My LORD,
The Author of the Spectator having prefixed before each of his Volumes
the Name of some great Person to whom he has particular Obligations,
lays his Claim to your Lordships Patronage upon the same Account. I
must confess, my Lord, had not I already received great Instances of
your Favour, I should have been afraid of submitting a Work of this
Nature to your Perusal. You are so thoroughly acquainted with the
Characters of Men, and all the Parts of human Life, that it is
impossible for the least Misrepresentation of them to escape your
Notice. It is Your Lordships particular Distinction that you are Master
of the whole Compass of Business, and have signalized Your Self in all
the different Scenes of it. We admire some for the Dignity, others for
the Popularity of their Behaviour; some for their Clearness of Judgment,
others for their Happiness of Expression; some for the laying of
Schemes, and others for the putting of them in Execution: It is Your
Lordship only who enjoys these several Talents united, and that too in
as great Perfection as others possess them singly. Your Enemies
acknowledge this great Extent in your Lordships Character, at the same
time that they use their utmost Industry and Invention to derogate from
it. But it is for Your Honour that those who are now Your Enemies were
always so. You have acted in so much Consistency with Your Self, and
promoted the Interests of your Country in so uniform a Manner, that even
those who would misrepresent your Generous Designs for the Publick Good,
cannot but approve the Steadiness and Intrepidity with which You pursue
them. It is a most sensible Pleasure to me that I have this Opportunity
of professing my self one of your great Admirers, and, in a very
particular Manner,
My LORD,
Your Lordships
Most Obliged,
And most Obedient,
Humble Servant,
THE SPECTATOR.
[Footnote 1: This is the Thomas, Earl of Wharton, who in 1708 became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and took Addison for his Chief Secretary. He
was the son of Philip, Baron Wharton, a firm Presbyterian, sometimes
called the good Lord Wharton, to distinguish him from his son and
grandson. Philip Wharton had been an opponent of Stuart encroachments, a
friend of Algernon Sidney, and one of the first men to welcome William
III. to England. He died, very old, in 1694. His son Thomas did not
inherit the religious temper of his father, and even a dedication could
hardly have ventured to compliment him on his private morals. But he was
an active politician, was with his father in the secret of the landing
of the Prince of Orange, and was made by William Comptroller of the
Household. Thwarted in his desire to become a Secretary of State, he
made himself formidable as a bold, sarcastic speaker and by the strength
of his parliamentary interest. He is said to have returned at one time
thirty members, and to have spent eighty thousand pounds upon the
maintenance of his political position. He was apt, by his manners, to
make friends of the young men of influence. He spent money freely also
on the turf, and upon his seat of Winchenden, in Wilts. Queen Anne, on
her accession, struck his name with her own hand from the list of Privy
Councillors, but he won his way not only to restoration of that rank,
but also in December, 1706, at the age of 67, to his title of Viscount
Winchendon and Earl of Wharton. In November, 1708, he became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, with Addison for secretary. He took over
with him also Clayton the musician, and kept a gay court, easily
accessible, except to Roman Catholics, whom he would not admit to his
presence, and against whom he enforced the utmost rigour of the penal
code. He had himself conformed to the Church of England. Swift accused
him, as Lord-lieutenant, of shameless depravity of manners, of
injustice, greed, and gross venality. This Lord Wharton died in 1715,
and was succeeded by his son Philip, whom George I., in 1718, made Duke
of Wharton for his fathers vigorous support of the Hanoverian
succession. His character was much worse than that of his father, the
energetic politician and the man of cultivated taste and ready wit to
whom Steele and Addison here dedicated the Fifth Volume of the
Spectator.]
* * * * *
No. 322. Monday, March 10, 1712. Steele.
Ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit.
Hor.
It is often said, after a Man has heard a Story with extraordinary
Circumstances, It is a very good one if it be true: But as for the
following Relation, I should be glad were I sure it were false. It is
told with such Simplicity, and there are so many artless Touches of
Distress in it, that I fear it comes too much from the Heart.
Mr. SPECTATOR, Some Years ago it happened that I lived in the same
House with a young Gentleman of Merit; with whose good Qualities I was
so much taken, as to make it my Endeavour to shew as many as I was
able in my self. Familiar Converse improved general Civilities into an
unfeigned Passion on both Sides. He watched an Opportunity to declare
himself to me; and I, who could not expect a Man of so great an Estate
as his, received his Addresses in such Terms, as gave him no reason to
believe I was displeased by them, tho I did nothing to make him think
me more easy than was decent. His Father was a very hard worldly Man,
and proud; so that there was no reason to believe he would easily be
brought to think there was any thing in any Woman's Person or
Character that could ballance the Disadvantage of an unequal Fortune.
In the mean time the Son continued his Application to me, and omitted
no Occasion of demonstrating the most disinterested Passion imaginable
to me; and in plain direct Terms offer'd to marry me privately, and
keep it so till he should be so happy as to gain his Fathers
Approbation, or become possessed of his Estate. I passionately loved
him, and you will believe I did not deny such a one what was my
Interest also to grant. However I was not so young, as not to take the
Precaution of carrying with me a faithful Servant, who had been also
my Mothers Maid, to be present at the Ceremony. When that was over I
demanded a Certificate, signed by the Minister, my Husband, and the
Servant I just now spoke of. After our Nuptials, we conversed together
very familiarly in the same House; but the Restraints we were
generally under, and the Interviews we had, being stolen and
interrupted, made our Behaviour to each other have rather the
impatient Fondness which is visible in Lovers, than the regular and
gratified Affection which is to be observed in Man and Wife. This
Observation made the Father very anxious for his Son, and press him to
a Match he had in his Eye for him. To relieve my Husband from this
Importunity, and conceal the Secret of our Marriage, which I had
reason to know would not be long in my power in Town, it was resolved
that I should retire into a remote Place in the Country, and converse
under feigned Names by Letter. We long continued this Way of Commerce;
and I with my Needle, a few Books, and reading over and over my
Husbands Letters, passed my Time in a resigned Expectation of better
Days. Be pleased to take notice, that within four Months after I left
my Husband I was delivered of a Daughter, who died within few Hours
after her Birth. This Accident, and the retired Manner of Life I led,
gave criminal Hopes to a neighbouring Brute of a Country Gentle-man,
whose Folly was the Source of all my Affliction. This Rustick is one
of those rich Clowns, who supply the Want of all manner of Breeding by
the Neglect of it, and with noisy Mirth, half Understanding, and ample
Fortune, force themselves upon Persons and Things, without any Sense
of Time and Place. The poor ignorant People where I lay conceal'd, and
now passed for a Widow, wondered I could be so shy and strange, as
they called it, to the Squire; and were bribed by him to admit him
whenever he thought fit. I happened to be sitting in a little Parlour
which belonged to my own Part of the House, and musing over one of the
fondest of my Husbands Letters, in which I always kept the
Certificate of my Marriage, when this rude Fellow came in, and with
the nauseous Familiarity of such unbred Brutes, snatched the Papers
out of my Hand. I was immediately under so great a Concern, that I
threw my self at his Feet, and begged of him to return them. He with
the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety, swore he would read
them. I grew more importunate, he more curious, till at last, with an
Indignation arising from a Passion I then first discovered in him, he
threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing that since he was not to read
them, the Man who writ them should never be so happy as to have me
read them over again. It is insignificant to tell you my Tears and
Reproaches made the boisterous Calf leave the Room ashamed and out of
Countenance, when I had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with more
than ordinary Sorrow: However, such was then my Confidence in my
Husband, that I writ to him the Misfortune, and desired another Paper
of the same kind. He deferred writing two or three Posts, and at last
answered me in general, That he could not then send me what I asked
for, but when he could find a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to
have it. From this time his Letters were more cold every Day than the
other, and as he grew indifferent I grew jealous. This has at last
brought me to Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriage
dead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation, has buried
a young Lady whom he married in Obedience to his Father. In a word, he
shuns and disowns me. Should I come to the House and confront him, the
Father would join in supporting him against me, though he believed my
Story; should I talk it to the World, what Reparation can I expect for
an Injury I cannot make out? I believe he means to bring me, through
Necessity, to resign my Pretentions to him for some Provision for my
Life; but I will die first. Pray bid him remember what he said, and
how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedless Discovery I often
made of my self; let him remember how awkward he was in my dissembled
Indifference towards him before Company; ask him how I, who could
never conceal my Love for him, at his own Request, can part with him
for ever? Oh, Mr. SPECTATOR, sensible Spirits know no Indifference in
Marriage; what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?---I leave
you to represent my Distress your own way, in which I desire you to be
speedy, if you have Compassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy.
Octavia.