'Adeste, O quotquot sunt, Veneres, Gratiæ, Cupidines, [1]

En vobis adsunt in promptu

Faces, Vincula, Spicula,

Hinc eligite, sumite, regite.'

I am, Sir,

Your most humble Servant,

_A. B_.

The Proposal of my Correspondent I cannot but look upon as an ingenious

Method of placing Persons (whose Parts make them ambitious to exert

themselves in frivolous things) in a Rank by themselves. In order to

this, I would propose, That there be a Board of Directors of the

fashionable Society; and because it is a Matter of too much Weight for a

private Man to determine alone, I should be highly obliged to my

Correspondents if they would give in Lists of Persons qualify'd for this

Trust. If the chief Coffee-houses, the Conversations of which Places are

carry'd on by Persons, each of whom has his little number of Followers

and Admirers, would name from among themselves two or three to be

inserted, they should be put up with great Faithfulness. Old Beaus are

to be presented in the first place; but as that Sect, with relation to

Dress, is almost extinct, it will, I fear, be absolutely necessary to

take in all Time-Servers, properly so deem'd; that is, such as, without

any Conviction of Conscience or View of Interest, change with the World,

and that merely from a Terror of being out of Fashion. Such also, who

from Facility of Temper, and too much Obsequiousness, are vicious

against their Will, and follow Leaders whom they do not approve, for

Want of Courage to go their own Way, are capable Persons for this

Superintendency. Those who are both to grow old, or would do any thing

contrary to the Course and Order of things, out of Fondness to be in

Fashion, are proper Candidates. To conclude, those who are in Fashion

without apparent Merit, must be supposed to have latent Qualities, which

would appear in a Post of Direction; and therefore are to be regarded in

forming these Lists. Any who shall be pleased, according to these, or

what further Qualifications may occur to himself, to send a List, is

desired to do it within fourteen days after this Date.

N. B. _The Place of the Physician to this Society, according to the last

mentioned Qualification, is already engag'd._

T.

[Footnote 1:

'All ye Venuses, Graces, and Cupids, attend:

See prepared to your hands

Darts, torches, and bands:

Your weapons here choose, and your empire extend.']

* * * * *

No. 479. Tuesday, September 9, 1712. Steele.

'--Dare Jure maritis.'

Hor.

Many are the Epistles I every day receive from Husbands, who complain of

Vanity, Pride, but above all Ill-nature, in their Wives. I cannot tell

how it is, but I think I see in all their Letters that the Cause of

their Uneasiness is in themselves; and indeed I have hardly ever

observed the married Condition unhappy, but from want of Judgment or

Temper in the Man. The truth is, we generally make Love in a Style, and

with Sentiments very unfit for ordinary Life: They are half Theatrical,

half Romantick. By this Means we raise our Imaginations to what is not

to be expected in human Life; and because we did not beforehand think of

the Creature we were enamoured of as subject to Dishumour, Age,

Sickness, Impatience or Sullenness, but altogether considered her as the

Object of Joy, human Nature it self is often imputed to her as her

particular Imperfection or Defect.

I take it to be a Rule proper to be observed in all Occurrences of Life,

but more especially in the domestick or matrimonial Part of it, to

preserve always a Disposition to be pleased. This cannot be supported

but by considering things in their right light, and as Nature has form'd

them, and not as our own Fancies or Appetites would have them. He then

who took a young Lady to his Bed, with no other Consideration than the

Expectation of Scenes of Dalliance, and thought of her (as I said

before) only as she was to administer to the Gratification of Desire; as

that Desire flags, will, without her Fault, think her Charms and her

Merit abated: From hence must follow Indifference, Dislike, Peevishness,

and Rage. But the Man who brings his Reason to support his Passion, and

beholds what he loves as liable to all the Calamities of human Life both

in Body and Mind, and even at the best what must bring upon him new

Cares and new Relations; such a Lover, I say, will form himself

accordingly, and adapt his Mind to the Nature of his Circumstances. This

latter Person will be prepared to be a Father, a Friend, an Advocate, a

Steward for People yet unborn, and has proper Affections ready for every

Incident in the Marriage State. Such a Man can hear the Cries of

Children with Pity instead of Anger; and when they run over his Head, he

is not disturb'd at their Noise, but is glad of their Mirth and Health.

_Tom Trusty_ has told me, that he thinks it doubles his Attention to the

most intricate Affair he is about, to hear his Children, for whom all

his Cares are applied, make a Noise in the next Room: On the other side

_Will Sparkish_ cannot put on his Perriwig, or adjust his Cravat at the

Glass, for the Noise of those damned Nurses and [squaling [1] Brats; and

then ends with a gallant Reflection upon the Comforts of Matrimony, runs

out of the Hearing, and drives to the Chocolate-house.

According as the Husband is dispos'd in himself, every Circumstance of

his Life is to give him Torment or Pleasure. When the Affection is

well-placed, and supported by the Considerations of Duty, Honour, and

Friendship, which are in the highest Degree engaged in this Alliance,

there can nothing rise in the common Course of Life, or from the Blows

or Favours of Fortune, in which a Man will not find Matters of some

Delight unknown to a single Condition.

He who sincerely loves his Wife and Family, and studies to improve that

Affection in himself, conceives Pleasure from the most indifferent

things; while the married Man, who has not bid adieu to the Fashions and

false Gallantries of the Town, is perplexed with every thing around him.

In both these Cases Men cannot, indeed, make a sillier Figure, than in

repeating such Pleasures and Pains to the rest of the World; but I speak

of them only, as they sit upon those who are involved in them. As I

visit all sorts of People, I cannot indeed but smile, when the good Lady

tells her Husband what extraordinary things the Child spoke since he

went out. No longer than yesterday I was prevail'd with to go home with

a fond Husband: and his Wife told him, that his Son, of his own head,

when the Clock in the Parlour struck two, said, Pappa would come home to

Dinner presently. While the Father has him in a rapture in his Arms, and

is drowning him with Kisses, the Wife tells me he is but just four Years

old. Then they both struggle for him, and bring him up to me, and repeat

his Observation of two a-Clock. I was called upon, by Looks upon the

Child, and then at me, to say something; and I told the Father, that

this Remark of the Infant of his coming home, and joining the Time with

it, was a certain Indication that he would be a great Historian and

Chronologer. They are neither of them Fools, yet received my Compliment

with great Acknowledgment of my Prescience. I fared very well at Dinner,

and heard many other notable Sayings of their Heir, which would have

given very little Entertainment to one less turned to Reflection than I

was; but it was a pleasing Speculation to remark on the Happiness of a

Life, in which things of no Moment give Occasion of Hope,

Self-Satisfaction, and Triumph. On the other Hand, I have known an

ill-natur'd Coxcomb, who was hardly improved in any thing but Bulk, for

want of this Disposition, silence the whole Family, as a Set of silly

Women and Children, for recounting things which were really above his

own Capacity.

When I say all this, I cannot deny but there are perverse Jades that

fall to Mens Lots, with whom it requires more than common Proficiency in

Philosophy to be able to live. When these are joined to Men of warm

Spirits, without Temper or Learning, they are frequently corrected with

Stripes; but one of our famous Lawyers is of Opinion, That this ought to

be used sparingly. As I remember, those are his very Words; [1] but as

it is proper to draw some spiritual Use out of all Afflictions, I should

rather recommend to those who are visited with Women of Spirit, to form

themselves for the World by Patience at home. _Socrates_, who is by all

Accounts the undoubted Head of the Sect of the Hen-peck'd, own'd and

acknowledged that he ow'd great part of his Virtue to the Exercise which

his useful Wife constantly gave it. There are several good Instructions

may be drawn from his wise Answers to People of less Fortitude than

himself on her Subject. A Friend, with Indignation, asked how so good a

Man could live with so violent a Creature? He observ'd to him, _That

they who learn to keep a good Seat on horseback, mount the least

managable they can get, and when they have master'd them, they are sure

never to be discomposed on the Backs of Steeds less restive._ [2] At

several times, to different Persons, on the same Subject, he has said,

_My dear Friend, you are beholden to_ Xantippe, _that I bear so well

your flying out in a Dispute._ To another, _My Hen clacks very much, but

she brings me Chickens. They that live in a trading Street, are not

disturbed at the Passage of Carts._ I would have, if possible, a wise

Man be contented with his Lot, even with a Shrew; for tho' he cannot

make her better, he may, you see, make himself better by her means.

But instead of pursuing my Design of Displaying Conjugal Love in its

natural Beauties and Attractions, I am got into Tales to the

disadvantage of that State of Life. I must say, therefore, that I am

verily persuaded that whatever is delightful in human Life, is to be

enjoy'd in greater Perfection in the marry'd, than in the single

Condition. He that has this Passion in Perfection, in Occasions of Joy

can say to himself, besides his own Satisfaction, _How happy will this

make my Wife and Children?_ Upon Occurrences of Distress or Danger can

comfort himself, _But, all this while my Wife and Children are safe_.

There is something in it that doubles Satisfactions, because others

participate them; and dispels Afflictions, because others are exempt

from them. All who are marry'd without this Relish of their

Circumstance, are in either a tasteless Indolence and Negligence, which

is hardly to be attain'd, or else live in the hourly Repetition of sharp

Answers, eager Upbraidings, and distracting Reproaches. In a word the

married State, with and without the Affection suitable to it, is the

compleatest Image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in this

Life.

T.

[Footnote 1: [squalwing]]

[Footnote 2: Henry de Bracton in his treatise of live books 'de Legibus

et Dounsuetudinibus Anglia', written about the middle of the thirteen

centry, says (Bk. I. ch. x.)

'quædam sunt sub virga, ut uxores, &c.'

but qualifies private right with the secondary claim of the community.]

[Footnote 3: Xenophon's Symposium, Bk. II.]

* * * * *

No, 480. Wednesday, September 10, 1712. Steele.

'Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores,

Fortis, et in seipso totus teres, atque rotundus.'

Hor.

The other Day looking over those old Manuscripts, of which I have

formerly given some Account, and which relate to the Character of the

mighty _Pharamond_ of _France_, and the close Friendship between him and

his Friend _Eucrate;_ [1] I found, among the Letters which had been in

the custody of the latter, an Epistle from a Country Gentleman to

_Pharamond_, wherein he excuses himself from coming to Court. The

Gentleman, it seems, was contented with his Condition, had formerly been

in the King's Service, but at the writing the following Letter, had,

from Leisure and Reflection, quite another Sense of things than that

which he had in the more active Part of his Life.

_Monsieur_ Chezluy _to_ Pharamond.

_Dread Sir_,

'I have from your own Hand (enclosed under the Cover of Mr. _Eucrate_

of your Majesty's Bed-Chamber) a Letter which invites me to Court. I

understand this great Honour to be done me out of Respect and

Inclination to me, rather than Regard to your own Service: For which

Reason I beg leave to lay before your Majesty my Reasons for declining

to depart from Home; and will not doubt but, as your Motive in

desiring my Attendance was to make me an happier Man, when you think

that will not be effected by my Remove, you will permit me to stay

where I am. Those who have an Ambition to appear in Courts, have ever

an Opinion that their Persons or their Talents are particularly formed

for the Service or Ornament of that Place; or else are hurried by

downright Desire of Gain, or what they call Honour, or take upon

themselves whatever the Generosity of their Master can give them

Opportunities to grasp at. But your Goodness shall not be thus imposed

upon by me: I will therefore confess to you, that frequent Solitude,

and long Conversation with such who know no Arts which polish Life,

have made me the plainest Creature in your Dominions. Those less

Capacities of moving with a good Grace, bearing a ready Affability to

all around me, and acting with ease before many, have quite left me. I

am come to that, with regard to my Person, that I consider it only as

a Machine I am obliged to take Care of, in order to enjoy my Soul in

its Faculties with Alacrity; well remembering, that this Habitation of

Clay will in a few years be a meaner Piece of Earth than any Utensil

about my House. When this is, as it really is, the most frequent

Reflection I have, you will easily imagine how well I should become a

Drawing-Room: Add to this, What shall a Man without Desires do about

the generous _Pharamond?_ Monsieur _Eucrate_ has hinted to me, that

you have thoughts of distinguishing me with Titles. As for my self, in

the Temper of my present Mind, Appellations of Honour would but

embarrass Discourse, and new Behaviour towards me perplex me in every

Habitude of Life. I am also to acknowledge to you, that my Children,

of whom your Majesty condescended to enquire, are all of them mean,

both in their Persons and Genius. The Estate my eldest Son is Heir to,

is more than he can enjoy with a good Grace. My Self-love will not

carry me so far, as to impose upon Mankind the Advancement of Persons

(merely for their being related to me) into high Distinctions, who

ought for their own Sakes, as well as that of the Publick, to affect

Obscurity. I wish, my generous Prince, as it is in your power to give

Honours and Offices, it were also to give Talents suitable to them:

Were it so, the noble _Pharamond_ would reward the Zeal of my Youth

with Abilities to do him Service in my Age.

'Those who accept of Favour without Merit, support themselves in it at

the Expence of your Majesty. Give me Leave to tell you, Sir, this is

the Reason that we in the Country hear so often repeated the Word

_Prerogative_. That Part of your Law which is reserved in your self

for the readier Service and Good of the Publick, slight Men are

eternally buzzing in our Ears to cover their own Follies and

Miscarriages. It would be an Addition to the high Favour you have done

me, if you would let _Eucrate_ send me word how often, and in what

Cases you allow a Constable to insist upon the Prerogative. From the

highest to the lowest Officer in your Dominions, something of their

own Carriage they would exempt from Examination under the Shelter of

the Word _Prerogative_. I would fain, most noble _Pharamond_, see one

of your Officers assert your Prerogative by good and gracious Actions.

When is it used to help the Afflicted, to rescue the Innocent, to

comfort the Stranger? Uncommon Methods, apparently undertaken to

attain worthy Ends, would never make Power invidious. You see, Sir, I

talk to you with the Freedom your noble Nature approves, in all whom

you admit to your Conversation.

'But, to return to your Majesty's Letter, I humbly conceive, that all

Distinctions are useful to Men, only as they are to act in Publick;

and it would be a romantick Madness, for a Man to be a Lord in his

Closet. Nothing can be honourable to a Man apart from the World, but

the Reflection upon worthy Actions; and he that places Honour in a

Consciousness of Well-doing, will have but little Relish for any

outward Homage that is paid him, since what gives him distinction to

himself, cannot come within the Observation of his Beholders. Thus all

the Words of Lordship, Honour, and Grace, are only Repetitions to a

Man that the King has order'd him to be called so; but no Evidences

that there is any thing in himself that would give the Man who applies

to him those Ideas, without the Creation of his Master.

'I have, most noble _Pharamond_, all Honours and all Titles in your

own Approbation; I triumph in them as they are your Gift, I refuse

them as they are to give me the Observation of others. Indulge me, my

Noble Master, in this Chastity of Renown; let me know my self in the

Favour of _Pharamond;_ and look down upon the Applause of the People.

I am,

in all Duty and Loyally,

Your Majesty's most obedient

Subject and Servant,

Jean Chezluy.

_SIR_,

'I need not tell you with what Disadvantages Men of low Fortunes and

great Modesty come into the World; what wrong Measures their

Diffidence of themselves, and Fear of offending, often obliges them to

take; and what a Pity it is that their greatest Virtues and Qualities,

that should soonest recommend them, are the main Obstacle in the way

of their Preferment.

'This, Sir, is my Case; I was bred at a Country-School, where I

learned _Latin_ and _Greek_. The Misfortunes of my Family forced me up

to Town, where a Profession of the politer sort has protected me

against Infamy and Want. I am now Clerk to a Lawyer, and, in times of

Vacancy and Recess from Business, have made my self Master of

_Italian_ and _French;_ and tho' the Progress I have made in my

Business has gain'd me Reputation enough for one of my standing, yet

my Mind suggests to me every day, that it is not upon that Foundation

I am to build my Fortune.

'The Person I have my present Dependance upon, has it in his Nature,

as well as in his Power, to advance me, by recommending me to a

Gentleman that is going beyond Sea in a publick Employment. I know the

printing this Letter would point me out to those I want Confidence to

speak to, and I hope it is not in your Power to refuse making any Body

happy.

_September_ 9, 1712.

_Yours_, &c.

M. D. [2]

T.

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 76, 84, 97.]

[Footnote 2: Mr. Robert Harper, who died an eminent conveyancer of

Lincoln's Inn. He sent his letter on the 9th of August, and it appeared

September the 10th with omissions and alterations by Steele.]

* * * * *

No. 481. Thursday, September 11, 1712. Addison.

'--Uti non

Compositus melius cum Bitho Bacchius, in jus

Acres procurrunt--'

Hor.

It is [something [1]] pleasant enough to consider the different Notions,

which different Persons have of the same thing. If Men of low Condition

very often set a Value on Things, which are not prized by those who are

in an higher Station of Life, there are many things these esteem which

are in no Value among Persons of an inferior Rank. Common People are, in

particular, very much astonished, when they hear of those solemn

Contests and Debates, which are made among the Great upon the

Punctilio's of a publick Ceremony, and wonder to hear that any Business

of Consequence should be retarded by those little Circumstances, which

they represent to themselves as trifling and insignificant. I am

mightily pleased with a Porter's Decision in one of Mr. _Southern's_

Plays, [2] which is founded upon that fine Distress of a Virtuous

Woman's marrying a second Husband, while her first was yet living. The

first Husband, who was suppos'd to have been dead, returning to his

House after a long Absence, raises a noble Perplexity for the Tragick

Part of the Play. In the mean while, the Nurse and the Porter conferring

upon the Difficulties that would ensue in such a Case, honest _Sampson_

thinks the matter may be easily decided, and solves it very judiciously,

by the old Proverb, that if his first Master be still living, _The Man

must have his Mare again_. There is nothing in my time which has so much

surprized and confounded the greatest part of my honest Countrymen, as

the present Controversy between Count _Rechteren_ and Monsieur

_Mesnager_, which employs the wise Heads of so many Nations, and holds

all the Affairs of _Europe_ in suspence. [3]

Upon my going into a Coffee-house yesterday, and lending an ear to the

next Table, which was encompassed with a Circle of inferior Politicians,

one of them, after having read over the News very attentively, broke out

into the following Remarks. I am afraid, says he, this unhappy Rupture

between the Footmen at _Utrecht_ will retard the Peace of Christendom. I

wish the Pope may not be at the Bottom of it. His Holiness has a very

good hand at fomenting a Division, as the poor _Suisse Cantons_ have

lately experienced to their Cost. If Mo[u]nsieur [4]

_What-d'ye-call-him's_ Domesticks will not come to an Accommodation, I

do not know how the Quarrel can be ended, but by a Religious War.

Why truly, says a _Wiseacre_ that sat by him, were I as the King of

_France_, I would scorn to take part with the Footmen of either side:

Here's all the Business of _Europe_ stands still, because Mo[u]nsieur

_Mesnager's_ Man has had his Head broke. If Count _Rectrum_ had given

them a Pot of Ale after it, all would have been well, without any of

this Bustle; but they say he's a warm Man, and does not care to be made

Mouths at.

Upon this, one, that had held his Tongue hitherto, [began [5]] to exert

himself; declaring, that he was very well pleased the Plenipotentiaries

of our Christian Princes took this matter into their serious

Consideration; for that Lacqueys were never so saucy and pragmatical, as

they are now-a-days, and that he should be glad to see them taken down

in the Treaty of Peace, if it might be done without prejudice to [the]

Publick Affairs.

One who sat at the other End of the Table, and seemed to be in the

Interests of the _French_ King, told them, that they did not take the

matter right, for that his most Christian Majesty did not resent this

matter because it was an Injury done to Monsieur _Mesnager's_ Footmen;

for, says he, what are Monsieur _Mesnager's_ Footmen to him? but because

it was done to his Subjects. Now, says he, let me tell you, it would

look very odd for a Subject of _France_ to have a bloody Nose, and his

Sovereign not to take Notice of it. He is obliged in Honour to defend

his People against Hostilities; and if the _Dutch_ will be so insolent

to a Crowned Head, as, in any wise, to cuff or kick those who are under

_His_ Protection, I think he is in the right to call them to an Account

for it.

This Distinction set the Controversy upon a new Foot, and seemed to be

very well approved by most that heard it, till a little warm Fellow, who

declared himself a Friend to the House of _Austria_, fell most

unmercifully upon his _Gallick_ Majesty, as encouraging his Subjects to

make Mouths at their Betters, and afterwards screening them from the

Punishment that was due to their Insolence. To which he added that the

_French_ Nation was so addicted to Grimace, that if there was not a Stop

put to it at the General Congress, there would be no walking the Streets

for them in a time of Peace, especially if they continued Masters of the

_West-Indies_. The little Man proceeded with a great deal of warmth,

declaring that if the Allies were of his Mind, he would oblige the

_French_ King to burn his Gallies, and tolerate the Protestant Religion

in his Dominions, before he would Sheath his Sword. He concluded with

calling Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ an Insignificant Prig.

The Dispute was now growing very Warm, and one does not know where it

would have ended, had not a young Man of about One and Twenty, who seems

to have been brought up with an Eye to the Law, taken the Debate into

his Hand, and given it as his Opinion, that neither Count _Rechteren_

nor Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ had behaved themselves right in this Affair.

Count _Rechteren_, says he, should have made Affidavit that his Servants

had been affronted, and then Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_ would have done him

Justice, by taking away their Liveries from 'em, or some other way that

he might have thought the most proper; for let me tell you, if a Man

makes a Mouth at me, I am not to knock the Teeth out of it for his

Pains. Then again, as for Mo[u]nsieur _Mesnager_, upon his Servants

being beaten, why! he might have had his Action of Assault and Battery.

But as the case now stands, if you will have my Opinion, I think they

ought to bring it to Referees.

I heard a great deal more of this Conference, but I must confess with

little Edification; for all I could learn at last from these honest

Gentlemen, was, that the matter in Debate was of too high a Nature for

such Heads as theirs, or mine, to Comprehend.

O.

[Footnote 1: [sometimes]]

[Footnote 2: The Fatal Marriage, or the Innocent Adultery.]

[Footnote 3: The negotiations for Peace which were going on at Utrecht

had been checked by the complaint of Count Rechteren, deputy for the

Province of Overyssel. On the 24th of July the French, under Marshal

Villars, had obtained a great victory at Denain, capturing the Earl of

Albemarle, the Princes of Anhalt, of Holstein, Nassau Seeken, and 2500

men, under the eyes of Prince Eugene, who was stopped at the bridge of

Prouy on his way to rescue and entreated by the deputies of the

States-general to retire. The allies lost a thousand killed and fifteen

hundred drowned; the French only five hundred, and sixty flags were sent

as trophies to Versailles. The insecure position taken by the Earl of

Albemarle had been forced on Prince Eugene by the Dutch deputies, who

found the arrangement cheapest. 'Tell me,' he said, 'of the conquests of

Alexander. He had no Dutch deputies in his army.' Count Rechteren,

deputy for Overyssel, complained that, a few days after this battle,

when he was riding in his carriage by the gate of M. Ménager, the French

Plenipotentiary, that gentleman's lackeys insulted his lackeys with

grimaces and indecent gestures. He sent his secretary to complain to M.

Ménager, demand satisfaction, and say that if it were not given, he

should take it. Ménager replied, in writing, that although this was but

an affair between lackeys, he was far from approving ill behaviour in

his servants towards other servants, particularly towards servants of

Count Rechteren, and he was ready to send to the Count those lackeys

whom he had seen misbehaving, or even those whom his other servants

should point out as guilty of the offensive conduct. Rechteren, when the

answer arrived, was gone to the Hague, and it was forwarded to his

colleague, M. Moërman. Upon his return to Utrecht, Rechteren sent his

secretary again to Ménager, with the complaint as before, and received

the answer as before. He admitted that he had not himself seen the

grimaces and insulting gestures, but he ought, he said, to be at liberty

to send his servants into Ménager's house for the detection of the

offenders. A few days afterwards Ménager and Rechteren were on the chief

promenade of Utrecht, with others who were Plenipotentiaries of the

United Provinces, and after exchange of civilities, Rechteren said that

he was still awaiting satisfaction. Ménager replied as before, and said

that his lackeys all denied the charge against them. Ménager refused

also to allow the accusers of his servants to come into his house and be

their judges. Rechteren said he would have justice yet upon master and

men. He was invested with a sovereign power as well as Ménager. He was

not a man to take insults. He spoke some words in Dutch to his

attendants, and presently Ménager's lackeys came with complaint that the

lackeys of Rechteren tripped them up behind, threw them upon their

faces, and threatened them with knives. Rechteren told the French

Plenipotentiary that he would pay them for doing that, and discharge

them if they did not do it. Rechteren's colleagues did what they could

to cover or excuse his folly, and begged that the matter might not

appear in a despatch to France or be represented to the States-general,

but be left to the arbitration of the English Plenipotentiaries. This

the French assented to, but they now demanded satisfaction against

Rechteren, and refused to accept the excuse made for him, that he was

drunk. He might, under other circumstances, says M. Torcy, the French

minister of the time, in his account of the Peace Negociations, have

dismissed the petty quarrel of servants by accepting such an excuse but,

says M. de Torcy, 'it was desirable to retard the Conferences, and this

dispute gave a plausible reason.' Therefore until the King of France and

Bolingbroke had come to a complete understanding, the King of France

ordered his three Plenipotentiaries to keep the States-general busy,

with the task of making it clear to his French Majesty whether

Rechteren's violence was sanctioned by them, or whether he had acted

under private passion, excited by the Ministers of the House of Austria.

Then they must further assent to a prescribed form of disavowal, and

deprive Rechteren of his place as a deputy. This was the high policy of

the affair of the lackeys, which, as Addison says, held all the affairs

of Europe in suspense, a policy avowed with all complacency by the high

politician who was puller of the strings. (Memoires de Torcy, Vol. iii.

pp. 411-13.)

[Footnote 4: It is Monsieur in the first issue and also in the first

reprint.]

[Footnote 5: [begun]]

* * * * *

No. 482. Friday, September 12, 1712. Addison.

'Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant.'

Lucr.

When I have published any single Paper that falls in with the Popular

Taste, and pleases more than ordinary, it always brings me in a great

return of Letters. My _Tuesday's_ Discourse, wherein I gave several

Admonitions to the Fraternity of the _Henpeck'd_, has already produced

me very many Correspondents; the Reason I cannot guess at, unless it be

that such a Discourse is of general Use, and every married Man's Money.

An honest Tradesman, who dates his Letter from _Cheapside_, sends me

Thanks in the name of a Club, who, he tells me, meet as often as their

Wives will give them leave, and stay together till they are sent for

home. He informs me, that my Paper has administered great Consolation to

their whole Club, and desires me to give some further Account of

_Socrates_, and to acquaint them in whose Reign he lived, whether he was

a Citizen or a Courtier, whether he buried _Xantippe_, with many other

particulars: For that by his Sayings he appears to have been a very Wise

Man and a good Christian. Another, who writes himself _Benjamin Bamboo_,

tells me, that being coupled with a Shrew, he had endeavoured to tame

her by such lawful means as those which I mentioned in my last

_Tuesday's_ Paper, and that in his Wrath he had often gone further than

_Bracton_ allows in those cases; but that for the future he was resolved

to bear it like a Man of Temper and Learning, and consider her only as

one who lives in his House to teach him Philosophy. _Tom Dapperwit_

says, that he agrees with me in that whole Discourse, excepting only the

last Sentence, where I affirm the married State to be either an Heaven

or an Hell. _Tom_ has been at the charge of a Penny upon this occasion,

to tell me, that by his Experience it is neither one nor the other, but

rather that middle kind of State, commonly known by the Name of

_Purgatory_.

The Fair Sex have likewise obliged me with their Reflections upon the

same Discourse. A Lady, who calls herself _Euterpe_, and seems a Woman

of Letters, asks me whether I am for establishing the _Salick_ Law in

every Family, and why it is not fit that a Woman who has Discretion and

Learning should sit at the Helm, when the Husband is weak and

illiterate? Another, of a quite contrary Character, subscribes herself

_Xantippe_, and tells me, that she follows the Example of her Name-sake;

for being married to a Bookish Man, who has no Knowledge of the World,

she is forced to take their Affairs into her own Hands, and to spirit

him up now and then, that he may not grow musty, and unfit for

Conversation.

After this Abridgment of some Letters which are come to my hands upon

this Occasion, I shall publish one of them at large.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

You have given us a lively Picture of that kind of Husband who comes

under the Denomination of the Hen-peck'd; but I do not remember that

you have ever touched upon one that is of the quite different

Character, and who, in several Places of _England_, goes by the Name

of a Cot-Quean. I have the Misfortune to be joined for Life with one

of this Character, who in reality is more a Woman than [I am. [1]] He

was bred up under the Tuition of a tender Mother, till she had made

him as good a House-wife as her self. He could preserve Apricots, and

make Gellies, before he had been two Years out of the Nursery. He was

never suffered to go abroad, for fear of catching Cold: when he should

have been hunting down a Buck, he was by his Mother's Side learning

how to Season it, or put it in Crust; and was making Paper-Boats with

his Sisters, at an Age when other young Gentlemen are crossing the

Seas, or travelling into Foreign Countries. He has the whitest Hand

that you ever saw in your Life, and raises Paste better than any Woman

in _England_. These Qualifications make him a sad Husband: He is

perpetually in the Kitchin, and has a thousand Squabbles with the

Cook-maid. He is better acquainted with the Milk-Score, than his

Steward's Accounts. I fret to Death when I hear him find fault with a

Dish that is not dressed to his liking, and instructing his Friends

that dine with him in the best Pickle for a Walnut, or Sauce for an

Haunch of Venison. With all this, he is a very good-natured Husband,

and never fell out with me in his Life but once, upon the

over-roasting of a Dish of Wild-Fowl: At the same time I must own I

would rather he was a Man of a rough Temper, that would treat me

harshly sometimes, than of such an effeminate busy Nature in a

Province that does not belong to him. Since you have given us the

Character of a Wife who wears the Breeches, pray say something of a

Husband that wears the Petticoat. Why should not a Female Character be

as ridiculous in a Man, as a Male Character in one of our Sex?

_I am_, &c.

O.

[Footnote 1: [my self.]]

* * * * *

No. 483. Saturday, September 13, 1712. Addison.

'Nec Deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus

Inciderit--'

Hor.

We cannot be guilty of a greater Act of Uncharitableness, than to

interpret the Afflictions which befal our Neighbours, as _Punishments_

and _Judgments_. It aggravates the Evil to him who suffers, when he

looks upon himself as the Mark of Divine Vengeance, and abates the

Compassion of those towards him, who regard him in so dreadful a Light.

This Humour of turning every Misfortune into a Judgment, proceeds from

wrong Notions of Religion, which, in its own nature, produces Goodwill

towards Men, and puts the mildest Construction upon every Accident that

befalls them. In this case, therefore, it is not Religion that sours a

Man's Temper, but it is his Temper that sours his Religion: People of

gloomy unchearful Imaginations, or of envious malignant Tempers,

whatever kind of Life they are engaged in, will discover their natural

Tincture of Mind in all their Thoughts, Words, and Actions. As the

finest Wines have often the Taste of the Soil, so even the most

religious Thoughts often draw something that is particular from the

Constitution of the Mind in which they arise. When Folly or Superstition

strike in with this natural Depravity of Temper, it is not in the power,

even of Religion it self, to preserve the Character of the Person who is

possessed with it, from appearing highly absurd and ridiculous.

An old Maiden Gentlewoman, whom I shall conceal under the Name of

_Nemesis_, is the greatest Discoverer of Judgments that I have met with.

She can tell you what Sin it was that set such a Man's House on fire, or

blew down his Barns. Talk to her of an unfortunate young Lady that lost

her Beauty by the Small-Pox, she fetches a deep Sigh, and tells you,

that when she had a fine Face she was always looking on it in her Glass.

Tell her of a Piece of good Fortune that has befallen one of her

Acquaintance; and she wishes it may prosper with her, but her Mother

used one of her Nieces very barbarously. Her usual Remarks turn upon

People who had great Estates, but never enjoyed them, by reason of some

Flaw in their own, or their Father's Behaviour. She can give you the

Reason why such a one died Childless: Why such an one was cut off in the

Flower of his Youth: Why such an one was Unhappy in her Marriage: Why

one broke his Leg on such a particular Spot of Ground, and why another

was killed with a Back-Sword, rather than with any other kind of Weapon.

She has a Crime for every Misfortune that can befal any of her

Acquaintance, and when she hears of a Robbery that has been made, or a

Murder that has been committed, enlarges more on the Guilt of the

suffering Person, than on that of the Thief, or the Assassin. In short,

she is so good a Christian, that whatever happens to her self is a

Tryal, and whatever happens to her Neighbours is a Judgment.

The very Description of this Folly, in ordinary Life, is sufficient to

expose it; but when it appears in a Pomp and Dignity of Style, it is

very apt to amuse and terrify the Mind of the Reader. _Herodotus_ and

_Plutarch_ very often apply their Judgments as impertinently as the old

Woman I have before mentioned, though their manner of relating them,

makes the Folly it self appear venerable. Indeed, most Historians, as

well Christian as Pagan, have fallen into this idle Superstition, and

spoken of ill [Success, [1]] unforeseen Disasters, and terrible Events,

as if they had been let into the Secrets of Providence, and made

acquainted with that private Conduct by which the World is governed. One

would think several of our own Historians in particular had many

Revelations of this kind made to them. Our old _English_ Monks seldom

let any of their Kings depart in Peace, who had endeavoured to diminish

the Power or Wealth of which the Ecclesiasticks were in those times

possessed. _William the Conqueror's_ Race generally found their

Judgments in the _New Forest_, where their Father had pulled down

Churches and Monasteries. In short, read one of the Chronicles written

by an Author of this frame of Mind, and you would think you were reading

an History of the Kings of _Israel_ or _Judah_, where the Historians

were actually inspired, and where, by a particular Scheme of Providence,

the Kings were distinguished by Judgments or Blessings, according as

they promoted Idolatry or the Worship of the true God.

I cannot but look upon this manner of judging upon Misfortunes, not only

to be very uncharitable, in regard to the Person whom they befall, but

very presumptuous in regard to him who is supposed to inflict them. It

is a strong Argument for a State of Retribution hereafter, that in this

World virtuous Persons are very often unfortunate, and vicious Persons

prosperous; which is wholly repugnant to the Nature of a Being who

appears infinitely wise and good in all his Works, unless we may suppose

that such a promiscuous and undistinguishing Distribution of Good and

Evil, which was necessary for carrying on the Designs of Providence in

this Life, will be rectified and made amends for in another. We are not

therefore to expect that Fire should fall from Heaven in the ordinary

Course of Providence; nor when we see triumphant Guilt or depressed

Virtue in particular Persons, that Omnipotence will make bare its holy

Arm in the Defence of the one, or Punishment of the other. It is

sufficient that there is a Day set apart for the hearing and requiting

of both according to their respective Merits.

The Folly of ascribing Temporal Judgments to any particular Crimes, may

appear from several Considerations. I shall only mention two: First,

That, generally speaking, there is no Calamity or Affliction, which is

supposed to have happened as a Judgment to a vicious Man, which does not

sometimes happen to Men of approved Religion and Virtue. When _Diagoras_

the Atheist [2] was on board one of the _Athenian_ Ships, there arose a

very violent Tempest; upon which the Mariners told him, that it was a

just Judgment upon them for having taken so impious a Man on board.

_Diagoras_ begged them to look upon the rest of the Ships that were in

the same Distress, and ask'd them whether or no _Diagoras_ was on board

every Vessel in the Fleet. We are all involved in the same Calamities,

and subject to the same Accidents: and when we see any one of the

Species under any particular Oppression, we should look upon it as

arising from the common Lot of human Nature, rather than from the Guilt

of the Person who suffers.

Another Consideration, that may check our Presumption in putting such a

Construction upon a Misfortune, is this, That it is impossible for us to

know what are Calamities, and what are Blessings. How many Accidents

have pass'd for Misfortunes, which have turned to the Welfare and

Prosperity of the Persons in whose Lot they have fallen? How many

Disappointments have, in their Consequences, saved a man from Ruin? If

we could look into the Effects of every thing, we might be allowed to

pronounce boldly upon Blessings and Judgments; but for a Man to give his

Opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its Beginnings, is an

unjustifiable Piece of Rashness and Folly. The Story of _Biton_ and

_Clitobus_, which was in great Reputation among the Heathens, (for we

see it quoted by all the ancient Authors, both _Greek_ and _Latin_, who

have written upon the Immortality of the Soul,) may teach us a Caution

in this Matter. These two Brothers, being the Sons of a Lady who was

Priestess to _Juno_, drew their Mother's Chariot to the Temple at the

time of a great Solemnity, the Persons being absent who by their Office

were to have drawn her Chariot on that Occasion. The Mother was so

transported with this Instance of filial Duty, that she petition'd her

Goddess to bestow upon them the greatest Gift that could be given to

Men; upon which they were both cast into a deep Sleep, and the next

Morning found dead in the Temple. This was such an Event, as would have

been construed into a Judgment, had it happen'd to the two Brothers

after an Act of Disobedience, and would doubtless have been represented

as such by any Ancient Historian who had given us an Account of it.

O.

[Footnote 1: [Successes,]]

[Footnote 2: Diagoras the Melian, having attacked the popular religion

and the Eleusinian mysteries, had a price set on his head, and left

Athens B.C. 411. The Athenians called him Atheist, and destroyed his

writings. The story in the text is from the third book of Cicero 'de

Natura Deorum.']

* * * * *

No. 484. Monday, September 15, 1712. Steele.

'Neque cuiquam tam statim clarum ingenium est, ut possit emergere;

nisi illi materia, occasio, fautor etiam, commendatorque contingat.'

Plin. Epist.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

Of all the young Fellows who are in their Progress thro' any

Profession, none seem to have so good a Title to the Protection of the

Men of Eminence in it as the modest Man; not so much because his

Modesty is a certain Indication of his Merit, as because 'tis a

certain Obstacle to the producing of it. Now, as of all Professions

this Virtue is thought to be more particularly unnecessary in that of

the Law than in any other, I shall only apply my self to the Relief of

such who follow this Profession with this Disadvantage. What

aggravates the matter is, that those Persons who, the better to

prepare themselves for this Study, have made some Progress in others,

have, by addicting themselves to Letters, encreased their natural

Modesty, and consequently heighten'd the Obstruction to this sort of

Preferment; so that every one of these may emphatically be said to be

such a one as _laboureth and taketh pains, and is still the more

behind_. It may be a Matter worth discussing then, Why that which made

a Youth so amiable to the Ancients, should make him appear so

ridiculous to the Moderns? and, Why in our days there should be

Neglect, and even Oppression of young Beginners, instead of that

Protection which was the Pride of theirs? In the Profession spoken of,

'tis obvious to every one whose Attendance is required at

_Westminster-Hall_, with what Difficulty a Youth of any Modesty has

been permitted to make an Observation, that could in no wise detract

from the Merit of his Elders, and is absolutely necessary for the

advancing his own. I have often seen one of these not only molested in

his Utterance of something very pertinent, but even plunder'd of his

Question, and by a strong Serjeant shoulder'd out of his Rank, which

he has recover'd with much Difficulty and Confusion. Now as great part

of the Business of this Profession might be dispatched by one that

perhaps

'--Abest virtute diserti

Messalæ, nec scit quantum Causellius Aulus--'

Hor.

so I can't conceive the Injustice done to the Publick, if the Men of

Reputation in this Calling would introduce such of the young ones into

Business, whose Application to this Study will let them into the

Secrets of it, as much as their Modesty will hinder them from the

Practice: I say, it would be laying an everlasting Obligation upon a

young Man, to be introduc'd at first only as a Mute, till by this

Countenance, and a Resolution to support the good Opinion conceiv'd of

him in his Betters, his Complexion shall be so well settled, that the

Litigious of this Island may be secure of his obstreperous Aid. If I

might be indulged to speak in the Style of a Lawyer, I would say, That

any one about thirty years of Age, might make a common Motion to the

Court with as much Elegance and Propriety as the most aged Advocates

in the Hall.

I can't advance the Merit of Modesty by any Argument of my own so

powerfully, as by enquiring into the Sentiments the greatest among the

Ancients of different Ages entertain'd upon this Virtue. If we go back

to the Days of _Solomon_, we shall find Favour a necessary Consequence

to a shame-fac'd Man. _Pliny_, the greatest Lawyer and most Elegant

Writer of the Age he lived in, in several of his Epistles is very

sollicitous in recommending to the Publick some young Men of his own

Profession, and very often undertakes to become an Advocate, upon

condition that some one of these his Favourites might be joined with

him, in order to produce the Merit of such, whose Modesty otherwise

would have suppressed it. It may seem very marvellous to a saucy

Modern, that _Multum sanguinis, multum verecundiæ, multum

sollicitudinis in ore; to have the Face first full of Blood, then the

Countenance dashed with Modesty, and then the whole Aspect as of one

dying with Fear, when a Man begins to speak;_ should be esteem'd by

_Pliny_ the necessary Qualifications of a fine Speaker [1].

_Shakespear_ has also express'd himself in the same favourable Strain

of Modesty, when he says,

'--In the Modesty of fearful Duty

I read as much as from the rattling Tongue

Of saucy and audacious Eloquence--' [2]

Now since these Authors have profess'd themselves for the Modest Man,

even in the utmost Confusions of Speech and Countenance, why should an

intrepid Utterance and a resolute Vociferation thunder so successfully

in our Courts of Justice? And why should that Confidence of Speech and

Behaviour, which seems to acknowledge no Superior, and to defy all

Contradiction, prevail over that Deference and Resignation with which

the Modest Man implores that favourable Opinion which the other seems

to command?

As the Case at present stands, the best Consolation that I can

administer to those who cannot get into that Stroke of Business (as

the Phrase is) which they deserve, is to reckon every particular

Acquisition of Knowledge in this Study as a real Increase of their

Fortune; and fully to believe, that one day this imaginary Gain will

certainly be made out by one more substantial. I wish you would talk

to us a little on this Head, you would oblige,

_SIR_,

_Your most humble Servant_.

The Author of this Letter is certainly a Man of good Sense; but I am

perhaps particular in my Opinion on this Occasion; for I have observed,

that under the Notion of Modesty, Men have indulged themselves in a

Spiritless Sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves, their

Families, their Friends, and their Country. When a Man has taken care to

pretend to nothing but what he may justly aim at, and can execute as

well as any other, without Injustice to any other; it is ever want of

Breeding or Courage to be brow-beaten or elbow'd out of his honest

Ambition. I have said often, Modesty must be an Act of the Will, and yet

it always implies Self-Denial: For if a Man has an ardent Desire to do

what is laudable for him to perform, and, from an unmanly Bashfulness,

shrinks away, and lets his Merit languish in Silence, he ought not to be

angry at the World that a more unskilful Actor succeeds in his Part,

because he has not Confidence to come upon the Stage himself. The

Generosity my Correspondent mentions of _Pliny_, cannot be enough

applauded. To cherish the Dawn of Merit, and hasten its Maturity, was a

Work worthy a noble _Roman_ and a liberal Scholar. That Concern which is

described in the Letter, is to all the World the greatest Charm

imaginable: but then the modest Man must proceed, and shew a latent

Resolution in himself; for the Admiration of his Modesty arises from the

Manifestation of his Merit. I must confess we live in an Age wherein a

few empty Blusterers carry away the Praise of Speaking, while a Crowd of

Fellows over-stock'd with Knowledge are run down by them. I say

Over-stock'd, because they certainly are so as to their Service of

Mankind, if from their very Store they raise to themselves Ideas of

Respect, and Greatness of the Occasion, and I know not what, to disable

themselves from explaining their Thoughts. I must confess, when I have

seen _Charles Frankair_ rise up with a commanding Mien, and Torrent of

handsome Words, talk a Mile off the Purpose, and drive down twenty

bashful Boobies of ten times his Sense, who at the same time were

envying his Impudence and despising his Understanding, it has been

matter of great Mirth to me; but it soon ended in a secret Lamentation,

that the Fountains of every thing praiseworthy in these Realms, the

Universities, should be so muddied with a false Sense of this Virtue, as

to produce Men capable of being so abused. I will be bold to say, that

it is a ridiculous Education which does not qualify a Man to make his

best Appearance before the greatest Man and the finest Woman to whom he

can address himself. Were this judiciously corrected in the Nurseries of

Learning, pert Coxcombs would know their Distance: But we must bear with

this false Modesty in our young Nobility and Gentry, till they cease at

_Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ to grow dumb in the Study of Eloquence.

T.

[Footnote 1: The citation is from a charming letter in which Pliny (Bk.

v. letter 17) tells Spurinna the pleasure he had just received from a

recitation by a noble youth in the house of Calpurnius Piso, and how,

when it was over, he gave the youth many kisses and praises,

congratulated his mother and his brother, in whom, as the reciter tried

his powers, first fear for him and then delight in him was manifest. To

the sentences quoted above the next is

'Etenim, nescio quo pacto, magis in studiis homines timor quam fiducia

decet.'

'I don't know how it is, but in brain-work mistrust better becomes men

than self-confidence.']

[Footnote 2: Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. sc. 1.]

* * * * *

No. 485. Tuesday, September 16, 1712. Steele.

'Nihil tam firmum est, cui periculum non sit, etiam ab Invalido.'

Quint. Curt.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'My Lord _Clarendon_ has observed, _That few Men have done more harm

than those who have been thought to be able to do least; and there

cannot be a greater Error, than to believe a Man whom we see qualified

with too mean Parts to do good, to be therefore incapable of doing

hurt. There is a Supply of Malice, of Pride, of Industry, and even of

Folly, in the Weakest, when he sets his heart upon it, that makes a

strange progress in Mischief_. [1] What may seem to the Reader the

greatest Paradox in the Reflection of the Historian, is, I suppose,

that Folly, which is generally thought incapable of contriving or

executing any Design, should be so formidable to those whom it exerts

it self to molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember

that _Solomon_ says, _It is as Sport to a Fool to do mischief_; and

that he might the more emphatically express the calamitous

Circumstances of him who falls under the displeasure of this wanton

Person, the same Author adds further, _That a Stone is heavy, and the

Sand weighty, but a Fool's Wrath is heavier than them both_. It is

impossible to suppress my own Illustration upon this Matter, which is,

That as the Man of Sagacity bestirs himself to distress his Enemy by

Methods probable and reducible to Reason, so the same Reason will

fortify his Enemy to elude these his regular Efforts; but your Fool

projects, acts, and concludes with such notable Inconsistence, that no

regular Course of Thought can evade or counterplot his prodigious

Machinations. My Frontispiece, I believe, may be extended to imply,

That several of our Misfortunes arise from Things, as well as Persons,

that seem of very little consequence. Into what tragical

Extravagancies does _Shakespear_ hurry _Othello_ upon the loss of an

Handkerchief only? and what Barbarities does _Desdemona_ suffer from a

slight Inadvertency in regard to this fatal Trifle? If the Schemes of

all enterprizing Spirits were to be carefully examined, some

intervening Accident, not considerable enough to occasion any Debate

upon, or give 'em any apprehension of ill Consequence from it, will be

found to be the occasion of their ill Success, rather than any Error

in Points of Moment and Difficulty, which naturally engag'd their

maturest Deliberations. If you go to the Levee of any great Man, you

will observe him exceeding gracious to several very insignificant

Fellows; and this upon this Maxim, That the Neglect of any Person must

arise from the mean Opinion you have of his Capacity to do you any

Service or Prejudice; and that this calling his Sufficiency in

question, must give him Inclination, and where this is, there never

wants Strength or Opportunity to annoy you. There is no body so weak

of Invention, that can't aggravate or make some little Stories to

vilify his Enemy; and there are very few but have good Inclinations to

hear 'em, and 'tis infinite Pleasure to the Majority of Mankind to

level a Person superior to his Neighbours. Besides, in all matter of

Controversy, that Party which has the greatest Abilities labours under

this Prejudice, that he will certainly be supposed, upon Account of

his Abilities, to have done an Injury, when perhaps he has received

one. It would be tedious to enumerate the Strokes that Nations and

particular Friends have suffer'd from Persons very contemptible.

I Think _Henry_ IV. of _France_, so formidable to his Neighbours,

could no more be secur'd against the resolute Villany of _Ravillac_,

than _Villiers_, Duke of _Buckingham_, could be against that of

_Felton_. And there is no incens'd Person so destitute, but can

provide himself with a Knife or a Pistol, if he finds stomach to apply

them. That Things and Persons of no moment should give such powerful

Revolutions to the progress of those of the greatest, seems a

providential Disposition to baffle and abate the Pride of human

Sufficiency; as also to engage the Humanity and Benevolence of

Superiors to all below 'em, by letting them into this Secret, that the

Stronger depends upon the Weaker.

_I am, SIR,

Your very humble Servant._

_Temple, Paper-Buildings._

_Dear Sir_,

'I received a Letter from you some time ago, which I should have

answered sooner, had you informed me in yours to what part of this

Island I might have directed my Impertinence; but having been let into

the Knowledge of that Matter, this handsome Excuse is no longer

serviceable. My Neighbour _Prettyman_ shall be the Subject of this

Letter; who falling in with the SPECTATOR'S Doctrine concerning the

Month of _May_, began from that Season to dedicate himself to the

Service of the Fair in the following Manner. I observed at the

Beginning of the Month he bought him a new Night-gown, either side to

be worn outwards, both equally gorgeous and attractive; but till the

End of the Month I did not enter so fully into the knowledge of his

Contrivance, as the Use of that Garment has since suggested to me. Now

you must know that all new Clothes raise and warm the Bearer's

Imagination into a Conceit of his being a much finer Gentleman than he

was before, banishing all Sobriety and Reflection, and giving him up

to Gallantry and Amour. Inflam'd therefore with this way of thinking,

and full of the Spirit of the Month of _May_, did this merciless Youth

resolve upon the Business of Captivating. At first he confin'd himself

to his Room only, now and then appearing at his Window in his

Night-gown, and practising that easy Posture which expresses the very

Top and Dignity of Languishment. It was pleasant to see him diversify

his Loveliness, sometimes obliging the Passengers only with a

Side-Face, with a Book in his Hand; sometimes being so generous as to

expose the whole in the fulness of its Beauty; at the other times, by

a judicious throwing back of his Perriwig, he would throw in his Ears.

You know he is that Sort of Person which the Mob call a handsome jolly

Man; which Appearance can't miss of Captives in this part of the Town.

Being emboldened by daily Success, he leaves his Room with a

Resolution to extend his Conquests; and I have apprehended him in his

Night-gown smiting in all Parts of this Neighbourhood.

This I, being of an amorous Complection, saw with Indignation, and had

Thoughts of purchasing a Wig in these Parts; into which, being at a

greater Distance from the Earth, I might have thrown a very liberal

Mixture of white Horse-hair, which would make a fairer, and

consequently a handsomer Appearance, while my Situation would secure

me against any Discoveries. But the Passion to the handsome Gentleman

seems to be so fixed to that part of the Building, that it will be

extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am resolved to

stand boldly to the Complection of my own Eye-brow, and prepare me an

immense Black Wig of the same sort of Structure with that of my Rival.

Now, tho' by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the number of the

Admirers of his Complection, I shall have a fair Chance to divide the

Passengers by the irresistible Force of mine.

I expect sudden Dispatches from you, with Advice of the Family you are

in now, how to deport my self upon this so delicate a Conjuncture;

with some comfortable Resolutions in favour of the handsome black Man

against the handsome fair one.

_I am, SIR,

Your most humble Servant_,

C.

N. B. _He who writ this, is a black Man two Pair of Stairs; the

Gentleman of whom he writes, is fair, and one Pair of Stairs_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much I am

_Yours_,

Robin Shorter.

_P. S._ 'I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as much

notice of this Epistle, as you have of the ingenious Mr. _Short's_. I

am not afraid to let the World see which is the Deeper Man of the two.

T.

[Footnote 1: When this was quoted Clarendon had been dead only 38 years,

and his History of the Rebellion, first published in Queen Anne's reign,

was almost a new Book. It was published at Oxford in three folio

volumes, which appeared in the successive years 1702, 3,4, and in this

year, 1712, there had appeared a new edition of it (the sixth).]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

London, September 15.

Whereas a young Woman on horseback,

in an Equestrian Habit on the 13th Instant in the Evening,

met the SPECTATOR within a Mile and an half of this Town,

and flying in the Face of Justice,

pull'd off her Hat, in which there was a Feather,

with the Mein and Air of a young Officer,

saying at the same time,

Your Servant Mr. SPEC. or Words to that Purpose;

This is to give Notice,

that if any Person can discover the Name,

and Place of Abode of the said Offender,

so as she can be brought to Justice,

the Informant shall have all fitting Encouragement.

* * * * *

No. 486. Wednesday, September 17, 1712. Steele.

'--Audire est operæ pretium procedere recte

Qui mechis non vultis--'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'There are very many of my Acquaintance Followers of _Socrates_, with

more particular regard to that part of his Philosophy which we, among,

our selves, call his _Domesticks;_ under which Denomination, or Title,

we include all the Conjugal Joys and Sufferings. We have indeed, with

very great Pleasure, observed the Honour you do the whole Fraternity

of the Hen-peck'd, in placing that illustrious Man at our Head, and it

does in a very great measure baffle the Raillery of pert Rogues, who

have no advantage above us, but in that they are single. But when you

look about into the Crowd of Mankind, you will find the Fair Sex

reigns with greater Tyranny over Lovers than Husbands. You shall

hardly meet one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their

Dominion, and those that are so, are capable of no Taste of Life, and

breathe and walk about the Earth as Insignificants. But I am going to

desire your further Favour in behalf of our harmless Brotherhood, and

hope you will shew in a true light the un-married Hen-peck'd, as well

as you have done Justice to us, who submit to the Conduct of our

Wives. I am very particularly acquainted with one who is under entire

Submission to a kind Girl, as he calls her; and tho' he knows I have

been Witness both to the ill Usage he has received from her, and his

Inability to resist her Tyranny, he still pretends to make a Jest of

me for a little more than ordinary Obsequiousness to my Spouse. No

longer than _Tuesday_ last he took me with him to visit his Mistress;

and he having, it seems, been a little in Disgrace before, thought by

bringing me with him she would constrain herself, and insensibly fall

into general Discourse with him; and so he might break the Ice, and

save himself all the ordinary Compunctions and Mortifications she used

to make him suffer before she would be reconciled after any Act of

Rebellion on his Part. When we came into the Room, we were received

with the utmost Coldness; and when he presented me as Mr. Such-a-one,

his very good Friend, she just had Patience to suffer my Salutation;

but when he himself, with a very gay Air, offered to follow me, she

gave him a thundering Box on the Ear, called him pitiful poor-spirited

Wretch, how durst he see her Face? His Wig and Hat fell on different

Parts of the Floor. She seized the Wig too soon for him to recover it,

and kicking it down Stairs, threw herself into an opposite Room,

pulling the Door after her with a Force, that you would have thought

the Hinges would have given Way. We went down, you must think, with no

very good Countenances; and as we sneaked off, and were driving home

together, he confessed to me, that her Anger was thus highly raised,

because he did not think fit to fight a Gentleman who had said she was

what she was; but, says he, a kind Letter or two, or fifty pieces,

will put her in Humour again. I asked him why he did not part with

her; he answered, he loved her with all the Tenderness imaginable, and

she had too many Charms to be abandoned for a little Quickness of

Spirit. Thus does this illegitimate Hen-pecked over-look the Hussy's

having no Regard to his very Life and Fame, in putting him upon an

infamous Dispute about her Reputation; yet has he the Confidence to

laugh at me, because I obey my poor Dear in keeping out of Harm's Way,

and not staying too late from my own Family, to pass through the

Hazards of a Town full of Ranters and Debauchees. You that are a

Philosopher should urge in our behalf, that when we bear with a

froward Woman, our Patience is preserved, in consideration that a

breach with her might be a Dishonour to Children who are descended

from us, and whose Concern makes us tolerate a thousand Frailties, for

fear they should redound Dishonour upon the Innocent. This and the

like Circumstances, which carry with them the most valuable Regards of

human Life, may be mentioned for our long Suffering; but in the case

of Gallants, they swallow ill Usage from one to whom they have no

Obligation, but from a base Passion, which it is mean to indulge, and

which it would be glorious to overcome.

'These Sort of Fellows are very numerous, and some have been

conspicuously such, without Shame; nay they have carried on the Jest

in the very Article of Death, and, to the Diminution of the Wealth and

Happiness of their Families, in bar of those honourably near to them,

have left immense Wealth to their Paramours. What is this but being a

Cully in the Grave! Sure this is being Hen-peck'd with a Vengeance!

But without dwelling upon these less frequent Instances of eminent

Cullyism, what is there so common as to hear a Fellow curse his Fate

that he cannot get rid of a Passion to a Jilt, and quote an Half-Line

out of a Miscellany Poem to prove his Weakness is natural? If they

will go on thus, I have nothing to say to it: But then let them not

pretend to be free all this while, and laugh at us poor married

Patients.

'I have known one Wench in this Town carry an haughty Dominion over

her Lovers so well, that she has at the same time been kept by a

Sea-Captain in the _Straits_, a Merchant in the City, a Country

Gentleman in _Hampshire_, and had all her Correspondences managed by

one she kept for her own Uses. This happy Man (as the Phrase is) used

to write very punctually every Post, Letters for the Mistress to

transcribe. He would sit in his Night-Gown and Slippers, and be as

grave giving an Account, only changing Names, that there was nothing

in those idle Reports they had heard of such a Scoundrel as one of the

other Lovers was; and how could he think she could condescend so low,

after such a fine Gentleman as each of them? For the same Epistle said

the same thing to and of every one of them. And so Mr. Secretary and

his Lady went to Bed with great Order.

'To be short, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, we Husbands shall never make the Figure

we ought in the Imaginations of young Men growing up in the World,

except you can bring it about that a Man of the Town shall be as

infamous a Character as a Woman of the Town. But of all that I have

met in my time, commend me to _Betty Duall_: She is the Wife of a

Sailor, and the kept Mistress of a Man of Quality; she dwells with the

latter during the Sea-faring of the former. The Husband asks no

Questions, sees his Apartments furnished with Riches not his, when he

comes into Port, and the Lover is as joyful as a Man arrived at his

Haven when the other puts to Sea. _Betty_ is the most eminently

victorious of any of her Sex, and ought to stand recorded the only

Woman of the Age in which she lives, who has possessed at the same

time two Abused, and two Contented...

T.

* * * * *

No. 487. Thursday, September 18, 1712. Addison.

'--Cum prostrata sopore

Urget membra quies, et mem sine pondere ludit--'

Petr.

Tho' there are many Authors, who have written on Dreams, they have

generally considered them only as Revelations of what has already

happened in distant parts of the World, or as Presages of what is to

happen in future Periods of time.

I shall consider this Subject in another Light, as Dreams may give us

some Idea of the great Excellency of an Human Soul, and some Intimation

of its Independency on Matter. In the first Place, our Dreams are great

Instances of that Activity which is natural to the human Soul, and which

it is not in the power of Sleep to deaden or abate. When the Man appears

tired and worn out with the Labours of the Day, this active part in his

Composition is still busied and unwearied. When the Organs of Sense want

their due Repose and necessary Reparations, and the Body is no longer

able to keep pace with that spiritual Substance to which it is united,

the Soul exerts her self in her several Faculties, and continues in

Action till her Partner is again qualified to bear her Company. In this

case Dreams look like the Relaxations and Amusements of the Soul, when

she is disincumbred of her Machine, her Sports and Recreations, when she

has laid her Charge asleep.

In the Second Place, Dreams are an Instance of that Agility and

Perfection which is natural to the Faculties of the Mind, when they are

disengaged from the Body. The Soul is clogged and retarded in her

Operations, when she acts in Conjunction with a Companion that is so

heavy and unwieldy in its Motions. But in Dreams it is wonderful to

observe with what a Sprightliness and Alacrity she exerts her self. The

slow of Speech make unpremeditated Harangues, or converse readily in

Languages that they are but little acquainted with. The Grave abound in

Pleasantries, the Dull in Repartees and Points of Wit. There is not a

more painful Action of the Mind, than Invention; yet in Dreams it works

with that Ease and Activity, that we are not sensible when the Faculty

is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some time or other,

dreams that he is reading Papers, Books, or Letters; in which case the

Invention prompts so readily, that the Mind is imposed upon, and

mistakes its own Suggestions for the Compositions of another.

I shall, under this Head, quote a Passage out of the _Religio Medici_,

[1] in which the ingenious Author gives an account of himself in his

dreaming and his waking Thoughts.

'We are somewhat more than our selves in our Sleeps, and the Slumber

of the Body seems to be but the Waking of the Soul. It is the

Litigation of Sense, but the Liberty of Reason; and our waking

Conceptions do not match the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my Nativity my

Ascendant was the watery Sign of_ Scorpius: I _was born in the

Planetary Hour of_ Saturn, _and I think I have a piece of that leaden

Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and

Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can compose a whole Comedy,

behold the Action, apprehend the Jests, and laugh my self awake at the

Conceits thereof. Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason is then

fruitful, I would never study but in my Dreams; and this time also

would I chuse for my Devotions: but our grosser Memories have then so

little hold of our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the

Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls a confused and broken

Tale of that that has passed--Thus it is observed that Men sometimes,

upon the Hour of their Departure, do speak and reason above

themselves; for then the Soul beginning to be freed from the Ligaments

of the Body, begins to reason like her self, and to discourse in a

strain above Mortality.'

We may likewise observe in the third Place, that the Passions affect the

Mind with greater Strength when we are asleep, than when we are awake.

Joy and Sorrow give us more vigorous Sensations of Pain or Pleasure at

this time, than at any other. Devotion likewise, as the excellent Author

above-mentioned has hinted, is in a very particular manner heightned and

inflamed, when it rises in the Soul at a time that the Body is thus laid

at Rest. Every Man's Experience will inform him in this matter, though

it is very probable, that this may happen differently, in different

Constitutions. I shall conclude this Head with the two following

Problems, which I shall leave to the Solution of my Reader. Supposing a

Man always happy in his Dreams, and miserable in his waking Thoughts,

and that his Life was equally divided between them, whether would he be

more happy or miserable? Were a Man a King in his Dreams, and a Beggar

awake, and dreamt as consequentially, and in as continued unbroken

Schemes as he thinks when awake, whether he would be in reality a King

or Beggar, or rather whether he would not be both?

There is another Circumstance, which methinks gives us a very high Idea

of the Nature of the Soul, in regard to what passes in Dreams, I mean

that innumerable Multitude and Variety of Ideas which then arise in her.

Were that active watchful Being only conscious of her own Existence at

such a time, what a painful Solitude would her Hours of Sleep be? Were

the Soul sensible of her being alone in her sleeping Moments, after the

same manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the time would hang

very heavy on her, as it often actually does when she Dreams that she is

in such a Solitude?

'--Semperque relinqui

Sola sili, semper longam incomitata videtur

Ire viam--'

Virg.

But this Observation I only make by the way. What I would here remark,

is that wonderful Power in the Soul, of producing her own Company on

these Occasions. She converses with numberless Beings of her own

Creation, and is transported into ten thousand Scenes of her own

raising. She is herself the Theatre, the Actors, and the Beholder. This

puts me in mind of a Saying which I am infinitely pleased with, and

which _Plutarch_ ascribes to _Heraclitus, That all Men whilst they are

awake are in one common World; but that each of them, when he is asleep,

is in a World of his own_. [2] The waking Man is conversant in the World

of Nature, when he sleeps he retires to a private World that is

particular to himself. There seems something in this Consideration that

intimates to us a natural Grandeur and Perfection in the Soul, which is

rather to be admired than explained.

I must not omit that Argument for the Excellency of the Soul, which I

have seen quoted out of _Tertullian_, [3] namely, its Power of divining

in Dreams. That several such Divinations have been made, none can

question, who believes the Holy Writings, or who has but the least

degree of a common Historical Faith; there being innumerable Instances

of this nature in several Authors, both Antient and Modern, Sacred and

Profane. Whether such dark Presages, such Visions of the Night proceed

from any latent Power in the Soul, during this her state of Abstraction,

or from any Communication with the Supreme Being, or from any operation

of Subordinate Spirits, has been a great Dispute among the Learned; the

matter of Fact is, I think, incontestable, and has been looked upon as

such by the greatest Writers, who have been never suspected either of

Superstition or Enthusiasm.

I do not suppose, that the Soul in these Instances is entirely loose and

unfettered from the Body: It is sufficient, if she is not so far sunk,

and immersed in Matter, nor intangled and perplexed in her Operations,

with such Motions of Blood and Spirits, as when she actuates the Machine

in its waking Hours. The Corporeal Union is slackned enough to give the

Mind more Play. The Soul seems gathered within herself, and recovers

that Spring which is broke and weakned, when she operates more in

concert with the Body.

The Speculations I have here made, if they are not Arguments, they are

at least strong Intimations, not only of the Excellency of an Human

Soul, but of its Independence on the Body; and if they do not prove, do

at least confirm these two great Points, which are established by many

other Reasons that are altogether unanswerable.

O.

[Footnote 1: Part ii. § 11.]

[Footnote 2: The reference is in the little book 'On Superstition,'

where Plutarch quotes Heraclitus to add this comment of his own:

'But to the superstitious man there is no common world, for neither

does he use right reason when awake, nor is he freed, when sleeping,

from his perturbations.']

[Footnote 3: Tertullian, in his book 'On the Soul,' has seven chapters

(43-49) on Sleep and Dreams, with abundant recognition of divine

communications to the soul in sleep, and quotations of several authors,

sacred and profane.]

* * * * *

No. 488. Friday, September 19, 1712. Addison.

'Quanti emptæ? parvi. Quanti ergo? octo assibus. Eheu!'

Hor.

I find, by several Letters which I receive daily, that many of my

Readers would be better pleased to pay Three Half-Pence for my Paper,

than Two-Pence. The ingenious _T. W._ tells me, that I have deprived him

of the best Part of his Breakfast, for that since the rise of my Paper,

he is forced every Morning to drink his Dish of Coffee by it self,

without the Addition of the _Spectator_, that used to be better than

Lace to it. _Eugenius_ informs me very obligingly, that he never thought

he should have disliked any Passage in my Paper, but that of late there

have been two Words in every one of them, which he could heartily wish

left out, _viz. Price Two-Pence_. I have a Letter from a Soap-boiler,

who condoles with me very affectionately, upon the necessity we both lie

under of setting an higher Price on our Commodities, since the late Tax

has been laid upon them, and desiring me, when I write next on that

Subject, to speak a Word or two upon the present Duties on Castile-Soap.

But there is none of these my Correspondents, who writes with a greater

Turn of good Sense and Elegance of Expression, than the generous

_Philomedes_, who advises me to value every _Spectator_ at Six Pence,

and promises that he himself will engage for above a Hundred of his

Acquaintance, who shall take it in at that Price.

Letters from the Female World are likewise come to me, in great

quantities, upon the same Occasion; and as I naturally bear a great

Deference to this Part of our Species, I am very glad to find that those

who approve my Conduct in this Particular, are much more numerous than

those who condemn it. A large Family of Daughters have drawn me up a

very handsome Remonstrance, in which they set forth, that their Father

having refused to take in the _Spectator_, since the additional Price

was set upon it, they offered him unanimously to bate him the Article of

Bread and Butter in the Tea-Table Account, provided the _Spectator_

might be served up to them every Morning as usual. Upon this the old

Gentleman, being pleased, it seems, with their Desire of improving

themselves, has granted them the continuance both of the _Spectator_ and

their Bread and Butter; having given particular Orders, that the

Tea-Table shall be set forth every Morning with its Customary Bill of

Fare, and without any manner of Defalcation. I thought my self obliged

to mention this Particular, as it does Honour to this worthy Gentleman;

and if the young Lady _Lætitia_, who sent me this Account, will acquaint

me with his Name, I will insert it at length in one of my Papers, if he

desires it.

I should be very glad to find out any Expedient that might alleviate the

Expence which this my Paper brings to any of my Readers; and, in order

to it, must propose two Points to their Consideration. First, that if

they retrench any the smallest Particular in their ordinary Expence, it

will easily make up the Half Penny a Day, which we have now under

Consideration. Let a Lady sacrifice but a single Ribband to her Morning

Studies, and it will be sufficient: Let a Family burn but a Candle a

Night less than the usual Number, and they may take in the _Spectator_

without Detriment to their private Affairs.

In the next Place, if my Readers will not go to the Price of buying my

Papers by Retail, let them have Patience, and they may buy them in the

Lump, without the Burthen of a Tax upon them. My Speculations, when they

are sold single, like Cherries upon the Stick, are Delights for the Rich

and Wealthy; after some time they come to Market in greater Quantities,

and are every ordinary Man's Money. The Truth of it is, they have a

certain Flavour at their first Appearance, from several accidental

Circumstances of Time, Place and Person, which they may lose if they are

not taken early; but in this case every Reader is to consider, whether

it is not better for him to be half a Year behind-hand with the

fashionable and polite part of the World, than to strain himself beyond

his Circumstances. My Bookseller has now about Ten Thousand of the Third

and Fourth Volumes, which he is ready to publish, having already

disposed of as large an Edition both of the First and Second Volume. As

he is a Person whose Head is very well turned to his Business, he thinks

they would be a very proper Present to be made to Persons at

Christenings, Marriages, Visiting-Days, and the like joyful Solemnities,

as several other Books are frequently given at Funerals. He has printed

them in such a little portable Volume, that many of them may be ranged

together upon a single Plate; and is of Opinion, that a Salver of

_Spectators_ would be as acceptable an Entertainment to the Ladies, as a

Salver of Sweetmeats.

I shall conclude this Paper with an Epigram lately sent to the Writer of

the _Spectator_, after having returned my Thanks to the ingenious Author

of it.

_SIR,_

'Having heard the following Epigram very much commended, I wonder that

it has not yet had a place in any of your Papers: I think the Suffrage

of our Poet Laureat should not be overlooked, which shews the Opinion

he entertains of your Paper, whether the Notion he proceeds upon be

true or false. I make bold to convey it to you, not knowing if it has

yet come to your Hands.

_On the_ SPECTATOR.

By Mr. _TATE_. [1]

--Aliusque et idem

Nasceris--

Hor.

'When first the_ Tatler _to a Mute was turn'd_,

Great Britain _for her Censor's Silence mourn'd.

Robb'd of his sprightly Beams, she wept the Night,

'Till the _Spectator_ rose, and blaz'd as bright.

So the first Man the Sun's first Setting view'd,

And sigh'd, till circling Day his Joys renew'd;

Yet doubtful how that second Sun to name,

Whether a bright Successor, or the same.

So we: but now from this Suspense are freed,

Since all agree, who both with Judgment read,

'Tis the same Sun, and does himself succeed.'

O.

[Footnote 1: Nahum Tate, born and educated at Dublin, and befriended in

his youth by Dryden and Dorset, was at this time 60 years old, and

poet-laureate, having in 1692 succeeded in that office Thomas Shadwell,

the Whig substitute for Dryden. Besides his version of the Psalms

produced in concert with his friend Dr. Nicholas Brady, Tate produced

his own notion of an improvement upon Shakespeare's King Lear and nine

dramatic pieces, with other poetry, of which the above lines are a

specimen. Tate was in his younger days the writer of the second part of

Dryden's 'Absalom and Achithophel,' to which Dryden himself contributed

only the characters of Julian Johnson as Ben Jochanan, of Shadwell as

Og, and of Settle as Doeg. His salary as poet-laureate was £100 a year,

and a butt of canary. He died three years after the date of this

_Spectator_ a poor man who had made his home in the Mint to escape his

creditors.]

* * * * *

No. 489. Saturday, September 20, 1712. Addison.

[Greek: Bathyrrheítao méga sthénos 'Ôkeaneio]--Hom.

SIR,

Upon reading your _Essay_ concerning the Pleasures of the Imagination,

I find, among the three Sources of those Pleasures which you have

discovered, [that] _Greatness_ is one. This has suggested to me the

reason why, of all Objects that I have ever seen, there is none which

affects my Imagination so much as the Sea or Ocean. I cannot see the

Heavings of this prodigious Bulk of Waters, even in a Calm, without a

very pleasing Astonishment; but when it is worked up in a Tempest, so

that the Horizon on every side is nothing but foaming Billows and

floating Mountains, it is impossible to describe the agreeable Horrour

that rises from such a Prospect. A troubled Ocean, to a Man who sails

upon it, is, I think, the biggest Object that he can see in motion,

and consequently gives his Imagination one of the highest kinds of

Pleasure that can arise from Greatness. I must confess, it is

impossible for me to survey this World of fluid Matter, without

thinking on the Hand that first poured it out, and made a proper

Channel for its Reception. Such an Object naturally raises in my

Thoughts the Idea of an Almighty Being, and convinces me of his

Existence as much as a metaphysical Demonstration. The Imagination

prompts the Understanding, and by the Greatness of the sensible

Object, produces in it the Idea of a Being who is neither

circumscribed by Time nor Space.

As I have made several Voyages upon the Sea, I have often been tossed

in Storms, and on that occasion have frequently reflected on the

Descriptions of them in ancient Poets. I remember _Longinus_ highly

recommends one in _Homer_, because the Poet has not amused himself

with little Fancies upon the occasion, as Authors of an inferiour

Genius, whom he mentions, had done, but because he has gathered

together those Circumstances which are the most apt to terrify the

Imagination, and which really happen in the raging of a Tempest. [1]

It is for the same reason, that I prefer the following Description of

a Ship in a Storm, which the Psalmist has made, before any other I

have ever met with.

'They that go down to the Sea in Ships, that do Business in great

Waters: These see the Works of the Lord, and his Wonders in the

Deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy Wind, which lifteth

up the Waters thereof. They mount up to the Heaven, they go down

again to the Depths, their Soul is melted because of Trouble. They

reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken Man, and are at their

Wits End. Then they cry unto the Lord in their Trouble, and he

bringeth them out of their Distresses. He maketh the Storm a Calm,

so that the Waves thereof are still. Then they are glad because they

be quiet, so he bringeth them unto their desired Haven.' [2]

By the way, how much more comfortable, as well as rational, is this

System of the Psalmist, than the Pagan Scheme in _Virgil_, and other

Poets, where one Deity is represented as raising a Storm, and another

as laying it? Were we only to consider the Sublime in this Piece of

Poetry, what can be nobler than the Idea it gives us of the Supreme

Being thus raising the Tumult among the Elements, and recovering them

out of their Confusion; thus troubling and becalming Nature?

Great Painters do not only give us Landskips of Gardens, Groves, and

Meadows, but very often employ their Pencils upon Sea-Pieces: I could

wish you would follow their Example. If this small Sketch may deserve

a Place among your Works, I shall accompany it with a divine Ode, made

by a Gentleman [3] upon the Conclusion of his Travels.

I. How are thy Servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their Defence!

Eternal Wisdom is their Guide,

Their Help Omnipotence.

II. In foreign Realms, and Lands remote,

Supported by thy Care,

Thro' burning Climes I pass'd unhurt,

And breath'd in tainted Air.

III. Thy Mercy sweeten'd ev'ry Soil,

Made ev'ry Region please;

The hoary Alpine Hills it warm'd,

And smooth'd the Tyrrhene Seas:

IV. Think, O my Soul, devoutly think,

How with affrighted Eyes

Thou saw'st the wide extended Deep

In all its Horrors rise!

V. Confusion dwelt in ev'ry Face,

And Fear in ev'ry Heart;

When Waves on Waves, and Gulphs in Gulphs,

O'ercame the Pilot's Art.

VI. Yet then from all my Griefs, O Lord,

Thy Mercy set me free,

Whilst in the Confidence of Pray'r

My Soul took hold on thee;

VII. For tho' in dreadful Whirles we hung

High on the broken Wave,

I knew thou wert not slow to Hear,

Nor impotent to Save.

VIII. The Storm was laid, the Winds retir'd,

Obedient to thy Will;

The Sea that roar'd at thy Command,

At thy Command was still.

IX. In midst of Dangers, Fears and Death,

Thy Goodness I'll adore,

And praise Thee for Thy Mercies past;

And humbly hope for more.

X. My Life, if thou preserv'st my Life,

Thy Sacrifice shall be;

And Death, if Death must be my Doom,

Shall join my Soul to thee.

O. [4]

[Footnote 1: On the Sublime, § 10, where he compares a description of

the terrors of the sea in a lost poem on the Arimaspians, by Aristaeus

the Procomnesian, with the passage in the 15th Book of the Iliad, which

Pope thus translates:

'He bursts upon them all:

Bursts as a wave that from the cloud impends,

And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;

White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud

Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:

Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears,

And instant death on every wave appears.']

[Footnote 2: Psalm cvii. 23-30.]

[Footnote 3: Addison.]

[Footnote 4: Appended to this number is the following

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Author of the_ SPECTATOR _having received the Pastoral Hymn in his

441st Paper, set to Musick by one of the most Eminent Composers of our

own Country and by a Foreigner, who has not put his name to his

ingenious Letter, thinks himself obliged to return his thanks to those

Gentlemen for the Honour they have done him.]

* * * * *

No. 490. Monday, September 22, 1712. Steele.

'Domus et placens Uxor.'

Hor.

I have very long entertain'd an Ambition to make the Word _Wife_ the

most agreeable and delightful Name in Nature. If it be not so in it

self, all the wiser Part of Mankind from the Beginning of the World to

this Day has consented in an Error: But our Unhappiness in _England_ has

been, that a few loose Men of Genius for Pleasure, have turn'd it all to

the Gratification of ungovern'd Desires, in spite of good Sense, Form

and Order; when, in truth, any Satisfaction beyond the Boundaries of

Reason, is but a Step towards Madness and Folly. But is the Sense of Joy

and Accomplishment of Desire no way to be indulged or attain'd? and have

we Appetites given us not to be at all gratify'd? Yes certainly.

Marriage is an Institution calculated for a constant Scene of as much

Delight as our Being is capable of. Two Persons who have chosen each

other out of all the Species, with design to be each other's mutual

Comfort and Entertainment, have in that Action bound themselves to be

good-humour'd, affable, discreet, forgiving, patient and joyful, with

respect to each other's Frailties and Perfections, to the End of their

Lives. The wiser of the two (and it always happens one of them is such)

will for her or his own sake, keep things from Outrage with the utmost

Sanctity. When this Union is thus preserved (as I have often said) the

most indifferent Circumstance administers Delight. Their Condition is an

endless Source of new Gratifications. The married Man can say, If I am

unacceptable to all the World beside, there is one whom I entirely love,

that will receive me with Joy and Transport, and think herself obliged

to double her Kindness and Caresses of me from the Gloom with which she

sees me overcast. I need not dissemble the Sorrow of my Heart to be

agreeable there, that very Sorrow quickens her Affection.

This Passion towards each other, when once well fixed, enters into the

very Constitution, and the Kindness flows as easily and silently as the

Blood in the Veins. When this Affection is enjoy'd in the most sublime

Degree, unskilful Eyes see nothing of it; but when it is subject to be

chang'd, and has an Allay in it that may make it end in Distaste, it is

apt to break into Rage, or overflow into Fondness, before the rest of

the World.

_Uxander_ and _Viramira_ are amorous and young, and have been married

these two Years; yet do they so much distinguish each other in Company,

that in your Conversation with the Dear Things you are still put to a

Sort of Cross-Purposes. Whenever you address your self in ordinary

Discourse to _Viramira_, she turns her Head another way, and the Answer

is made to the dear _Uxander_: If you tell a merry Tale, the Application

is still directed to her Dear; and when she should commend you, she says

to him, as if he had spoke it, That is, my Dear, so pretty--This puts

me in mind of what I have somewhere read in the admired Memoirs of the

famous _Cervantes_, where, while honest _Sancho Pança_ is putting some

necessary humble Question concerning _Rozinante_, his Supper, or his

Lodgings, the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance is ever improving the

harmless lowly Hints of his Squire to the poetical Conceit, Rapture and

Flight, in Contemplation of the dear _Dulcinea_ of his Affections.

On the other side, _Dictamnus_ and _Moria_ are ever squabbling, and you

may observe them all the time they are in Company in a State of

Impatience. As _Uxander_ and _Viramira_ wish you all gone, that they may

be at freedom for Dalliance; _Dictamnus_ and _Moria_ wait your Absence,

that they may speak their harsh Interpretations on each other's Words

and Actions during the time you were with them.

It is certain that the greater Part of the Evils attending this

Condition of Life, arises from Fashion. Prejudice in this Case is turn'd

the wrong way, and instead of expecting more Happiness than we shall

meet with in it, we are laugh'd into a Prepossession, that we shall be

disappointed if we hope for lasting Satisfactions.

With all Persons who have made good Sense the Rule of Action, Marriage

is describ'd as the State capable of the highest human Felicity. _Tully_

has Epistles full of affectionate Pleasure, when he writes to his Wife,

or speaks of his Children. But above all the Hints of this kind I have

met with in Writers of ancient date, I am pleas'd with an Epigram of

_Martial_ [1] in honour of the Beauty of his Wife _Cleopatra_.

Commentators say it was written the day after his Wedding-Night. When

his Spouse was retir'd to the Bathing-room in the Heat of the Day, he,

it seems, came in upon her when she was just going into the Water. To

her Beauty and Carriage on this occasion we owe the following Epigram,

which I shew'd my Friend WILL. HONEYCOMB in _French_, who has translated

it as follows, without understanding the Original. I expect it will

please the _English_ better than the _Latin_ Reader.

'When my bright Consort, now nor Wife nor Maid,

Asham'd and wanton, of Embrace afraid,

Fled to the Streams, the Streams my Fair betray'd;

To my fond Eyes she all transparent stood,

She blush'd, I smil'd at the slight covering Flood.

Thus thro' the Glass the Lovely Lilly glows,

Thus thro' the ambient Gem shines forth the Rose.

I saw new Charms, and plung'd to seize my Store,

Kisses I snatch'd, the Waves prevented more.'

My Friend would not allow that this luscious Account could be given of a

Wife, and therefore used the Word _Consort_; which, he learnedly said,

would serve for a Mistress as well, and give a more Gentlemanly Turn to

the Epigram. But, under favour of him and all other such fine Gentlemen,

I cannot be persuaded but that the Passion a Bridegroom has for a

virtuous young Woman, will, by little and little, grow into Friendship,

and then it is ascended to [a [2]] higher Pleasure than it was in its

first Fervour. Without this happens, he is a very unfortunate Man who

has enter'd into this State, and left the Habitudes of Life he might

have enjoy'd with a faithful Friend. But when the Wife proves capable of

filling serious as well as joyous Hours, she brings Happiness unknown to

Friendship itself. _Spencer_ speaks of each kind of Love with great

Justice, and attributes the highest Praise to Friendship; and indeed

there is no disputing that Point, but by making that Friendship take

[Place [3]] between two married Persons.

'Hard is the Doubt, and difficult to deem,

When all three kinds of Love together meet,

And to dispart the Heart with Power extreme,

Whether shall weigh the Ballance down; to wit,

The dear Affection unto Kindred sweet,

Or raging Fire of Love to Womenkind,

Or Zeal of Friends combin'd by Virtues meet.

But, of them all, the Band of virtuous Mind

Methinks the gentle Heart should most assured bind.

For natural Affection soon doth cease,

And quenched is with_ Cupid's _greater Flame;

But faithful Friendship doth them both suppress,

And them with mastering Discipline does tame,

Through Thoughts aspiring to eternal Fame.

For as the Soul doth rule the Earthly Mass,

And all the Service of the Body frame;

So Love of Soul doth Love of Body pass,

No less than perfect Gold surmounts the meanest Brass.'

T.

[Footnote 1: Lib. iv. ep. 22.]

[Footnote 2: an]

[Footnote 3: its Place]

* * * * *

No. 491. Tuesday, September 23, 1712. Steele.

'Digna satis fortuna revisit.'

Virg.

It is common with me to run from Book to Book to exercise my Mind with

many Objects, and qualify my self for my daily Labours. After an Hour

spent in this loitering Way of Reading, something will remain to be Food

to the Imagination. The Writings that please me most on such Occasions

are Stories, for the Truth of which there is good Authority. The Mind of

Man is naturally a Lover of Justice, and when we read a Story wherein a

Criminal is overtaken, in whom there is no Quality which is the Object

of Pity, the Soul enjoys a certain Revenge for the Offence done to its

Nature, in the wicked Actions committed in the preceding Part of the

History. This will be better understood by the Reader from the following

Narration [1] it self, than from any thing which I can say to introduce

it.

When _Charles_ Duke of _Burgundy_, surnamed _The Bold_, reigned over

spacious Dominions now swallowed up by the Power of _France_, he heaped

many Favours and Honours upon _Claudius Rhynsault_, a _German_, who had

serv'd him in his Wars against the Insults of his Neighbours. A great

part of _Zealand_ was at that time in Subjection to that Dukedom. The

Prince himself was a Person of singular Humanity and Justice.

_Rhynsault_, with no other real Quality than Courage, had Dissimulation

enough to pass upon his generous and unsuspicious Master for a Person of

blunt Honesty and Fidelity, without any Vice that could bias him from

the Execution of Justice. His Highness prepossessed to his Advantage,

upon the Decease of the Governour of his chief Town of _Zealand_, gave

_Rhynsault_ that Command. He was not long seated in that Government,

before he cast his Eyes upon _Sapphira_, a Woman of Exquisite Beauty,

the Wife of _Paul Danvelt_, a wealthy Merchant of the City under his

Protection and Government. _Rhynsault_ was a Man of a warm Constitution,

and violent Inclination to Women, and not unskilled in the soft Arts

which win their Favour. He knew what it was to enjoy the Satisfactions

which are reaped from the Possession of Beauty, but was an utter

Stranger to the Decencies, Honours and Delicacies that attend the

Passion towards them in elegant Minds. However he had so much of the

World, that he had a great share of the Language which usually prevails

upon the weaker Part of that Sex, and he could with his Tongue utter a

Passion with which his Heart was wholly untouch'd. He was one of those

brutal Minds which can be gratified with the Violation of Innocence and

Beauty, without the least Pity, Passion or Love to that with which they

are so much delighted. Ingratitude is a Vice inseparable to a lustful

Man; and the Possession of a Woman by him who has no thought but

allaying a Passion painful to himself, is necessarily followed by

Distaste and Aversion. _Rhynsault_ being resolv'd to accomplish his Will

on the Wife of _Danvelt_, left no Arts untried to get into a Familiarity

at her House; but she knew his Character and Disposition too well, not

to shun all Occasions that might ensnare her into his Conversation. The

Governor despairing of Success by ordinary Means, apprehended and

Imprisoned her Husband, under pretence of an Information that he was

guilty of a Correspondence with the Enemies of the Duke, to betray the

Town into their Possession. This Design had its desired Effect; and the

Wife of the unfortunate _Danvelt_, the day before that which was

appointed for his Execution, presented herself in the Hall of the

Governor's House, and as he pass'd thro' the Apartment, threw her self

at his Feet, and holding his Knees, beseeched his Mercy. _Rhynsault_

beheld her with a dissembled Satisfaction, and assuming an Air of

Thought and Authority, he bid her arise, and told her she must follow

him to his Closet; and asking her whether she knew the Hand of the

Letter he pulled out of his Pocket, went from her, leaving this

Admonition aloud, _If you will save your Husband, you must give me an

account of all you know without Prevarication; for every body is

satisfied he was too fond of you to be able to hide from you the Names

of the rest of the Conspirators, or any other Particulars whatsoever_.

He went to his Closet, and soon after the Lady was sent to for an

Audience. The Servant knew his distance when Matters of State were to be

debated; and the Governor, laying aside the Air with which he had

appear'd in publick, began to be the Supplicant, to rally an Affliction,

which it was in her Power easily to remove, and relieve an innocent Man

from his Imprisonment. She easily perceiv'd his Intention, and, bathed

in Tears, began to deprecate so wicked a Design. Lust, like Ambition,

takes all the Faculties of the Mind and Body into its Service and

Subjection. Her becoming Tears, her honest Anguish, the wringing of her

Hands, and the many Changes of her Posture and Figure in the Vehemence

of speaking, were but so many Attitudes in which he beheld her Beauty,

and further Incentives of his Desire. All Humanity was lost in that one

Appetite, and he signified to her in so many plain Terms, that he was

unhappy till he had possess'd her, and nothing less shou'd be the Price

of her Husband's Life; and she must, before the following Noon,

pronounce the Death or Enlargement of _Danvelt_. After this

Notification, when he saw _Sapphira_ enough again distracted to make the

Subject of their Discourse to common Eyes appear different from what it

was, he called Servants to conduct her to the Gate. Loaded with

insupportable Affliction, she immediately repairs to her Husband, and

having signified to his Gaolers, that she had a Proposal to make to her

Husband from the Governor, she was left alone with him, reveal'd to him

all that had pass'd, and represented the endless Conflict she was in

between Love to his Person, and Fidelity to his Bed. It is easie to

imagine the sharp Affliction this honest Pair was in upon such an

Incident, in Lives not us'd to any but ordinary Occurrences. The Man was

bridled by Shame from speaking what his Fear prompted, upon so near an

approach of Death; but let fall Words that signify'd to her, he should

not think her polluted, though she had not yet confess'd to him that the

Governor had violated her Person, since he knew her Will had no part in

the Action. She parted from him with this oblique Permission to save a

Life he had not Resolution enough to resign for the safety of his

Honour.

The next Morning the unhappy _Sapphira_ attended the Governor, and being

led into a remote Apartment, submitted to his Desires. _Rhynsault_

commended her Charms, claim'd a Familiarity after what had pass'd

between them, and with an Air of Gaiety in the Language of a Gallant,

bid her return, and take her Husband out of Prison: But, continu'd he,

my Fair one must not be offended that I have taken care he should not be

an Interruption to our future Assignations. These last Words foreboded

what she found when she came to the Gaol, her Husband executed by the

Order of _Rhynsault._

It was remarkable that the Woman, who was full of Tears and Lamentations

during the whole Course of her Affliction, uttered neither Sigh nor

Complaint, but stood fix'd with Grief at this Consummation of her

Misfortunes. She betook herself to her abode, and after having in

Solitude paid her Devotions to him who is the Avenger of Innocence, she

repair'd privately to Court. Her Person and a certain Grandeur of Sorrow

negligent of Forms gain'd her Passage into the Presence of the Duke her

Sovereign. As soon as she came into the Presence, she broke forth into

the following words, _Behold, O mighty_ Charles, _a Wretch weary of

Life, though it has always been spent with Innocence and Virtue. It is

not in your power to redress my Injuries, but it is to avenge them. And

if the Protection of the Distress'd, and the Punishment of Oppressors,

is a Task worthy a Prince, I bring the Duke of_ Burgundy _ample matter

for doing Honour to his own great Name, and wiping Infamy off of mine._

When she had spoke this, she deliver'd the Duke a Paper reciting her

Story. He read it with all the Emotions that Indignation and Pity could

raise in a Prince jealous of his Honour in the Behaviour of his

Officers, and Prosperity of his Subjects.

Upon an appointed Day, _Rhynsault_ was sent for to Court, and in the

Presence of a few of the Council, confronted by _Sapphira_: the Prince

asking, _Do you know that Lady? Rhynsault_, as soon as he could recover

his Surprize, told the Duke he would marry her, if his Highness would

please to think that a Reparation. The Duke seem'd contented with this

Answer, and stood by during the immediate Solemnization of the Ceremony.

At the Conclusion of it he told _Rhynsault, Thus far have you done as

constrain'd by my Authority: I shall not be satisfied of your kind Usage

of her, without you sign a Gift of your whole Estate to her after your

Decease_. To the Performance of this also the Duke was a Witness. When

these two Acts were executed, the Duke turn'd to the Lady, and told her,

it now remains for me to put you in quiet Possession of what your

Husband has so bountifully bestow'd on you; and order'd the immediate

Execution of _Rhynsault_.

T.

[Footnote 1: Founded upon note N to the Memoir of Charles of Burgundy in

Bayle's Dictionary, where the authorities cited are Pontus Heuterus and

others. It is not in Comines.]

* * * * *

No. 492. Wednesday, September 24, 1712. Steele.

'Quicquid est boni moris Levitate extinguiter.'

Sen.

_Tunbridge, Sept. 18._

_Dear Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Woman of Eighteen Years of Age, and, I do assure you, a

Maid of unspotted Reputation, founded upon a very careful Carriage in

all my Looks, Words and Actions. At the same time I must own to you,

that it is with much constraint to Flesh and Blood that my Behaviour

is so strictly irreproachable; for I am naturally addicted to Mirth,

to Gaiety, to a Free Air, to Motion and Gadding. Now what gives me a

great deal of Anxiety, and is some Discouragement in the Pursuit of

Virtue, is, that the young Women who run into greater Freedoms with

the Men are more taken Notice of than I am. The Men are such

unthinking Sots, that they do not prefer her who restrains all her

Passions and Affections and keeps much within the Bounds of what is

lawful, to her who goes to the utmost Verge of Innocence, and parlies

at the very Brink of Vice, whether she shall be a Wife or a Mistress.

But I must appeal to your Spectatorial Wisdom, who, I find, have

passed very much of your Time in the Study of Woman, whether this is

not a most unreasonable Proceeding. I have read somewhere, that

_Hobbes_ of _Malmesbury_ asserts, that continent Persons have more of

what they contain, than those who give a loose to their Desires.

According to this Rule, let there be equal Age, equal Wit, and equal

Good-Humour, in the Woman of Prudence, and her of Liberty; what Stores

has he to expect, who takes the former? What Refuse must he be

contented with, who chuses the latter? Well, but I sate down to write

to you to vent my Indignation against several pert Creatures who are

address'd to and courted in this Place, while poor I, and two or three

like me, are wholly unregarded.

Every one of these affect gaining the Hearts of your Sex: This is

generally attempted by a particular manner of carrying themselves with

Familiarity. _Glycera_ has a dancing Walk, and keeps Time in her

ordinary Gate. _Chloe_, her Sister, who is unwilling to interrupt her

Conquests, comes into the Room before her with a familiar Run.

_Dulcissa_ takes Advantage of the Approach of the Winter, and has

introduc'd a very pretty Shiver; closing up her Shoulders, and

shrinking as she moves. All that are in this Mode carry their Fans

between both Hands before them. _Dulcissa_ herself, who is Author of

this Air, adds the pretty Run to it; and has also, when she is in very

good Humour, a taking Familiarity in throwing herself into the lowest

Seat in the Room, and letting her hoop'd Petticoats fall with a lucky

Decency about her. I know she practices this way of sitting down in

her Chamber; and indeed she does it as well as you may have seen an

Actress fall down dead in a Tragedy. Not the least Indecency in her

Posture. If you have observ'd what pretty Carcasses are carry'd off at

the end of a Verse at the Theatre, it will give you a Notion how

_Dulcissa_ plumps into a Chair. Here's a little Country Girl that's

very cunning, that makes her use of being young and unbred, and

outdoes the Insnarers, who are almost twice her Age. The Air that she

takes is to come into Company after a Walk, and is very successfully

out of Breath upon occasion. Her Mother is in the Secret, and calls

her Romp, and then looks round to see what young Men stare at her.

'It would take up more than can come into one of your Papers, to

enumerate all the particular Airs of the younger Company in this

Place. But I cannot omit _Dulceorella_, whose manner is the most

indolent imaginable, but still as watchful of Conquest as the busiest

Virgin among us. She has a peculiar Art of staring at a young Fellow,

till she sees she has got him, and inflam'd him by so much

Observation. When she sees she has him, and he begins to toss his Head

upon it, she is immediately short-sighted, and labours to observe what

he is at a distance with her Eyes half shut. Thus the Captive, that

thought her first struck, is to make very near Approaches, or be

wholly disregarded. This Artifice has done more Execution than all the

ogling of the rest of the Women here, with the utmost Variety of half

Glances, attentive Heedlessnesses, childish Inadvertencies, haughty

Contempts, or artificial Oversights. After I have said thus much of

Ladies among us who fight thus regularly, I am to complain to you of a

Set of Familiar Romps, who have broken thro' all common Rules, and

have thought of a very effectual way of shewing more Charms than all

of us. These, Mr. SPECTATOR, are the Swingers. You are to know these

careless pretty Creatures are very Innocents again; and it is to be no

matter what they do, for 'tis all harmless Freedom. They get on Ropes,

as you must have seen the Children, and are swung by their Men

Visitants. The Jest is, that Mr. such a one can name the Colour of

Mrs. Such-a-one's Stockings; and she tells him, he is a lying Thief,

so he is, and full of Roguery; and she'll lay a Wager, and her Sister

shall tell the Truth if he says right, and he can't tell what Colour

her Garters are of. In this Diversion there are very many pretty

Shrieks, not so much for fear of falling, as that their Petticoats

shou'd untye: For there is a great care had to avoid Improprieties;

and the Lover who swings the Lady, is to tye her Clothes very close

with his Hatband, before she admits him to throw up her Heels.

'Now, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, except you can note these Wantonnesses in their

Beginnings, and bring us sober Girls into Observation, there is no

help for it, we must swim with the Tide; the Coquets are too powerful

a Party for us. To look into the Merit of a regular and well-behav'd

Woman, is a slow thing. A loose trivial Song gains the Affections,

when a wise Homily is not attended to. There is no other way but to

make war upon them, or we must go over to them. As for my Part, I will

shew all the World it is not for want of Charms that I stand so long

unasked; and if you do not take measures for the immediate Redress of

us Rigids, as the Fellows call us, I can move with a speaking Mien,

can look significantly, can lisp, can trip, can loll, can start, can

blush, can rage, can weep, if I must do it, and can be frighted as

agreeably as any She in _England_. All which is humbly submitted to

your Spectatorial Consideration with all Humility, by

_Your most humble Servant_,

Matilda Mohair.

T.

* * * * *

No. 493. Thursday, September 25, 1712. Steele.

'Qualem commendes etiam atque etiam adspice, ne mox

Incutiant aliena tibi peccata pudorem.'

Hor.

It is no unpleasant matter of Speculation to consider the recommendatory

Epistles that pass round this Town from Hand to Hand, and the abuse

People put upon one another in that kind. It is indeed come to that

pass, that instead of being the Testimony of Merit in the Person

recommended, the true reading of a Letter of this sort is,

'The Bearer hereof is so uneasie to me, that it will be an Act of

Charity in you to take him off my Hands; whether you prefer him or

not, it is all one, for I have no manner of Kindness for him, or

Obligation to him or his; and do what you please as to that.'

As negligent as Men are in this respect, a point of Honour is concerned

in it; and there is nothing a Man should be more ashamed of, than

passing a worthless Creature into the Service or Interests of a Man who

has never injured you. The Women indeed are a little too keen in their

Resentments, to trespass often this Way: But you shall sometimes know

that the Mistress and the Maid shall quarrel, and give each other very

free Language, and at last the Lady shall be pacified to turn her out of

Doors, and give her a very good Word to any body else. Hence it is that

you see, in a Year and Half's time, the same Face a Domestick in all

parts of the Town. Good-breeding and Good-nature lead People in a great

Measure to this Injustice: When Suitors of no Consideration will have

Confidence enough to press upon their Superiors, those in Power are

tender of speaking the Exceptions they have against them, and are

mortgaged into Promises out of their Impatience of Importunity. In this

latter Case, it would be a very useful Enquiry to know the History of

Recommendations: There are, you must know, certain Abettors of this way

of Torment, who make it a Profession to manage the Affairs of

Candidates: These Gentlemen let out their Impudence to their Clients,

and supply any Defective Recommendation, by informing how such and such

a Man is to be attacked. They will tell you, get the least Scrap from

Mr. Such-a-one, and leave the rest to them. When one of these

Undertakers have your Business in hand, you may be sick, absent in Town

or Country, and the Patron shall be worried, or you prevail. I remember

to have been shewn a Gentleman some Years ago, who punish'd a whole

People for their Facility in giving their Credentials. This Person had

belonged to a Regiment which did Duty in the _West-Indies_, and by the

Mortality of the Place happened to be commanding Officer in the Colony.

He oppressed his Subjects with great frankness, till he became sensible

that he was heartily hated by every Man under his Command. When he had

carried his Point, to be thus detestable, in a pretended Fit of

Dishumour, and feigned Uneasiness of living where he found he was so

universally unacceptable, he communicated to the chief Inhabitants a

Design he had to return for _England_, provided they would give him

ample Testimonials of their Approbation. The Planters came into it to a

Man; and in proportion to his deserving the quite contrary, the Words

Justice, Generosity, and Courage, were inserted in his Commission, not

omitting the general Good-liking of People of all Conditions in the

Colony. The Gentleman returns for _England_, and within few Months after

came back to them their Governour on the Strength of their own

Testimonials.

Such a Rebuke as this cannot indeed happen to easy Recommenders, in the

ordinary course of things from one hand to another; but how would a Man

bear to have it said to him, the Person I took into Confidence on the

Credit you gave him, has proved false, unjust, and has not answered any

way the Character you gave me of him?

I cannot but conceive very good hopes of that Rake _Jack Toper_ of the

_Temple_, for an honest Scrupulousness in this Point. A Friend of his

meeting with a Servant that had formerly lived with _Jack_, and having a

mind to take him, sent to him to know what Faults the Fellow had, since

he could not please such a careless Fellow as he was. His Answer was as

follows:

_SIR_,

'Thomas that lived with me was turned away because he was too good for

me. You know I live in Taverns; he is an orderly sober Rascal, and

thinks much to sleep in an Entry till two in a Morning. He told me one

day when he was dressing me, that he wondered I was not dead before

now, since I went to Dinner in the Evening, and went to Supper at two

in the Morning. We were coming down _Essex-street_ one Night a little

flustrated, and I was giving him the Word to alarm the Watch; he had

the Impudence to tell me it was against the Law. You that are married,

and live one Day after another the same Way, and so on the whole Week,

I dare say will like him, and he will be glad to have his Meat in due

Season. The Fellow is certainly very Honest. My Service to your Lady.

_Yours_, J. T.

Now this was very fair Dealing. _Jack_ knew very well, that though the

Love of Order made a Man very awkward in his Equipage, it was a valuable

Quality among the Queer People who live by Rule; and had too much good

Sense and good Nature to let the Fellow starve, because he was not fit

to attend his Vivacities.

I shall end this Discourse with a Letter of Recommendation from _Horace_

to _Claudius Nero_. You will see in that Letter a Slowness to ask a

Favour, a strong Reason for being unable to deny his good Word any

longer, and that it is a Service to the Person to whom he recommends, to

comply with what is asked: All which are necessary Circumstances, both

in Justice and Good-breeding, if a Man would ask so as to have reason to

complain of a Denial; and indeed a Man should not in strictness ask

otherwise. In hopes the Authority of _Horace_, who perfectly understood

how to live with great Men, may have a good Effect towards amending this

Facility in People of Condition, and the Confidence of those who apply

to them without Merit, I have translated the Epistle. [1]

_To_ CLAUDIUS NERO.

_SIR_,

'_Septimus_, who waits upon you with this, is very well acquainted

with the place you are pleased to allow me in your Friendship. For

when he beseeches me to recommend him to your Notice, in such a manner

as to be received by you, who are delicate in the choice of your

Friends and Domesticks, he knows our Intimacy, and understands my

Ability to serve him better than I do myself. I have defended my self

against his Ambition to be yours, as long as I possibly could; but

fearing the Imputation of hiding my Power in you out of mean and

selfish Considerations, I am at last prevailed upon to give you this

Trouble. Thus, to avoid the Appearance of a greater Fault, I have put

on this Confidence. If you can forgive this Transgression of Modesty

in behalf of a Friend, receive this Gentleman into your Interests and

Friendship, and take it from me that he is an honest and brave Man.

T.

[Footnote 1: This is a translation from Horace of the verse of No. 9 in