not put into the balance: the bridegroom has given his estate out of
himself, and he has no more left but to follow the blind decree of his
fate, whether he shall be succeeded by a sot, or a man of merit, in his
fortune. On the other side, a fine woman, who has also a fortune, is
set up by way of auction; her first lover has ten to one against him.
The very hour after he has opened his heart and his rent-roll, he is
made no other use of, but to raise her price. She and her friends lose
no opportunity of publishing it to call in new bidders. While the poor
lover very innocently waits till the plenipotentiaries at the Inns of
Court have debated about the alliance, all the partisans of the lady
throw difficulties in the way, till other offers come in; and the man
who came first is not put in possession, till she has been refused by
half the town. If an abhorrence to such mercenary proceedings were well
settled in the minds of my fair readers, those of merit would have a
way opened to their advancement; nay, those who abound in wealth only,
would in reality find their account in it. It would not be in the power
of their prude acquaintance, their waiters, their nurses, cousins and
whisperers, to persuade them, that there are not above twenty men in
a kingdom (and those such as perhaps they may never set eyes on) whom
they can think of with discretion. As the case stands now, let any one
consider, how the great heiresses, and those to whom they were offered,
for no other reason but that they could make them suitable settlements,
live together. What can be more insipid, if not loathsome, than for
two persons to be at the head of a crowd, who have as little regard
for them as they for each other, and behold one another in an affected
sense of prosperity, without the least relish of that exquisite
gladness at meeting, that sweet inquietude at parting, together with
the charms of voice, look, gesture, and that general benevolence
between well-chosen lovers, which makes all things please, and leaves
not the least trifle indifferent.
But I am diverted from these sketches for future essays[16] in behalf
of my numerous clients of the fair sex, by a notice sent to my office
in Sheer Lane, that a blooming widow, in the third year of her
widowhood, and twenty-sixth of her age, designs to take a colonel of
twenty-eight. The parties request I would draw up their terms of coming
together, as having a regard to my opinion against long and diffident
settlements; and I have sent them the following indenture:
* * * * *
"We John ---- and Mary ---- having estates for life, resolve to take
each other. I John will venture my life to enrich thee Mary; and I
Mary will consult my health to nurse thee John. To which we have
interchangeably set our hands, hearts, and seals, this 17th of July,
1710."
FOOTNOTES:
[14] This paper was probably based on notes by Edward Wortley Montagu.
See note to No. 223.
[15] See Addison's paper in the _Spectator_; No. 295, and Sir Harry
Gubbin's complaints of "that cursed pin-money" in Steele's "Tender
Husband," act i. sc. 2. In No. 231 of the _Tatler_, Steele says, "The
lawyers finished the writings, in which, by the way, there was no
pin-money, and they were married."
[16] See No. 223.
=No. 200.= [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, July 18_, to _Thursday, July 20, 1710_.
_From my own Apartment, July 19._
Having devoted the greater part of my time to the service of the fair
sex, I must ask pardon of my men correspondents if I postpone their
commands, when I have any from the ladies which lie unanswered. That
which follows is of importance:
* * * * *
"SIR,
"You can't think it strange if I, who know little of the world, apply
to you for advice in the weighty affair of matrimony, since you
yourself have often declared it to be of that consequence as to require
the utmost deliberation. Without further preface, therefore, give
me leave to tell you, that my father at his death left me a fortune
sufficient to make me a match for any gentleman. My mother (for she
is still alive) is very pressing with me to marry; and I am apt to
think, to gratify her, I shall venture upon one of two gentlemen who
at this time make their addresses to me. My request is, that you would
direct me in my choice; which that you may the better do, I shall give
you their characters; and to avoid confusion, desire you to call them
by the names of Philander and Silvius. Philander is young, and has a
good estate; Silvius is as young, and has a better. The former has
had a liberal education, has seen the town, is retired from thence to
his estate in the country, is a man of few words, and much given to
books. The latter was brought up under his father's eye, who gave
him just learning enough to enable him to keep his accounts; but
made him withal very expert in country business, such as ploughing,
sowing, buying, selling, and the like. They are both very sober men,
neither of their persons is disagreeable, nor did I know which to
prefer till I had heard them discourse; when the conversation of
Philander so much prevailed, as to give him the advantage, with me, in
all other respects. My mother pleads strongly for Silvius, and uses
these arguments, that he not only has the larger estate at present,
but by his good husbandry and management increases it daily; that his
little knowledge in other affairs will make him easy and tractable;
whereas (according to her) men of letters know too much to make good
husbands. To part of this I imagine I answer effectually, by saying,
Philander's estate is large enough; that they who think £2000 a year
sufficient, make no difference between that and three. I easily believe
him less conversant in those affairs, the knowledge of which she so
much commends in Silvius; but I think them neither so necessary or
becoming in a gentleman as the accomplishments of Philander. It is no
great character of a man to say, he rides in his coach and six, and
understands as much as he who follows his plough. Add to this, that the
conversation of these sort of men seems so disagreeable to me, that
though they may make good bailiffs, I can hardly be persuaded they can
be good companions. It is possible I may seem to have odd notions,
when I say I am not fond of a man only for being of (what is called) a
thriving temper. To conclude, I own I am at a loss to conceive how good
sense should make a man an ill husband, or conversing with books less
complaisant.
"CÆLIA."
The resolution which this lady is going to take, she may very well say
is founded on reason: for after the necessities of life are served,
there is no manner of competition between a man of liberal education
and an illiterate. Men are not altered by their circumstances, but as
they give them opportunities of exerting what they are in themselves;
and a powerful clown is a tyrant in the most ugly form he can possibly
appear. There lies a seeming objection in the thoughtful manner of
Philander: but let her consider which she shall oftener have occasion
to wish, that Philander would speak, or Silvius hold his tongue.
The train of my discourse is prevented by the urgent haste of another
correspondent:
* * * * *
_July 14_.
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"This comes to you from one of those virgins of twenty-five years old
and upwards, that you, like a patron of the distressed, promised to
provide for;[17] who makes it her humble request, that no occasional
stories or subjects may (as they have for three or four of your last
days) prevent your publishing the scheme you have communicated to
Amanda, for every day and hour is of the greatest consequence to
damsels of so advanced an age. Be quick then, if you intend to do any
service for
"Your Admirer,
"DIANA FORECAST."
In this important affair, I have not neglected the proposals of others.
Among them is the following sketch of a lottery for persons. The author
of it has proposed very ample encouragement, not only to myself, but
also to Charles Lillie and John Morphew. If the matter bears, I shall
not be unjust to his merit: I only desire to enlarge his plan; for
which purpose I lay it before the town, as well for the improvement as
encouragement of it.
_The Amicable Contribution for raising the Fortunes of Ten Young
Ladies._
"_Imprimis_, It is proposed to raise 100,000 crowns by way of lots,
which will advance for each lady £2500, which sum, together with one
of the ladies, the gentleman that shall be so happy as to draw a prize
(provided they both like), will be entitled to, under such restrictions
hereafter mentioned. And in case they do not like, then either party
that refuses shall be entitled to £1000 only, and the remainder to him
or her that shall be willing to marry, the man being first to declare
his mind. But it is provided, that if both parties shall consent to
have one another, the gentleman shall, before he receives the money
thus raised, settle £1000 of the same in substantial hands (who shall
be as trustees for the said ladies), and shall have the whole and sole
disposal of it for her use only.
"_Note._--Each party shall have three months' time to consider, after
an interview had, which shall be within ten days after the lots are
drawn.
"_Note also._--The name and place of abode of the prize shall be placed
on a proper ticket.
"_Item._--They shall be ladies that have had a liberal education,
between fifteen and twenty-three, all genteel, witty, and of unblamable
characters.
"The money to be raised shall be kept in an iron box, and when there
shall be 2000 subscriptions, which amounts to £500, it shall be taken
out and put into a goldsmith's hands, and the note made payable to the
proper lady, or her assigns (with a clause therein to hinder her from
receiving it, till the fortunate person that draws her shall first sign
the note), and so on till the whole sum is subscribed for: and as soon
as 100,000 subscriptions are completed, and 200 crowns more to pay the
charges, the lottery shall be drawn at a proper place, to be appointed
a fortnight before the drawing."
_Note._--Mr. Bickerstaff objects to the marriageable years here
mentioned; and is of opinion, they should not commence till after
twenty-three. But he appeals to the learned, both of Warwick Lane and
Bishopsgate Street,[18] on this subject.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] See No. 195.
[18] The College of Physicians met in Warwick Lane, and the Royal
Society at Gresham College, in Bishopsgate Street.
=No. 201.= [STEELE.
From _Thursday, July 20_, to _Saturday, July 22, 1710_.
_White's Chocolate-house, July 21._
It has been often asserted in these papers, that the great source of
our wrong pursuits is the impertinent manner with which we treat women,
both in the common and important circumstances of life. In vain do we
say, the whole sex would run into England, while the privileges which
are allowed them do no way balance the inconveniences arising from
those very immunities. Our women have very much indulged to them in
the participation of our fortunes and our liberty; but the errors they
commit in the use of either, are by no means so impartially considered
as the false steps which are made by men. In the commerce of lovers,
the man makes the address, assails, and betrays, and yet stands in
the same degree of acceptance as he was in before he committed that
treachery: the woman, for no other crime but believing one whom she
thought loved her, is treated with shyness and indifference at the
best, and commonly with reproach and scorn. He that is past the power
of beauty may talk of this matter with the same unconcern as of any
other subject: therefore I shall take upon me to consider the sex, as
they live within rules, and as they transgress them. The ordinary class
of the good or the ill have very little influence upon the actions of
others; but the eminent in either kind are those who lead the world
below them. The ill are employed in communicating scandal, infamy, and
disease, like furies; the good distribute benevolence, friendship,
and health, like angels. The ill are damped with pain and anguish at
the sight of all that is laudable, lovely, or happy. The virtuous are
touched with commiseration toward the guilty, the disagreeable, and the
wretched. There are those who betray the innocent of their own sex, and
solicit the lewd of ours. There are those who have abandoned the very
memory, not only of innocence, but shame. There are those who never
forgave, nor could ever bear being forgiven. There are also who visit
the beds of the sick, lull the cares of the sorrowful, and double the
joys of the joyful. Such is the destroying fiend, such the guardian
angel, woman.
The way to have a greater number of the amiable part of womankind, and
lessen the crowd of the other sort, is to contribute what we can to
the success of well-grounded passions; and therefore I comply with the
request of an enamoured man in inserting the following billet:
* * * * *
"MADAM,
"Mr. Bickerstaff you always read, though me you will never hear. I am
obliged therefore to his compassion for the opportunity of imploring
yours. I sigh for the most accomplished of her sex. That is so just a
distinction of her to whom I write, that the owning I think so is no
distinction of me who write. Your good qualities are peculiar to you,
my admiration in common with thousands. I shall be present when you
read this, but fear every woman will take it for her character, sooner
than she who deserves it."
If the next letter which presents itself should come from the mistress
of this modest lover, and I make them break through the oppression of
their passions, I shall expect gloves at their nuptials.
* * * * *
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"You that are a philosopher know very well the make of the mind of
woman, and can best instruct me in the conduct of an affair which
highly concerns me. I never can admit my lover to speak to me of love,
yet think him impertinent when he offers to talk of anything else. What
shall I do with a man that always believes me? 'Tis a strange thing
this distance in men of sense; why do not they always urge their fate?
If we are sincere in our severity, you lose nothing by attempting. If
we are hypocrites, you certainly succeed."
_From my own Apartment, July 21._
Before I withdraw from business for the night, it is my custom to
receive all addresses to me, that others may go to rest as well as
myself, at least as far as I can contribute to it. When I called to
know if any would speak with me, I was informed that Mr. Mills,[19]
the player, desired to be admitted. He was so, and with much modesty
acquainted me, as he did other people of note, that "Hamlet" was to be
acted on Wednesday next for his benefit. I had long wanted to speak
with this person, because I thought I could admonish him of many things
which would tend to his improvement. In the general I observed to him,
that though action was his business, the way to that action was not to
study gesture, for the behaviour would follow the sentiments of the
mind.
Action to the player, is what speech is to an orator. If the matter be
well conceived, words will flow with ease; and if the actor is well
possessed of the nature of his part, a proper action will necessarily
follow. He informed me, that Wilks was to act Hamlet. I desired him, to
request of him in my name, that he would wholly forget Mr. Betterton;
for that he failed in no part of Othello, but where he had him in view.
An actor's forming himself by the carriage of another, is like the
trick among the widows, who lament their husbands as their neighbours
did theirs, and not according to their own sentiments of the deceased.
There is a fault also in the audience which interrupts their
satisfaction very much, that is, the figuring to themselves the actor
in some part wherein they formerly particularly liked him, and not
attending to the part he is at that time performing. Thus, whatever
Wilks (who is the strictest follower of nature) is acting, the vulgar
spectators turn their thoughts upon Sir Harry Wildair.
When I had indulged the loquacity of an old man for some time in such
loose hints, I took my leave of Mr. Mills, and was told, Mr. Elliot[20]
of St. James's Coffee-house would speak with me. His business was to
desire I would, as I am an astrologer, let him know beforehand who were
to have the benefit tickets in the ensuing lottery; which knowledge he
was of opinion he could turn to great account, as he was concerned in
news.
I granted his request, upon an oath of secrecy, that he would only
make his own use of it, and not let it be publicly known till after
they were drawn. I had not done speaking, when he produced to me a
plan which he had formed of keeping books, with the names of all such
adventurers, and the numbers of their tickets, as should come to him,
in order to give an hourly account[21] of what tickets shall come up
during the whole time of the lottery, the drawing of which is to begin
on Wednesday next. I liked his method of disguising the secret I had
told him, and pronounced him a thriving man who could so well watch the
motion of things, and profit by a prevailing humour and impatience so
aptly, as to make his honest industry agreeable to his customers, as it
is to be the messenger of their good fortune.
ADVERTISEMENT.
_From the Trumpet in Sheer Lane, July 20._
Ordered, that for the improvement of the pleasures of society, a member
of this house, one of the most wakeful of the soporific assembly beyond
Smithfield Bars, and one of the order of story-tellers in Holborn, may
meet and exchange stale matter, and report the same to their principals.
_N.B._--No man is to tell above one story in the same evening; but has
liberty to tell the same the night following.
Mr. Bickerstaff desires his love correspondents to vary the names they
shall assume in their future letters, for that he is overstocked with
Philanders.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] John Mills, the elder, who died in 1736. Cibber says that Mills
owed his advancement to Wilks, to whose friendship his qualities as an
"honest, quiet, careful man, of as few faults as excellences, commended
him." Mills' salary (see table printed in vol. ii. p. 164) was the same
as Betterton's--£4 a week, and £1 for his wife.
[20] On November 19, 1710, Swift and Steele met at the St. James's
Coffee-house. "This evening," says Swift, "I christened our coffee-man
Elliot's child, where the rogue had a most noble supper, and Steele and
I sat among some scurvy company over a bowl of punch; so that I am come
late home."
[21] See No. 202, end.
=No. 202.= [STEELE.
From _Saturday, July 22_, to _Tuesday, July 25, 1710_.
----Est hic,
Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit æquus.
HOR., 1 Ep. xi. 30.
_From my own Apartment, July 24._
This afternoon I went to visit a gentleman of my acquaintance at Mile
End, and passing through Stepney Churchyard, I could not forbear
entertaining myself with the inscriptions on the tombs and graves.
Among others, I observed one with this notable memorial:
"Here lies the body of T.B."
This fantastical desire of being remembered only by the two first
letters of a name, led me into the contemplation of the vanity and
imperfect attainments of ambition in general. When I run back in my
imagination all the men whom I have ever known and conversed with in my
whole life, there are but very few who have not used their faculties
in the pursuit of what it is impossible to acquire, or left the
possession of what they might have been (at their setting out) masters,
to search for it where it was out of their reach. In this thought it
was not possible to forget the instance of Pyrrhus, who proposing to
himself in discourse with a philosopher,[22] one, and another, and
another conquest, was asked, what he would do after all that? "Then,"
says the King, "we will make merry." He was well answered, "What
hinders your doing that in the condition you are already?" The restless
desire of exerting themselves above the common level of mankind is not
to be resisted in some tempers; and minds of this make may be observed
in every condition of life. Where such men do not make to themselves or
meet with employment, the soil of their constitution runs into tares
and weeds. An old friend of mine, who lost a major's post forty years
ago, and quitted, has ever since studied maps, encampments, retreats,
and countermarches, with no other design but to feed his spleen and
ill-humour, and furnish himself with matter for arguing against all
the successful actions of others. He that at his first setting out in
the world was the gayest man in our regiment, ventured his life with
alacrity, and enjoyed it with satisfaction, encouraged men below him,
and was courted by men above him, has been ever since the most froward
creature breathing. His warm complexion spends itself now only in a
general spirit of contradiction; for which he watches all occasions,
and is in his conversation still upon sentry, treats all men like
enemies, with every other impertinence of a speculative warrior.
He that observes in himself this natural inquietude, should take all
imaginable care to put his mind in some method of gratification, or he
will soon find himself grow into the condition of this disappointed
major. Instead of courting proper occasions to rise above others,
he will be ever studious of pulling others down to him: it being
the common refuge of disappointed ambition, to ease themselves by
detraction. It would be no great argument against ambition, that there
are such mortal things in the disappointment of it; but it certainly
is a forcible exception, that there can be no solid happiness in the
success of it. If we value popular praise, it is in the power of the
meanest of the people to disturb us by calumny. If the fame of being
happy, we cannot look into a village but we see crowds in actual
possession of what we seek only the appearance. To this may be added,
that there is I know not what malignity in the minds of ordinary
men to oppose you in what they see you fond of; and it is a certain
exception against a man's receiving applause, that he visibly courts
it. However, this is not only the passion of great and undertaking
spirits, but you see it in the lives of such as one would believe were
far enough removed from the ways of ambition. The rural squires of this
nation even eat and drink out of vanity. A vainglorious fox-hunter
shall entertain half a county for the ostentation of his beef and
beer, without the least affection for any of the crowd about him.
He feeds them, because he thinks it a superiority over them that he
does so: and they devour him, because they know he treats them out of
insolence. This indeed is ambition in grotesque, but may figure to us
the condition of politer men, whose only pursuit is glory. When the
superior acts out of a principle of vanity, the dependant will be sure
to allow it him; because he knows it destructive of the very applause
which is courted by the man who favours him, and consequently makes him
nearer himself.