[Footnote 1: Ep. 2.]
[Footnote 2: Ep. I. 6.]
* * * * *
No. 317. Tuesday, March 4, 1712 Addison.
--fruges consumere nati.
Hor.
Augustus, a few Moments before his Death, asked his Friends who stood
about him, if they thought he had acted his Part well; and upon
receiving such an Answer as was due to his extraordinary Merit, _Let me
then, says he, go off the Stage with your Applause_; using the
Expression with which the Roman Actors made their _Exit_ at the
Conclusion of a Dramatick Piece. I could wish that Men, while they are
in Health, would consider well the Nature of the Part they are engaged
in, and what Figure it will make in the Minds of those they leave behind
them: Whether it was worth coming into the World for; whether it be
suitable to a reasonable Being; in short, whether it appears Graceful in
this Life, or will turn to an Advantage in the next. Let the Sycophant,
or Buffoon, the Satyrist, or the Good Companion, consider with himself,
when his Body shall be laid in the Grave, and his Soul pass into another
State of Existence, how much it will redound to his Praise to have it
said of him, that no Man in England eat better, that he had an admirable
Talent at turning his Friends into Ridicule, that no Body out-did him at
an Ill-natured Jest, or that he never went to Bed before he had
dispatched his third Bottle. These are, however, very common Funeral
Orations, and Elogiums on deceased Persons who have acted among Mankind
with some Figure and Reputation.
But if we look into the Bulk of our Species, they are such as are not
likely to be remembred a Moment after their Disappearance. They leave
behind them no Traces of their Existence, but are forgotten as tho they
had never been. They are neither wanted by the Poor, regretted by the
Rich, [n]or celebrated by the Learned. They are neither missed in the
Commonwealth, nor lamented by private Persons. Their Actions are of no
Significancy to Mankind, and might have been performed by Creatures of
much less Dignity, than those who are distinguished by the Faculty of
Reason. An eminent French Author speaks somewhere to the following
Purpose: I have often seen from my Chamber-window two noble Creatures,
both of them of an erect Countenance and endowed with Reason. These two
intellectual Beings are employed from Morning to Night, in rubbing two
smooth Stones one upon another; that is, as the Vulgar phrase it, in
polishing Marble.
My Friend, Sir ANDREW FREEPORT, as we were sitting in the Club last
Night, gave us an Account of a sober Citizen, who died a few Days since.
This honest Man being of greater Consequence in his own Thoughts, than
in the Eye of the World, had for some Years past kept a Journal of his
Life. Sir ANDREW shewed us one Week of it. [Since [1]] the Occurrences
set down in it mark out such a Road of Action as that I have been
speaking of, I shall present my Reader with a faithful Copy of it; after
having first inform'd him, that the Deceased Person had in his Youth
been bred to Trade, but finding himself not so well turned for Business,
he had for several Years last past lived altogether upon a moderate
Annuity.
MONDAY, Eight-a-Clock. I put on my Cloaths and walked into the
Parlour.
Nine a-Clock, ditto. Tied my Knee-strings, and washed my Hands.
Hours Ten, Eleven and Twelve. Smoaked three Pipes of Virginia. Read
the Supplement and Daily Courant. Things go ill in the North. Mr.
Nisby's Opinion thereupon.
One a-Clock in the Afternoon. Chid Ralph for mislaying my Tobacco-Box.
Two a-Clock. Sate down to Dinner. Mem. Too many Plumbs, and no Sewet.
From Three to Four. Took my Afternoons Nap.
From Four to Six. Walked into the Fields. Wind, S. S. E.
From Six to Ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby's Opinion about the Peace.
Ten a-Clock. Went to Bed, slept sound.
TUESDAY, BEING HOLIDAY, Eight a-Clock. Rose as usual.
Nine a-Clock. Washed Hands and Face, shaved, put on my double-soaled
Shoes.
Ten, Eleven, Twelve. Took a Walk to Islington.
One. Took a Pot of Mother Cobs Mild.
Between Two and Three. Return'd, dined on a Knuckle of Veal and Bacon.
Mem. Sprouts wanting.
Three. Nap as usual.
From Four to Six. Coffee-house. Read the News. A Dish of Twist. Grand
Vizier strangled.
From Six to Ten. At the Club. Mr. Nisby's Account of the Great Turk.
Ten. Dream of the Grand Vizier. Broken Sleep.
WEDNESDAY, Eight a-Clock. Tongue of my Shooe-Buckle broke. Hands but
not Face.
Nine. Paid off the Butchers Bill. Mem. To be allowed for the last Leg
of Mutton.
Ten, Eleven. At the Coffee-house. More Work in the North. Stranger in
a black Wigg asked me how Stocks went.
From Twelve to One. Walked in the Fields. Wind to the South.
From One to Two. Smoaked a Pipe and an half.
Two. Dined as usual. Stomach good.
Three. Nap broke by the falling of a Pewter Dish. Mem. Cook-maid in
Love, and grown careless.
From Four to Six. At the Coffee-house. Advice from Smyrna, that the
Grand Vizier was first of all strangled, and afterwards beheaded.
Six a-Clock in the Evening. Was half an Hour in the Club before any
Body else came. Mr. Nisby of Opinion that the Grand Vizier was not
strangled the Sixth Instant.
Ten at Night. Went to Bed. Slept without waking till Nine next
Morning.
THURSDAY, Nine a-Clock. Staid within till Two a-Clock for Sir Timothy;
who did not bring me my Annuity according to his Promise.
Two in the Afternoon. Sate down to Dinner. Loss of Appetite. Small
Beer sour. Beef over-corned.
Three. Could not take my Nap.
Four and Five. Gave Ralph a box on the Ear. Turned off my Cookmaid.
Sent a Message to Sir Timothy. Mem. I did not go to the Club to-night.
Went to Bed at Nine a-Clock.
FRIDAY, Passed the Morning in Meditation upon Sir Timothy, who was
with me a Quarter before Twelve.
Twelve a-Clock. Bought a new Head to my Cane, and a Tongue to my
Buckle. Drank a Glass of Purl to recover Appetite.
Two and Three. Dined, and Slept well.
From Four to Six. Went to the Coffee-house. Met Mr. Nisby there.
Smoaked several Pipes. Mr. Nisby of opinion that laced Coffee is bad
for the Head.
Six a-Clock. At the Club as Steward. Sate late.
Twelve a-Clock. Went to Bed, dreamt that I drank Small Beer with the
Grand Vizier.
SATURDAY. Waked at Eleven, walked in the Fields. Wind N. E.
Twelve. Caught in a Shower.
One in the Afternoon. Returned home, and dryed my self.
Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me. First Course Marrow-bones, Second
Ox-Cheek, with a Bottle of Brooks and Hellier.
Three a-Clock. Overslept my self.
Six. Went to the Club. Like to have fal'n into a Gutter. Grand Vizier
certainly Dead. etc.
I question not but the Reader will be surprized to find the
above-mentioned Journalist taking so much care of a Life that was filled
with such inconsiderable Actions, and received so very small
Improvements; and yet, if we look into the Behaviour of many whom we
daily converse with, we shall find that most of their Hours are taken up
in those three Important Articles of Eating, Drinking and Sleeping. I do
not suppose that a Man loses his Time, who is not engaged in publick
Affairs, or in an Illustrious Course of Action. On the Contrary, I
believe our Hours may very often be more profitably laid out in such
Transactions as make no Figure in the World, than in such as are apt to
draw upon them the Attention of Mankind. One may become wiser and better
by several Methods of Employing ones Self in Secrecy and Silence, and
do what is laudable without Noise, or Ostentation. I would, however,
recommend to every one of my Readers, the keeping a Journal of their
Lives for one Week, and setting down punctually their whole Series of
Employments during that Space of Time. This Kind of Self-Examination
would give them a true State of themselves, and incline them to consider
seriously what they are about. One Day would rectifie the Omissions of
another, and make a Man weigh all those indifferent Actions, which,
though they are easily forgotten, must certainly be accounted for.