makes men impatient of an inactive condition, and urges men to attempt
what may tend to their reputation, it is absolutely necessary they
should form to themselves an ambition which is in every man's power to
gratify. This ambition would be independent, and would consist only in
acting what to a man's own mind appears most great and laudable. It is
a pursuit in the power of every man, and is only a regular prosecution
of what he himself approves. It is what can be interrupted by no
outward accidents, for no man can be robbed of his good intention.
One of our society of the Trumpet therefore started last night a
notion which I thought had reason in it. "It is, methinks," said he,
"an unreasonable thing, that heroic virtue should (as it seems to be
at present) be confined to a certain order of men, and be attainable
by none but those whom fortune has elevated to the most conspicuous
stations. I would have everything to be esteemed as heroic which
is great and uncommon in the circumstances in the man who performs
it." Thus there would be no virtue in human life which every one of
the species would not have a pretence to arrive at, and an ardency
to exert. Since Fortune is not in our power, let us be as little as
possible in hers. Why should it be necessary that a man should be rich,
to be generous? If we measured by the quality, and not the quantity,
of things, the particulars which accompany an action are what should
denominate it mean or great. The highest station of human life is to
be attained by each man that pretends to it: for every man can be as
valiant, as generous, as wise, and as merciful, as the faculties and
opportunities which he has from Heaven and fortune will permit. He
that can say to himself, I do as much good, and am as virtuous, as my
most earnest endeavours will allow me, whatever is his station in the
world, is to himself possessed of the highest honour. If ambition is
not thus turned, it is no other than a continual succession of anxiety
and vexation. But when it has this cast, it invigorates the mind, and
the consciousness of its own worth is a reward which it is not in the
power of envy, reproach, or detraction, to take from it. Thus the seat
of solid honour is in a man's own bosom, and no one can want support
who is in possession of an honest conscience, but he who would suffer
the reproaches of it for other greatness.
_P.S._--I was going on in my philosophy, when notice was brought me
that there was a great crowd in my ante-chamber, who expected audience.
When they were admitted, I found they all met at my lodgings; each
coming upon the same errand, to know whether they were of the fortunate
in the lottery, which is now ready to be drawn. I was much at a loss
how to extricate myself from their importunity; but observing the
assembly made up of both sexes, I signified to them, that in this case
it would appear Fortune is not blind, for all the lots would fall upon
the wisest and the fairest. This gave so general a satisfaction, that
the room was soon emptied, and the company retired with the best air,
and the most pleasing grace, I had anywhere observed. Mr. Elliot[23]
of St. James's Coffee-house now stood alone before me, and signified
to me, he had now not only prepared his books, but had received a
very great subscription already. His design was, to advertise his
subscribers at their respective places of abode, within an hour after
their number is drawn, whether it was a blank or benefit, if the
adventurer lives within the bills of mortality; if he dwells in the
country, by the next post. I encouraged the man in his industry, and
told him, the ready path to good fortune was to believe there was no
such thing.
FOOTNOTES:
[22] Cineas the orator (see Plutarch's "Life of Pyrrhus").
[23] See No. 201.
=No. 203.= [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, July 25_, to _Thursday, July 27, 1710_.
Ut tu fortunam, sic nos te, Celse, feremus.--HOR., 1 Ep. viii. 17.
_From my own Apartment, July 26._
It is natural for the imaginations of men who lead their lives in too
solitary a manner, to prey upon themselves, and form from their own
conceptions beings and things which have no place in nature. This
often makes an adept as much at a loss when he comes into the world
as a mere savage. To avoid therefore that ineptitude for society,
which is frequently the fault of us scholars, and has to men of
understanding and breeding something much more shocking and untractable
than rusticity itself, I take care to visit all public solemnities,
and go into assemblies as often as my studies will permit. This being
therefore the first day of the drawing of the lottery,[24] I did
not neglect spending a considerable time in the crowd: but as much
a philosopher as I pretend to be, I could not but look with a sort
of veneration upon the two boys which received the tickets from the
wheels, as the impartial and equal dispensers of the fortunes which
were to be distributed among the crowd, who all stood expecting the
same chance. It seems at first thought very wonderful, that one
passion should so universally have the pre-eminence of another in the
possession of men's minds as that in this case; all in general have a
secret hope of the great ticket: and yet fear in another instance, as
in going into a battle, shall have so little influence, as that though
each man believes there will be many thousands slain, each is confident
he himself shall escape. This certainty proceeds from our vanity; for
every man sees abundance in himself that deserves reward, and nothing
which should meet with mortification. But of all the adventurers that
filled the hall, there was one who stood by me, who I could not but
fancy expected the thousand pounds per annum, as a mere justice to his
parts and industry. He had his pencil and table-book, and was at the
drawing of each lot, counting how much a man with seven tickets was
now nearer the great prize, by the striking out another and another
competitor. This man was of the most particular constitution I had ever
observed; his passions were so active, that he worked in the utmost
stretch of hope and fear. When one rival fell before him, you might
see a short gleam of triumph in his countenance, which immediately
vanished at the approach of another. What added to the particularity
of this man, was, that he every moment cast a look, either upon the
commissioners, the wheels, or the boys. I gently whispered him, and
asked, when he thought the thousand pounds would come up? "Pugh!" says
he, "who knows that?" and then looks upon a little list of his own
tickets, which were pretty high in their numbers, and said it would not
come this ten days. This fellow will have a good chance, though not
that which he has put his heart on. The man is mechanically turned, and
made for getting. The simplicity and eagerness which he is in, argues
an attention to his point; though what he is labouring at does not
in the least contribute to it. Were it not for such honest fellows as
these, the men who govern the rest of their species would have no tools
to work with: for the outward show of the world is carried on by such
as cannot find out that they are doing nothing. I left my man with
great reluctance, seeing the care he took to observe the whole conduct
of the persons concerned, and compute the inequality of the chances
with his own hands and eyes. "Dear sir," said I, "they must rise early
that cheat you." "Ay," said he, "there's nothing like a man's minding
his business himself." "'Tis very true," said I; "the master's eye
makes the horse fat."
As it is much the greater number who are to go without prizes, it
is but very expedient to turn our lecture[25] to the forming just
sentiments on the subject of fortune. One said this morning, that
the chief lot he was confident would fall upon some puppy; but this
gentleman is one of those wrong tempers who approve only the unhappy,
and have a natural prejudice to the fortunate. But as it is certain
that there is a great meanness in being attached to a man purely for
his fortune, there is no less a meanness in disliking him for his
happiness. It is the same perverseness under different colours, and
both these resentments arise from mere pride.
The true greatness of mind consists in valuing men apart from their
circumstances, or according to their behaviour in them. Wealth is
a distinction only in traffic; but it must not be allowed as a
recommendation in any other particular, but only just as it is applied.
It was very prettily said, that we may learn the little value of
fortune by the persons on whom Heaven is pleased to bestow it.[26]
However, there is not a harder part in human life than becoming wealth
and greatness. He must be very well stocked with merit, who is not
willing to draw some superiority over his friends from his fortune: for
it is not every man that can entertain with the air of a guest, and do
good offices with the mien of one that receives them.
I must confess, I cannot conceive how a man can place himself in a
figure wherein he can so much enjoy his own soul, and that greatest
of pleasures, the just approbation of his own actions, than as an
adventurer on this occasion, to sit and see the lots go off without
hope or fear, perfectly unconcerned as to himself, but taking part in
the good fortune of others.
I will believe there are happy tempers in being, to whom all the good
that arrives to any of their fellow-creatures gives a pleasure. These
live in a course of substantial and lasting happiness, and have the
satisfaction to see all men endeavour to gratify them. This state of
mind not only lets a man into certain enjoyments, but relieves him from
as certain anxieties. If you will not rejoice with happy men, you must
repine at them. Dick Reptile alluded to this when he said, he would
hate no man out of pure idleness. As for my own part, I look at fortune
quite in another view than the rest of the world; and, by my knowledge
in futurity, tremble at the approaching prize which I see coming to a
young lady for whom I have much tenderness; and have therefore written
her the following letter, to be sent by Mr. Elliot with the notice of
her ticket:
* * * * *
"MADAM,
"You receive at the instant this comes to your hands, an account of
your having (what only you wanted) fortune; and to admonish you, that
you may not now want everything else. You had yesterday wit, virtue,
beauty; but you never heard of them till to-day. They say Fortune
is blind; but you will find she has opened the eyes of all your
beholders. I beseech you, madam, make use of the advantages of having
been educated without flattery. If you can still be Chloe, Fortune has
indeed been kind to you; if you are altered, she has it not in her
power to give you an equivalent."[27]
_Grecian Coffee-house, July 26._
Some time ago a virtuoso, my very good friend, sent me a plan of a
covered summer-house, which a little after was rallied by another of my
correspondents.[28] I cannot therefore defer giving him an opportunity
of making his defence to the learned in his own words.
* * * * *
"To ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.
"SIR, _July 15, 1710_.
"I have been this summer upon a ramble to visit several friends and
relations; which is the reason I have left you, and our ingenious,
unknown friend of South Wales, so long in your error concerning the
grass-plots in my green-house. I will not give you the particulars
of my gardener's conduct in the management of my covered garden, but
content myself with letting you know, that my little fields within
doors, though by their novelty they appear too extravagant to you to
subsist even in a regular imagination, are in the effect things that
require no conjuration. Your correspondent may depend upon it, that
under a sashed roof, which lets in the sun at all times, and the air
as often as is convenient, he may have grass-plots in the greatest
perfection, if he will be at the pains to water, mow, and roll them.
Grass and herbs in general, the less they are exposed to the sun and
wind, the livelier is their verdure. They require only warmth and
moisture; and if you were to see my plots, your eye would soon confess,
that the bowling-green at Marybone[29] wears not half so bright a
livery.
"The motto with which the gentleman has been pleased to furnish you, is
so very proper, and pleases me so well, that I design to have it set
upon the front of my green-house in letters of gold.
"I am, Sir, &c."
FOOTNOTES:
[24] See No. 124.
[25] Discourse.
[26] A writer in _Notes and Queries_ (March 19, 1887) has pointed out
that Luther says in his "Colloquies" (1652), p. 90, "Our Lord commonly
giveth riches to such gross asses to whom He affordeth nothing else
that is good."
[27] Chloe's reply is in No. 207.
[28] See Nos. 179 and 188.
[29] In 1728 we hear of persons arriving in London "from their
country-houses in Marylebone" (_cf._ No. 18). Marylebone Gardens, a
favourite place of entertainment, had in the centre a bowling-green,
"112 paces one way, 88 another," where persons of quality often played.
=No. 204.= [STEELE.
From _Thursday, July 27_, to _Saturday, July 29, 1710_.
----Gaudent prænomine molles
Auriculæ.----
HOR., 2 Sat. v. 32.
_From my own Apartment, July 28._
Many are the inconveniences which happen from the improper manner of
address in common speech between persons of the same or of different
quality.
Among these errors, there is none greater than that of the impertinent
use of title, and a paraphrastical way of saying "you." I had the
curiosity the other day to follow a crowd of people near Billingsgate,
who were conducting a passionate woman who sold fish to a magistrate,
in order to explain some words which were ill taken by one of her own
quality and profession in the public market. When she came to make her
defence, she was so very full of, "his Worship," and of, "if it should
please his Honour," that we could for some time hardly hear any other
apology she made for herself than that of atoning for the ill language
she had been accused of towards her neighbour by the great civilities
she paid to her judge. But this extravagance in her sense of doing
honour, was no more to be wondered at than that her many rings on each
finger were worn as instances of finery and dress. The vulgar may thus
heap and huddle terms of respect, and nothing better be expected from
them; but for people of rank to repeat appellatives insignificantly,
is a folly not to be endured, neither with regard to our times or our
understanding. It is below the dignity of speech to extend it with more
words or phrases than are necessary to explain ourselves with elegance:
and it is, methinks, an instance of ignorance, if not of servitude, to
be redundant in such expressions.
I waited upon a man of quality some mornings ago: he happened to be
dressing; and his shoemaker fitting him, told him, that if his Lordship
would please to tread hard, or that if his Lordship would stamp a
little, his Lordship would find his Lordship's shoe will fit as easy
as any piece of work his Lordship should see in England. As soon as
my lord was dressed, a gentleman approached him with a very good air,
and told him, he had an affair which had long depended in the Lower
Courts, which, through the inadvertency of his ancestors on the one
side, and the ill arts of their adversaries on the other, could not
possibly be settled according to the rules of the Lower Courts: that
therefore he designed to bring his cause before the House of Lords next
session, where he should be glad if his Lordship should happen to be
present; for he doubted not but his cause would be approved by all men
of justice and honour. In this place the word "Lordship" was gracefully
inserted, because it was applied to him in that circumstance wherein
his quality was the occasion of the discourse, and wherein it was most
useful to the one, and most honourable to the other.
This way is so far from being disrespectful to the honour of nobles,
that it is an expedient for using them with greater deference. I would
not put "Lordship" to a man's hat, gloves, wig, or cane; but to desire
his Lordship's favour, his Lordship's judgment, or his Lordship's
patronage, is a manner of speaking which expresses an alliance between
his quality and his merit. It is this knowledge which distinguished
the discourse of the shoemaker from that of the gentleman. The highest
point of good-breeding, if any one can hit it, is to show a very nice
regard to your own dignity, and with that in your heart express your
value for the man above you.
But the silly humour to the contrary has so much prevailed, that
the slavish addition of title enervates discourse, and renders the
application of it almost ridiculous. We writers of diurnals are nearer
in our styles to that of common talk than any other writers, by which
means we use words of respect sometimes very unfortunately. The
_Post-Man_,[30] who is one of the most celebrated of our fraternity,
fell into this misfortune yesterday in his paragraph from Berlin of
July 26. "Count Wartenberg," says he, "Great Chamberlain, and Chief
Minister of this Court, who on Monday last accompanied the King of
Prussia to Oranienburg, was taken so very ill, that on Wednesday his
life was despaired of; and we had a report, that his Excellency was
dead."
I humbly presume, that it flattens the narration, to say "his
Excellency" in a case which is common to all men; except you would
infer what is not to be inferred, to wit, that the author designed to
say, "all wherein he excelled others was departed from him."
Were distinctions used according to the rules of reason and sense,
those additions to men's names would be, as they were first intended,
significant of their worth, and not their persons; so that in some
cases it might be proper to say, "The man is dead, but his excellency
will never die." It is, methinks, very unjust to laugh at a Quaker,
because he has taken up a resolution to treat you with a word, the most
expressive of complaisance that can be thought of, and with an air of
good-nature and charity calls you friend. I say, it is very unjust to
rally him for this term to a stranger, when you yourselves, in all your
phrases of distinction, confound phrases of honour into no use at all.
Tom Courtly, who is the pink of courtesy, is an instance of how little
moment an undistinguishing application of sounds of honour are to those
who understand themselves. Tom never fails of paying his obeisance to
every man he sees, who has title or office to make him conspicuous;
but his deference is wholly given to outward considerations. I, who
know him, can tell within half an acre how much land one man has more
than another by Tom's bow to him. Title is all he knows of honour,
and civility of friendship: for this reason, because he cares for no
man living, he is religiously strict in performing what he calls
his respects to you. To this end he is very learned in pedigree, and
will abate something in the ceremony of his approaches to a man, if
he is in any doubt about the bearing of his coat of arms. What is the
most pleasant of all his character is, that he acts with a sort of
integrity in these impertinences; and though he would not do any man
any solid kindness, he is wonderfully just and careful not to wrong his
quality. But as integrity is very scarce in the world, I cannot forbear
having respect for the impertinent: it is some virtue to be bound by
anything. Tom and I are upon very good terms for the respect he has for
the house of Bickerstaff. Though one cannot but laugh at his serious
consideration of things so little essential, one must have a value even
for a frivolous good conscience.
FOOTNOTES:
[30] See No. 155.
=No. 205.= [FULLER.[31]
From _Saturday, July 29_, to _Tuesday, Aug. 1, 1710_.
Νήπιοι, οὐδὲ ἴσασιν ὅσῳ πλέον ἥμισυ παντός,
Οὐδ' ὅσον ἐν μαλάχῃ τε καὶ ἀσφοδέλῳ μέγ' ὄνειαρ.
HESIOD, Works and Days, 20.
_From my own Apartment, July 31._
Nature has implanted in us two very strong desires, hunger for the
preservation of the individual, and lust for the support of the
species; or, to speak more intelligibly, the former to continue
our own persons, and the latter to introduce others into the world.
According as men behave themselves with regard to these appetites,
they are above or below the beasts of the field, which are incited by
them without choice or reflection. But reasonable creatures correct
these incentives, and improve them into elegant motives of friendship
and society. It is chiefly from this homely foundation, that we are
under the necessity of seeking for the agreeable companion, and the
honourable mistress. By this cultivation of art and reason, our wants
are made pleasures, and the gratification of our desires, under proper
restrictions, a work no way below our noblest faculties. The wisest
man may maintain his character, and yet consider in what manner he
shall best entertain his friend, or divert his mistress: nay, it is so
far from being a derogation to him, that he can in no other instances
show so true a taste of his life or his fortune. What concerns one of
the above-mentioned appetites, as it is elevated into love, I shall
have abundant occasion to discourse of before I have provided for
the numberless crowd of damsels I have proposed to take care of. The
subject therefore of the present paper shall be that part of society
which owes its beginning to the common necessity of hunger. When this
is considered as the support of our being, we may take in under the
same head thirst also; otherwise when we are pursuing the glutton,
the drunkard may make his escape. The true choice of our diet, and
our companions at it, seems to consist in that which contributes
most to cheerfulness and refreshment: and these certainly are best
consulted by simplicity in the food, and sincerity in the company. By
this rule are in the first place excluded from pretence to happiness
all meals of state and ceremony, which are performed in dumb show and
greedy sullenness. At the boards of the great, they say, you shall
have a number attending with as good habits and countenances as the
guests, which only circumstance must destroy the whole pleasure of
the repast: for if such attendants are introduced for the dignity of
their appearance, modest minds are shocked by considering them as
spectators, or else look upon them as equals, for whose servitude they
are in a kind of suffering. It may be here added, that the sumptuous
sideboard to an ingenuous eye has often more the air of an altar than
a table. The next absurd way of enjoying ourselves at meals, is, where
the bottle is plied without being called for, where humour takes place
of appetite, and the good company are too dull or too merry to know any
enjoyment in their senses.
Though this part of time is absolutely necessary to sustain life, it
must be also considered, that life itself is to the endless being of
man but what a meal is to this life, not valuable for itself, but
for the purpose of it. If there be any truth in this, the expense
of many hours this way is somewhat unaccountable; and placing much
thought either in too great sumptuousness and elegance in this matter,
or wallowing in noise and riot at it, are both, though not equally,
unaccountable. I have often considered these different people with very
great attention, and always speak of them with the distinction of the
eaters and the swallowers. The eaters sacrifice all their senses and
understanding to this appetite: the swallowers hurry themselves out of
both, without pleasing this or any other appetite at all. The latter
are improved brutes, the former degenerated men. I have sometimes
thought it would not be improper to add to my dead and living men,
persons in an intermediate state of humanity, under the appellation of
dozers. The dozers are a sect, who, instead of keeping their appetites
in subjection, live in subjection to them; nay, they are so truly
slaves to them, that they keep at too great a distance ever to come
into their presence. Within my own acquaintance, I know those that I
daresay have forgot that they ever were hungry, and are no less utter
strangers to thirst and weariness, who are beholden to sauces for their
food, and to their food for their weariness.
I have often wondered, considering the excellent and choice spirits
that we have among our divines, that they do not think of putting
vicious habits into a more contemptible and unlovely figure than
they do at present. So many men of wit and spirit as there are in
sacred orders, have it in their power to make the fashion of their
side. The leaders in human society are more effectually prevailed
upon this way than can easily be imagined. I have more than one
in my thoughts at this time capable of doing this against all the
opposition of the most witty, as well as the most voluptuous. There
may possibly be more acceptable subjects, but sure there are none more
useful. It is visible, that though men's fortunes, circumstances, and
pleasures give them prepossessions too strong to regard any mention
either of punishments or rewards, they will listen to what makes them
inconsiderable or mean in the imaginations of others, and by degrees in
their own.