only by men of the most consummate prudence, as well as excellent wit:
for these discourses are to be made, if made to run into example,
before such as have their thoughts more intent upon the propriety than
the reason of the discourse. What indeed leads me into this way of
thinking, is, that the last thing I read was a sermon of the learned
Dr. South,[32] upon the Ways of Pleasantness. This admirable discourse
was made at court, where the preacher was too wise a man not to
believe; the greatest argument, in that place, against the pleasures
then in vogue, must be, that they lost greater pleasures by prosecuting
the course they were in. The charming discourse has in it whatever wit
and wisdom can put together. This gentleman has a talent of making all
his faculties bear to the great end of his hallowed profession. Happy
genius! he is the better man for being a wit. The best way to praise
this author is to quote him; and, I think, I may defy any man to say a
greater thing of him, or his ability, than that there are no paragraphs
in the whole discourse I speak of below these which follow.
After having recommended the satisfaction of the mind, and the pleasure
of conscience, he proceeds:
"An ennobling property of it is, that it is such a pleasure as never
satiates or wearies; for it properly affects the spirit, and a spirit
feels no weariness, as being privileged from the causes of it. But
can the epicure say so of any of the pleasures he so much dotes upon?
Do they not expire while they satisfy, and after a few minutes'
refreshment determine in loathing and unquietness? How short is the
interval between a pleasure and a burden! How undiscernible the
transition from one to the other! Pleasure dwells no longer upon the
appetite than the necessities of nature, which are quickly and easily
provided for; and then all that follows is a load and an oppression.
Every morsel to a satisfied hunger is only a new labour to a tired
digestion. Every draught to him that has quenched his thirst is but a
further quenching of nature, and a provision for rheum and diseases, a
drowning of the quickness and activity of the spirits.
"He that prolongs his meals, and sacrifices his time, as well as
his other conveniences, to his luxury, how quickly does he outsit
his pleasure! And then, how is all the following time bestowed upon
ceremony and surfeit! Till at length, after a long fatigue of eating,
and drinking, and babbling, he concludes the great work of dining
genteelly, and so makes a shift to rise from table, that he may lie
down upon his bed; where, after he has slept himself into some use of
himself, by much ado he staggers to his table again, and there acts
over the same brutish scene: so that he passes his whole life in a
dozed condition, between sleeping and waking, with a kind of drowsiness
and confusion upon his senses, which, what pleasure it can be, is hard
to conceive. All that is of it dwells upon the tip of his tongue, and
within the compass of his palate. A worthy prize for a man to purchase
with the loss of his time, his reason, and himself!"
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Samuel Partiger Fuller was M.P. for Petersfield from 1715 to
1722. Steele's letters show that he was an intimate friend of Fuller's
in 1716-17; and in February 1716, when Steele spoke in the House of
Commons on behalf of the noblemen condemned for the part they had taken
in the rebellion of 1715, he was seconded by Fuller. The following
passage from Steele's _Theatre_, No. 26, March 29, 1720, is the
authority for attributing this paper to young Fuller, then a secret
correspondent:
"I can hardly conceive a more laudable act, than declaring an
abhorrence of so fashionable a crime [viz., duelling], which weakness,
cowardice, and an impatience of the reproach of fools, have brought
upon reasonable men. This sort of behaviour cannot proceed but from a
true and undaunted courage; and I cannot but have in great veneration
a generous youth, who, in public, declared his assent and concurrence
to this law, by saying, that in spite of the prevailing custom, he
triumphed more in being a second to prevent, than he should have done
in being one to promote murder. A speech thus ingenuous could come only
from a heart that scorned reserves, in compliance to falsehood, to do
injury to truth.
"This was true greatness of mind; and the man who did it, could not
possibly do it for his own sake, but must be conscious of a courage
sufficient for his own defence, who could thus candidly, at this time
of life, rescue other men from the necessity of bearing contempt, or
doing an ill action.
"The mind usually exerts itself in all its faculties with an equal pace
towards maturity; and this gentleman, who at the age of sixteen could
form such pleasant pictures of the false and little ambitions of low
spirits, as Mr. Fuller did, to whom, when a boy, we owe, with several
other excellent pieces, "The Vainglorious Glutton," when a secret
correspondent of the _Tatler_: I say, such a one might easily, as he
proceeded in human life, arrive at this superior strength of mind at
four-and-twenty. The soul that labours against prejudice, and follows
reason, ripens in her capacities and grows in her talents at the same
time. As therefore courage is what a man attains by thought, as much as
he improves his wit by study, it is only from want of opportunities to
call the one or the other forth, and draw the respective qualities into
habit, if ever a man of sense is a coward."
[32] See Nos. 61 and 211. In the _Guardian_ (No. 135), Addison quotes
from South a passage which, he says, "cannot but make the man's heart
burn within him who reads it with due attention."
=No. 206.= [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Aug. 1_, to _Thursday, Aug. 3, 1710_.
Metiri se quemque suo modulo ac pede verum est.
HOR., 1 Ep. vii. 98.
_From my own Apartment, Aug. 2._
The general purposes of men in the conduct of their lives (I mean with
relation to this life only), end in gaining either the affection or the
esteem of those with whom they converse. Esteem makes a man powerful in
business, and affection desirable in conversation; which is certainly
the reason that very agreeable men fail of their point in the world,
and those who are by no means such arrive at it with much ease. If it
be visible in a man's carriage that he has a strong passion to please,
no one is much at a loss how to keep measures with him, because there
is always a balance in people's hands to make up with him, by giving
him what he still wants in exchange for what you think fit to deny him.
Such a person asks with diffidence, and ever leaves room for denial
by that softness of his complexion. At the same time he himself is
capable of denying nothing, even what he is not able to perform. The
other sort of man who courts esteem, having a quite different view,
has as different a behaviour, and acts as much by the dictates of his
reason, as the other does by the impulse of his inclination. You must
pay for everything you have of him. He considers mankind as a people
in commerce, and never gives out of himself what he is sure will not
come in with interest from another. All his words and actions tend to
the advancement of his reputation and of his fortune, toward which he
makes hourly progress, because he lavishes no part of his good-will
upon such as do not make some advances to merit it. The man who values
affection sometimes becomes popular, he who aims at esteem seldom fails
of growing rich.
Thus far we have looked at these different men as persons who endeavour
to be valued and beloved from design or ambition; but they appear in
quite another figure, when you observe the men who are agreeable and
venerable from the force of their natural inclinations. We affect the
company of him who has least regard of himself in his carriage, who
throws himself into unguarded gaiety, voluntary mirth, and general
good-humour; who has nothing in his head but the present hour, and
seems to have all his interests and passions gratified, if every man
else in the room is as unconcerned as himself. This man usually has no
quality or character among his companions; let him be born of whom
he will, have what great qualities he please, let him be capable of
assuming for a moment what figure he pleases, he still dwells in the
imagination of all who know him but as Jack Such-a-One. This makes Jack
brighten up the room wherever he enters, and change the severity of the
company into that gaiety and good-humour into which his conversation
generally leads them. It is not unpleasant to observe even this sort of
creature go out of his character, to check himself sometimes for his
familiarities, and pretend so awkwardly at procuring to himself more
esteem than he finds he meets with. I was the other day walking with
Jack Gainly towards Lincoln's Inn Walks. We met a fellow who is a lower
officer where Jack is in the direction. Jack cries to him, so, "How is
it, Mr. ----?" He answers, "Mr. Gainly, I am glad to see you well."
This expression of equality gave my friend a pang, which appeared in a
flush of his countenance. "Prithee, Jack," says I, "do not be angry at
the man; for do what you will, the man can only love you: be contented
with the image the man has of thee; for if thou aimest at any other,
it must be hatred or contempt." I went on, and told him, "Look'ee,
Jack, I have heard thee sometimes talk like an oracle for half-an-hour,
with the sentiments of a Roman, the closeness of a school-man, and the
integrity of a divine; but then, Jack, while I admired thee, it was
upon topics which did not concern thyself, and where the greatness of
the subject (added to thy being personally unconcerned in it) created
all that was great in thy discourse." I did not mind his being a little
out of humour, but comforted him, by giving him several instances of
men of our acquaintance, who had no one quality in any eminence, that
were much more esteemed than he was with very many: but the thing is,
if your character is to give pleasure, men will consider you only in
that light, and not in those acts which turn to esteem and veneration.
When I think of Jack Gainly, I cannot but reflect also upon his sister
Gatty. She is young, witty, pleasant, innocent. This is her natural
character; but when she observes any one admired for what they call
a fine woman, she is all the next day womanly, prudent, observing,
and virtuous. She is every moment asked in her prudential behaviour,
whether she is not well? Upon which she as often answers in a fret,
"Do people think one must be always romping, always a Jack-pudding?" I
never fail to inquire of her, if my Lady Such-a-One, that awful beauty,
was not at the play last night? She knows the connection between that
question and her change of humour, and says, "It would be very well,
if some people would examine into themselves as much as they do into
others;" or, "Sure there is nothing in the world so ridiculous as an
amorous old man."
As I was saying, there is a class which every man is in by his post in
nature, from which it is impossible for him to withdraw to another,
and become it. Therefore it is necessary that each should be contented
with it, and not endeavour at any progress out of that tract. To
follow nature, is the only agreeable course; which is what I would
fain inculcate to those jarring companions, Flavia and Lucia. They
are mother and daughter. Flavia, who is the mamma, has all the charms
and desires of youth still about her, and not much turned of thirty:
Lucia is blooming and amorous, and but a little above fifteen. The
mother looks very much younger than she is, the girl very much older.
If it were possible to fix the girl to her sick-bed, and preserve the
portion (the use of which the mother partakes), the good widow Flavia
would certainly do it. But for fear of Lucia's escape, the mother is
forced to be constantly attended with a rival, that explains her age,
and draws off the eyes of her admirers. The jest is, they can never
be together in strangers' company, but Lucy is eternally reprimanded
for something very particular in her behaviour; for which she has the
malice to say, she hopes she shall always obey her parents. She carried
her passion and jealousy to that height the other day, that coming
suddenly into the room, and surprising Colonel Lofty speaking rapture
on one knee to her mother, she clapped down by him and asked her
blessing.
I do not know whether it is so proper to tell family occurrences of
this nature; but we every day see the same thing happen in the public
conversation in the world. Men cannot be contented with what is
laudable, but they must have all that is laudable. This affectation is
what destroys the familiar man into pretences to take state upon him,
and the contrary character to the folly of aiming at being winning and
complaisant. But in these cases men may easily lay aside what they are,
but can never arrive at what they are not.
As to the pursuits after affection and esteem, the fair sex are happy
in this particular, that with them the one is much more nearly related
to the other than in men. The love of a woman is inseparable from
some esteem of her; and as she is naturally the object of affection,
the woman who has your esteem has also some degree of your love.[33]
A man that dotes on a woman for her beauty, will whisper his friend,
"That creature has a great deal of wit when you are well acquainted
with her." And if you examine the bottom of your esteem for a woman,
you will find you have a greater opinion of her beauty than anybody
else. As to us men, I design to pass most of my time with the facetious
Harry Bickerstaff; but William Bickerstaff, the most prudent man of our
family, shall be my executor.
FOOTNOTES:
[33] "Inseparable always from his passion is the exalted admiration he
feels; and his love is the very flower of his respect" (Forster's Essay
on Steele).
=No. 207.= [STEELE.
From _Thursday, Aug. 3_, to _Saturday, Aug. 5, 1710_.
_From my own Apartment, Aug. 4._
Having yesterday morning received a paper of Latin verses, written
with much elegance in honour of these my papers, and being informed
at the same time that they were composed by a youth under age, I read
them with much delight, as an instance of his improvement. There is
not a greater pleasure to old age, than seeing young people entertain
themselves in such a manner as that we can partake of their enjoyments.
On such occasions we flatter ourselves that we are not quite laid aside
in the world, but that we are either used with gratitude for what we
were, or honoured for what we are. A well-inclined young man, and whose
good-breeding is founded upon the principles of nature and virtue,
must needs take delight in being agreeable to his elders, as we are
truly delighted when we are not the jest of them. When I say this, I
must confess I cannot but think it a very lamentable thing that there
should be a necessity for making that a rule of life, which should
be, methinks, a mere instinct of nature. If reflection upon a man in
poverty, whom we once knew in riches, is an argument of commiseration
with generous minds; sure old age, which is a decay from that vigour
which the young possess, and must certainly (if not prevented against
their will) arrive at, should be more forcibly the object of that
reverence which honest spirits are inclined to from a sense of being
themselves liable to what they observe has already overtaken others.
My three nephews, whom in June last was twelvemonth I disposed of
according to their several capacities and inclinations, the first to
the University, the second to a merchant, and the third to a woman
of quality as her page, by my invitation dined with me to-day. It
is my custom often, when I have a mind to give myself a more than
ordinary cheerfulness, to invite a certain young gentlewoman of our
neighbourhood to make one of the company. She did me that favour this
day. The presence of a beautiful woman of honour, to minds which
are not trivially disposed, displays an alacrity which is not to be
communicated by any other object. It was not unpleasant to me to look
into her thoughts of the company she was in. She smiled at the party
of pleasure I had thought of for her, which was composed of an old
man and three boys. My scholar, my citizen, and myself were very soon
neglected; and the young courtier, by the bow he made to her at her
entrance, engaged her observation without a rival. I observed the
Oxonian not a little discomposed at this preference, while the trader
kept his eye upon his uncle. My nephew Will had a thousand secret
resolutions to break in upon the discourse of his younger brother,
who gave my fair companion a full account of the fashion, and what
was reckoned most becoming to this complexion, and what sort of habit
appeared best upon the other shape. He proceeded to acquaint her,
who of quality was well or sick within the bills of mortality, and
named very familiarly all his lady's acquaintance, not forgetting
her very words when he spoke of their characters. Besides all this,
he had a road of flattery; and upon her inquiring what sort of woman
Lady Lovely was in her person, "Really, madam," says the jackanapes,
"she is exactly of your height and shape; but as you are fair, she is
a brown woman." There was no enduring that this fop should outshine
us all at this unmerciful rate, therefore I thought fit to talk to
my young scholar concerning his studies; and because I would throw
his learning into present service, I desired him to repeat to me the
translation he had made of some tender verses in Theocritus. He did so,
with an air of elegance peculiar to the college to which I sent him.
I made some exceptions to the turn of the phrases, which he defended
with much modesty, as believing in that place the matter was rather to
consult the softness of a swain's passion, than the strength of his
expressions. It soon appeared that Will had outstripped his brother
in the opinion of our young lady. A little poetry to one who is bred
a scholar has the same effect that a good carriage of his person has
on one who is to live in courts. The favour of women is so natural a
passion, that I envied both the boys their success in the approbation
of my guest; and I thought the only person invulnerable was my young
trader. During the whole meal, I could observe in the children a mutual
contempt and scorn of each other, arising from their different way of
life and education, and took that occasion to advertise them of such
growing distastes, which might mislead them in their future life, and
disappoint their friends, as well as themselves, of the advantages
which might be expected from the diversity of their professions and
interests.
The prejudices which are growing up between these brothers from
the different ways of education, are what create the most fatal
misunderstandings in life. But all distinctions of disparagement merely
from our circumstances, are such as will not bear the examination of
reason. The courtier, the trader, and the scholar should all have an
equal pretension to the denomination of a gentleman. That tradesman
who deals with me in a commodity which I do not understand with
uprightness, has much more right to that character, than the courtier
who gives me false hopes, or the scholar who laughs at my ignorance.
The appellation of gentleman is never to be affixed to a man's
circumstances, but to his behaviour in them. For this reason I shall
ever, as far as I am able, give my nephews such impressions as shall
make them value themselves rather as they are useful to others, than as
they are conscious of merit in themselves. There are no qualities from
which we ought to pretend to the esteem of others, but such as render
us serviceable to them; for free men have no superiors but benefactors.
I was going on like a true old fellow to this purpose to my guests,
when I received the following epistle:
* * * * *
"SIR,
"I have yours,[34] with notice of a benefit ticket of £400 per annum,
both enclosed by Mr. Elliot, who had my numbers for that purpose. Your
philosophic advice came very seasonably to me with that good fortune;
but I must be so sincere with you as to acknowledge, I owe my present
moderation more to my own folly than your wisdom. You will think this
strange till I inform you, that I had fixed my thoughts upon the £1000
a year, and had with that expectation laid down so many agreeable
plans for my behaviour towards my new lovers and old friends, that I
have received this favour of fortune with an air of disappointment.
This is interpreted by all who know not the springs of my heart as a
wonderful piece of humility. I hope my present state of mind will grow
into that; but I confess my conduct to be now owing to another cause.
However, I know you will approve my taking hold even of imperfections
to find my way towards virtue, which is so feeble in us at the best,
that we are often beholden to our faults for the first appearances of
it. I am,
"Sir,
"Your most humble Servant,
"CHLOE."
FOOTNOTES:
[34] See No. 203.
=No. 208.= [STEELE.
From _Saturday, Aug. 5_, to _Tuesday, Aug. 8, 1710_.
Si dixeris "æstuo," sudat.----
JUV., Sat. iii. 103.
_From my own Apartment Aug. 7._
An old acquaintance who met me this morning seemed overjoyed to see
me, and told me, I looked as well as he had known me do these forty
years: but, continued he, "not quite the man you were when we visited
together at Lady Brightly's. Oh, Isaac! those days are over. Do you
think there are any such fine creatures now living as we then conversed
with?" He went on with a thousand incoherent circumstances, which, in
his imagination, must needs please me; but they had the quite contrary
effect. The flattery with which he began, in telling me how well I
wore, was not disagreeable; but his indiscreet mention of a set of
acquaintances we had outlived, recalled ten thousand things to my
memory, which made me reflect upon my present condition with regret.
Had he indeed been so kind as, after a long absence, to felicitate me
upon an indolent and easy old age, and mentioned how much he and I had
to thank for, who at our time of day could walk firmly, eat heartily,
and converse cheerfully, he had kept up my pleasure in myself. But
of all mankind there are none so shocking as these injudicious civil
people. They ordinarily begin upon something that they know must be
a satisfaction; but then, for fear of the imputation of flattery,
they follow it with the last thing in the world of which you would be
reminded. It is this that perplexes civil persons. The reason that
there is such a general outcry amongst us against flatterers, is, that
there are so very few good ones. It is the nicest art in this life,
and is a part of eloquence which does not want the preparation that is
necessary to all other parts of it, that your audience should be your
well-wishers: for praise from an enemy is the most pleasing of all
commendations.
It is generally to be observed, that the person most agreeable to a
man for a constancy is he that has no shining qualities, but is a
certain degree above great imperfections, whom he can live with as
his inferior, and who will either overlook or not observe his little
defects. Such an easy companion as this, either now and then throws
out a little flattery, or lets a man silently flatter himself in his
superiority to him. If you take notice, there is hardly a rich man in
the world who has not such a led friend[35] of small consideration,
who is a darling for his insignificancy. It is a great ease to have
one in our own shape a species below us, and who, without being listed
in our service, is by nature of our retinue. These dependants are of
excellent use on a rainy day, or when a man has not a mind to dress
or to exclude solitude, when one has neither a mind to that or to
company. There are of this good-natured order who are so kind as to
divide themselves, and do these good offices to many. Five or six
of them visit a whole quarter of the town, and exclude the spleen
without fees from the families they frequent. If they do not prescribe
physic, they can be company when you take it. Very great benefactors
to the rich, or those whom they call people at their ease, are your
persons of no consequence. I have known some of them, by the help of a
little cunning, make delicious flatterers. They know the course of the
town and the general characters of persons: by this means they will
sometimes tell the most agreeable falsehoods imaginable. They will
acquaint you, that such a one of a quite contrary party said, that
though you were engaged in different interests, yet he had the greatest
respect for your good sense and address. When one of these has a little
cunning, he passes his time in the utmost satisfaction to himself and
his friends: for his position is never to report or speak a displeasing
thing to his friend. As for letting him go on in an error, he knows
advice against them is the office of persons of greater talents and
less discretion.