[240] See No. 79.
[241] Calamanco is a woollen stuff made plain, striped, checked, or
figured, and glazed in finishing. It was generally made in Flanders and
Brabant, and was much used in the last century. _Cf._ No. 96, "a gay
calamanco waistcoat."
[242] See No. 35. Steele returned to the character of Cynthio in 1714,
in No. 38 of the _Lover_, written two months after Lord Hinchinbroke
had spoken on Steele's behalf in the debate whether he should be
expelled the House of Commons. Lord Hinchinbroke died in 1722; in 1712
it was reported that he was one of the Mohocks who went about doing
mischief ("Wentworth Papers," 277 note).
[243] This epitaph is a quotation from a letter of Sir John Suckling
("Works," 1770, I. 103).
No. 86. [ADDISON and STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Oct. 25_, to _Thursday, Oct. 27, 1709_.
_From my own Apartment, October 26._[244]
When I came home last night, my servant delivered me the following
letter:
"SIR,
_October 24._
"I have orders from Sir Harry Quicksett, of Staffordshire, Bart.,
to acquaint you, that his honour Sir Harry himself, Sir Giles
Wheelbarrow, Kt.; Thomas Rentfree, Esq., Justice of the Quorum;
Andrew Windmill, Esq.; and Mr. Nicholas Doubt of the Inner
Temple, Sir Harry's grandson, will wait upon you at the hour of
nine to-morrow morning, being Tuesday the 25th of October, upon
business which Sir Harry will impart to you by word of mouth. I
thought it proper to acquaint you beforehand so many persons of
quality came, that you might not be surprised therewith. Which
concludes, though by many years' absence since I saw you at
Stafford, unknown,
"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
JOHN THRIFTY."
I received this message with less surprise than I believe Mr.
Thrifty imagined; for I knew the good company too well to feel any
palpitations at their approach: but I was in very great concern how I
should adjust the ceremonial, and demean myself to all these great men,
who perhaps had not seen anything above themselves for these twenty
years last past. I am sure that's the case of Sir Harry. Besides which,
I was sensible that there was a great point in adjusting my behaviour
to the simple squire, so as to give him satisfaction, and not disoblige
the Justice of the Quorum. The hour of nine was come this morning, and
I had no sooner set chairs (by the steward's letter), and fixed my
tea-equipage, but I heard a knock at my door, which was opened, but no
one entered; after which followed a long silence, which was broke at
last by, "Sir, I beg your pardon; I think I know better:" and another
voice, "Nay, good Sir Giles----" I looked out from my window, and saw
the good company all with their hats off, and arms spread, offering
the door to each other. After many offers, they entered with much
solemnity, in the order Mr. Thrifty was so kind as to name them to
me. But they are now got to my chamber door, and I saw my old friend
Sir Harry enter. I met him with all the respect due to so reverend
a vegetable; for you are to know, that is my sense of a person who
remains idle in the same place for half a century. I got him with
great success into his chair by the fire, without throwing down any
of my cups. The knight-bachelor told me, he had a great respect for
my whole family, and would, with my leave, place himself next to Sir
Harry, at whose right hand he had sat at every Quarter Sessions this
thirty years, unless he was sick. The steward in the rear whispered the
young Templar, "That's true to my knowledge." I had the misfortune,
as they stood cheek by jowl, to desire the simple squire to sit down
before the Justice of the Quorum, to the no small satisfaction of the
former, and resentment of the latter. But I saw my error too late,
and got them as soon as I could into their seats. "Well," said I,
"gentlemen, after I have told you how glad I am of this great honour,
I am to desire you to drink a dish of tea." They answered one and all,
that they never drank tea in a morning. "Not in a morning!" said I,
staring round me. Upon which the pert jackanapes Nick Doubt tipped me
the wink, and put out his tongue at his grandfather. Here followed a
profound silence, when the steward, in his boots and whip, proposed,
that we should adjourn to some public-house, where everybody might call
for what they pleased, and enter upon the business. We all stood up
in an instant, and Sir Harry filed off from the left very discreetly,
countermarching behind the chairs towards the door: after him, Sir
Giles in the same manner. The simple squire made a sudden start to
follow; but the Justice of the Quorum whipped between upon the stand
of the stairs. A maid going up with coals made us halt, and put us
into such confusion, that we stood all in a heap, without any visible
possibility of recovering our order; for the young jackanapes seemed to
make a jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing amongst
us under pretence of making way, that his grandfather was got into the
middle, and he knew nobody was of quality to stir a step till Sir Harry
moved first. We were fixed in this perplexity for some time, till we
heard a very loud noise in the street; and Sir Harry asking what it
was, I, to make them move, said it was fire. Upon this, all ran down
as fast as they could, without order or ceremony, till we got into
the street, where we drew up in very good order, and filed off down
Sheer Lane, the impertinent Templar driving us before him, as in a
string, and pointing to his acquaintance who passed by. I must confess
I love to use people according to their own sense of good-breeding,
and therefore whipped in between the Justice and the simple squire.
He could not properly take this ill; but I overheard him whisper the
steward, that he thought it hard that a common conjuror should take
place of him, though an elder squire. In this order we marched down
Sheer Lane, at the upper end of which I lodge.[245] When we came to
Temple Bar, Sir Harry and Sir Giles got over; but a run of the coaches
kept the rest of us on this side the street: however, we all at last
landed, and drew up in very good order before Ben Tooke's[246] shop,
who favoured our rallying with great humanity. From hence we proceeded
again, till we came to Dick's Coffee-house,[247] where I designed to
carry them. Here we were at our old difficulty, and took up the street
upon the same ceremony. We proceeded through the entry, and were so
necessarily kept in order by the situation, that we were now got into
the coffee-house itself, where, as soon as we arrived, we repeated our
civilities to each other; after which, we marched up to the high table,
which has an ascent to it enclosed in the middle of the room. The whole
room was alarmed at this entry, made up of persons of so much state and
rusticity. Sir Harry called for a mug of ale, and Dyer's Letter.[248]
The boy brought the ale in an instant; but said, they did not take in
the Letter. "No!" says Sir Harry: "then take back your mug; we are like
indeed to have good liquor at this house." Here the Templar tipped me
a second wink, and if I had not looked very grave upon him, I found he
was disposed to be very familiar with me. In short, I observed after a
long pause, that the gentlemen did not care to enter upon business till
after their morning draught, for which reason I called for a bottle of
mum[249]; and finding that had no effect upon them, I ordered a second,
and a third: after which, Sir Harry reached over to me, and told me in
a low voice, that the place was too public for business; but he would
call upon me again to-morrow morning at my own lodgings, and bring some
more friends with him.
_Will's Coffee-house, October 26._
Though this place is frequented by a more mixed company than it used to
be formerly, yet you meet very often some whom one cannot leave without
being the better for their conversation. A gentleman this evening,
in a dictating manner, talked I thought very pleasingly in praise of
modesty, in the midst of ten or twelve libertines, upon whom it seemed
to have had a good effect. He represented it as the certain indication
of a great and noble spirit. "Modesty," said he, "is the virtue which
makes men prefer the public to their private interest, the guide of
every honest undertaking, and the great guardian of innocence; it makes
men amiable to their friends, and respected by their very enemies.
In all places, and on all occasions, it attracts benevolence, and
demands approbation. One might give instances out of antiquity[250]
of the irresistible force of this quality in great minds: Cicereius,
and Cneius Scipio, the son of the great Africanus, were competitors
for the office of prætor. The crowd followed Cicereius, and left
Scipio unattended. Cicereius saw this with much concern, and desiring
an audience of the people, he descended from the place where the
candidates were to sit, in the eye of the multitude, pleaded for his
adversary, and with an ingenuous modesty (which it is impossible to
feign) represented to them, how much it was to their dishonour, that
a virtuous son of Africanus should not be preferred to him, or any
other man whatsoever. This immediately gained the election for Scipio;
but all the compliments and congratulations upon it were made to
Cicereius. It is easier in this case to say who had the office, than
the honour. There is no occurrence in life where this quality is not
more ornamental than any other. After the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey
marching towards Larissus, the whole people of that place came out
in procession to do him honour. He thanked the magistrates for their
respect to him; but desired them to perform these ceremonies to the
conqueror. This gallant submission to his fortune, and disdain of
making any appearance but like Pompey, was owing to his modesty, which
would not permit him to be so disingenuous as to give himself the air
of prosperity, when he was in the contrary condition. This I say of
modesty, as it is the virtue which preserves a decorum in the general
course of our life; but considering it also as it regards our mere
bodies, it is the certain character of a great mind. It is memorable
of the mighty Cæsar, that when he was murdered in the Capitol, at the
very moment in which he expired, he gathered his robe about him, that
he might fall in a decent posture. In this manner (says my author) he
went off, not like a man that departed out of life, but a deity that
returned to his abode."