so
kind as to go with me to my estate in the Hundreds of Essex, it is
possible some kind damp may one day or other relieve us. If you will
condescend to accept of this offer, I will add that whole estate to
your jointure in this county."
Elmira, who was all goodness, accepted the offer, removed accordingly,
and has left her spouse in that place to rest with his fathers.
This is the real figure in which Elmira ought to be beheld in this
town, and not thought guilty of an indecorum, in not professing the
sense, or bearing the habit of sorrow, for one who robbed her of all
the endearments of life, and gave her only common civility, instead
of complacency of manners, dignity of passion, and that constant
assemblage of soft desires and affections which all feel who love, but
none can express.
_Will's Coffee-house, August 10._
Mr. Truman, who is a mighty admirer of dramatic poetry, and knows I am
about a tragedy, never meets me, but he is giving admonitions and hints
for my conduct. "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "I was reading last night
your second act you were so kind to lend me; but I find you depend
mightily upon the retinue of your hero to make him magnificent. You
make guards, and ushers, and courtiers, and commons, and nobles, march
before, and then enters your prince, and says they can't defend him
from his love. Why, prithee Isaac, who ever thought they could? Place
me your loving monarch in a solitude; let him have no sense at all of
his grandeur, but let it be eaten up with his passion. He must value
himself as the greatest of lovers, not as the first of princes: and
then let him say a more tender thing than ever man said before--for
his feather and eagle's beak is nothing at all. The man is to be
expressed by his sentiments and affections, and not by his fortune or
equipage. You are also to take care, that at his first entrance he
says something which may give us an idea of what we are to expect in
a person of his way of thinking. Shakespeare is your pattern."[48] In
the tragedy of "Cæsar," he introduces his hero in his nightgown. He
had at that time all the power of Rome: deposed consuls, subordinate
generals, and captive princes, might have preceded him; but his genius
was above such mechanic methods of showing greatness. Therefore he
rather presents that great soul debating upon the subject of life and
death with his intimate friends, without endeavouring to prepossess his
audience with empty show and pomp. When those who attend him talk of
the many omens which had appeared that day, he answers:
_Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.[49]_
When the hero has spoken this sentiment, there is nothing that is great
which cannot be expected, from one whose first position is the contempt
of death to so high a degree, as making his exit a thing wholly
indifferent, and not a part of his care, but that of heaven and fate.
_St. James's Coffee-house, August 10._
Letters from Brussels of the 15th instant, N.S., say, that
Major-General Ravignan returned on the 8th with the French king's
answer to the intended capitulation for the citadel of Tournay; which
is, that he does not think fit to sign that capitulation, except the
Allies will grant a cessation of arms in general, during the time in
which all acts of hostility were to have ceased between the citadel
and the besiegers. Soon after the receipt of this news, the cannon on
each side began to play. There are two attacks against the citadel,
commanded by General Lottum and General Schuylemberg, which are both
carried on with great success; and it is not doubted but the citadel
will be in the hands of the Allies before the last day of this month.
Letters from Ipres say, that on the 9th instant, part of the garrison
of that place had mutinied in two bodies, each consisting of two
hundred; who being dispersed the same day, a body of eight hundred
appeared in the market-place at nine the night following, and seized
all manner of provisions; but were with much difficulty quieted. The
governor has not punished any of the offenders, the dissatisfaction
being universal in that place; and it is thought, the officers foment
those disorders; that the Ministry may be convinced of the necessity
of paying those troops, and supplying them with provisions. These
advices add, that on the 14th the Marquis d'Este passed express through
Brussels from the Duke of Savoy, with advice, that the army of his
royal highness had forced the retrenchments of the enemy in Savoy, and
defeated that body of men which guarded those passes under the command
of the Marquis de Thouy.