* * * * *
From my own Apartment, June 16.
The vigilance, the anxiety, the tenderness, which I have for the good
people of England, I am persuaded will in time be much commended; but I
doubt whether they will ever be rewarded. However, I must go on
cheerfully in my work of reformation: that being my great design, I am
studious to prevent my labours increasing upon me; therefore am
particularly observant of the temper and inclinations of childhood and
youth, that we may not give vice and folly supplies from the growing
generation. It is hardly to be imagined how useful this study is, and
what great evils or benefits arise from putting us in our tender years
to what we are fit, or unfit: therefore on Tuesday last (with a design
to sound their inclinations) I took three lads who are under my
guardianship a rambling, in a hackney-coach, to show them the town, as
the lions,[307] the tombs,[308] Bedlam,[309] and the other places which
are entertainments to raw minds, because they strike forcibly on the
fancy. The boys are brothers, one of sixteen, the other of fourteen, the
other of twelve. The first was his father's darling, the second his
mother's, and the third is mine, who am their uncle. Mr. William is a
lad of true genius; but being at the upper end of a great school, and
having all the lads below him, his arrogance is insupportable. If I
begin to show a little of my Latin, he immediately interrupts: "Uncle,
under favour, that which you say is not understood in that manner."
"Brother," says my boy Jack, "you do not show your manners much in
contradicting my Uncle Isaac." "You queer cur," says Mr. William, "do
you think my uncle takes any notice of such a dull rogue as you are?"
Mr. William goes on; "He is the most stupid of all my mother's children:
he knows nothing of his book: when he should mind that, he is hiding or
hoarding his taws and marbles, or laying up farthings. His way of
thinking is, four and twenty farthings make sixpence, and two sixpences
a shilling, two shillings and sixpence half a crown, and two half-crowns
five shillings. So within these two months, the close hunks has scraped
up twenty shillings, and we'll make him spend it all before he comes
home." Jack immediately claps his hands into both pockets, and turns as
pale as ashes. There is nothing touches a parent (and such I am to Jack)
so nearly, as a provident temper. This lad has in him the true temper
for a good husband, a kind father, and an honest executor. All the great
people you see make considerable figures on the 'Change, in Court, and
sometimes in Senates, are such as in reality have no greater faculty
than what may be called human instinct, which is a natural tendency to
their own preservation, and that of their friends, without being capable
of striking out of the road for adventures. There is Sir William Scrip
was of this sort of capacity from his childhood: he has bought the
country round him, and makes a bargain better than Sir Harry Wildfire
with all his wit and humour. Sir Harry never wants money but he comes to
Scrip, laughs at him half an hour, and then gives bond for the other
thousand. The close men are incapable of placing merit anywhere but in
their pence, and therefore gain it; while others, who have larger
capacities, are diverted from the pursuit by enjoyments, which can be
supported only by that cash which they despise; and therefore are in the
end, slaves to their inferiors both in fortune and understanding. I once
heard a man of excellent sense observe, that more affairs in the world
failed by being in the hands of men of too large capacities for their
business, than by being in the conduct of such as wanted abilities to
execute them. Jack therefore being of a plodding make, shall be a
citizen; and I design him to be the refuge of the family in their
distress, as well as their jest in prosperity. His brother Will, shall
go to Oxford with all speed, where, if he does not arrive at being a man
of sense, he will soon be informed wherein he is a coxcomb. There is in
that place such a true spirit of raillery and humour, that if they can't
make you a wise man, they will certainly let you know you are a fool,
which is all my cousin wants to cease to be so. Thus having taken these
two out of the way, I have leisure to look at my third lad. I observe in
the young rogue a natural subtilty of mind, which discovers itself
rather in forbearing to declare his thoughts on any occasion, than in
any visible way of exerting himself in discourse. For which reason I
will place him where, if he commits no faults, he may go farther than
those in other stations, though they excel in virtues. The boy is well
fashioned, and will easily fall into a graceful manner; wherefore, I
have a design to make him a page to a great lady of my acquaintance; by
which means he will be well skilled in the common modes of life, and
make a greater progress in the world by that knowledge, than with the
greatest qualities without it. A good mien in a Court will carry a man
greater lengths than a good understanding in any other place. We see a
world of pains taken, and the best years of life spent, in collecting a
set of thoughts in a college for the conduct of life; and after all, the
man so qualified shall hesitate in his speech to a good suit of clothes,
and want common sense before an agreeable woman. Hence it is, that
wisdom, valour, justice, and learning, can't keep a man in countenance
that is possessed with these excellences, if he wants that less art of
life and behaviour, called "good breeding." A man endowed with great
perfections without this, is like one who has his pockets full of gold,
but always wants change for his ordinary occasions. Will. Courtly is a
living instance of this truth, and has had the same education which I am
giving my nephew. He never spoke a thing but what was said before; and
yet can converse with the wittiest men without being ridiculous. Among
the learned, he does not appear ignorant; nor with the wise, indiscreet.
Living in conversation from his infancy, makes him nowhere at a loss;
and a long familiarity with the persons of men, is in a manner of the
same service to him, as if he knew their arts. As ceremony is the
invention of wise men to keep fools at a distance, so good breeding is
an expedient to make fools and wise men equals.
Will's Coffee-house, June 17.
The suspension of the playhouse[310] has made me have nothing to send
you from hence; but calling here this evening, I found the party I
usually sit with, upon the business of writing, and examining what was
the handsomest style in which to address women, and write letters of
gallantry. Many were the opinions which were immediately declared on
this subject: some were for a certain softness; some for I know not what
delicacy; others for something inexpressibly tender: when it came to me,
I said there was no rule in the world to be made for writing letters,
but that of being as near what you speak face to face as you can; which
is so great a truth, that I am of opinion, writing has lost more
mistresses than any one mistake in the whole legend of love. For when
you write to a lady for whom you have a solid and honourable love, the
great idea you have of her, joined to a quick sense of her absence,
fills your mind with a sort of tenderness, that gives your language too
much the air of complaint, which is seldom successful. For a man may
flatter himself as he pleases, but he will find, that the women have
more understanding in their own affairs than we have, and women of
spirit are not to be won by mourners. Therefore he that can keep
handsomely within rules, and support the carriage of a companion to his
mistress, is much more likely to prevail, than he who lets her see, the
whole relish of his life depends upon her. If possible therefore divert
your mistress, rather than sigh to her. The pleasant man she will desire
for her own sake; but the languishing lover has nothing to hope from but
her pity. To show the difference I produced two letters a lady gave me,
which had been writ to her by two gentlemen who pretended to her, but
were both killed the next day after the date at the battle of Almanza.
One of them was a mercurial gay-humoured man; the other a man of a
serious, but a great and gallant spirit. Poor Jack Careless! This is his
letter: you see how it is folded: the air of it is so negligent, one
might have read half of it by peeping into it, without breaking it open.
He had no exactness.
"MADAM,
"It is a very pleasant circumstance I am in, that while I should be
thinking of the good company we are to meet within a day or two, where
we shall go to loggerheads, my thoughts are running upon a fair enemy in
England. I was in hopes I had left you there; but you follow the camp,
though I have endeavoured to make some of our leaguer ladies drive you
out of the field. All my comfort is, you are more troublesome to my
colonel than myself: I permit you to visit me only now and then; but he
downright keeps you. I laugh at his Honour as far as his gravity will
allow me; but I know him to be a man of too much merit to succeed with a
woman. Therefore defend your heart as well as you can, I shall come home
this winter irresistibly dressed, and with quite a new foreign air. And
so I had like to say, I rest, but alas! I remain,
"Madam,
"Your most obedient,
"Most humble Servant,
"JOHN CARELESS."
Now for Colonel Constant's epistle; you see it is folded and directed
with the utmost care.
"MADAM,
"I do myself the honour to write to you this evening, because I believe
to-morrow will be a day of battle, and something forebodes in my breast
that I shall fall in it. If it proves so, I hope you will hear, I have
done nothing below a man who had a love of his country, quickened by a
passion for a woman of honour. If there be anything noble in going to a
certain death; if there be any merit, that I meet it with pleasure, by
promising myself a place in your esteem; if your applause, when I am no
more, is preferable to the most glorious life without you: I say, madam,
if any of these considerations can have weight with you, you will give
me a kind place in your memory, which I prefer to the glory of Cæsar. I
hope, this will be read, as it is writ, with tears."
The beloved lady is a woman of a sensible mind; but she has confessed
to me, that after all her true and solid value for Constant, she had
much more concern for the loss of Careless. Those great and serious
spirits have something equal to the adversities they meet with, and
consequently lessen the objects of pity. Great accidents seem not cut
out so much for men of familiar characters, which makes them more easily
pitied, and soon after beloved. Add to this, that the sort of love which
generally succeeds, is a stranger to awe and distance. I asked Romana,
whether of the two she should have chosen had they survived? She said,
she knew she ought to have taken Constant; but believed she should have
chosen Careless.
St. James's Coffee-house, June 17.
Letters from Lisbon of the 9th instant, N.S., say, that the enemy's
army, having blocked up Olivenza, was posted on the Guadiana. The
Portuguese are very apprehensive that the garrison of that place, though
it consists of five of the best regiments of their army, will be obliged
to surrender, if not timely relieved, they not being supplied with
provisions for more than six weeks. Hereupon their generals held a
council of war on the 4th instant, wherein it was concluded to advance
towards Badajos. With this design the army decamped on the 5th from
Jerumena, and marched to Cancaon. It is hoped, that if the enemy follow
their motions, they may have opportunity to put a sufficient quantity of
provision and ammunition into Olivenza.
Mr. Bickerstaff gives notice to all persons that dress themselves as
they please, without regard to decorum (as with blue and red stockings
in mourning; tucked cravats, and nightcap wigs, before people of the
first quality) that he has yet received no fine for indulging them in
that liberty, and that he expects their compliance with this demand, or
that they go home immediately and shift themselves. This is further to
acquaint the town, that the report that the hosiers, toymen, and
milliners, have compounded with Mr. Bickerstaff for tolerating such
enormities, is utterly false and scandalous.
[Footnote 307: At the Tower of London. The Tower menagerie was one of
the sights of London until its removal in 1834. See Addison's
_Freeholder_; No. 47.]
[Footnote 308: In Westminster Abbey.]
[Footnote 309: The Priory of Bethlem, in St. Botolph Without,
Bishopsgate, was given by Henry VIII. to the Corporation of London, and
was from thenceforth used as a hospital for lunatics. In 1675 a new
hospital was built near London Wall, in Moorfields, at a cost of
£17,000. See Hogarth's "Rake's Progress," Plate 8. In No. 127, Steele
calls Bedlam "that magnificent palace."]
[Footnote 310: Drury Lane Theatre was closed on June 6, 1709, by order
of the Lord Chamberlain, in consequence of Rich's ill-treatment of the
actors.]
No. 31. [STEELE.