not false pretenders; but though none is more pretended to than that
of devotion, there are, perhaps, fewer successful impostors in this
kind than any other. There is something so natively great and good
in a person that is truly devout, that an awkward man may as well
pretend to be genteel, as a hypocrite to be pious. The constraint in
words and actions are equally visible in both cases, and anything set
up in their room does but remove the endeavourers the further off
their pretensions. But however the sense of true piety is abated,
there is no other motive of action that can carry us through all the
vicissitudes of life with alacrity and resolution. But piety, like
philosophy, when it is superficial, does but make men appear the worse
for it; and a principle that is but half received, does but distract,
instead of guiding our behaviour. When I reflect upon the unequal
conduct of Lotius, I see many things that run directly counter to his
interest; therefore I cannot attribute his labours for the public good
to ambition. When I consider his disregard to his fortune, I cannot
esteem him covetous. How then can I reconcile his neglect of himself,
and his zeal for others? I have long suspected him to be a little
pious: but no man ever hid his vice with greater caution than he does
his virtue. It was the praise of a great Roman, that he had rather be,
than appear good. But such is the weakness of Lotius, that I dare say,
he had rather be esteemed irreligious than devout. By I know not what
impatience of raillery he is wonderfully fearful of being thought too
great a believer. A hundred little devices are made use of to hide a
time of private devotion; and he will allow you any suspicion of his
being ill employed, so you do not tax him with being well. But alas!
how mean is such a behaviour? To boast of virtue is a most ridiculous
way of disappointing the merit of it, but not so pitiful as that of
being ashamed of it. How unhappy is the wretch who makes the most
absolute and independent motive of action the cause of perplexity and
inconstancy? How much another figure does Cælicola[44] make with all
who know him? His great and superior mind, frequently exalted by the
raptures of heavenly meditation, is to all his friends of the same use
as if an angel were to appear at the decision of their disputes. They
very well understand he is as much disinterested and unbiassed as such
a being. He considers all applications made to him, as those addresses
will effect his own application to heaven. All his determinations are
delivered with a beautiful humility; and he pronounces his decisions
with the air of one who is more frequently a supplicant than a judge.
Thus humble, and thus great, is the man who is moved by piety, and
exalted by devotion. But behold this recommended by the masterly hand
of a great divine[45] I have heretofore made bold with:
"It is such a pleasure as can never cloy or overwork the mind; a
delight that grows and improves under thought and reflection; and
while it exercises, does also endear itself to the mind. All pleasures
that affect the body must needs weary, because they transport; and
all transportation is a violence; and no violence can be lasting, but
determines upon the falling of the spirits, which are not able to keep
up that height of motion that the pleasure of the senses raises them
to. And therefore how inevitably does an immoderate laughter end in a
sigh, which is only nature's recovering itself after a force done to
it; but the religious pleasure of a well-disposed mind moves gently,
and therefore constantly. It does not effect by rapture and ecstasy,
but is like the pleasure of health, greater and stronger than those
that call up the senses with grosser and more affecting impressions.
No man's body is as strong as his appetites; but Heaven has corrected
the boundlessness of his voluptuous desires by stinting his strengths,
and contracting his capacities.... The pleasure of the religious man
is an easy and a portable pleasure, such a one as he carries about in
his bosom, without alarming either the eye or envy of the world. A man
putting all his pleasure into this one, is like a traveller putting all
his goods into one jewel; the value is the same, and the convenience
greater."
FOOTNOTES:
[44] Possibly John Hughes, author of the "Siege of Damascus," who
contributed to both _Tatler_ and _Spectator_. He died in 1720, aged
forty-seven. In the _Theatre_ (No. 15) Steele said that Hughes's "head,
hand, or heart was always employed in something worthy imitation."
[45] Dr. South (see Nos. 61 and 205).
=No. 212.= [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Aug. 15_, to _Thursday, Aug. 17, 1710_.
_From my own Apartment, Aug. 16._
I have had much importunity to answer the following letter:
* * * * *
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"Reading over a volume of yours, I find the words _simplex munditiis_
mentioned as a description of a very well-dressed woman.[46] I beg
of you, for the sake of the sex, to explain these terms. I cannot
comprehend what my brother means, when he tells me they signify my own
name, which is,
"Sir,
"Your humble Servant,
"PLAIN ENGLISH."
I think the lady's brother has given us a very good idea of that
elegant expression, it being the greatest beauty of speech to be
close and intelligible. To this end nothing is to be more carefully
consulted than plainness. In a lady's attire this is the single
excellence; for to be what some call fine, is the same vice in that
case as to be florid is in writing or speaking. I have studied and
written on this important subject till I almost despair of making a
reformation in the females of this island, where we have more beauty
than in any spot in the universe, if we did not disguise it by false
garniture, and detract from it by impertinent improvements. I have
by me a treatise concerning pinners, which I have some hopes will
contribute to the amendment of the present head-dresses, to which I
have solid and unanswerable objections. But most of the errors in that
and other particulars of adorning the head, are crept into the world
from the ignorance of modern tirewomen; for it is come to that pass,
that an awkward creature in the first year of her apprenticeship, that
can hardly stick a pin, shall take upon her to dress a woman of the
first quality. However, it is certain that there requires in a good
tirewoman a perfect skill in optics; for all the force of ornament is
to contribute to the intention of the eyes. Thus she who has a mind to
look killing, must arm her face accordingly, and not leave her eyes
and cheeks undressed. There is Araminta so sensible of this, that she
never will see even her own husband without a hood[47] on. Can any one
living bear to see Miss Gruel, lean as she is, with her hair tied back
after the modern way? But such is the folly of our ladies, that because
one who is a beauty, out of ostentation of her being such, takes care
to wear something that she knows cannot be of any consequence to her
complexion; I say, our women run on so heedlessly in the fashion,
that though it is the interest of some to hide as much of their faces
as possible, yet because a leading toast appeared with a backward
head-dress, the rest shall follow the mode, without observing that the
author of the fashion assumed it because it could become no one but
herself.
Flavia[48] is ever well dressed, and always the genteelest woman you
meet: but the make of her mind very much contributes to the ornament of
her body. She has the greatest simplicity of manners of any of her sex.
This makes everything look native about her, and her clothes are so
exactly fitted, that they appear as it were part of her person. Every
one that sees her, knows her to be of quality; but her distinction
is owing to her manner, and not to her habit. Her beauty is full of
attraction, but not of allurement. There is such a composure in her
looks, and propriety in her dress, that you would think it impossible
she should change the garb you one day see her in for anything so
becoming, till you next day see her in another. There is no other
mystery in this, but that however she is apparelled, she is herself the
same: for there is so immediate a relation between our thoughts and
gestures, that a woman must think well to look well.
But this weighty subject I must put off for some other matters in which
my correspondents are urgent for answers, which I shall do where I can,
and appeal to the judgment of others where I cannot.
* * * * *
_Aug. 15, 1710_.
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"Taking the air the other day on horseback in the Green Lane that leads
to Southgate, I discovered coming towards me a person well mounted in
a mask; and I accordingly expected, as any one would, to have been
robbed. But when we came up with each other, the spark, to my greater
surprise, very peaceably gave me the way; which made me take courage
enough to ask him, if he masqueraded, or how? He made me no answer,
but still continued _incognito_. This was certainly an ass in a lion's
skin; a harmless bull-beggar,[49] who delights to fright innocent
people, and set them a-galloping. I bethought myself of putting as good
a jest upon him, and had turned my horse, with a design to pursue him
to London, and get him apprehended, on suspicion of being a highwayman:
but when I reflected, that it was the proper office of the magistrate
to punish only knaves, and that we had a censor of Great Britain for
people of another denomination, I immediately determined to prosecute
him in your court only. This unjustifiable frolic I take to be neither
wit nor humour: therefore hope you will do me, and as many others as
were that day frighted, justice. I am,
"Sir,
"Your Friend and Servant,
"J. L."
* * * * *
"SIR,
"The gentleman begs your pardon, and frighted you out of fear of
frightening you; for he is just come out of the smallpox."
* * * * *
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"Your distinction concerning the time of commencing virgins[50] is
allowed to be just. I write you my thanks for it, in the twenty-eighth
year of my life, and twelfth of my virginity. But I am to ask you
another question, May a woman be said to live any more years a maid
than she continues to be courted?
"I am, &c."
* * * * *
_Aug. 15, 1710_.
"SIR,
"I observe that the _Post-Man_ of Saturday last, giving an account of
the action in Spain, has this elegant turn of expression: 'General
Stanhope,[51] who in the whole action expressed as much bravery as
conduct, received a contusion in his right shoulder.' I should be glad
to know, whether this cautious politician means to commend or to rally
him, by saying, 'He expressed as much bravery as conduct'? If you can
explain this dubious phrase, it will inform the public, and oblige,
"Sir,
"Your humble Servant, &c."
FOOTNOTES:
[46] See No. 151.
[47] The _Spectator_ contains accounts of the new-fashioned hoods,
which were made in various tints, especially cherry-colour. In the
reign of King William the ladies wore a high head-dress, as appears
from the following passage in a letter of Swift to Esther Johnson,
dated Nov. 22, 1711: "I dined to-day with Sir Thomas Hanmer, whose
lady, the Duchess of Grafton, wears a great high head-dress, such as
was in fashion fifteen years ago, and looks like a mad woman in it, yet
she has great remains of beauty." In the _Spectator_ (No. 98) Addison
refers to these high head-dresses as in fashion ten years earlier,
_i.e._ about 1701.
[48] This picture of Flavia has been thought to be a representation of
Mrs. Anne Oldfield (see No. 10), of whom Cibber wrote: "Had her birth
placed her in a higher rank of life, she had certainly appeared in
reality what in the character of Lady Betty Modish she only excellently
acted, an agreeable gay woman of quality, a little too conscious of
her natural attractions. I have often seen her in private societies,
where women of the first rank might have borrowed some part of their
behaviour, without the least diminution of their sense of dignity."
From this passage it will be seen that the account of a lady "of
quality," with "the greatest simplicity of manners," can hardly be a
description of Mrs. Oldfield. Moreover, the name "Flavia" occurs in No.
239, by Addison, and it appears that the lady there referred to was
Miss Osborne, who became Atterbury's wife.
[49] Something used to frighten children. _Cf._ Sir T. Smith's
"Appendix to his Life," p. 34: "As children be afraid of bear-bugs and
bull-beggars."
[50] See No. 210
[51] Ibid.
=No. 213.= [STEELE.
From _Thursday, Aug. 17_, to _Saturday, Aug. 19, 1710_.
_Sheer Lane, Aug. 16._
There has of late crept in among the downright English a mighty spirit
of dissimulation. But before we discourse of this vice, it will be
necessary to observe, that the learned make a difference between
simulation and dissimulation.[52] Simulation is a pretence of what
is not, and dissimulation a concealment of what is. The latter is
our present affair. When you look round you in public places in this
island, you see the generality of mankind carry in their countenance
an air of challenge or defiance: and there is no such man to be found
among us who naturally strives to do greater honours and civilities
than he receives. This innate sullenness or stubbornness of complexion
is hardly to be conquered by any of our islanders. For which reason,
however they may pretend to choose one another, they make but very
awkward rogues; and their dislike to each other is seldom so well
dissembled, but it is suspected. When once it is so, it had as good
be professed. A man who dissembles well must have none of what we call
stomach, otherwise he will be cold in his professions of good-will
where he hates; an imperfection of the last ill consequence in
business. This fierceness in our natures is apparent from the conduct
of our young fellows, who are not got into the schemes and arts of life
which the children of this world walk by. One would think that, of
course, when a man of any consequence for his figure, his mien, or his
gravity, passes by a youth, he should certainly have the first advances
of salutation; but he is, you may observe, treated in a quite different
manner, it being the very characteristic of an English temper to defy.
As I am an Englishman, I find it a very hard matter to bring myself
to pull off the hat first; but it is the only way to be upon any good
terms with those we meet with: therefore the first advance is of high
moment. Men judge of others by themselves; and he that will command
with us must condescend. It moves one's spleen very agreeably to see
fellows pretend to be dissemblers without this lesson. They are so
reservedly complaisant till they have learned to resign their natural
passions, that all the steps they make towards gaining those whom they
would be well with, are but so many marks of what they really are, and
not of what they would appear.
The rough Britons, when they pretend to be artful towards one another,
are ridiculous enough; but when they set up for vices they have
not, and dissemble their good with an affectation of ill, they are
insupportable. I know two men in this town who make as good figures
as any in it, that manage their credit so well as to be thought
atheists, and yet say their prayers morning and evening. Tom Springly
the other day pretended to go to an assignation with a married woman
at Rosamond's Pond,[53] and was seen soon after reading the responses
with great gravity at six-of-clock prayers.
_Sheer Lane, Aug. 17._
Though the following epistle bears a just accusation of myself, yet in
regard it is a more advantageous piece of justice to another, I insert
it at large:
* * * * *
_Garraway's Coffee-house,
Aug. 10._
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"I have lately read your paper[54] wherein you represent a conversation
between a young lady, your three nephews, and yourself; and am not
a little offended at the figure you give your young merchant in the
presence of a beauty. The topic of love is a subject on which a man is
more beholden to nature for his eloquence, than to the instruction of
the schools, or my lady's woman. From the two latter, your scholar and
page must have reaped all their advantage above him. I know by this
time you have pronounced me a trader. I acknowledge it, but cannot bear
the exclusion from any pretence of speaking agreeably to a fine woman,
or from any degree of generosity that way. You have among us citizens
many well-wishers, but it is for the justice of your representations,
which we, perhaps, are better judges of than you (by the account you
give of your nephew) seem to allow.
"To give you an opportunity of making us some reparation, I desire
you would tell your own way the following instance of heroic love in
the city. You are to remember, that somewhere in your writings, for
enlarging the territories of virtue and honour, you have multiplied
the opportunities of attaining to heroic virtue, and have hinted, that
in whatever state of life a man is, if he does things above what is
ordinarily performed by men of his rank, he is in those instances a
hero.[55]
"Tom Trueman, a young gentleman of eighteen years of age, fell
passionately in love with the beauteous Almira, daughter to his master.
Her regard for him was no less tender. Trueman was better acquainted
with his master's affairs than his daughter, and secretly lamented
that each day brought him by many miscarriages nearer bankruptcy than
the former. This unhappy posture of their affairs the youth suspected
was owing to the ill management of a factor, in whom his master had
an entire confidence. Trueman took a proper occasion, when his master
was ruminating on his decaying fortune, to address him for leave
to spend the remainder of his time with his foreign correspondent.
During three years' stay in that employment he became acquainted
with all that concerned his master; and by his great address in the
management of that knowledge, saved him ten thousand pounds. Soon after
this accident, Trueman's uncle left him a considerable estate. Upon
receiving that advice, he returned to England, and demanded Almira of
her father. The father, overjoyed at the match, offered him the £10,000
he had saved him, with the further proposal of resigning to him all his
business. Trueman refused both, and retired into the country with his
bride, contented with his own fortune, though perfectly skilled in all
the methods of improving it.
"It is to be noted, that Trueman refused twenty thousand pounds with
another young lady; so that reckoning both his self-denials, he is to
have in your court the merit of having given £30,000 for the woman he
loved. This gentleman I claim your justice to; and hope you will be
convinced, that some of us have larger views than only cash debtor,
_per contra_ creditor.
"Yours,
"RICHARD TRAFFIC."
"_N.B._--Mr. Thomas Trueman of Lime Street is entered among the heroes
of domestic life.
"CHARLES LILLIE."
FOOTNOTES:
[52] Bacon has an essay "Of Simulation and Dissimulation"; and Sallust,
in his character of Catiline ("Bell. Cat." v.), says, "Animus,
subdolus, varius, cujus rei libet simulator ac dissimulator."
[53] See No. 60.
[54] See No. 207.
[55] See the story of Sergeant Hall in No. 87.
=No. 214.= [STEELE.[56]
From _Saturday, Aug. 19_, to _Tuesday, Aug. 22, 1710_.
----Soles et aperta serena
Prospicere, et certis poteris cognoscere signis.
VIRG., Georg. i. 393.
_From my own Apartment, Aug. 21._
In every party there are two sorts of men, the rigid and the supple.
The rigid are an intractable race of mortals, who act upon principle,
and will not, forsooth, fall into any measures that are not consistent
with their received notions of honour. These are persons of a stubborn,
unpliant morality, that sullenly adhere to their friends when they are
disgraced, and to their principles, though they are exploded. I shall
therefore give up this stiff-necked generation to their own obstinacy,
and turn my thoughts to the advantage of the supple, who pay their
homage to places, and not persons; and without enslaving themselves
to any particular scheme of opinions, are as ready to change their
conduct in point of sentiment as of fashion. The well-disciplined part
of a court are generally so perfect at their exercise, that you may see
a whole assembly, from front to rear, face about at once to a new man
of power, though at the same time they turn their backs upon him that
brought them thither. The great hardship these complaisant members of
society are under, seems to be the want of warning upon any approaching
change or revolution; so that they are obliged in a hurry to tack about
with every wind, and stop short in the midst of a full career, to the
great surprise and derision of their beholders.
When a man foresees a decaying ministry, he has leisure to grow a
malcontent, reflect upon the present conduct, and by gradual murmurs
fall off from his friends into a new party, by just steps and measures.
For want of such notices, I have formerly known a very well-bred person
refuse to return a bow of a man whom he thought in disgrace, that was
next day made Secretary of State; and another, who after a long neglect
of a minister, came to his levee, and made professions of zeal for his
service the very day before he was turned out.
This produces also unavoidable confusions and mistakes in the
descriptions of great men's parts and merits. That ancient lyric, Mr.
D'Urfey,[57] some years ago wrote a dedication to a certain lord,
in which he celebrated him for the greatest poet and critic of that
age, upon a misinformation in Dyer's Letter[58], that his noble patron
was made Lord Chamberlain. In short, innumerable votes, speeches, and
sermons have been thrown away, and turned to no account, merely for
want of due and timely intelligence. Nay, it has been known, that a
panegyric has been half printed off, when the poet, upon the removal of
the minister, has been forced to alter it into a satire.
For the conduct therefore of such useful persons as are ready to do
their country service upon all occasions, I have an engine in my
study, which is a sort of a Political Barometer, or, to speak more
intelligibly, a State Weather-Glass, that, by the rising and falling
of a certain magical liquor, presages all changes and revolutions
in government, as the common glass does those of the weather. This
weather-glass is said to have been invented by Cardan,[59] and given by
him as a present to his great countryman and contemporary Machiavel,
which (by the way) may serve to rectify a received error in chronology,
that places one of these some years after the other. How or when it
came into my hands, I shall desire to be excused if I keep to myself;
but so it is, that I have walked by it for the better part of a
century, to my safety at least, if not to my advantage; and have among
my papers, a register of all the changes that happened in it from the
middle of Queen Elizabeth's reign.
In the time of that princess, it stood long at Settled Fair. At the
latter end of King James the First, it fell to Cloudy. It held several
years after at Stormy; insomuch that at last despairing of seeing any
clear weather at home, I followed the royal exile, and some time after
finding my glass rise, returned to my native country with the rest of
the loyalists. I was then in hopes to pass the remainder of my days
in Settled Fair: but alas! during the greatest part of that reign,
the English nation lay in a Dead Calm, which, as it is usual, was
followed by high winds and tempests till of late years: in which, with
unspeakable joy and satisfaction, I have seen our political weather
returned to Settled Fair. I must only observe, that for all this last
summer my glass has pointed at Changeable. Upon the whole, I often
apply to Fortune Æneas's speech to the sybil:
_----Non ulla laborum,
O virgo, nova mi fades inopinave surgit:
Omnia præcepi, atque animo me cum ante peregi._[60]