caprice and imagination; and many particular acts will be wrong, though
their general principle be right. It cannot be denied that a just
conviction of the restraint necessary to be laid upon the appetites has
produced extravagant and unnatural modes of mortification, and
institutions, which, however favourably considered, will be found to
violate nature without promoting piety[1].
But the doctrine of self-denial is not weakened in itself by the errours
of those who misinterpret or misapply it; the encroachment of the
appetites upon the understanding is hourly perceived; and the state of
those, whom sensuality has enslaved, is known to be in the highest
degree despicable and wretched.
The dread of such shameful captivity may justly raise alarms, and wisdom
will endeavour to keep danger at a distance. By timely caution and
suspicious vigilance those desires may be repressed, to which indulgence
would soon give absolute dominion; those enemies may be overcome, which,
when they have been a while accustomed to victory, can no longer be
resisted.
Nothing is more fatal to happiness or virtue, than that confidence which
flatters us with an opinion of our own strength, and, by assuring us of
the power of retreat, precipitates us into hazard. Some may safely
venture farther than others into the regions of delight, lay themselves
more open to the golden shafts of pleasure, and advance nearer to the
residence of the Syrens; but he that is best armed with constancy and
reason is yet vulnerable in one part or other, and to every man there is
a point fixed, beyond which, if he passes, he will not easily return. It
is certainly most wise, as it is most safe, to stop before he touches
the utmost limit, since every step of advance will more and more entice
him to go forward, till he shall at last enter into the recesses of
voluptuousness, and sloth and despondency close the passage behind him.
To deny early and inflexibly, is the only art of checking the
importunity of desire, and of preserving quiet and innocence. Innocent
gratifications must be sometimes withheld; he that complies with all
lawful desires will certainly lose his empire over himself, and, in
time, either submit his reason to his wishes, and think all his desires
lawful, or dismiss his reason as troublesome and intrusive, and resolve
to snatch what he may happen to wish, without inquiring about right and
wrong.
No man, whose appetites are his masters, can perform the duties of his
nature with strictness and regularity; he that would be superior to
external influences must first become superior to his own passions.
When the Roman general, sitting at supper with a plate of turnips before
him, was solicited by large presents to betray his trust, he asked the
messengers whether he that could sup on turnips was a man likely to sell
his own country. Upon him who has reduced his senses to obedience,
temptation has lost its power; he is able to attend impartially to
virtue, and execute her commands without hesitation.
To set the mind above the appetites is the end of abstinence, which one
of the Fathers observes to be not a virtue, but the ground-work of
virtue. By forbearing to do what may innocently be done, we may add
hourly new vigour to resolution, and secure the power of resistance when
pleasure or interest shall lend their charms to guilt.
[1] See Rambler 110 and Note. Read also the splendid passage on monastic
seclusion in Adventurer 127. The recluses of the Certosa and
Chartreuse forsook the world for abodes lordly as those of princes.
No. 53. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1759.
TO THE IDLER.
Sir,
I have a wife that keeps good company. You know that the word _good_
varies its meaning according to the value set upon different qualities
in different places. To be a good man in a college, is to be learned; in
a camp, to be brave; and in the city, to be rich. By good company in the
place which I have the misfortune to inhabit, we understand not only
those from whom any good can be learned, whether wisdom or virtue; or by
whom any good can be conferred, whether profit or reputation:--good
company is the company of those whose birth is high, and whose riches
are great; or of those whom the rich and noble admit to familiarity.
I am a gentleman of a fortune by no means exuberant, but more than equal
to the wants of my family, and for some years equal to our desires. My
wife, who had never been accustomed to splendour, joined her endeavours
to mine in the superintendence of our economy; we lived in decent
plenty, and were not excluded from moderate pleasures.
But slight causes produce great effects. All my happiness has been
destroyed by change of place: virtue is too often merely local; in some
situations the air diseases the body, and in others poisons the mind.
Being obliged to remove my habitation, I was led by my evil genius to a
convenient house in a street where many of the nobility reside. We had
scarcely ranged our furniture, and aired our rooms, when my wife began
to grow discontented, and to wonder what the neighbours would think,
when they saw so few chairs and chariots at her door.
Her acquaintance, who came to see her from the quarter that we had left,
mortified her without design, by continual inquiries about the ladies
whose houses they viewed from our windows. She was ashamed to confess
that she had no intercourse with them, and sheltered her distress under
general answers, which always tended to raise suspicion that she knew
more than she would tell; but she was often reduced to difficulties,
when the course of talk introduced questions about the furniture or
ornaments of their houses, which, when she could get no intelligence,
she was forced to pass slightly over, as things which she saw so often
that she never minded them.
To all these vexations she was resolved to put an end, and redoubled her
visits to those few of her friends who visited those who kept good
company; and, if ever she met a lady of quality, forced herself into
notice by respect and assiduity. Her advances were generally rejected;
and she heard them, as they went down stairs, talk how some creatures
put themselves forward.
She was not discouraged, but crept forward from one to another; and, as
perseverance will do great things, sapped her way unperceived, till,
unexpectedly, she appeared at the card-table of lady Biddy Porpoise, a
lethargick virgin of seventy-six, whom all the families in the next
square visited very punctually when she was not at home.
This was the first step of that elevation to which my wife has since
ascended. For five months she had no name in her mouth but that of lady
Biddy, who, let the world say what it would, had a fine understanding,
and such a command of her temper, that, whether she won or lost, she
slept over her cards.
At lady Biddy's she met with lady Tawdry, whose favour she gained by
estimating her ear-rings, which were counterfeit, at twice the value of
real diamonds. When she had once entered two houses of distinction, she
was easily admitted into more, and in ten weeks had all her time
anticipated by parties and engagements. Every morning she is bespoke, in
the summer, for the gardens, in the winter, for a sale; every afternoon
she has visits to pay, and every night brings an inviolable appointment,
or an assembly in which the best company in the town are to appear.
You will easily imagine that much of my domestick comfort is withdrawn.
I never see my wife but in the hurry of preparation, or the languor of
weariness. To dress and to undress is almost her whole business in
private, and the servants take advantage of her negligence to increase
expense. But I can supply her omissions by my own diligence, and should
not much regret this new course of life, if it did nothing more than
transfer to me the care of our accounts. The changes which it has made
are more vexatious. My wife has no longer the use of her understanding.
She has no rule of action but the fashion. She has no opinion but that
of the people of quality. She has no language but the dialect of her own
set of company. She hates and admires in humble imitation; and echoes
the words _charming_ and _detestable_ without consulting her own
perceptions.
If for a few minutes we sit down together, she entertains me with the
repartees of lady Cackle, or the conversation of lord Whiffler and Miss
Quick, and wonders to find me receiving with indifference sayings which
put all the company into laughter.
By her old friends she is no longer very willing to be seen, but she
must not rid herself of them all at once; and is sometimes surprised by
her best visitants in company which she would not show, and cannot hide;
but from the moment that a countess enters, she takes care neither to
hear nor see them: they soon find themselves neglected, and retire; and
she tells her ladyship that they are somehow related at a great
distance, and that, as they are a good sort of people, she cannot be
rude to them.
As by this ambitious union with those that are above her, she is always
forced upon disadvantageous comparisons of her condition with theirs,
she has a constant source of misery within; and never returns from
glittering assemblies and magnificent apartments but she growls out her
discontent, and wonders why she was doomed to so indigent a state. When
she attends the duchess to a sale, she always sees something that she
cannot buy; and, that she may not seem wholly insignificant, she will
sometimes venture to bid, and often make acquisitions which she did not
want at prices which she cannot afford.
What adds to all this uneasiness is, that this expense is without use,
and this vanity without honour; she forsakes houses where she might be
courted, for those where she is only suffered; her equals are daily made
her enemies, and her superiors will never be her friends.
I am, Sir, yours, &c.
No. 54. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1759.
TO THE IDLER.
Sir,
You have lately entertained your admirers with the case of an
unfortunate husband, and, thereby, given a demonstrative proof you are
not averse even to hear appeals and terminate differences between man
and wife; I, therefore, take the liberty to present you with the case of
an injured lady, which, as it chiefly relates to what I think the
lawyers call a point of law, I shall do in as juridical a manner as I am
capable, and submit it to the consideration of the learned gentlemen of
that profession.
_Imprimis_. In the style of my marriage articles, a marriage was _had
and solemnized_ about six months ago, between me and Mr. Savecharges, a
gentleman possessed of a plentiful fortune of his own, and one who, I
was persuaded, would improve, and not spend, mine.
Before our marriage, Mr. Savecharges had all along preferred the
salutary exercise of walking on foot to the distempered ease, as he
terms it, of lolling in a chariot; but, notwithstanding his fine
panegyricks on walking, the great advantages the infantry were in the
sole possession of, and the many dreadful dangers they escaped, he found
I had very different notions of an equipage, and was not easily to be
converted, or gained over to his party.
An equipage I was determined to have, whenever I married. I too well
knew the disposition of my intended consort to leave the providing one
entirely to his honour, and flatter myself Mr. Savecharges has, in the
articles made previous to our marriage, _agreed to keep me a coach_; but
lest I should be mistaken, or the attorneys should not have done me
justice in methodizing or legalizing these half dozen words, I will set
about and transcribe that part of the agreement, which will explain the
matter to you much better than can be done by one who is so deeply
interested in the event; and show on what foundation I build my hopes of
being soon under the transporting, delightful denomination of a
fashionable lady, who enjoys the exalted and much-envied felicity of
bowling about in her own coach.
"And further the said Solomon Savecharges, for divers good causes and
considerations him hereunto moving, hath agreed, and doth hereby agree,
that the said Solomon Savecharges shall and will, so soon as
conveniently may be after the solemnization of the said intended
marriage, at his own proper cost and charges, find and provide a
_certain vehicle, or four-wheel-carriage, commonly called or known by
the name of a coach_; which said vehicle, or wheel-carriage, so called
or known by the name of a coach, shall be _used and enjoyed_ by the said
Sukey Modish, his intended wife," [pray mind that, Mr. Idler,] "at such
times and in such manner as she, the said Sukey Modish, shall think fit
and convenient."
Such, Mr. Idler, is the agreement my passionate admirer entered into;
and what the dear, frugal husband calls a performance of it, remains to
be described. Soon after the ceremony of signing and sealing was over,
our wedding-clothes being sent home, and, in short, every thing in
readiness except the coach, my own shadow was scarcely more constant
than my passionate lover in his attendance on me: wearied by his
perpetual importunities for what he called a completion of his bliss, I
consented to make him happy; in a few days I gave him my hand, and,
attended by Hymen in his saffron robes, retired to a country-seat of my
husband's, where the honey-moon flew over our heads ere we had time to
recollect ourselves, or think of our engagements in town. Well, to town
we came, and you may be sure, Sir, I expected to step into my coach on
my arrival here; but, what was my surprise and disappointment, when,
instead of this, he began to sound in my ears? "that the interest of
money was low, very low; and what a terrible thing it was to be
encumbered with a little regiment of servants in these hard times!" I
could easily perceive what all this tended to, but would not seem to
understand him; which made it highly necessary for Mr. Savecharges to
explain himself more intelligibly; to harp upon and protest he dreaded
the expense of keeping a coach. And truly, for his part, he could not
conceive how the pleasure resulting from such a convenience could be any
way adequate to the heavy expense attending it. I now thought it high
time to speak with equal plainness, and told him, as the fortune I
brought fairly entitled me to ride in my own coach, and as I was
sensible his circumstances would very well afford it, he must pardon me
if I insisted on a performance of his agreement.
I appeal to you, Mr. Idler, whether any thing could be more civil, more
complaisant, than this? And, would you believe it, the creature in
return, a few days after, accosted me, in an offended tone, with,
"Madam, I can now tell you, your coach is ready; and since you are so
passionately fond of one, I intend you the honour of keeping a pair of
horses.--You insisted upon having an article of pin-money, and horses
are no part of my agreement." Base, designing wretch!--I beg your
pardon, Mr. Idler, the very recital of such mean, ungentleman-like
behaviour fires my blood, and lights up a flame within me. But hence,
thou worst of monsters, ill-timed Rage! and let me not spoil my cause
for want of temper.
Now, though I am convinced I might make a worse use of part of the
pin-money, than by extending my bounty towards the support of so useful a
part of the brute creation; yet, like a true-born Englishwoman, I am so
tenacious of my rights and privileges, and moreover so good a friend to
the gentlemen of the law, that I protest, Mr. Idler, sooner than tamely
give up the point, and be quibbled out of my right, I will receive my
pin-money, as it were, with one hand, and pay it to them with the other;
provided they will give me, or, which is the same thing, my trustees,
encouragement to commence a suit against this dear, frugal husband of
mine.
And of this I can't have the least shadow of doubt, inasmuch as I have
been told by very good authority, it is somewhere or other laid down as
a rule "_That whenever_ the law doth give any thing to one, it giveth
impliedly whatever is necessary for taking and enjoying the same[1]."
Now, I would gladly know what enjoyment I, or any lady in the kingdom,
can have of a coach without horses? The answer is obvious--None at all!
For, as Serjeant Catlyne very wisely observes, "though a coach has
wheels, to the end it may thereby and by virtue thereof be enabled to
move; yet in point of utility it may as well have none, if they are not
put in motion by means of its vital parts, that is, the horses."
And, therefore, Sir, I humbly hope you and the learned in the law will
be of opinion, that two certain animals, or quadruped creatures,
commonly called or known by the name of horses, ought to be annexed to,
and go along with, the coach. SUKEY SAVECHARGES[2]
[1] Quando lex aliquid alicui concedit, concedere videtur et id, sine
quo res ipsa esse non potest. Coke on Littleton, 56. a.--ED.
[2] An unknown correspondent.
No. 55. SATURDAY, MAY 5, 1759.
TO THE IDLER.
Mr. Idler,
I have taken the liberty of laying before you my complaint, and of
desiring advice or consolation with the greater confidence, because I
believe many other writers have suffered the same indignities with
myself, and hope my quarrel will be regarded by you and your readers as
the common cause of literature.
Having been long a student, I thought myself qualified in time to become
an author. My inquiries have been much diversified and far extended, and
not finding my genius directing me by irresistible impulse to any
particular subject, I deliberated three years which part of knowledge to
illustrate by my labours. Choice is more often determined by accident
than by reason: I walked abroad one morning with a curious lady, and, by
her inquiries and observations, was incited to write the natural history
of the country in which I reside.
Natural history is no work for one that loves his chair or his bed.
Speculation may be pursued on a soft couch, but nature must be observed
in the open air. I have collected materials with indefatigable
pertinacity. I have gathered glow-worms in the evening, and snails in
the morning; I have seen the daisy close and open, I have heard the owl
shriek at midnight, and hunted insects in the heat of noon.
Seven years I was employed in collecting animals and vegetables, and
then found that my design was yet imperfect. The subterranean treasures
of the place had been passed unobserved, and another year was to be
spent in mines and coal-pits. What I had already done supplied a
sufficient motive to do more. I acquainted myself with the black
inhabitants of metallick caverns, and, in defiance of damps and floods,
wandered through the gloomy labyrinths, and gathered fossils from every
fissure,
At last I began to write, and as I finished any section of my book, read
it to such of my friends, as were most skilful in the matter which it
treated. None of them were satisfied; one disliked the disposition of
the parts, another the colours of the style; one advised me to enlarge,
another to abridge. I resolved to read no more, but to take my own way
and write on, for by consultation I only perplexed my thoughts and
retarded my work.
The book was at last finished, and I did not doubt but my labour would
be repaid by profit, and my ambition satisfied with honours. I
considered that natural history is neither temporary nor local, and that
though I limited my inquiries to my own country, yet every part of the
earth has productions common to all the rest. Civil history may be
partially studied, the revolutions of one nation may be neglected by
another; but after that in which all have an interest, all must be
inquisitive. No man can have sunk so far into stupidity as not to
consider the properties of the ground on which he walks, of the plants
on which he feeds, or the animals that delight his ear, or amuse his
eye; and, therefore, I computed that universal curiosity would call for
many editions of my book, and that in five years I should gain fifteen
thousand pounds by the sale of thirty thousand copies.
When I began to write, I insured the house; and suffered the utmost
solicitude when I entrusted my book to the carrier, though I had secured
it against mischances by lodging two transcripts in different places. At
my arrival, I expected that the patrons of learning would contend for
the honour of a dedication, and resolved to maintain the dignity of
letters, by a haughty contempt of pecuniary solicitations.
I took my lodgings near the house of the Royal Society, and expected
every morning a visit from the president. I walked in the Park, and
wondered that I overheard no mention of the great naturalist. At last I
visited a noble earl, and told him of my work: he answered, that he was
under an engagement never to subscribe. I was angry to have that refused
which I did not mean to ask, and concealed my design of making him
immortal. I went next day to another, and, in resentment of my late
affront, offered to prefix his name to my new book. He said, coldly,
that _he did not understand those things_; another thought, _there were
too many books_; and another would _talk with me when the races were
over_.
Being amazed to find a man of learning so indecently slighted, I
resolved to indulge the philosophical pride of retirement and
independence. I then sent to some of the principal booksellers the plan
of my book, and bespoke a large room in the next tavern, that I might
more commodiously see them together, and enjoy the contest, while they
were outbidding one another. I drank my coffee, and yet nobody was come;
at last I received a note from one, to tell me that he was going out of
town; and from another, that natural history was out of his way. At last
there came a grave man, who desired to see the work, and, without
opening it, told me, that a book of that size _would never do_.
I then condescended to step into shops, and mentioned my work to the
masters. Some never dealt with authors; others had their hands full;
some never had known such a dead time; others had lost by all that they
had published for the last twelvemonth. One offered to print my work, if
I could procure subscriptions for five hundred, and would allow me two
hundred copies for my property. I lost my patience, and gave him a kick;
for which he has indicted me.
I can easily perceive, that there is a combination among them to defeat
my expectations; and I find it so general, that I am sure it must have
been long concerted. I suppose some of my friends, to whom I read the
first part, gave notice of my design, and, perhaps, sold the treacherous
intelligence at a higher price than the fraudulence of trade will now
allow me for my book.
Inform me, Mr. Idler, what I must do; where must knowledge and industry
find their recompense, thus neglected by the high, and cheated by the
low? I sometimes resolve to print my book at my own expense, and, like
the Sibyl, double the price; and sometimes am tempted, in emulation of
Raleigh, to throw it into the fire, and leave this sordid generation to
the curses of posterity. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do.
I am, Sir, &c.
No. 56. SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1759.
There is such difference between the pursuits of men, that one part of
the inhabitants of a great city lives to little other purpose than to
wonder at the rest. Some have hopes and fears, wishes and aversions,
which never enter into the thoughts of others, and inquiry is
laboriously exerted to gain that which those who possess it are ready to
throw away.
To those who are accustomed to value every thing by its use, and have no
such superfluity of time or money, as may prompt them to unnatural wants
or capricious emulations, nothing appears more improbable or extravagant
than the love of curiosities, or that desire of accumulating trifles,
which distinguishes many by whom no other distinction could have ever
been obtained.
He that has lived without knowing to what height desire may be raised by
vanity, with what rapture baubles are snatched out of the hands of rival
collectors, how the eagerness of one raises eagerness in another, and
one worthless purchase makes a second necessary, may, by passing a few
hours at an auction, learn more than can be shown by many volumes of
maxims or essays.