Addison and Steele: The Spectator

Letters to the Editor

2004-08-03T12:46:00.000-07:00

... Opiferque per Orbem
Dicor ...

Ovid.

During my Absence in the Country,
several Packets have been left for me, which were not forwarded to me, because I
was expected every Day in Town. The Author of the following Letter, dated from
Tower-Hill, having sometimes been entertained with some Learned Gentlemen
in Plush Doublets, who have vended their Wares from a Stage in that Place, has
pleasantly enough addressed Me, as no less a Sage in Morality, than those are in
Physick. To comply with his kind Inclination to make my Cures famous, I shall
give you his Testimonial of my great Abilities at large in his own Words.

Sir,

'Your saying t'other Day there is
something wonderful in the Narrowness of those Minds which can be pleased, and
be barren of Bounty to those who please them, makes me in pain that I am not a
Man of Power: If I were, you should soon see how much I approve your
Speculations. In the mean time, I beg leave to supply that Inability with the
empty Tribute of an honest Mind, by telling you plainly I love and thank you
for your daily Refreshments. I constantly peruse your Paper as I smoke my
Morning's Pipe, (tho' I can't forbear reading the Motto before I fill and
light) and really it gives a grateful Relish to every Whif; each Paragraph is
freight either with useful or delightful Notions, and I never fail of being
highly diverted or improved. The Variety of your Subjects surprizes me as much
as a Box of Pictures did formerly, in which there was only one Face, that by
pulling some Pieces of Isinglass over it, was changed into a grave Senator or
a Merry Andrew, a patch'd Lady or a Nun, a Beau or a Black-a-moor, a
Prude or a Coquet, a Country 'Squire or a Conjurer, with many other different
Representations very entertaining (as you are) tho' still the same at the
Bottom. This was a childish Amusement when I was carried away with outward
Appearance, but you make a deeper Impression, and affect the secret Springs of
the Mind; you charm the Fancy, sooth the Passions, and insensibly lead the
Reader to that Sweetness of Temper that you so well describe; you rouse
Generosity with that Spirit, and inculcate Humanity with that Ease, that he
must be miserably Stupid that is not affected by you. I can't say indeed that
you have put Impertinence to Silence, or Vanity out of Countenance; but
methinks you have bid as fair for it, as any Man that ever appeared upon a
publick Stage; and offer an infallible Cure of Vice and Folly, for the Price
of One Penny. And since it is usual for those who receive Benefit by such
famous Operators, to publish an Advertisement, that others may reap the same
Advantage, I think my self obliged to declare to all the World, that having
for a long time been splenatick, ill natured, froward, suspicious, and
unsociable, by the Application of your Medicines, taken only with half an
Ounce of right Virginia Tobacco, for six successive Mornings, I am
become open, obliging, officious, frank, and hospitable.

I am, Your
Humble Servant, and great Admirer,

George
Trusty.

Tower-hill,

July 5, 1711.

This careful
Father and humble Petitioner hereafter mentioned, who are under Difficulties
about the just Management of Fans, will soon receive proper Advertisements
relating to the Professors in that behalf, with their Places of Abode and
Methods of Teaching.

July the 5th, 1711.

Sir,

'In your
Spectator of June the 7th you Transcribe a Letter sent to you from a
new sort of Muster-master, who teaches Ladies the whole Exercise of the Fan; I
have a Daughter just come to Town, who tho' she has always held a Fan in her
Hand at proper Times, yet she knows no more how to use it according to true
Discipline, than an awkward School-boy does to make use of his new Sword: I
have sent for her on purpose to learn the Exercise, she being already very
well accomplished in all other Arts which are necessary for a young Lady to
understand; my Request is, that you will speak to your Correspondent on my
behalf, and in your next Paper let me know what he expects, either by the
Month, or the Quarter, for teaching; and where he keeps his Place of
Rendezvous. I have a Son too, whom I would fain have taught to gallant Fans,
and should be glad to know what the Gentleman will have for teaching them
both, I finding Fans for Practice at my own Expence. This Information will in
the highest manner oblige,

Sir, Your most humble
Servant,

William Wiseacre.

As soon as my Son is perfect in
this Art (which I hope will be in a Year's time, for the Boy is pretty apt,) I
design he shall learn to ride the great Horse, (altho' he is not yet above
twenty Years old) if his Mother, whose Darling he is, will venture
him.

To the Spectator.

The humble Petition of
Benjamin Easie, Gent.

Sheweth,

'That it was your
Petitioner's Misfortune to walk to Hackney Church last Sunday, where to
his great Amazement he met with a Soldier of your own training: she furls a
Fan, recovers a Fan, and goes through the whole Exercise of it to Admiration.
This well-managed Officer of yours has, to my Knowledge, been the Ruin of
above five young Gentlemen besides my self, and still goes on laying waste
wheresoever she comes, whereby the whole Village is in great danger. Our
humble Request is therefore that this bold Amazon be ordered immediately to
lay down her Arms, or that you would issue forth an Order, that we who have
been thus injured may meet at the Place of General Rendezvous, and there be
taught to manage our Snuff-Boxes in such manner as we may be an equal Match
for her:

And your Petitioner shall ever Pray,
&c.

R.

Ovid

In Defense of Feuilletons

2004-07-23T07:37:00.000-07:00

Greek (transliterated): Méga Biblion, méga kakón.

A Man who publishes his Works in a Volume, has an infinite Advantage over one who communicates his Writings to the World in loose Tracts and single Pieces. We do not expect to meet with any thing in a bulky Volume, till after some heavy Preamble, and several Words of Course, to prepare the Reader for what follows: Nay, Authors have established it as a kind of Rule, that a Man ought to be dull sometimes; as the most severe Reader makes Allowances for many Rests and Nodding-places in a Voluminous Writer. This gave Occasion to the famous Greek Proverb which I have chosen for my Motto, That a great Book is a great Evil.

On the contrary, those who publish their Thoughts in distinct Sheets, and as it were by Piece-meal, have none of these Advantages. We must immediately fall into our Subject, and treat every Part of it in a lively Manner, or our Papers are thrown by as dull and insipid: Our Matter must lie close together, and either be wholly new in itself, or in the Turn it receives from our Expressions. Were the Books of our best
Authors thus to be retailed to the Publick, and every Page submitted to the
Taste of forty or fifty thousand Readers, I am afraid we should complain of many
flat Expressions, trivial Observations, beaten Topicks, and common Thoughts,
which go off very well in the Lump. At the same Time, notwithstanding some
Papers may be made up of broken Hints and irregular Sketches, it is often
expected that every Sheet should be a kind of Treatise, and make out in Thought
what it wants in Bulk: That a Point of Humour should be worked up in all its
Parts; and a Subject touched upon in its most essential Articles, without the
Repetitions, Tautologies and Enlargements, that are indulged to longer Labours.
The ordinary Writers of Morality prescribe to their Readers after the Galenick
way; their Medicines are made up in large Quantities. An Essay-Writer must
practise in the Chymical Method, and give the Virtue of a full Draught in a few
Drops. Were all Books reduced thus to their Quintessence, many a bulky Author
would make his Appearance in a Penny-Paper: There would be scarce such a thing
in Nature as a Folio. The Works of an Age would be contained on a few Shelves;
not to mention millions of Volumes that would be utterly annihilated.

I cannot think that the Difficulty of furnishing out separate Papers of this
Nature, has hindered Authors from communicating their Thoughts to the World
after such a Manner: Though I must confess I am amazed that the Press should be
only made use of in this Way by News-Writers, and the Zealots of Parties; as if
it were not more advantageous to Mankind, to be instructed in Wisdom and Virtue,
than in Politicks; and to be made good Fathers, Husbands and Sons, than
Counsellors and Statesmen. Had the Philosophers and great Men of Antiquity, who
took so much Pains in order to instruct Mankind, and leave the World wiser and
better than they found it; had they, I say, been possessed of the Art of
Printing, there is no question but they would have made such an Advantage of it,
in dealing out their Lectures to the Publick. Our common Prints would be of
great Use were they thus calculated to diffuse good Sense through the Bulk of a
People, to clear up their Understandings, animate their Minds with Virtue,
dissipate the Sorrows of a heavy Heart, or unbend the Mind from its more severe
Employments with innocent Amusements. When Knowledge, instead
of being bound up in Books and kept in Libraries and Retirements, is thus
obtruded upon the Publick; when it is canvassed in every Assembly, and exposed
upon every Table, I cannot forbear reflecting upon that Passage in the
Proverbs:

Wisdom crieth without, she uttereth her Voice in the Streets: she crieth in the chief Place of Concourse, in the Openings of the Gates. In the City she uttereth her Words, saying, How long, ye simple ones, will ye
love Simplicity? and the Scorners delight in their Scorning? and Fools hate Knowledge?¹

The many Letters which come to me from Persons of the best Sense in both Sexes, (for
I may pronounce their Characters from their Way of Writing) do not at a little
encourage me in the Prosecution of this my Undertaking: Besides that my
Book-seller tells me, the Demand for these my Papers increases daily. It is at
his Instance that I shall continue my rural Speculations to the End of
this Month; several having made up separate Sets of them, as they have done
before of those relating to Wit, to Operas, to Points of Morality, or Subjects
of Humour.

I am not at all mortified, when sometimes I see my Works thrown aside by Men of no Taste nor Learning. There is a kind of Heaviness and Ignorance that hangs upon the Minds of ordinary Men, which is too thick for Knowledge to break through. Their Souls are not to be enlightened.

... Nox atra cava circumvolat umbra.

To these I must apply the Fable of the Mole, That after having consulted many Oculists for
the bettering of his Sight, was at last provided with a good Pair of Spectacles;
but upon his endeavouring to make use of them, his Mother told him very
prudently,

'That Spectacles, though they might help the Eye of a Man, could be of no use to a Mole.'

It is not therefore for the Benefit of
Moles that I publish these my daily Essays.

But besides such as are Moles through Ignorance, there are others who are Moles through Envy. As it is said in the Latin Proverb, 'That one Man is a Wolf to another²; so generally speaking, one Author is a Mole to another Author. It is impossible for them to discover Beauties in one another's Works; they have Eyes only for Spots and Blemishes: They can indeed see the Light as it is said of the Animals which are their Namesakes, but the Idea of it is painful to them; they immediately shut their Eyes upon it, and withdraw themselves into a wilful Obscurity. I have already caught two or three of these dark undermining Vermin, and intend to make a String of them, in order to hang them up in one of my
Papers, as an Example to all such voluntary Moles.

C.

Footnote 1: Proverbs i 20-22.
Footnote 2: "Homo homini Lupus." Plautus Asin. Act ii sc. 4.

Switched at Birth

2004-07-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,
Rectique cultus pectora
roborant:
Utcunque defecere mores,
Dedecorant bene nata
culpæ.

Hor.

As I was Yesterday taking the Air with my Friend Sir Roger, we were met by a fresh-coloured ruddy young Man, who rid by us full speed, with a couple of Servants behind him. Upon my Enquiry who he was, Sir Roger told me that he was a young Gentleman of a considerable Estate, who had been educated by a tender Mother that lives not many Miles from the Place where we were. She is a very good Lady, says my Friend, but took so much care of her Son's Health, that she has made him good for nothing. She quickly found that Reading was bad for his Eyes, and that Writing made his Head ache. He was let loose among the Woods as soon as he was
able to ride on Horseback, or to carry a Gun upon his Shoulder. To be brief, I found, by my Friend's Account of him, that he had got a great Stock of Health, but nothing else; and that if it were a Man's Business only to live, there would not be a more accomplished young Fellow in the whole Country.

The Truth of it is, since my residing in these Parts I have seen and heard innumerable Instances of young Heirs and elder Brothers, who either from their own reflecting upon the Estates they are born to, and therefore thinking all other Accomplishments unnecessary, or from hearing these Notions frequently inculcated to them by the Flattery of their Servants and Domesticks, or from the same foolish Thought prevailing in those who have the Care of their Education, are of
no manner of use but to keep up their Families, and transmit their Lands and
Houses in a Line to Posterity.

This makes me often think on a Story I have heard of two Friends, which I shall give my Reader at large, under feigned Names. The Moral of it may, I hope, be useful, though there are some Circumstances which make it rather appear like a Novel, than a true Story.

Eudoxus and Leontine began the World with small Estates. They were both of them Men of good Sense and great Virtue. They prosecuted their Studies together in their earlier Years, and entered into such a Friendship as lasted to the End of their Lives. Eudoxus, at his first
setting out in the World, threw himself into a Court, where by his natural Endowments and his acquired Abilities he made his way from one Post to another, till at length he had raised a very considerable Fortune. Leontine on the contrary sought all Opportunities of improving his Mind by Study, Conversation, and Travel. He was not only acquainted with all the Sciences, but with the most eminent Professors of them throughout Europe. He knew perfectly well the Interests of its Princes, with the Customs and Fashions of their Courts, and could scarce meet with the Name of an extraordinary Person in the Gazette whom he had not either talked to or seen. In short, he had so well mixt and digested his Knowledge of Men and Books, that he made one of the most accomplished Persons of his Age. During the whole Course of his Studies and
Travels he kept up a punctual Correspondence with Eudoxus, who often made himself acceptable to the principal Men about Court by the Intelligence which he received from Leontine. When they were both turn'd of Forty (an Age in which, according to Mr. Cowley, there is no dallying with Life¹ they determined, pursuant to the Resolution they had taken in the beginning of their Lives, to retire, and pass the Remainder of their Days in the Country. In
order to this, they both of them married much about the same time. Leontine, with his own and his Wife's Fortune, bought a Farm of three hundred a Year, which lay within the Neighbourhood of his Friend Eudoxus, who had purchased an Estate of as many thousands. They were both of them Fathers about the same time, Eudoxus having a Son born to him, and
Leontine a Daughter; but to the unspeakable Grief of the latter, his
young Wife (in whom all his Happiness was wrapt up) died in a few Days after the
Birth of her Daughter. His Affliction would have been insupportable, had not he
been comforted by the daily Visits and Conversations of his Friend. As they were
one Day talking together with their usual Intimacy, Leontine, considering
how incapable he was of giving his Daughter a proper education in his own House,
and Eudoxus reflecting on the ordinary Behaviour of a Son who knows
himself to be the Heir of a great Estate, they both agreed upon an Exchange of
Children, namely that the Boy should be bred up with Leontine as his Son,
and that the Girl should live with Eudoxus as his Daughter, till they
were each of them arrived at Years of Discretion. The Wife of Eudoxus,
knowing that her Son could not be so advantageously brought up as under the Care
of Leontine, and considering at the same time that he would be
perpetually under her own Eye, was by degrees prevailed upon to fall in with the
Project. She therefore took Leonilla, for that was the Name of the Girl,
and educated her as her own Daughter. The two Friends on each side had wrought
themselves to such an habitual Tenderness for the Children who were under their
Direction, that each of them had the real Passion of a Father, where the Title
was but imaginary. Florio, the Name of the young Heir that lived with
Leontine, though he had all the Duty and Affection imaginable for his
supposed Parent, was taught to rejoice at the Sight of Eudoxus, who
visited his Friend very frequently, and was dictated by his natural Affection,
as well as by the Rules of Prudence, to make himself esteemed and beloved by
Florio. The Boy was now old enough to know his supposed Father's
Circumstances, and that therefore he was to make his way in the World by his own
Industry. This Consideration grew stronger in him every Day, and produced so
good an Effect, that he applied himself with more than ordinary Attention to the
Pursuit of every thing which Leontine recommended to him. His natural
Abilities, which were very good, assisted by the Directions of so excellent a
Counsellor, enabled him to make a quicker Progress than ordinary through all the
Parts of his Education. Before he was twenty Years of Age, having finished his
Studies and Exercises with great Applause, he was removed from the University to
the Inns of Court, where there are very few that make themselves considerable
Proficients in the Studies of the Place, who know they shall arrive at great
Estates without them. This was not Florio's Case; he found that three
hundred a Year was but a poor Estate for Leontine and himself to live
upon, so that he Studied without Intermission till he gained a very good Insight
into the Constitution and Laws of his Country.

I should have told my Reader, that whilst Florio lived at the House of his Foster-father, he was always an acceptable Guest in the Family of Eudoxus, where he became acquainted with Leonilla from her Infancy. His Acquaintance with her by degrees grew into Love, which in a Mind trained up in all the Sentiments of Honour and Virtue became a very uneasy Passion. He despaired of gaining an Heiress of so great a Fortune, and would rather have died than attempted it by
any indirect Methods. Leonilla, who was a Woman of the greatest Beauty joined with the greatest Modesty, entertained at the same time a secret Passion for Florio, but conducted her self with so much Prudence that she never gave him the least Intimation of it. Florio was now engaged in all those Arts and Improvements that are proper to raise a Man's private Fortune, and give him a Figure in his Country, but secretly tormented with that Passion which burns with the greatest Fury in a virtuous and noble Heart, when he received a sudden Summons from Leontine to repair to him into the Country the next Day. For it seems Eudoxus was so filled with the Report of his Son's Reputation, that he could no longer withhold making himself known to him. The Morning after his Arrival at the House of his supposed Father, Leontine told him that Eudoxus had something of great Importance to communicate to him; upon which the good Man embraced him, and wept. Florio was no sooner arrived at the great House that stood in his Neighbourhood, but Eudoxus took him by the Hand, after the first Salutes were over, and conducted him into his Closet. He there opened to him the whole Secret of his Parentage and
Education, concluding after this manner: I have no other way left of acknowledging my Gratitude to Leontine, than by marrying you to his Daughter. He shall not lose the Pleasure of being your Father by the Discovery I have made to you. Leonilla too shall be still my Daughter; her filial Piety, though misplaced, has been so exemplary that it deserves the greatest Reward I can confer upon it. You shall have the Pleasure of seeing a great Estate fall to you, which you would have lost the Relish of had you known your self born to it. Continue only to deserve it in the same manner you did before you were possessed of it. I have left your Mother in the next Room. Her Heart yearns towards you. She is making the same Discoveries to Leonilla which I have made to your self. Florio was so overwhelmed with this Profusion of
Happiness, that he was not able to make a Reply, but threw himself down at his Father's Feet, and amidst a Flood of Tears, Kissed and embraced his Knees, asking his Blessing, and expressing in dumb Show those Sentiments of Love, Duty, and Gratitude that were too big for Utterance. To conclude, the happy Pair were married, and half Eudoxus's Estate settled upon them. Leontine and Eudoxus passed the remainder of their Lives together; and received in the
dutiful and affectionate Behaviour of Florio and Leonilla the just Recompence, as well as the natural Effects of that Care which they had bestowed upon them in their Education.

L.

Horace:
Yet the best blood by learning is refined,
And virtue arms the solid mind;
Whilst vice will stain the noblest race,
And the paternal stamp efface.
(Oldisworth)

Footnote 1
Essay On the Danger of Procrastination:

'There's no fooling with Life when it is once turn'd beyond
Forty.'

A Testimonial of Sir Roger's Good Nature (and Mr. Spectator's Diplomacy)

2004-07-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

'Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est.'

Publ. Syr. Frag.

A man's first Care should be to avoid the Reproaches of his own Heart;
his next, to escape the Censures of the World: If the last interferes
with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected; but otherwise, there
cannot be a greater Satisfaction to an honest Mind, than to see those
Approbations which it gives it self seconded by the Applauses of the
Publick: A Man is more sure of his Conduct, when the Verdict which he
passes upon his own Behaviour is thus warranted and confirmed by the
Opinion of all that know him.

My worthy Friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at Peace
within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives a
suitable Tribute for his universal Benevolence to Mankind, in the
Returns of Affection and Good-will, which are paid him by every one that
lives within his Neighbourhood. I lately met with two or three odd
Instances of that general Respect which is shown to the good old Knight.
He would needs carry _Will. Wimble_ and myself with him to the
County-Assizes: As we were upon the Road _Will. Wimble_ joined a couple
of plain Men who rid before us, and conversed with them for some Time;
during which my Friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their Characters.

The first of them, says he, that has a Spaniel by his Side, is a Yeoman
of about an hundred Pounds a Year, an honest Man: He is just within the
Game-Act, and qualified to kill an Hare or a Pheasant: He knocks down a
Dinner with his Gun twice or thrice a Week; and by that means lives much
cheaper than those who have not so good an Estate as himself. He would
be a good Neighbour if he did not destroy so many Partridges: in short,
he is a very sensible Man; shoots flying; and has been several times
Foreman of the Petty-Jury.

The other that rides along with him is _Tom Touchy_, a Fellow famous for
_taking the Law_ of every Body. There is not one in the Town where he
lives that he has not sued at a Quarter-Sessions. The Rogue had once the
Impudence to go to Law with the _Widow_. His Head is full of Costs,
Damages, and Ejectments: He plagued a couple of honest Gentlemen so long
for a Trespass in breaking one of his Hedges, till he was forced to sell
the Ground it enclosed to defray the Charges of the Prosecution: His
Father left him fourscore Pounds a Year; but he has _cast_ and been cast
so often, that he is not now worth thirty. I suppose he is going upon
the old Business of the Willow-Tree.

As Sir ROGER was giving me this Account of Tom Touchy, _Will. Wimble_
and his two Companions stopped short till we came up to them. After
having paid their Respects to Sir ROGER, _Will_. told him that Mr.
_Touchy_ and he must appeal to him upon a Dispute that arose between
them. _Will_. it seems had been giving his Fellow-Traveller an Account
of his Angling one Day in such a Hole; when _Tom Touchy_, instead of
hearing out his Story, told him that Mr. such an One, if he pleased,
might _take the Law of him_ for fishing in that Part of the River. My
Friend Sir ROGER heard them both, upon a round Trot; and after having
paused some time told them, with the Air of a Man who would not give his
Judgment rashly, that _much might be said on both Sides_. They were
neither of them dissatisfied with the Knight's Determination, because
neither of them found himself in the Wrong by it: Upon which we made the
best of our Way to the Assizes.

The Court was sat before Sir ROGER came; but notwithstanding all the
Justices had taken their Places upon the Bench, they made room for the
old Knight at the Head of them; who for his Reputation in the Country
took occasion to whisper in the Judge's Ear, _That he was glad his
Lordship had met with so much good Weather in his Circuit_. I was
listening to the Proceeding of the Court with much Attention, and
infinitely pleased with that great Appearance and Solemnity which so
properly accompanies such a publick Administration of our Laws; when,
after about an Hour's Sitting, I observed to my great Surprize, in the
Midst of a Trial, that my Friend Sir ROGER was getting up to speak. I
was in some Pain for him, till I found he had acquitted himself of two
or three Sentences, with a Look of much Business and great Intrepidity.

Upon his first Rising the Court was hushed, and a general Whisper ran
among the Country People that Sir ROGER _was up_. The Speech he made was
so little to the Purpose, that I shall not trouble my Readers with an
Account of it; and I believe was not so much designed by the Knight
himself to inform the Court, as to give him a Figure in my Eye, and keep
up his Credit in the Country.

I was highly delighted, when the Court rose, to see the Gentlemen of the
Country gathering about my old Friend, and striving who should
compliment him most; at the same time that the ordinary People gazed
upon him at a distance, not a little admiring his Courage, that was not
afraid to speak to the Judge.

In our Return home we met with a very odd Accident; which I cannot
forbear relating, because it shews how desirous all who know Sir ROGER
are of giving him Marks of their Esteem. When we were arrived upon the
Verge of his Estate, we stopped at a little Inn to rest our selves and
our Horses. The Man of the House had it seems been formerly a Servant in
the Knight's Family; and to do Honour to his old Master, had some time
since, unknown to Sir ROGER, put him up in a Sign-post before the Door;
so that _the Knight's Head_ had hung out upon the Road about a Week
before he himself knew any thing of the Matter. As soon as Sir ROGER was
acquainted with it, finding that his Servant's Indiscretion proceeded
wholly from Affection and Good-will, he only told him that he had made
him too high a Compliment; and when the Fellow seemed to think that
could hardly be, added with a more decisive Look, That it was too great
an Honour for any Man under a Duke; but told him at the same time, that
it might be altered with a very few Touches, and that he himself would
be at the Charge of it. Accordingly they got a Painter by the Knight's
Directions to add a pair of Whiskers to the Face, and by a little
Aggravation to the Features to change it into the _Saracen's Head_. I
should not have known this Story had not the Inn-keeper, upon Sir
ROGER'S alighting, told him in my Hearing, That his Honour's Head was
brought back last Night with the Alterations that he had ordered to be
made in it. Upon this my Friend with his usual Chearfulness related the
Particulars above-mentioned, and ordered the Head to be brought into the
Room. I could not forbear discovering greater Expressions of Mirth than
ordinary upon the Appearance of this monstrous Face, under which,
notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary
manner, I could still discover a distant Resemblance of my old Friend.
Sir ROGER, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I
thought it possible for People to know him in that Disguise. I at first
kept my usual Silence; but upon the Knight's conjuring me to tell him
whether it was not still more like himself than a _Saracen_, I composed
my Countenance in the best manner I could, and replied, _That much might
be said on both Sides_.

These several Adventures, with the Knight's Behaviour in them, gave me
as pleasant a Day as ever I met with in any of my Travels.

L.

Prospectus for a Natural History

2004-07-19T09:23:00.000-07:00

'... Jovis omnia plena.'

Virg.

As I was walking this Morning in the great Yard that belongs to my
Friend's Country House, I was wonderfully pleased to see the different
Workings of Instinct in a Hen followed by a Brood of Ducks. The Young,
upon the sight of a Pond, immediately ran into it; while the Stepmother,
with all imaginable Anxiety, hovered about the Borders of it, to call
them out of an Element that appeared to her so dangerous and
destructive. As the different Principle which acted in these different
Animals cannot be termed Reason, so when we call it _Instinct_, we mean
something we have no Knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my last Paper,
it seems the immediate Direction of Providence, and such an Operation of
the Supreme Being, as that which determines all the Portions of Matter
to their proper Centres. A modern Philosopher, quoted by Monsieur
_Bayle_ [1] in his learned Dissertation on the Souls of Brutes, delivers
the same Opinion, tho' in a bolder Form of Words, where he says, _Deus
est Anima Brutorum_, God himself is the Soul of Brutes. Who can tell
what to call that seeming Sagacity in Animals, which directs them to
such Food as is proper for them, and makes them naturally avoid whatever
is noxious or unwholesome? _Tully_ has observed that a Lamb no sooner
falls from its Mother, but immediately and of his own accord applies
itself to the Teat. _Dampier_, in his Travels, [2] tells us, that when
Seamen are thrown upon any of the unknown Coasts of _America_, they
never venture upon the Fruit of any Tree, how tempting soever it may
appear, unless they observe that it is marked with the Pecking of Birds;
but fall on without any Fear or Apprehension where the Birds have been
before them.

But notwithstanding Animals have nothing like the use of Reason, we find
in them all the lower Parts of our Nature, the Passions and Senses in
their greatest Strength and Perfection. And here it is worth our
Observation, that all Beasts and Birds of Prey are wonderfully subject
to Anger, Malice, Revenge, and all the other violent Passions that may
animate them in search of their proper Food; as those that are incapable
of defending themselves, or annoying others, or whose Safety lies
chiefly in their Flight, are suspicious, fearful and apprehensive of
every thing they see or hear; whilst others that are of Assistance and
Use to Man, have their Natures softened with something mild and
tractable, and by that means are qualified for a Domestick Life. In this
Case the Passions generally correspond with the Make of the Body. We do
not find the Fury of a Lion in so weak and defenceless an Animal as a
Lamb, nor the Meekness of a Lamb in a Creature so armed for Battel and
Assault as the Lion. In the same manner, we find that particular Animals
have a more or less exquisite Sharpness and Sagacity in those particular
Senses which most turn to their Advantage, and in which their Safety and
Welfare is the most concerned.

Nor must we here omit that great Variety of Arms with which Nature has
differently fortified the Bodies of several kind of Animals, such as
Claws, Hoofs, and Horns, Teeth, and Tusks, a Tail, a Sting, a Trunk, or
a _Proboscis_. It is likewise observed by Naturalists, that it must be
some hidden Principle distinct from what we call Reason, which instructs
Animals in the Use of these their Arms, and teaches them to manage them
to the best Advantage; because they naturally defend themselves with
that Part in which their Strength lies, before the Weapon be formed in
it; as is remarkable in Lambs, which tho' they are bred within Doors,
and never saw the Actions of their own Species, push at those who
approach them with their Foreheads, before the first budding of a Horn
appears.

I shall add to these general Observations, an Instance which Mr. _Lock_
has given us of Providence even in the Imperfections of a Creature which
seems the meanest and most despicable in the whole animal World. _We
may_, says he, _from the Make of an Oyster, or Cockle, conclude, that it
has not so many nor so quick Senses as a Man, or several other Animals:
Nor if it had, would it, in that State and Incapacity of transferring it
self from one Place to another, be bettered by them. What good would
Sight and Hearing do to a Creature, that cannot move it self to, or from
the Object, wherein at a distance it perceives Good or Evil? And would
not Quickness of Sensation be an Inconvenience to an Animal, that must
be still where Chance has once placed it; and there receive the Afflux
of colder or warmer, clean or foul Water, as it happens to come to it_.
[3]

I shall add to this Instance out of Mr. _Lock_ another out of the
learned Dr. _Moor_, [4] who cites it from _Cardan_, in relation to
another Animal which Providence has left Defective, but at the same time
has shewn its Wisdom in the Formation of that Organ in which it seems
chiefly to have failed. _What is more obvious and ordinary than a Mole?
and yet what more palpable Argument of Providence than she? The Members
of her Body are so exactly fitted to her Nature and Manner of Life: For
her Dwelling being under Ground where nothing is to be seen, Nature has
so obscurely fitted her with Eyes, that Naturalists can hardly agree
whether she have any Sight at all or no. But for Amends, what she is
capable of for her Defence and Warning of Danger, she has very eminently
conferred upon her; for she is exceeding quick of hearing. And then her
short Tail and short Legs, but broad Fore-feet armed with sharp Claws,
we see by the Event to what Purpose they are, she so swiftly working her
self under Ground, and making her way so fast in the Earth as they that
behold it cannot but admire it. Her Legs therefore are short, that she
need dig no more than will serve the mere Thickness of her Body; and her
Fore-feet are broad that she may scoop away much Earth at a time; and
little or no Tail she has, because she courses it not on the Ground,
like the Rat or Mouse, of whose Kindred she is, but lives under the
Earth, and is fain to dig her self a Dwelling there. And she making her
way through so thick an Element, which will not yield easily, as the Air
or _the Wafer, it had been dangerous to have drawn so long a Train
behind her; for her Enemy might fall upon her Rear, and fetch her out,
before she had compleated or got full Possession of her Works_.

I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. _Boyle's_ Remark upon this last
Creature, who I remember somewhere in his Works observes, [5] that
though the Mole be not totally blind (as it is commonly thought) she has
not Sight enough to distinguish particular Objects. Her Eye is said to
have but one Humour in it, which is supposed to give her the Idea of
Light, but of nothing else, and is so formed that this Idea is probably
painful to the Animal. Whenever she comes up into broad Day she might be
in Danger of being taken, unless she were thus affected by a Light
striking upon her Eye, and immediately warning her to bury herself in
her proper Element. More Sight would be useless to her, as none at all
might be fatal.

I have only instanced such Animals as seem the most imperfect Works of
Nature; and if Providence shews it self even in the Blemishes of these
Creatures, how much more does it discover it self in the several
Endowments which it has variously bestowed upon such Creatures as are
more or less finished and compleated in their several Faculties,
according to the condition of Life in which they are posted.

I could wish our Royal Society would compile a Body of Natural History,
the best that could be gather'd together from Books and Observations. If
the several Writers among them took each his particular Species, and
gave us a distinct Account of its Original, Birth and Education; its
Policies, Hostilities and Alliances, with the Frame and Texture of its
inward and outward Parts, and particularly those that distinguish it
from all other Animals, with their peculiar Aptitudes for the State of
Being in which Providence has placed them, it would be one of the best
Services their Studies could do Mankind, and not a little redound to the
Glory of the All-wise Contriver.

It is true, such a Natural History, after all the Disquisitions of the
Learned, would be infinitely Short and Defective. Seas and Desarts hide
Millions of Animals from our Observation. Innumerable Artifices and
Stratagems are acted in the _Howling Wilderness_ and in the _Great
Deep_, that can never come to our Knowledge. Besides that there are
infinitely more Species of Creatures which are not to be seen without,
nor indeed with the help of the finest Glasses, than of such as are
bulky enough for the naked Eye to take hold of. However from the
Consideration of such Animals as lie within the Compass of our
Knowledge, we might easily form a Conclusion of the rest, that the same
Variety of Wisdom and Goodness runs through the whole Creation, and puts
every Creature in a Condition to provide for its Safety and Subsistence
in its proper Station.

_Tully_ has given us an admirable Sketch of Natural History, in his
second Book concerning the Nature of the Gods; and then in a Stile so
raised by Metaphors and Descriptions, that it lifts the Subject above
Raillery and Ridicule, which frequently fall on such nice Observations
when they pass through the Hands of an ordinary Writer.

L.

[Footnote 1: 'Bayle's Dictionary', here quoted, first appeared in
English in 1710. Pierre Bayle himself had first produced it in two folio
vols. in 1695-6, and was engaged in controversies caused by it until his
death in 1706, at the age of 59. He was born at Carlat, educated at the
universities of Puylaurens and Toulouse, was professor of Philosophy
successively at Sedan and Rotterdam till 1693, when he was deprived for
scepticism. He is said to have worked fourteen hours a day for 40 years,
and has been called 'the Shakespeare of Dictionary Makers.']

[Footnote 2: Captain William Dampier's 'Voyages round the World'
appeared in 3 vols., 1697-1709. The quotation is from vol. i. p. 39 (Ed.
1699, the Fourth). Dampier was born in 1652, and died about 1712.]

[Footnote 3: 'Essay on Human Understanding', Bk. II. ch. 9, Sec. 13.]

[Footnote 4: 'Antidote against Atheism', Bk. II. ch. 10, Sec. 5.]

[Footnote 5: 'Disquisition about the Final Causes of Natural Things',
Sect. 2.]

Parental Love in Animals

2004-07-18T09:14:00.000-07:00

'... Equidem credo, quia sit Divinitus illis
Ingenium ...'

Virg.

My Friend Sir Roger is very often merry with me upon my passing so much
of my Time among his Poultry: He has caught me twice or thrice looking
after a Bird's Nest, and several times sitting an Hour or two together
near an Hen and Chickens. He tells me he believes I am personally
acquainted with every Fowl about his House; calls such a particular Cock
my Favourite, and frequently complains that his Ducks and Geese have
more of my Company than himself.

I must confess I am infinitely delighted with those Speculations of
Nature which are to be made in a Country-Life; and as my Reading has
very much lain among Books of natural History, I cannot forbear
recollecting upon this Occasion the several Remarks which I have met
with in Authors, and comparing them with what falls under my own
Observation: The Arguments for Providence drawn from the natural History
of Animals being in my Opinion demonstrative.

The Make of every Kind of Animal is different from that of every other
Kind; and yet there is not the least Turn in the Muscles or Twist in the
Fibres of any one, which does not render them more proper for that
particular Animal's Way of Life than any other Cast or Texture of them
would have been.

The most violent Appetites in all Creatures are _Lust_ and _Hunger_: The
first is a perpetual Call upon them to propagate their Kind; the latter
to preserve themselves.

It is astonishing to consider the different Degrees of Care that descend
from the Parent to the Young, so far as is absolutely necessary for the
leaving a Posterity. Some Creatures cast their Eggs as Chance directs
them, and think of them no farther, as Insects and several Kinds of
Fish: Others, of a nicer Frame, find out proper Beds to [deposite [1]]
them in, and there leave them; as the Serpent, the Crocodile, and
Ostrich: Others hatch their Eggs and tend the Birth, 'till it is able to
shift for it self.

What can we call the Principle which directs every different Kind of
Bird to observe a particular Plan in the Structure of its Nest, and
directs all of the same Species to work after the same Model? It cannot
be Imitation; for though you hatch a Crow under a Hen, and never let it
see any of the Works of its own Kind, the Nest it makes shall be the
same, to the laying of a Stick, with all the other Nests of the same
Species. It cannot be _Reason_; for were Animals indued with it to as
great a Degree as Man, their Buildings would be as different as ours,
according to the different Conveniences that they would propose to
themselves.

Is it not remarkable, that the same Temper of Weather, which raises this
genial Warmth in Animals, should cover the Trees with Leaves and the
Fields with Grass for their Security and Concealment, and produce such
infinite Swarms of Insects for the Support and Sustenance of their
respective Broods?

Is it not wonderful, that the Love of the Parent should be so violent
while it lasts; and that it should last no longer than is necessary for
the Preservation of the Young?

The Violence of this natural Love is exemplify'd by a very barbarous
Experiment; which I shall quote at Length, as I find it in an excellent
Author, and hope my Readers will pardon the mentioning such an Instance
of Cruelty, because there is nothing can so effectually shew the
Strength of that Principle in Animals of which I am here speaking. 'A
Person who was well skilled in Dissection opened a Bitch, and as she lay
in the most exquisite Tortures, offered her one of her young Puppies,
which she immediately fell a licking; and for the Time seemed insensible
of her own Pain: On the Removal, she kept her Eye fixt on it, and began
a wailing sort of Cry, which seemed rather to proceed from the Loss of
her young one, than the Sense of her own Torments.

But notwithstanding this natural Love in Brutes is much more violent and
intense than in rational Creatures, Providence has taken care that it
should be no longer troublesome to the Parent than it is useful to the
Young: for so soon as the Wants of the latter cease, the Mother
withdraws her Fondness, and leaves them to provide for themselves: and
what is a very remarkable Circumstance in this part of Instinct, we find
that the Love of the Parent may be lengthened out beyond its usual time,
if the Preservation of the Species requires it; as we may see in Birds
that drive away their Young as soon as they are able to get their
Livelihood, but continue to feed them if they are tied to the Nest, or
confined within a Cage, or by any other Means appear to be out of a
Condition of supplying their own Necessities.

This natural Love is not observed in animals to ascend from the Young to
the Parent, which is not at all necessary for the Continuance of the
Species: Nor indeed in reasonable Creatures does it rise in any
Proportion, as it spreads it self downwards; for in all Family
Affection, we find Protection granted and Favours bestowed, are greater
Motives to Love and Tenderness, than Safety, Benefits, or Life received.

One would wonder to hear Sceptical Men disputing for the Reason of
Animals, and telling us it is only our Pride and Prejudices that will
not allow them the Use of that Faculty.

Reason shews it self in all Occurrences of Life; whereas the Brute makes
no Discovery of such a Talent, but in what immediately regards his own
Preservation, or the Continuance of his Species. Animals in their
Generation are wiser than the Sons of Men; but their Wisdom is confined
to a few Particulars, and lies in a very narrow Compass. Take a Brute
out of his Instinct, and you find him wholly deprived of Understanding.
To use an Instance that comes often under Observation.

With what Caution does the Hen provide herself a Nest in Places
unfrequented, and free from Noise and Disturbance! When she has laid her
Eggs in such a Manner that she can cover them, what Care does she take
in turning them frequently, that all Parts may partake of the vital
Warmth? When she leaves them, to provide for her necessary Sustenance,
how punctually does she return before they have time to cool, and become
incapable of producing an Animal? In the Summer you see her giving her
self greater Freedoms, and quitting her Care for above two Hours
together; but in Winter, when the Rigour of the Season would chill the
Principles of Life, and destroy the young one, she grows more assiduous
in her Attendance, and stays away but half the Time. When the Birth
approaches, with how much Nicety and Attention does she help the Chick
to break its Prison? Not to take notice of her covering it from the
Injuries of the Weather, providing it proper Nourishment, and teaching
it to help it self; nor to mention her forsaking the Nest, if after the
usual Time of reckoning the young one does not make its Appearance. A
Chymical Operation could not be followed with greater Art or Diligence,
than is seen in the hatching of a Chick; tho' there are many other Birds
that shew an infinitely greater Sagacity in all the forementioned
Particulars.

But at the same time the Hen, that has all this seeming Ingenuity,
(which is indeed absolutely necessary for the Propagation of the
Species) considered in other respects, is without the least Glimmerings
of Thought or common Sense. She mistakes a Piece of Chalk for an Egg,
and sits upon it in the same manner: She is insensible of any Increase
or Diminution in the Number of those she lays: She does not distinguish
between her own and those of another Species; and when the Birth appears
of never so different a Bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these
Circumstances which do not carry an immediate Regard to the Subsistence
of her self or her Species, she is a very Ideot.

There is not, in my Opinion, any thing more mysterious in Nature than
this Instinct in Animals, which thus rises above Reason, and falls
infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted for by any Properties in
Matter, and at the same time works after so odd a manner, that one
cannot think it the Faculty of an intellectual Being. For my own part, I
look upon it as upon the Principle of Gravitation in Bodies, which is
not to be explained by any known Qualities inherent in the Bodies
themselves, nor from any Laws of Mechanism, but, according to the best
Notions of the greatest Philosophers, is an immediate Impression from
the first Mover, and the Divine Energy acting in the Creatures.

L.

[Footnote 1: depose]

Country Manners and Modes

2004-07-17T09:11:00.000-07:00

'Urbem quam dicunt Romam, Melibaee, putavi
Stultus ego huic nostrae similem ...'

Virg.

The first and most obvious Reflections which arise in a Man who changes
the City for the Country, are upon the different Manners of the People
whom he meets with in those two different Scenes of Life. By Manners I
do not mean Morals, but Behaviour and Good Breeding, as they shew
themselves in the Town and in the Country.

And here, in the first place, I must observe a very great Revolution
that has happen'd in this Article of Good Breeding. Several obliging
Deferences, Condescensions and Submissions, with many outward Forms and
Ceremonies that accompany them, were first of all brought up among the
politer Part of Mankind, who lived in Courts and Cities, and
distinguished themselves from the Rustick part of the Species (who on
all Occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such a mutual Complaisance
and Intercourse of Civilities. These Forms of Conversation by degrees
multiplied and grew troublesome; the Modish World found too great a
Constraint in them, and have therefore thrown most of them aside.
Conversation, like the _Romish_ Religion, was so encumbered with Show
and Ceremony, that it stood in need of a Reformation to retrench its
Superfluities, and restore it to its natural good Sense and Beauty. At
present therefore an unconstrained Carriage, and a certain Openness of
Behaviour, are the Height of Good Breeding. The Fashionable World is
grown free and easie; our Manners sit more loose upon us: Nothing is so
modish as an agreeable Negligence. In a word, Good Breeding shews it
self most, where to an ordinary Eye it appears the least.

If after this we look on the People of Mode in the Country, we find in
them the Manners of the last Age. They have no sooner fetched themselves
up to the Fashion of the polite World, but the Town has dropped them,
and are nearer to the first State of Nature than to those Refinements
which formerly reign'd in the Court, and still prevail in the Country.
One may now know a Man that never conversed in the World, by his Excess
of Good Breeding. A polite Country 'Squire shall make you as many Bows
in half an Hour, as would serve a Courtier for a Week. There is
infinitely more to do about Place and Precedency in a Meeting of
Justices Wives, than in an Assembly of Dutchesses.

This Rural Politeness is very troublesome to a Man of my Temper, who
generally take the Chair that is next me, and walk first or last, in the
Front or in the Rear, as Chance directs. I have known my Friend Sir
Roger's Dinner almost cold before the Company could adjust the
Ceremonial, and be prevailed upon to sit down; and have heartily pitied
my old Friend, when I have seen him forced to pick and cull his Guests,
as they sat at the several Parts of his Table, that he might drink their
Healths according to their respective Ranks and Qualities. Honest _Will.
Wimble_, who I should have thought had been altogether uninfected with
Ceremony, gives me abundance of Trouble in this Particular. Though he
has been fishing all the Morning, he will not help himself at Dinner
'till I am served. When we are going out of the Hall, he runs behind me;
and last Night, as we were walking in the Fields, stopped short at a
Stile till I came up to it, and upon my making Signs to him to get over,
told me, with a serious Smile, that sure I believed they had no Manners
in the Country.

There has happened another Revolution in the Point of Good Breeding,
which relates to the Conversation among Men of Mode, and which I cannot
but look upon as very extraordinary. It was certainly one of the first
Distinctions of a well-bred Man, to express every thing that had the
most remote Appearance of being obscene, in modest Terms and distant
Phrases; whilst the Clown, who had no such Delicacy of Conception and
Expression, clothed his _Ideas_ in those plain homely Terms that are the
most obvious and natural. This kind of Good Manners was perhaps carried
to an Excess, so as to make Conversation too stiff, formal and precise:
for which Reason (as Hypocrisy in one Age is generally succeeded by
Atheism in another) Conversation is in a great measure relapsed into the
first Extream; so that at present several of our Men of the Town, and
particularly those who have been polished in _France_, make use of the
most coarse uncivilized Words in our Language, and utter themselves
often in such a manner as a Clown would blush to hear.

This infamous Piece of Good Breeding, which reigns among the Coxcombs of
the Town, has not yet made its way into the Country; and as it is
impossible for such an irrational way of Conversation to last long among
a People that make any Profession of Religion, or Show of Modesty, if
the Country Gentlemen get into it they will certainly be left in the
Lurch. Their Good-breeding will come too late to them, and they will be
thought a Parcel of lewd Clowns, while they fancy themselves talking
together like Men of Wit and Pleasure.

As the two Points of Good Breeding, which I have hitherto insisted upon,
regard Behaviour and Conversation, there is a third which turns upon
Dress. In this too the Country are very much behind-hand. The Rural
Beaus are not yet got out of the Fashion that took place at the time of
the Revolution, but ride about the Country in red Coats and laced Hats,
while the Women in many Parts are still trying to outvie one another in
the Height of their Head-dresses.

But a Friend of mine, who is now upon the Western Circuit, having
promised to give me an Account of the several Modes and Fashions that
prevail in the different Parts of the Nation through which he passes, I
shall defer the enlarging upon this last Topick till I have received a
Letter from him, which I expect every Post.

L.

Confidential Tyranny

2004-07-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

'... Haret lateri lethalis arundo.'

Virg.

This agreeable Seat is surrounded with so many pleasing Walks, which are
struck out of a Wood, in the midst of which the House stands, that one
can hardly ever be weary of rambling from one Labyrinth of Delight to
another. To one used to live in a City the Charms of the Country are so
exquisite, that the Mind is lost in a certain Transport which raises us
above ordinary Life, and is yet not strong enough to be inconsistent
with Tranquility. This State of Mind was I in, ravished with the Murmur
of Waters, the Whisper of Breezes, the Singing of Birds; and whether I
looked up to the Heavens, down on the Earth, or turned to the Prospects
around me, still struck with new Sense of Pleasure; when I found by the
Voice of my Friend, who walked by me, that we had insensibly stroled
into the Grove sacred to the Widow.

This Woman, says he, is of all others the most unintelligible: she
either designs to marry, or she does not. What is the most perplexing
of all, is, that she doth not either say to her Lovers she has any
Resolution against that Condition of Life in general, or that she
banishes them; but conscious of her own Merit, she permits their
Addresses, without Fear of any ill Consequence, or want of Respect,
from their Rage or Despair. She has that in her Aspect, against which
it is impossible to offend. A Man whose Thoughts are constantly bent
upon so agreeable an Object, must be excused if the ordinary
Occurrences in Conversation are below his Attention. I call her indeed
perverse, but, alas! why do I call her so? Because her superior Merit
is such, that I cannot approach her without Awe, that my Heart is
checked by too much Esteem: I am angry that her Charms are not more
accessible, that I am more inclined to worship than salute her: How
often have I wished her unhappy that I might have an Opportunity of
serving her? and how often troubled in that very Imagination, at
giving her the Pain of being obliged? Well, I have led a miserable
Life in secret upon her Account; but fancy she would have condescended
to have some regard for me, if it had not been for that watchful
Animal her Confident.

Of all Persons under the Sun (continued he, calling me by my Name) be
sure to set a Mark upon Confidents: they are of all People the most
impertinent. What is most pleasant to observe in them, is, that they
assume to themselves the Merit of the Persons whom they have in their
Custody. _Orestilla_ is a great Fortune, and in wonderful Danger of
Surprizes, therefore full of Suspicions of the least indifferent
thing, particularly careful of new Acquaintance, and of growing too
familiar with the old. _Themista_, her Favourite-Woman, is every whit
as careful of whom she speaks to, and what she says. Let the Ward be a
Beauty, her Confident shall treat you with an Air of Distance; let her
be a Fortune, and she assumes the suspicious Behaviour of her Friend
and Patroness. Thus it is that very many of our unmarried Women of
Distinction, are to all Intents and Purposes married, except the
Consideration of different Sexes. They are directly under the Conduct
of their Whisperer; and think they are in a State of Freedom, while
they can prate with one of these Attendants of all Men in general, and
still avoid the Man they most like. You do not see one Heiress in a
hundred whose Fate does not turn upon this Circumstance of choosing a
Confident. Thus it is that the Lady is addressed to, presented and
flattered, only by Proxy, in her Woman. In my Case, how is it possible
that ...

Sir RODGER was proceeding in his Harangue, when we heard the Voice of
one speaking very importunately, and repeating these Words, 'What, not
one Smile?' We followed the Sound till we came to a close Thicket, on
the other side of which we saw a young Woman sitting as it were in a
personated Sullenness just over a transparent Fountain. Opposite to her
stood Mr. _William_, Sir Roger's Master of the Game. The Knight
whispered me, 'Hist, these are Lovers.' The Huntsman looking earnestly
at the Shadow of the young Maiden in the Stream,

'Oh thou dear Picture, if thou couldst remain there in the Absence of
that fair Creature whom you represent in the Water, how willingly
could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling my dear
_Betty_ herself with any Mention of her unfortunate _William_, whom
she is angry with: But alas! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt
also vanish--Yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my
dearest _Betty_ thou dost not more depend upon her, than does her
_William_? Her Absence will make away with me as well as thee. If she
offers to remove thee, I'll jump into these Waves to lay hold on thee;
her self, her own dear Person, I must never embrace again--Still do
you hear me without one Smile--It is too much to bear--'

He had no sooner spoke these Words, but he made an Offer of throwing
himself into the Water: At which his Mistress started up, and at the
next Instant he jumped across the Fountain and met her in an Embrace.
She half recovering from her Fright, said in the most charming Voice
imaginable, and with a Tone of Complaint,

'I thought how well you would drown yourself. No, no, you won't drown
yourself till you have taken your leave of _Susan Holliday_.'

The Huntsman, with a Tenderness that spoke the most passionate Love, and
with his Cheek close to hers, whispered the softest Vows of Fidelity in
her Ear, and cried,

'Don't, my Dear, believe a Word _Kate Willow_ says; she is spiteful
and makes Stories, because she loves to hear me talk to her self for
your sake.'

Look you there, quoth Sir Roger, do you see there, all Mischief comes
from Confidents! But let us not interrupt them; the Maid is honest,
and the Man dares not be otherwise, for he knows I loved her Father: I
will interpose in this matter, and hasten the Wedding. _Kate Willow_
is a witty mischievous Wench in the Neighbourhood, who was a Beauty;
and makes me hope I shall see the perverse Widow in her Condition. She
was so flippant with her Answers to all the honest Fellows that came
near her, and so very vain of her Beauty, that she has valued herself
upon her Charms till they are ceased. She therefore now makes it her
Business to prevent other young Women from being more Discreet than
she was herself: However, the saucy Thing said the other Day well
enough, 'Sir ROGER and I must make a Match, for we are 'both despised
by those we loved:' The Hussy has a great deal of Power wherever she
comes, and has her Share of Cunning.

However, when I reflect upon this Woman, I do not know whether in the
main I am the worse for having loved her: Whenever she is recalled to
my Imagination my Youth returns, and I feel a forgotten Warmth in my
Veins. This Affliction in my Life has streaked all my Conduct with a
Softness, of which I should otherwise have been incapable. It is,
perhaps, to this dear Image in my Heart owing, that I am apt to
relent, that I easily forgive, and that many desirable things are
grown into my Temper, which I should not have arrived at by better
Motives than the Thought of being one Day hers. I am pretty well
satisfied such a Passion as I have had is never well cured; and
between you and me, I am often apt to imagine it has had some
whimsical Effect upon my Brain: For I frequently find, that in my most
serious Discourse I let fall some comical Familiarity of Speech or odd
Phrase that makes the Company laugh; However, I cannot but allow she
is a most excellent Woman. When she is in the Country I warrant she
does not run into Dairies, but reads upon the Nature of Plants; but
has a Glass Hive, and comes into the Garden out of Books to see them
work, and observe the Policies of their Commonwealth. She understands
every thing. I'd give ten Pounds to hear her argue with my Friend Sir
ANDREW FREEPORT about Trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as
it were, take my Word for it she is no Fool.

T.

Bewitchment

2004-07-14T09:06:00.000-07:00

'... Ipsi sibi somnia fingunt.'

Virg.

There are some Opinions in which a Man should stand Neuter, without
engaging his Assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering Faith as
this, which refuses to settle upon any Determination, is absolutely
necessary to a Mind that is careful to avoid Errors and Prepossessions.
When the Arguments press equally on both sides in Matters that are
indifferent to us, the safest Method is to give up our selves to
neither.

It is with this Temper of Mind that I consider the Subject of
Witchcraft. When I hear the Relations that are made from all Parts of
the World, not only from _Norway_ and _Lapland_, from the _East_ and
_West Indies_, but from every particular Nation in _Europe_, I cannot
forbear thinking that there is such an Intercourse and Commerce with
Evil Spirits, as that which we express by the Name of Witch-craft. But
when I consider that the ignorant and credulous Parts of the World
abound most in these Relations, and that the Persons among us, who are
supposed to engage in such an Infernal Commerce, are People of a weak
Understanding and a crazed Imagination, and at the same time reflect
upon the many Impostures and Delusions of this Nature that have been
detected in all Ages, I endeavour to suspend my Belief till I hear more
certain Accounts than any which have yet come to my Knowledge. In short,
when I consider the Question, whether there are such Persons in the
World as those we call Witches? my Mind is divided between the two
opposite Opinions; or rather (to speak my Thoughts freely) I believe in
general that there is, and has been such a thing as Witch-craft; but at
the same time can give no Credit to any particular Instance of it.

I am engaged in this Speculation, by some Occurrences that I met with
Yesterday, which I shall give my Reader an Account of at large. As I was
walking with my Friend Sir ROGER by the side of one of his Woods, an old
Woman applied herself to me for my Charity. Her Dress and Figure put me
in mind of the following Description in [_Otway_. [1]]

In a close Lane as I pursued my Journey,
I spy'd a wrinkled Hag, with Age grown double,
Picking dry Sticks, and mumbling to her self.
Her Eyes with scalding Rheum were gall'd and red,
Cold Palsy shook her Head; her Hands seem'd wither'd;
And on her crooked Shoulders had she wrap'd
The tatter'd Remnants of an old striped Hanging,
Which served to keep her Carcase from the Cold:
So there was nothing of a Piece about her.
Her lower Weeds were all o'er coarsly patch'd
With diff'rent-colour'd Rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seem'd to speak Variety of Wretchedness. [2]

[As I was musing on this Description, and comparing it with the Object
before me, the Knight told me, [3]] that this very old Woman had the
Reputation of a Witch all over the Country, that her Lips were observed
to be always in Motion, and that there was not a Switch about her House
which her Neighbours did not believe had carried her several hundreds of
Miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found Sticks or Straws
that lay in the Figure of a Cross before her. If she made any Mistake at
Church, and cryed _Amen_ in a wrong Place, they never failed to conclude
that she was saying her Prayers backwards. There was not a Maid in the
Parish that would take a Pin of her, though she would offer a Bag of
Mony with it. She goes by the Name of _Moll White_, and has made the
Country ring with several imaginary Exploits which are palmed upon her.
If the Dairy Maid does not make her Butter come so soon as she should
have it, _Moll White_ is at the Bottom of the Churn. If a Horse sweats
in the Stable, _Moll White_ has been upon his Back. If a Hare makes an
unexpected escape from the Hounds, the Huntsman curses _Moll White_.
Nay, (says Sir ROGER) I have known the Master of the Pack, upon such an
Occasion, send one of his Servants to see if _Moll White_ had been out
that Morning.

This Account raised my Curiosity so far, that I begged my Friend Sir
ROGER to go with me into her Hovel, which stood in a solitary Corner
under the side of the Wood. Upon our first entering Sir ROGER winked to
me, and pointed at something that stood behind the Door, which, upon
looking that Way, I found to be an old Broom-staff. At the same time he
whispered me in the Ear to take notice of a Tabby Cat that sat in the
Chimney-Corner, which, as the old Knight told me, lay under as bad a
Report as _Moll White_ her self; for besides that _Moll_ is said often
to accompany her in the same Shape, the Cat is reported to have spoken
twice or thrice in her Life, and to have played several Pranks above the
Capacity of an ordinary Cat.

I was secretly concerned to see Human Nature in so much Wretchedness and
Disgrace, but at the same time could not forbear smiling to hear Sir
ROGER, who is a little puzzled about the old Woman, advising her as a
Justice of Peace to avoid all Communication with the Devil, and never to
hurt any of her Neighbours' Cattle. We concluded our Visit with a
Bounty, which was very acceptable.

In our Return home, Sir ROGER told me, that old _Moll_ had been often
brought before him for making Children spit Pins, and giving Maids the
Night-Mare; and that the Country People would be tossing her into a Pond
and trying Experiments with her every Day, if it was not for him and his
Chaplain.

I have since found upon Enquiry, that Sir ROGER was several times
staggered with the Reports that had been brought him concerning this old
Woman, and would frequently have bound her over to the County Sessions,
had not his Chaplain with much ado perswaded him to the contrary. [4]

I have been the more particular in this Account, because I hear there is
scarce a Village in _England_ that has not a _Moll White_ in it. When an
old Woman begins to doat, and grow chargeable to a Parish, she is
generally turned into a Witch, and fills the whole Country with
extravagant Fancies, imaginary Distempers and terrifying Dreams. In the
mean time, the poor Wretch that is the innocent Occasion of so many
Evils begins to be frighted at her self, and sometimes confesses secret
Commerce and Familiarities that her Imagination forms in a delirious old
Age. This frequently cuts off Charity from the greatest Objects of
Compassion, and inspires People with a Malevolence towards those poor
decrepid Parts of our Species, in whom Human Nature is defaced by
Infirmity and Dotage.

L.

[Footnote 1: _Ottway_, which I could not forbear repeating on this
occasion.]

[Footnote 2: 'Orphan', Act II. Chamont to Monimia.]

[Footnote 3: The knight told me, upon hearing the Description,]

[Footnote 4: When this essay was written, charges were being laid
against one old woman, Jane Wenham, of Walkerne, a little village north
of Hertford, which led to her trial for witchcraft at assizes held in
the following year, 1712, when she was found guilty; and became
memorable as the last person who, in this country, was condemned to
capital punishment for that impossible offence. The judge got first a
reprieve and then a pardon. The lawyers had refused to draw up any
indictment against the poor old creature, except, in mockery, for
'conversing familiarly with the devil in form of a cat.' But of that
offence she was found guilty upon the testimony of sixteen witnesses,
three of whom were clergymen. One witness, Anne Thorne, testified that
every night the pins went from her pincushion into her mouth. Others
gave evidence that they had seen pins come jumping through the air into
Anne Thorne's mouth. Two swore that they had heard the prisoner, in the
shape of a cat, converse with the devil, he being also in form of a cat.
Anne Thorne swore that she was tormented exceedingly with cats, and that
all the cats had the face and voice of the witch. The vicar of Ardeley
had tested the poor ignorant creature with the Lord's Prayer, and
finding that she could not repeat it, had terrified her with his moral
tortures into some sort of confession. Such things, then, were said and
done, and such credulity was abetted even by educated men at the time
when this essay was written. Upon charges like those ridiculed in the
text, a woman actually was, a few months later, not only committed by
justices with a less judicious spiritual counsellor than Sir Roger's
chaplain, but actually found guilty at the assizes, and condemned to
death.]

On Exercise

2004-07-12T22:37:00.000-07:00

'... Ut sit Mens sana in Corpore sano.'

Juv.

Bodily Labour is of two Kinds, either that which a Man submits to for
his Livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his Pleasure. The latter
of them generally changes the Name of Labour for that of Exercise, but
differs only from ordinary Labour as it rises from another Motive.

A Country Life abounds in both these kinds of Labour, and for that
Reason gives a Man a greater Stock of Health, and consequently a more
perfect Enjoyment of himself, than any other Way of Life. I consider the
Body as a System of Tubes and Glands, or to use a more Rustick Phrase, a
Bundle of Pipes and Strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful
a Manner as to make a proper Engine for the Soul to work with. This
Description does not only comprehend the Bowels, Bones, Tendons, Veins,
Nerves and Arteries, but every Muscle and every Ligature, which is a
Composition of Fibres, that are so many imperceptible Tubes or Pipes
interwoven on all sides with invisible Glands or Strainers.

This general Idea of a Human Body, without considering it in its
Niceties of Anatomy, lets us see how absolutely necessary Labour is for
the right Preservation of it. There must be frequent Motions and
Agitations, to mix, digest, and separate the Juices contained in it, as
well as to clear and cleanse that Infinitude of Pipes and Strainers of
which it is composed, and to give their solid Parts a more firm and
lasting Tone. Labour or Exercise ferments the Humours, casts them into
their proper Channels, throws off Redundancies, and helps Nature in
those secret Distributions, without which the Body cannot subsist in its
Vigour, nor the Soul act with Chearfulness.

I might here mention the Effects which this has upon all the Faculties
of the Mind, by keeping the Understanding clear, the Imagination
untroubled, and refining those Spirits that are necessary for the proper
Exertion of our intellectual Faculties, during the present Laws of Union
between Soul and Body. It is to a Neglect in this Particular that we
must ascribe the Spleen, which is so frequent in Men of studious and
sedentary Tempers, as well as the Vapours to which those of the other
Sex are so often subject.

Had not Exercise been absolutely necessary for our Well-being, Nature
would not have made the Body so proper for it, by giving such an
Activity to the Limbs, and such a Pliancy to every Part as necessarily
produce those Compressions, Extentions, Contortions, Dilatations, and
all other kinds of [Motions [1]] that are necessary for the Preservation
of such a System of Tubes and Glands as has been before mentioned. And
that we might not want Inducements to engage us in such an Exercise of
the Body as is proper for its Welfare, it is so ordered that nothing
valuable can be procured without it. Not to mention Riches and Honour,
even Food and Raiment are not to be come at without the Toil of the
Hands and Sweat of the Brows. Providence furnishes Materials, but
expects that we should work them up our selves. The Earth must be
laboured before it gives its Encrease, and when it is forced into its
several Products, how many Hands must they pass through before they are
fit for Use? Manufactures, Trade, and Agriculture, naturally employ more
than nineteen Parts of the Species in twenty; and as for those who are
not obliged to Labour, by the Condition in which they are born, they are
more miserable than the rest of Mankind, unless they indulge themselves
in that voluntary Labour which goes by the Name of Exercise.

My Friend Sir ROGER has been an indefatigable Man in Business of this
kind, and has hung several Parts of his House with the Trophies of his
former Labours. The Walls of his great Hall are covered with the Horns
of several kinds of Deer that he has killed in the Chace, which he
thinks the most valuable Furniture of his House, as they afford him
frequent Topicks of Discourse, and shew that he has not been Idle. At
the lower End of the Hall, is a large Otter's Skin stuffed with Hay,
which his Mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the Knight
looks upon with great Satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine
Years old when his Dog killed him. A little Room adjoining to the Hall
is a kind of Arsenal filled with Guns of several Sizes and Inventions,
with which the Knight has made great Havock in the Woods, and destroyed
many thousands of Pheasants, Partridges and Wood-cocks. His Stable Doors
are patched with Noses that belonged to Foxes of the Knight's own
hunting down. Sir ROGER shewed me one of them that for Distinction sake
has a Brass Nail struck through it, which cost him about fifteen Hours
riding, carried him through half a dozen Counties, killed him a Brace of
Geldings, and lost above half his Dogs. This the Knight looks upon as
one of the greatest Exploits of his Life. The perverse Widow, whom I
have given some Account of, was the Death of several Foxes; for Sir
ROGER has told me that in the Course of his Amours he patched the
Western Door of his Stable. Whenever the Widow was cruel, the Foxes were
sure to pay for it. In proportion as his Passion for the Widow abated
and old Age came on, he left off Fox-hunting; but a Hare is not yet safe
that Sits within ten Miles of his House.

There is no kind of Exercise which I would so recommend to my Readers of
both Sexes as this of Riding, as there is none which so much conduces to
Health, and is every way accommodated to the Body, according to the
Idea which I have given of it. Doctor Sydenham is very lavish in its
Praises; and if the English Reader will see the Mechanical Effects of
it describ'd at length, he may find them in a Book published not many
Years since, under the Title of Medicina Gymnastica [2]. For my own
part, when I am in Town, for want of these Opportunities, I exercise
myself an Hour every Morning upon a dumb Bell that is placed in a Corner
of my Room, and pleases me the more because it does every thing I
require of it in the most profound Silence. My Landlady and her
Daughters are so well acquainted with my Hours of Exercise, that they
never come into my Room to disturb me whilst I am ringing.

When I was some Years younger than I am at present, I used to employ
myself in a more laborious Diversion, which I learned from a Latin
Treatise of Exercises that is written with great Erudition: [3] It is
there called the skiomachia, or the fighting with a Man's own Shadow,
and consists in the brandishing of two short Sticks grasped in each
Hand, and loaden with Plugs of Lead at either End. This opens the Chest,
exercises the Limbs, and gives a Man all the Pleasure of Boxing, without
the Blows. I could wish that several Learned Men would lay out that Time
which they employ in Controversies and Disputes about nothing, in this
Method of fighting with their own Shadows. It might conduce very much to
evaporate the Spleen, which makes them uneasy to the Publick as well as
to themselves.

To conclude, As I am a Compound of Soul and Body, I consider myself as
obliged to a double Scheme of Duties; and I think I have not fulfilled
the Business of the Day when I do not thus employ the one in Labour and
Exercise, as well as the other in Study and Contemplation.

L.

[Footnote 1: Motion]

[Footnote 2: 'Medicina Gymnastica, or, a Treatise concerning the Power
of Exercise'. By Francis Fuller, M.A.]

[Footnote 3: 'Artis Gymnasticæ apud Antiquos ...' Libri VI. (Venice,
1569). By Hieronymus Mercurialis, who died at Forli, in 1606. He speaks
of the shadow-fighting in Lib. iv. cap. 5, and Lib. v. cap. 2.]

Prodigality and Parsimony Compared

2004-07-11T14:53:00.000-07:00

'... Paupertatis pudor et fuga ...'

Hor[ace].

Oeconomy in our Affairs has the same Effect upon our Fortunes which Good
Breeding has upon our Conversations. There is a pretending Behaviour in
both Cases, which, instead of making Men esteemed, renders them both
miserable and contemptible. We had Yesterday at SIR ROGER'S a Set of
Country Gentlemen who dined with him; and after Dinner the Glass was
taken, by those who pleased, pretty plentifully. Among others I observed
a Person of a tolerable good Aspect, who seemed to be more greedy of
Liquor than any of the Company, and yet, methought, he did not taste it
with Delight. As he grew warm, he was suspicious of every thing that was
said; and as he advanced towards being fudled, his Humour grew worse. At
the same time his Bitterness seem'd to be rather an inward
Dissatisfaction in his own Mind, than any Dislike he had taken at the
Company. Upon hearing his Name, I knew him to be a Gentle man of a
considerable Fortune in this County, but greatly in Debt. What gives the
unhappy Man this Peevishness of Spirit is, that his Estate is dipped,
and is eating out with Usury; and yet he has not the Heart to sell any
Part of it. His proud Stomach, at the Cost of restless Nights, constant
Inquietudes, Danger of Affronts, and a thousand nameless Inconveniences,
preserves this Canker in his Fortune, rather than it shall be said he is
a Man of fewer Hundreds a Year than he has been commonly reputed. Thus
he endures the Torment of Poverty, to avoid the Name of being less rich.
If you go to his House you see great Plenty; but served in a Manner that
shews it is all unnatural, and that the Master's Mind is not at home.
There is a certain Waste and Carelessness in the Air of every thing, and
the whole appears but a covered Indigence, a magnificent Poverty. That
Neatness and Chearfulness, which attends the Table of him who lives
within Compass, is wanting, and exchanged for a Libertine Way of Service
in all about him.

This Gentleman's Conduct, tho' a very common way of Management, is as
ridiculous as that Officer's would be, who had but few Men under his
Command, and should take the Charge of an Extent of Country rather than
of a small Pass. To pay for, personate, and keep in a Man's Hands, a
greater Estate than he really has, is of all others the most
unpardonable Vanity, and must in the End reduce the Man who is guilty of
it to Dishonour. Yet if we look round us in any County of Great
Britain, we shall see many in this fatal Error; if that may be called
by so soft a Name, which proceeds from a false Shame of appearing what
they really are, when the contrary Behaviour would in a short Time
advance them to the Condition which they pretend to.

Laertes has fifteen hundred Pounds a Year; which is mortgaged for six
thousand Pounds; but it is impossible to convince him that if he sold as
much as would pay off that Debt, he would save four Shillings in the
Pound, [1] which he gives for the Vanity of being the reputed Master of
it. [Yet [2]] if Laertes did this, he would, perhaps, be easier in his
own Fortune; but then Irus, a Fellow of Yesterday, who has but twelve
hundred a Year, would be his Equal. Rather than this shall be, Laertes
goes on to bring well-born Beggars into the World, and every Twelvemonth
charges, his Estate with at least one Year's Rent more by the Birth of a
Child.

Laertes and Irus are Neighbours, whose Way of living are an
Abomination to each other. Irus is moved by the Fear of Poverty, and
Laertes by the Shame of it. Though the Motive of Action is of so near
Affinity in both, and may be resolved into this, 'That to each of them
Poverty is the greatest of all Evils,' yet are their Manners very widely
different. Shame of Poverty makes Laertes launch into unnecessary
Equipage, vain Expense, and lavish Entertainments; Fear of Poverty makes
Irus allow himself only plain Necessaries, appear without a Servant,
sell his own Corn, attend his Labourers, and be himself a Labourer.
Shame of Poverty makes Laertes go every Day a step nearer to it; and
Fear of Poverty stirs up Irus to make every Day some further Progress
from it.

These different Motives produce the Excesses of which Men are guilty of
in the Negligence of and Provision for themselves. Usury, Stock-jobbing,
Extortion and Oppression, have their Seed in the Dread of Want; and
Vanity, Riot and Prodigality, from the Shame of it: But both these
Excesses are infinitely below the Pursuit of a reasonable Creature.
After we have taken Care to command so much as is necessary for
maintaining our selves in the Order of Men suitable to our Character,
the Care of Superfluities is a Vice no less extravagant, than the
Neglect of Necessaries would have been before.

Certain it is that they are both out of Nature when she is followed with
Reason and good Sense. It is from this Reflection that I always read Mr.
Cowley with the greatest Pleasure: His Magnanimity is as much above
that of other considerable Men as his Understanding; and it is a true
distinguishing Spirit in the elegant Author who published his Works, [3]
to dwell so much upon the Temper of his Mind and the Moderation of his
Desires: By this means he has render'd his Friend as amiable as famous.
That State of Life which bears the Face of Poverty with Mr. Cowley's
great Vulgar, is admirably described; and it is no small Satisfaction
to those of the same Turn of Desire, that he produces the Authority of
the wisest Men of the best Age of the World, to strengthen his Opinion
of the ordinary Pursuits of Mankind.

It would methinks be no ill Maxim of Life, if according to that Ancestor
of Sir ROGER, whom I lately mentioned, every Man would point to himself
what Sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by this means cheat
himself into a Tranquility on this Side of that Expectation, or convert
what he should get above it to nobler Uses than his own Pleasures or
Necessities. This Temper of Mind would exempt a Man from an ignorant
Envy of restless Men above him, and a more inexcusable Contempt of happy
Men below him. This would be sailing by some Compass, living with some
Design; but to be eternally bewildered in Prospects of Future Gain, and
putting on unnecessary Armour against improbable Blows of Fortune, is a
Mechanick Being which has not good Sense for its Direction, but is
carried on by a sort of acquired Instinct towards things below our
Consideration and unworthy our Esteem. It is possible that the
Tranquility I now enjoy at Sir ROGER'S may have created in me this Way
of Thinking, which is so abstracted from the common Relish of the World:
But as I am now in a pleasing Arbour surrounded with a beautiful
Landskip, I find no Inclination so strong as to continue in these
Mansions, so remote from the ostentatious Scenes of Life; and am at this
present Writing Philosopher enough to conclude with Mr. Cowley;

If e'er Ambition did my Fancy cheat,
With any Wish so mean as to be Great;
Continue, Heav'n, still from me to remove
The humble Blessings of that Life I love. [4]

[Footnote 1: The Land Tax.]

[Footnote 2: But]

[Footnote 3: Dr. Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, in his Life of
Cowley prefixed to an edition of the Poet's works. The temper of Cowley
here referred to is especially shown in his Essays, as in the opening
one 'Of Liberty,' and in that 'Of Greatness,' which is followed by the
paraphrase from Horace's Odes, Bk. III. Od. i, beginning with the
expression above quoted:

Hence, ye profane; I hate ye all;
Both the Great Vulgar and the Small.]

[Footnote 4: From the Essay 'Of Greatness.']

The story of Sir Roger's Disappointment in Love

2004-07-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

'... Harent infixi pectore vultus.'

Virg.

In my first Description of the Company in which I pass most of my Time,
it may be remembered that I mentioned a great Affliction which my Friend
Sir ROGER had met with in his Youth; which was no less than a
Disappointment in Love. It happened this Evening, that we fell into a
very pleasing Walk at a Distance from his House: As soon as we came into
it,

'It is, quoth the good Old Man, looking round him with a Smile, very
hard, that any Part of my Land should be settled upon one who has used
me so ill as the perverse Widow [1] did; and yet I am sure I could not
see a Sprig of any Bough of this whole Walk of Trees, but I should
reflect upon her and her Severity. She has certainly the finest Hand
of any Woman in the World. You are to know this was the Place wherein
I used to muse upon her; and by that Custom I can never come into it,
but the same tender Sentiments revive in my Mind, as if I had actually
walked with that Beautiful Creature under these Shades. I have been
Fool enough to carve her Name on the Bark of several of these Trees;
so unhappy is the Condition of Men in Love, to attempt the removing of
their Passion by the Methods which serve only to imprint it deeper.
She has certainly the finest Hand of any Woman in the World.'

Here followed a profound Silence; and I was not displeased to observe my
Friend falling so naturally into a Discourse, which I had ever before
taken Notice he industriously avoided. After a very long Pause he
entered upon an Account of this great Circumstance in his Life, with an
Air which I thought raised my Idea of him above what I had ever had
before; and gave me the Picture of that chearful Mind of his, before it
received that Stroke which has ever since affected his Words and
Actions. But he went on as follows.

'I came to my Estate in my Twenty Second Year, and resolved to follow
the Steps of the most Worthy of my Ancestors who have inhabited this
Spot of Earth before me, in all the Methods of Hospitality and good
Neighbourhood, for the sake of my Fame; and in Country Sports and
Recreations, for the sake of my Health. In my Twenty Third Year I was
obliged to serve as Sheriff of the County; and in my Servants,
Officers and whole Equipage, indulged the Pleasure of a young Man (who
did not think ill of his own Person) in taking that publick Occasion
of shewing my Figure and Behaviour to Advantage. You may easily
imagine to yourself what Appearance I made, who am pretty tall, [rid
[2]] well, and was very well dressed, at the Head of a whole County,
with Musick before me, a Feather in my Hat, and my Horse well Bitted.
I can assure you I was not a little pleased with the kind Looks and
Glances I had from all the Balconies and Windows as I rode to the Hall
where the Assizes were held. But when I came there, a Beautiful
Creature in a Widow's Habit sat in Court to hear the Event of a Cause
concerning her Dower. This commanding Creature (who was born for
Destruction of all who behold her) put on such a Resignation in her
Countenance, and bore the Whispers of all around the Court with such a
pretty Uneasiness, I warrant you, and then recovered her self from one
Eye to another, 'till she was perfectly confused by meeting something
so wistful in all she encountered, that at last, with a Murrain to
her, she cast her bewitching Eye upon me. I no sooner met it, but I
bowed like a great surprized Booby; and knowing her Cause to be the
first which came on, I cried, like a Captivated Calf as I was, Make
way for the Defendant's Witnesses. This sudden Partiality made all the
County immediately see the Sheriff also was become a Slave to the fine
Widow. During the Time her Cause was upon Tryal, she behaved herself,
I warrant you, with such a deep Attention to her Business, took
Opportunities to have little Billets handed to her Council, then would
be in such a pretty Confusion, occasioned, you must know, by acting
before so much Company, that not only I but the whole Court was
prejudiced in her Favour; and all that the next Heir to her Husband
had to urge, was thought so groundless and frivolous, that when it
came to her Council to reply, there was not half so much said as every
one besides in the Court thought he could have urged to her Advantage.
You must understand, Sir, this perverse Woman is one of those
unaccountable Creatures, that secretly rejoice in the Admiration of
Men, but indulge themselves in no further Consequences. Hence it is
that she has ever had a Train of Admirers, and she removes from her
Slaves in Town to those in the Country, according to the Seasons of
the Year. She is a reading Lady, and far gone in the Pleasures of
Friendship; She is always accompanied by a Confident, who is Witness
to her daily Protestations against our Sex, and consequently a Bar to
her first Steps towards Love, upon the Strength of her own Maxims and
Declarations.

However, I must needs say this accomplished Mistress of mine has
distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir
ROGER DE COVERLEY was the Tamest and most Human of all the Brutes in
the Country. I was told she said so, by one who thought he rallied me;
but upon the Strength of this slender Encouragement, of being thought
least detestable, I made new Liveries, new paired my Coach-Horses,
sent them all to Town to be bitted, and taught to throw their Legs
well, and move all together, before I pretended to cross the Country
and wait upon her. As soon as I thought my Retinue suitable to the
Character of my Fortune and Youth, I set out from hence to make my
Addresses. The particular Skill of this Lady has ever been to inflame
your Wishes, and yet command Respect. To make her Mistress of this
Art, she has a greater Share of Knowledge, Wit, and good Sense, than
is usual even among Men of Merit. Then she is beautiful beyond the
Race of Women. If you won't let her go on with a certain Artifice with
her Eyes, and the Skill of Beauty, she will arm her self with her real
Charms, and strike you with Admiration instead of Desire. It is
certain that if you were to behold the whole Woman, there is that
Dignity in her Aspect, that Composure in her Motion, that Complacency
in her Manner, that if her Form makes you hope, her Merit makes you
fear. But then again, she is such a desperate Scholar, that no
Country-Gentleman can approach her without being a Jest. As I was
going to tell you, when I came to her House I was admitted to her
Presence with great Civility; at the same time she placed her self to
be first seen by me in such an Attitude, as I think you call the
Posture of a Picture, that she discovered new Charms, and I at last
came towards her with such an Awe as made me Speechless. This she no
sooner observed but she made her Advantage of it, and began a
Discourse to me concerning Love and Honour, as they both are followed
by Pretenders, and the real Votaries to them. When she [had] discussed
these Points in a Discourse, which I verily believe was as learned as
the best Philosopher in Europe could possibly make, she asked me
whether she was so happy as to fall in with my Sentiments on these
important Particulars. Her Confident sat by her, and upon my being in
the last Confusion and Silence, this malicious Aid of hers, turning to
her, says, I am very glad to observe Sir ROGER pauses upon this
Subject, and seems resolved to deliver all his Sentiments upon the
Matter when he pleases to speak. They both kept their Countenances,
and after I had sat half an Hour meditating how to behave before such
profound Casuists, I rose up and took my Leave. Chance has since that
time thrown me very often in her Way, and she as often has directed a
Discourse to me which I do not understand. This Barbarity has kept me
ever at a Distance from the most beautiful Object my Eyes ever beheld.
It is thus also she deals with all Mankind, and you must make Love to
her, as you would conquer the Sphinx, by posing her. But were she like
other Women, and that there were any talking to her, how constant must
the Pleasure of that Man be, who could converse with a Creature--But,
after all, you may be sure her Heart is fixed on some one or other;
and yet I have been credibly inform'd; but who can believe half that
is said! After she had done speaking to me, she put her Hand to her
Bosom, and adjusted her Tucker. Then she cast her Eyes a little down,
upon my beholding her too earnestly. They say she sings excellently:
her Voice in her ordinary Speech has something in it inexpressibly
sweet. You must know I dined with her at a publick Table the Day after
I first saw her, and she helped me to some Tansy in the Eye of all the
Gentlemen in the Country: She has certainly the finest Hand of any
Woman in the World. I can assure you, Sir, were you to behold her, you
would be in the same Condition; for as her Speech is Musick, her Form
is Angelick. But I find I grow irregular while I am talking of her;
but indeed it would be Stupidity to be unconcerned at such
Perfection. Oh the excellent Creature, she is as inimitable to all
Women, as she is inaccessible to all Men.'

I found my Friend begin to rave, and insensibly led him towards the
House, that we might be joined by some other Company; and am convinced
that the Widow is the secret Cause of all that Inconsistency which
appears in some Parts of my Friend's Discourse; tho' he has so much
Command of himself as not directly to mention her, yet according to that
of Martial, which one knows not how to render in English, Dum facet
hanc loquitur. I shall end this Paper with that whole Epigram, [3]
which represents with much Humour my honest Friend's Condition.

Quicquid agit Rufus nihil est nisi Nævia Rufo,
Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur:
Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, annuit, una est
Nævia; Si non sit Nævia mutus erit.
Scriberet hesterna Patri cum Luce Salutem,
Nævia lux, inquit, Nævia lumen, ave.

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk,
Still he can nothing but of Nævia talk;
Let him eat, drink, ask Questions, or dispute,
Still he must speak of Nævia, or be mute.
He writ to his Father, ending with this Line,
I am, my Lovely Nævia, ever thine.

R.

[Footnote 1: Mrs Catherine Boevey, widow of William Boevey, Esq., who
was left a widow at the age of 22, and died in January, 1726, has one of
the three volumes of the Lady's Library dedicated to her by Steele in
terms that have been supposed to imply resemblance between her and the
'perverse widow;' as being both readers, &c. Mrs Boevey is said also to
have had a Confidant (Mary Pope) established in her household. But there
is time misspent in all these endeavours to reduce to tittle-tattle the
creations of a man of genius.]

[Footnote 2: ride]

[Footnote 3: Bk. I. Ep. 69.]

Opiate of the Country Folk

2004-07-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

[Greek (transliterated):

Athanatous men pr_ota theous, nom_o h_os diakeitai
Tima

Pyth.]

I am always very well pleased with a Country Sunday; and think, if
keeping holy the Seventh Day [were [1]] only a human Institution, it
would be the best Method that could have been thought of for the
polishing and civilizing of Mankind. It is certain the Country-People
would soon degenerate into a kind of Savages and Barbarians, were there
not such frequent Returns of a stated Time, in which the whole Village
meet together with their best Faces, and in their cleanliest [Habits,
[2]] to converse with one another upon indifferent Subjects, hear their
Duties explained to them, and join together in Adoration of the Supreme
Being. Sunday clears away the Rust of the whole Week, not only as it
refreshes in their Minds the Notions of Religion, but as it puts both
the Sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable Forms, and exerting all
such Qualities as are apt to give them a Figure in the Eye of the
Village. A Country-Fellow distinguishes himself as much in the
Church-yard, as a Citizen does upon the Change, the whole
Parish-Politicks being generally discussed in that Place either after
Sermon or before the Bell rings.

My Friend Sir ROGER, being a good Churchman, has beautified the Inside
of his Church with several Texts of his own chusing: He has likewise
given a handsome Pulpit-Cloth, and railed in the Communion-Table at his
own Expence. He has often told me, that at his coming to his Estate he
found [his Parishioners [3]] very irregular; and that in order to make
them kneel and join in the Responses, he gave every one of them a
Hassock and a Common-prayer Book: and at the same time employed an
itinerant Singing-Master, who goes about the Country for that Purpose,
to instruct them rightly in the Tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now
very much value themselves, and indeed out-do most of the Country
Churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir ROGER is Landlord to the whole Congregation, he keeps them in
very good Order, and will suffer no Body to sleep in it besides himself;
for if by chance he has been surprized into a short Nap at Sermon, upon
recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees
any Body else nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his Servant
to them. Several other of the old Knight's Particularities break out
upon these Occasions: Sometimes he will be lengthening out a Verse in
the Singing-Psalms, half a Minute after the rest of the Congregation
have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the Matter of his
Devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same Prayer;
and sometimes stands up when every Body else is upon their Knees, to
count the Congregation, or see if any of his Tenants are missing.

I was Yesterday very much surprised to hear my old Friend, in the Midst
of the Service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was
about, and not disturb the Congregation. This John Matthews it seems
is remarkable for being an idle Fellow, and at that Time was kicking his
Heels for his Diversion. This Authority of the Knight, though exerted in
that odd Manner which accompanies him in all Circumstances of Life, has
a very good Effect upon the Parish, who are not polite enough to see any
thing ridiculous in his Behaviour; besides that the general good Sense
and Worthiness of his Character makes his Friends observe these little
Singularities as Foils that rather set off than blemish his good
Qualities.

As soon as the Sermon is finished, no Body presumes to stir till Sir
ROGER is gone out of the Church. The Knight walks down from his Seat in
the Chancel between a double Row of his Tenants, that stand bowing to
him on each Side; and every now and then enquires how such an one's
Wife, or Mother, or Son, or Father do, whom he does not see at Church;
which is understood as a secret Reprimand to the Person that is absent.

The Chaplain has often told me, that upon a Catechising-day, when Sir
ROGER has been pleased with a Boy that answers well, he has ordered a
Bible to be given him next Day for his Encouragement; and sometimes
accompanies it with a Flitch of Bacon to his Mother. Sir ROGER has
likewise added five Pounds a Year to the Clerk's Place; and that he may
encourage the young Fellows to make themselves perfect in the
Church-Service, has promised upon the Death of the present Incumbent,
who is very old, to bestow it according to Merit.

The fair Understanding between Sir ROGER and his Chaplain, and their
mutual Concurrence in doing Good, is the more remarkable, because the
very next Village is famous for the Differences and Contentions that
rise between the Parson and the 'Squire, who live in a perpetual State
of War. The Parson is always preaching at the 'Squire, and the 'Squire
to be revenged on the Parson never comes to Church. The 'Squire has made
all his Tenants Atheists and Tithe-Stealers; while the Parson instructs
them every Sunday in the Dignity of his Order, and insinuates to them
in almost every Sermon, that he is a better Man than his Patron. In
short, Matters are come to such an Extremity, that the 'Squire has not
said his Prayers either in publick or private this half Year; and that
the Parson threatens him, if he does not mend his Manners, to pray for
him in the Face of the whole Congregation.

Feuds of this Nature, though too frequent in the Country, are very fatal
to the ordinary People; who are so used to be dazled with Riches, that
they pay as much Deference to the Understanding of a Man of an Estate,
as of a Man of Learning; and are very hardly brought to regard any
Truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them, when
they know there are several Men of five hundred a Year who do not
believe it.

L.

[Footnote 1: had been]

[Footnote 2: Dress]

[Footnote 3: the Parish]

On the Progress of the Soul

2004-07-07T08:49:00.000-07:00

'... Inter Silvas Academi quaerere Verum.'

Hor.

The Course of my last Speculation led me insensibly into a Subject upon
which I always meditate with great Delight, I mean the Immortality of
the Soul. I was yesterday walking alone in one of my Friend's Woods, and
lost my self in it very agreeably, as I was running over in my Mind the
several Arguments that establish this great Point, which is the Basis of
Morality, and the Source of all the pleasing Hopes and secret Joys that
can arise in the Heart of a reasonable Creature. I considered those
several Proofs, drawn;

First, From the Nature of the Soul it self, and particularly its
Immateriality; which, tho' not absolutely necessary to the Eternity of
its Duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a Demonstration.

Secondly, From its Passions and Sentiments, as particularly from its
Love of Existence, its Horrour of Annihilation, and its Hopes of
Immortality, with that secret Satisfaction which it finds in the
Practice of Virtue, and that Uneasiness which follows in it upon the
Commission of Vice.

Thirdly, From the Nature of the Supreme Being, whose Justice,
Goodness, Wisdom and Veracity are all concerned in this great Point.

But among these and other excellent Arguments for the Immortality of the
Soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual Progress of the Soul to its
Perfection, without a Possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a
Hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others
who have written on this Subject, tho' it seems to me to carry a great
Weight with it. How can it enter into the Thoughts of Man, that the
Soul, which is capable of such immense Perfections, and of receiving new
Improvements to all Eternity, shall fall away into nothing almost as
soon as it is created? Are such Abilities made for no Purpose? A Brute
arrives at a Point of Perfection that he can never pass: In a few Years
he has all the Endowments he is capable of; and were he to live ten
thousand more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a human
Soul thus at a stand in her Accomplishments, were her Faculties to be
full blown, and incapable of further Enlargements, I could imagine it
might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a State of
Annihilation. But can we believe a thinking Being that is in a perpetual
Progress of Improvements, and travelling on from Perfection to
Perfection, after having just looked abroad into the Works of its
Creator, and made a few Discoveries of his infinite Goodness, Wisdom and
Power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning
of her Enquiries?

A Man, considered in his present State, seems only sent into the World
to propagate his Kind[. He provides [1]] himself with a Successor, and
immediately quits his Post to make room for him.

... Hares
Haeredem alterius, velut unda, supervenit undam.

He does not seem born to enjoy Life, but to deliver it down to others.
This is not surprising to consider in Animals, which are formed for our
Use, and can finish their Business in a short Life. The Silk-worm, after
having spun her Task, lays her Eggs and dies. But a Man can never have
taken in his full measure of Knowledge, has not time to subdue his
Passions, establish his Soul in Virtue, and come up to the Perfection of
his Nature, before he is hurried off the Stage. Would an infinitely wise
Being make such glorious Creatures for so mean a Purpose? Can he delight
in the Production of such abortive Intelligences, such short-lived
reasonable Beings? Would he give us Talents that are not to be exerted?
Capacities that are never to be gratified? How can we find that Wisdom
which shines through all his Works, in the Formation of Man, without
looking on this World as only a Nursery for the next, and believing that
the several Generations of rational Creatures, which rise up and
disappear in such quick Successions, are only to receive their first
Rudiments of Existence here, and afterwards to be transplanted into a
more friendly Climate, where they may spread and flourish to all
Eternity.

There is not, in my Opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant
Consideration in Religion than this of the perpetual Progress which the
Soul makes towards the Perfection of its Nature, without ever arriving
at a Period in it. To look upon the Soul as going on from Strength to
Strength, to consider that she is to shine for ever with new Accessions
of Glory, and brighten to all Eternity; that she will be still adding
Virtue to Virtue, and Knowledge to Knowledge; carries in it something
wonderfully agreeable to that Ambition which is natural to the Mind of
Man. Nay, it must be a Prospect pleasing to God himself, to see his
Creation for ever beautifying in his Eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by
greater Degrees of Resemblance.

Methinks this single Consideration, of the Progress of a finite Spirit
to Perfection, will be sufficient to extinguish all Envy in inferior
Natures, and all Contempt in superior. That Cherubim which now appears
as a God to a human Soul, knows very well that the Period will come
about in Eternity, when the human Soul shall be as perfect as he himself
now is: Nay, when she shall look down upon that Degree of Perfection, as
much as she now falls short of it. It is true the higher Nature still
advances, and by that means preserves his Distance and Superiority in
the Scale of Being; but he knows how high soever the Station is of which
he stands possessed at present, the inferior Nature will at length mount
up to it, and shine forth in the same Degree of Glory.

With what Astonishment and Veneration may we look into our own Souls,
where there are such hidden Stores of Virtue and Knowledge, such
inexhausted Sources of Perfection? We know not yet what we shall be, nor
will it ever enter into the Heart of Man to conceive the Glory that will
be always in Reserve for him. The Soul considered with its Creator, is
like one of those Mathematical Lines that may draw nearer to another for
all Eternity without a Possibility of touching it: [2] And can there be
a Thought so transporting, as to consider ourselves in these perpetual
Approaches to him, who is not only the Standard of Perfection but of
Happiness!

L.

[Footnote 1: ",and provide"]

[Footnote 2: The Asymptotes of the Hyperbola.]

On Ghosts

2004-07-06T07:59:00.000-07:00

'Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent.'

Virg.

At a little distance from Sir ROGER'S House, among the Ruins of an old
Abby, there is a long Walk of aged Elms; which are shot up so very high,
that when one passes under them, the Rooks and Crows that rest upon the
Tops of them seem to be cawing in another Region. I am very much
delighted with this sort of Noise, which I consider as a kind of natural
Prayer to that Being who supplies the Wants of his whole Creation, and
[who], in the beautiful Language of the Psalms, feedeth the young
Ravens that call upon him. I like this [Retirement [1]] the better,
because of an ill Report it lies under of being haunted; for which
Reason (as I have been told in the Family) no living Creature ever walks
in it besides the Chaplain. My good Friend the Butler desired me with a
very grave Face not to venture my self in it after Sun-set, for that one
of the Footmen had been almost frighted out of his Wits by a Spirit that
appear'd to him in the Shape of a black Horse without an Head; to which
he added, that about a Month ago one of the Maids coming home late that
way with a Pail of Milk upon her Head, heard such a Rustling among the
Bushes that she let it fall.

I was taking a Walk in this Place last Night between the Hours of Nine
and Ten, and could not but fancy it one of the most proper Scenes in the
World for a Ghost to appear in. The Ruins of the Abby are scattered up
and down on every Side, and half covered with Ivy and Elder-Bushes, the
Harbours of several solitary Birds which seldom make their Appearance
till the Dusk of the Evening. The Place was formerly a Churchyard, and
has still several Marks in it of Graves and Burying-Places. There is
such an Eccho among the old Ruins and Vaults, that if you stamp but a
little louder than ordinary, you hear the Sound repeated. At the same
time the Walk of Elms, with the Croaking of the Ravens which from time
to time are heard from the Tops of them, looks exceeding solemn and
venerable. These Objects naturally raise Seriousness and Attention; and
when Night heightens the Awfulness of the Place, and pours out her
supernumerary Horrors upon every thing in it, I do not at all wonder
that weak Minds fill it with Spectres and Apparitions.

Mr. Locke, in his Chapter of the Association of Ideas, has very curious
Remarks to shew how by the Prejudice of Education one Idea often
introduces into the Mind a whole Set that bear no Resemblance to one
another in the Nature of things. Among several Examples of this Kind, he
produces the following Instance. The Ideas of Goblins and Sprights have
really no more to do with Darkness than Light: Yet let but a foolish
Maid inculcate these often on the Mind of a Child, and raise them there
together, possibly he shall never be able to separate them again so long
as he lives; but Darkness shall ever afterwards bring with it those
frightful Ideas, and they shall be so joined, that he can no more bear
the one than the other. [2]

As I was walking in this Solitude, where the Dusk of the Evening
conspired with so many other Occasions of Terrour, I observed a Cow
grazing not far from me, which an Imagination that is apt to startle,
might easily have construed into a black Horse without an Head: And I
dare say the poor Footman lost his Wits upon some such trivial Occasion.

My Friend Sir ROGER has often told me with a great deal of Mirth, that
at his first coming to his Estate he found three Parts of his House
altogether useless; that the best Room in it had the Reputation of being
haunted, and by that means was locked up; that Noises had been heard in
his long Gallery, so that he could not get a Servant to enter it after
eight a Clock at Night; that the Door of one of his Chambers was nailed
up, because there went a Story in the Family that a Butler had formerly
hang'd himself in it; and that his Mother, who lived to a great Age, had
shut up half the Rooms in the House, in which either her Husband, a Son,
or Daughter had died. The Knight seeing his Habitation reduced [to [3]]
so small a Compass, and himself in a manner shut out of his own House,
upon the Death of his Mother ordered [all the Apartments [4]] to be
flung open, and exorcised by his Chaplain, who lay in every Room one
after another, and by that Means dissipated the Fears which had so long
reigned in the Family.

I should not have been thus particular upon these ridiculous Horrours,
did I not find them so very much prevail in all Parts of the Country. At
the same time I think a Person who is thus terrify'd with the
Imagination of Ghosts and Spectres much more reasonable than one who,
contrary to the Reports of all Historians sacred and prophane, ancient
and modern, and to the Traditions of all Nations, thinks the Appearance
of Spirits fabulous and groundless: Could not I give myself up to this
general Testimony of Mankind, I should to the Relations of particular
Persons who are now living, and whom I cannot distrust in other Matters
of Fact. I might here add, that not only the Historians, to whom we may
join the Poets, but likewise the Philosophers of Antiquity have favoured
this Opinion. Lucretius himself, though by the Course of his
Philosophy he was obliged to maintain that the Soul did not exist
separate from the Body, makes no Doubt of the Reality of Apparitions,
and that Men have often appeared after their Death. This I think very
remarkable; he was so pressed with the Matter of Fact which he could not
have the Confidence to deny, that he was forced to account for it by one
of the most absurd unphilosophical Notions that was ever started. He
tells us, That the Surfaces of all Bodies are perpetually flying off
from their respective Bodies, one after another; and that these Surfaces
or thin Cases that included each other whilst they were joined in the
Body like the Coats of an Onion, are sometimes seen entire when they are
separated from it; by which means we often behold the Shapes and Shadows
of Persons who are either dead or absent. [5]

I shall dismiss this Paper with a Story out of _Josephus_, not so much
for the sake of the Story it self as for the moral Reflections with
which the Author concludes it, and which I shall here set down in his
own Words.

'Glaphyra the Daughter of King Archelaus, after the Death of her
two first Husbands (being married to a third, who was Brother to her
first Husband, and so passionately in love with her that he turned off
his former Wife to make room for this Marriage) had a very odd kind of
Dream. She fancied that she saw her first Husband coming towards her,
and that she embraced him with great Tenderness; when in the midst of
the Pleasure which she expressed at the Sight of him, he reproached
her after the following manner: Glaphyra, says he, thou hast made
good the old Saying, That Women are not to be trusted. Was not I the
Husband of thy Virginity? Have I not Children by thee? How couldst
thou forget our Loves so far as to enter into a second Marriage, and
after that into a third, nay to take for thy Husband a Man who has so
shamelessly crept into the Bed of his Brother? However, for the sake
of our passed Loves, I shall free thee from thy present Reproach, and
make thee mine for ever. Glaphyra told this Dream to several Women
of her Acquaintance, and died soon after. [6] I thought this Story
might not be impertinent in this Place, wherein I speak of those
Kings: Besides that, the Example deserves to be taken notice of as it
contains a most certain Proof of the Immortality of the Soul, and of
Divine Providence. If any Man thinks these Facts incredible, let him
enjoy his own Opinion to himself, but let him not endeavour to disturb
the Belief of others, who by Instances of this Nature are excited to
the Study of Virtue.'

L.

[Footnote 1: Walk]

[Footnote 2: 'Essay on the Human Understanding', Bk. II., ch. 33.]

[Footnote 3: into]

[Footnote 4: the Rooms]

[Footnote 5: 'Lucret.' iv. 34, &c.]

[Footnote 6: Josephus, 'Antiq. Jud.' lib. xvii. cap. 15, 415.]

A Tour of the De Coverley Portrait Gallery

2004-07-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

'Abnormis sapiens ...'

Hor.

I was this Morning walking in the Gallery, when Sir ROGER entered at the
End opposite to me, and advancing towards me, said, he was glad to meet
me among his Relations the DE COVERLEYS, and hoped I liked the
Conversation of so much good Company, who were as silent as myself. I
knew he alluded to the Pictures, and as he is a Gentleman who does not a
little value himself upon his ancient Descent, I expected he would give
me some Account of them. We were now arrived at the upper End of the
Gallery, when the Knight faced towards one of the Pictures, and as we
stood before it, he entered into the Matter, after his blunt way of
saying Things, as they occur to his Imagination, without regular
Introduction, or Care to preserve the Appearance of Chain of Thought.

'It is, said he, worth while to consider the Force of Dress; and how
the Persons of one Age differ from those of another, merely by that
only. One may observe also, that the general Fashion of one Age has
been followed by one particular Set of People in another, and by them
preserved from one Generation to another. Thus the vast jetting Coat
and small Bonnet, which was the Habit in Harry the Seventh's Time,
is kept on in the Yeomen of the Guard; not without a good and politick
View, because they look a Foot taller, and a Foot and an half broader:
Besides that the Cap leaves the Face expanded, and consequently more
terrible, and fitter to stand at the Entrance of Palaces.

This Predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this manner, and
his Cheeks would be no larger than mine, were he in a Hat as I am. He
was the last Man that won a Prize in the Tilt-Yard (which is now a
Common Street before Whitehall. [1]) You see the broken Lance that
lies there by his right Foot; He shivered that Lance of his Adversary
all to Pieces; and bearing himself, look you, Sir, in this manner, at
the same time he came within the Target of the Gentleman who rode
against him, and taking him with incredible Force before him on the
Pommel of his Saddle, he in that manner rid the Turnament over, with
an Air that shewed he did it rather to perform the Rule of the Lists,
than expose his Enemy; however, it appeared he knew how to make use of
a Victory, and with a gentle Trot he marched up to a Gallery where
their Mistress sat (for they were Rivals) and let him down with
laudable Courtesy and pardonable Insolence. I don't know but it might
be exactly where the Coffee-house is now.

You are to know this my Ancestor was not only of a military Genius,
but fit also for the Arts of Peace, for he played on the Base-Viol as
well as any Gentlemen at Court; you see where his Viol hangs by his
Basket-hilt Sword. The Action at the Tilt-yard you may be sure won the
fair Lady, who was a Maid of Honour, and the greatest Beauty of her
Time; here she stands, the next Picture. You see, Sir, my Great Great
Great Grandmother has on the new-fashioned Petticoat, except that the
Modern is gather'd at the Waste; my Grandmother appears as if she
stood in a large Drum, whereas the Ladies now walk as if they were in
a Go-Cart. For all this Lady was bred at Court, she became an
Excellent Country-Wife, she brought ten Children, and when I shew you
the Library, you shall see in her own Hand (allowing for the
Difference of the Language) the best Receipt now in England both for
an Hasty-pudding and a White-pot.[2]

If you please to fall back a little, because 'tis necessary to look at
the three next Pictures at one View; these are three Sisters. She on
the right Hand, who is so very beautiful, died a Maid; the next to
her, still handsomer, had the same Fate, against her Will; this homely
thing in the middle had both their Portions added to her own, and was
stolen by a neighbouring Gentleman, a Man of Stratagem and Resolution,
for he poisoned three Mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down two
Deer-stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all Families:
The Theft of this Romp and so much Mony, was no great matter to our
Estate. But the next Heir that possessed it was this soft Gentleman,
whom you see there: Observe the small Buttons, the little Boots, the
Laces, the Slashes about his Cloaths, and above all the Posture he is
drawn in, (which to be sure was his own choosing;) you see he sits
with one Hand on a Desk writing, and looking as it were another way,
like an easy Writer, or a Sonneteer: He was one of those that had too
much Wit to know how to live in the World; he was a Man of no Justice,
but great good Manners; he ruined every Body that had any thing to do
with him, but never said a rude thing in his Life; the most indolent
Person in the World, he would sign a Deed that passed away half his
Estate with his Gloves on, but would not put on his Hat before a Lady
if it were to save his Country. He is said to be the first that made
Love by squeezing the Hand. He left the Estate with ten thousand
Pounds Debt upon it, but however by all Hands I have been informed
that he was every way the finest Gentleman in the World. That Debt lay
heavy on our House for one Generation, but it was retrieved by a Gift
from that honest Man you see there, a Citizen of our Name, but nothing
at all a-kin to us. I know Sir ANDREW FREEPORT has said behind my
Back, that this Man was descended from one of the ten Children of the
Maid of Honour I shewed you above; but it was never made out. We
winked at the thing indeed, because Mony was wanting at that time.'

Here I saw my Friend a little embarrassed, and turned my Face to the
next Portraiture.

Sir ROGER went on with his Account of the Gallery in the following
Manner.

'This Man (pointing to him I looked at) I take to be the Honour of our
House. Sir HUMPHREY DE COVERLEY; he was in his Dealings as punctual as
a Tradesman, and as generous as a Gentleman. He would have thought
himself as much undone by breaking his Word, as if it were to be
followed by Bankruptcy. He served his Country as Knight of this Shire
to his dying Day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an Integrity
in his Words and Actions, even in things that regarded the Offices
which were incumbent upon him, in the Care of his own Affairs and
Relations of Life, and therefore dreaded (tho' he had great Talents)
to go into Employments of State, where he must be exposed to the
Snares of Ambition. Innocence of Life and great Ability were the
distinguishing Parts of his Character; the latter, he had often
observed, had led to the Destruction of the former, and used
frequently to lament that Great and Good had not the same
Signification. He was an excellent Husbandman, but had resolved not to
exceed such a Degree of Wealth; all above it he bestowed in secret
Bounties many Years after the Sum he aimed at for his own Use was
attained. Yet he did not slacken his Industry, but to a decent old Age
spent the Life and Fortune which was superfluous to himself, in the
Service of his Friends and Neighbours.'

Here we were called to Dinner, and Sir ROGER ended the Discourse of this
Gentleman, by telling me, as we followed the Servant, that this his
Ancestor was a brave Man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the Civil
Wars;

'For,' said he, 'he was sent out of the Field upon a private Message,
the Day before the Battel of Worcester.'

The Whim of narrowly escaping by having been within a Day of Danger,
with other Matters above-mentioned, mixed with good Sense, left me at a
Loss whether I was more delighted with my Friend's Wisdom or Simplicity.

R.

[Footnote 1: When Henry VIII drained the site of St. James's Park he
formed, close to the Palace of Whitehall, a large Tilt-yard for noblemen
and others to exercise themselves in jousting, tourneying, and fighting
at the barriers. Houses afterwards were built on its ground, and one of
them became Jenny Man's "Tilt Yard Coffee House." The Paymaster-
General's office now stands on the site of it.]

[Footnote 2: A kind of Custard.]

The Plight of Younger Sons

2004-07-04T21:59:00.000-07:00

'Gratis anhelans, multa agendo nihil agens.'

Phæd.

As I was Yesterday Morning walking with Sir ROGER before his House, a
Country-Fellow brought him a huge Fish, which, he told him, Mr. William
Wimble had caught that very Morning; and that he presented it, with his
Service to him, and intended to come and dine with him. At the same Time
he delivered a Letter, which my Friend read to me as soon as the
Messenger left him.

Sir ROGER,

'I desire you to accept of a Jack, which is the best I have caught
this Season. I intend to come and stay with you a Week, and see how
the Perch bite in the Black River. I observed with some Concern, the
last time I saw you upon the Bowling-Green, that your Whip wanted a
Lash to it; I will bring half a dozen with me that I twisted last
Week, which I hope will serve you all the Time you are in the Country.
I have not been out of the Saddle for six Days last past, having been
at Eaton with Sir John's eldest Son. He takes to his Learning
hugely. I am,
SIR, Your Humble Servant,
Will. Wimble. [1]'

This extraordinary Letter, and Message that accompanied it, made me very
curious to know the Character and Quality of the Gentleman who sent
them; which I found to be as follows. Will. Wimble is younger Brother
to a Baronet, and descended of the ancient Family of the Wimbles. He
is now between Forty and Fifty; but being bred to no Business and born
to no Estate, he generally lives with his elder Brother as
Superintendant of his Game. He hunts a Pack of Dogs better than any Man
in the Country, and is very famous for finding out a Hare. He is
extreamly well versed in all the little Handicrafts of an idle Man: He
makes a May-fly to a Miracle; and furnishes the whole Country with
Angle-Rods. As he is a good-natur'd officious Fellow, and very much
esteem'd upon account of his Family, he is a welcome Guest at every
House, and keeps up a good Correspondence among all the Gentlemen about
him. He carries a Tulip-root in his Pocket from one to another, or
exchanges a Poppy between a Couple of Friends that live perhaps in the
opposite Sides of the County. Will. is a particular Favourite of all
the young Heirs, whom he frequently obliges with a Net that he has
weaved, or a Setting-dog that he has made himself: He now and then
presents a Pair of Garters of his own knitting to their Mothers or
Sisters; and raises a great deal of Mirth among them, by enquiring as
often as he meets them how they wear? These Gentleman-like
Manufactures and obliging little Humours, make Will. the Darling of
the Country.

Sir ROGER was proceeding in the Character of him, when we saw him make
up to us with two or three Hazle-Twigs in his Hand that he had cut in
Sir ROGER'S Woods, as he came through them, in his Way to the House. I
was very much pleased to observe on one Side the hearty and sincere
Welcome with which Sir ROGER received him, and on the other, the secret
Joy which his Guest discover'd at Sight of the good old Knight. After
the first Salutes were over, Will. desired Sir ROGER to lend him one
of his Servants to carry a Set of Shuttlecocks he had with him in a
little Box to a Lady that lived about a Mile off, to whom it seems he
had promis'd such a Present for above this half Year. Sir ROGER'S Back
was no sooner turned but honest Will. [began] to tell me of a
large Cock-Pheasant that he had sprung in one of the neighbouring Woods,
with two or three other Adventures of the same Nature. Odd and uncommon
Characters are the Game that I look for, and most delight in; for which
Reason I was as much pleased with the Novelty of the Person that talked
to me, as he could be for his Life with the springing of a Pheasant, and
therefore listned to him with more than ordinary Attention.

In the midst of his Discourse the Bell rung to Dinner, where the
Gentleman I have been speaking of had the Pleasure of seeing the huge
Jack, he had caught, served up for the first Dish in a most sumptuous
Manner. Upon our sitting down to it he gave us a long Account how he had
hooked it, played with it, foiled it, and at length drew it out upon the
Bank, with several other Particulars that lasted all the first Course. A
Dish of Wild-fowl that came afterwards furnished Conversation for the
rest of the Dinner, which concluded with a late Invention of Will's
for improving the Quail-Pipe.

Upon withdrawing into my Room after Dinner, I was secretly touched with
Compassion towards the honest Gentleman that had dined with us; and
could not but consider with a great deal of Concern, how so good an
Heart and such busy Hands were wholly employed in Trifles; that so much
Humanity should be so little beneficial to others, and so much Industry
so little advantageous to himself. The same Temper of Mind and
Application to Affairs might have recommended him to the publick Esteem,
and have raised his Fortune in another Station of Life. What Good to his
Country or himself might not a Trader or Merchant have done with such
useful tho' ordinary Qualifications?

Will. Wimble's is the Case of many a younger Brother of a great
Family, who had rather see their Children starve like Gentlemen, than
thrive in a Trade or Profession that is beneath their Quality. This
Humour fills several Parts of Europe with Pride and Beggary. It is the
Happiness of a Trading Nation, like ours, that the younger Sons, tho'
uncapabie of any liberal Art or Profession, may be placed in such a Way
of Life, as may perhaps enable them to vie with the best of their
Family: Accordingly we find several Citizens that were launched into the
World with narrow Fortunes, rising by an honest Industry to greater
Estates than those of their elder Brothers. It is not improbable but
Will, was formerly tried at Divinity, Law, or Physick; and that
finding his Genius did not lie that Way, his Parents gave him up at
length to his own Inventions. But certainly, however improper he might
have been for Studies of a higher Nature, he was perfectly well turned
for the Occupations of Trade and Commerce. As I think this is a Point
which cannot be too much inculcated, I shall desire my Reader to compare
what I have here written with what I have said in my Twenty first
Speculation.

L.

[Footnote 1: Will Wimble has been identified with Mr. Thomas Morecraft,
younger son of a Yorkshire baronet. Mr. Morecraft in his early life
became known to Steele, by whom he was introduced to Addison. He
received help from Addison, and, after his death, went to Dublin, where
he died in 1741 at the house of his friend, the Bishop of Kildare. There
is no ground for this or any other attempt to find living persons in the
creations of the 'Spectator', although, because lifelike, they were, in
the usual way, attributed by readers to this or that individual, and so
gave occasion for the statement of Pudgell in the Preface to his
'Theophrastus' that

'most of the characters in the Spectator were conspicuously known.'

The only original of Will Wimble, as Mr. Wills has pointed out, is Mr.
Thomas Gules of No. 256 in the 'Tatler'.]

Sir Roger and His Servants

2004-07-03T16:35:00.000-07:00

'Æsopo ingentem statuam posuere Attici,
Servumque collocârunt Æterna in Basi,
Patere honoris scirent ut Cuncti viam.'

Phæd.

The Reception, manner of Attendance, undisturbed Freedom and Quiet,
which I meet with here in the Country, has confirm'd me in the Opinion I
always had, that the general Corruption of Manners in Servants is owing
to the Conduct of Masters. The Aspect of every one in the Family carries
so much Satisfaction, that it appears he knows the happy Lot which has
befallen him in being a Member of it. There is one Particular which I
have seldom seen but at Sir ROGER'S; it is usual in all other Places,
that Servants fly from the Parts of the House through which their Master
is passing; on the contrary, here they industriously place themselves in
his way; and it is on both Sides, as it were, understood as a Visit,
when the Servants appear without calling. This proceeds from the humane
and equal Temper of the Man of the House, who also perfectly well knows
how to enjoy a great Estate, with such Oeconomy as ever to be much
beforehand. This makes his own Mind untroubled, and consequently unapt
to vent peevish Expressions, or give passionate or inconsistent Orders
to those about him. Thus Respect and Love go together; and a certain
Chearfulness in Performance of their Duty is the particular Distinction
of the lower Part of this Family. When a Servant is called before his
Master, he does not come with an Expectation to hear himself rated for
some trivial Fault, threatned to be stripped, or used with any other
unbecoming Language, which mean Masters often give to worthy Servants;
but it is often to know, what Road he took that he came so readily back
according to Order; whether he passed by such a Ground, if the old Man
who rents it is in good Health: or whether he gave Sir ROGER'S Love to
him, or the like.

A Man who preserves a Respect, founded on his Benevolence to his
Dependants, lives rather like a Prince than a Master in his Family; his
Orders are received as Favours, rather than Duties; and the Distinction
of approaching him is Part of the Reward for executing what is commanded
by him.

There is another Circumstance in which my Friend excells in his
Management, which is the Manner of rewarding his Servants: He has ever
been of Opinion, that giving his cast Cloaths to be worn by Valets has a
very ill Effect upon little Minds, and creates a Silly Sense of Equality
between the Parties, in Persons affected only with outward things. I
have heard him often pleasant on this Occasion, and describe a young
Gentleman abusing his Man in that Coat, which a Month or two before was
the most pleasing Distinction he was conscious of in himself. He would
turn his Discourse still more pleasantly upon the Ladies Bounties of
this kind; and I have heard him say he knew a fine Woman, who
distributed Rewards and punishments in giving becoming or unbecoming
Dresses to her Maids.

But my good Friend is above these little Instances of Goodwill, in
bestowing only Trifles on his Servants; a good Servant to him is sure of
having it in his Choice very soon of being no Servant at all. As I
before observed, he is so good an Husband, and knows so thoroughly that
the Skill of the Purse is the Cardinal Virtue of this Life; I say, he
knows so well that Frugality is the Support of Generosity, that he can
often spare a large Fine when a Tenement falls, and give that Settlement
to a good Servant who has a Mind to go into the World, or make a
Stranger pay the Fine to that Servant, for his more comfortable
Maintenance, if he stays in his Service.

A Man of Honour and Generosity considers, it would be miserable to
himself to have no Will but that of another, tho' it were of the best
Person breathing, and for that Reason goes on as fast as he is able to
put his Servants into independent Livelihoods. The greatest Part of Sir
ROGER'S Estate is tenanted by Persons who have served himself or his
Ancestors. It was to me extreamly pleasant to observe the Visitants from
several Parts to welcome his Arrival into the Country: and all the
Difference that I could take notice of between the late Servants who
came to see him, and those who staid in the Family, was that these
latter were looked upon as finer Gentlemen and better Courtiers.

This Manumission and placing them in a way of Livelihood, I look upon as
only what is due to a good Servant, which Encouragement will make his
Successor be as diligent, as humble, and as ready as he was. There is
something wonderful in the Narrowness of those Minds, which can be
pleased, and be barren of Bounty to those who please them.

One might, on this Occasion, recount the Sense that Great Persons in all
Ages have had of the Merit of their Dependants, and the Heroick Services
which Men have done their Masters in the Extremity of their Fortunes;
and shewn to their undone Patrons, that Fortune was all the Difference
between them; but as I design this my Speculation only [as a] gentle
Admonition to thankless Masters, I shall not go out of the Occurrences
of Common Life, but assert it as a general Observation, that I never
saw, but in Sir ROGER'S Family, and one or two more, good Servants
treated as they ought to be. Sir ROGER'S Kindness extends to their
Children's Children, and this very Morning he sent his Coachman's
Grandson to Prentice. I shall conclude this Paper with an Account of a
Picture in his Gallery, where there are many which will deserve my
future Observation.

At the very upper end of this handsome Structure I saw the Portraiture
of two young Men standing in a River, the one naked, the other in a
Livery. The Person supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive
as to shew in his Face exquisite Joy and Love towards the other. I
thought the fainting Figure resembled my Friend Sir ROGER; and looking
at the Butler, who stood by me, for an Account of it, he informed me
that the Person in the Livery was a Servant of Sir ROGER'S, who stood on
the Shore while his Master was swimming, and observing him taken with
some sudden Illness, and sink under Water, jumped in and saved him. He
told me Sir ROGER took off the Dress he was in as soon as he came home,
and by a great Bounty at that time, followed by his Favour ever since,
had made him Master of that pretty Seat which we saw at a distance as we
came to this House. I remember'd indeed Sir ROGER said there lived a
very worthy Gentleman, to whom he was highly obliged, without mentioning
anything further. Upon my looking a little dissatisfy'd at some Part of
the Picture my Attendant informed me that it was against Sir ROGER'S
Will, and at the earnest Request of the Gentleman himself, that he was
drawn in the Habit in which he had saved his Master.

R.

Arrival in the Country

2004-07-02T09:23:00.000-07:00

'... Hinc tibi Copia
Manabit ad plenum, benigno
Ruris honorum opulenta cornu.'

Hor[ace].

Having often received an Invitation from my Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY
to pass away a Month with him in the Country, I last Week accompanied
him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his Country-house,
where I intend to form several of my ensuing Speculations. Sir ROGER,
who is very well acquainted with my Humour, lets me rise and go to Bed
when I please, dine at his own Table or in my Chamber as I think fit,
sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the
Gentlemen of the Country come to see him, he only shews me at a
Distance: As I have been walking in his Fields I have observed them
stealing a Sight of me over an Hedge, and have heard the Knight desiring
them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at.

I am the more at Ease in Sir ROGER'S Family, because it consists of
sober and staid Persons; for as the Knight is the best Master in the
World, he seldom changes his Servants; and as he is beloved by all about
him, his Servants never care for leaving him; by this means his
Domesticks are all in Years, and grown old with their Master. You would
take his Valet de Chambre for his Brother, his Butler is grey-headed,
his Groom is one of the gravest Men that I have ever seen, and his
Coachman has the Looks of a Privy-Counsellor. You see the Goodness of
the Master even in the old House-dog, and in a grey Pad that is kept in
the Stable with great Care and Tenderness out of Regard to his past
Services, tho' he has been useless for several Years.

I could not but observe with a great deal of Pleasure the Joy that
appeared in the Countenances of these ancient Domesticks upon my
Friend's Arrival at his Country-Seat. Some of them could not refrain
from Tears at the Sight of their old Master; every one of them press'd
forward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not
employed. At the same time the good old Knight, with a Mixture of the
Father and the Master of the Family, tempered the Enquiries after his
own Affairs with several kind Questions relating to themselves. This
Humanity and good Nature engages every Body to him, so that when he is
pleasant upon any of them, all his Family are in good Humour, and none
so much as the Person whom he diverts himself with: On the contrary, if
he coughs, or betrays any Infirmity of old Age, it is easy for a
Stander-by to observe a secret Concern in the Looks of all his Servants.

My worthy Friend has put me under the particular Care of his Butler, who
is a very prudent Man, and, as well as the rest of his Fellow-Servants,
wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their
Master talk of me as of his particular Friend.

My chief Companion, when Sir ROGER is diverting himself in the Woods or
the Fields, is a very venerable Man who is ever with Sir ROGER, and has
lived at his House in the Nature of a Chaplain above thirty Years. This
Gentleman is a Person of good Sense and some Learning, of a very regular
Life and obliging Conversation: He heartily loves Sir ROGER, and knows
that he is very much in the old Knight's Esteem, so that he lives in the
Family rather as a Relation than a Dependant.

I have observed in several of my Papers, that my Friend Sir ROGER,
amidst all his good Qualities, is something of an Humourist; and that
his Virtues, as well as Imperfections, are as it were tinged by a
certain Extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and
distinguishes them from those of other Men. This Cast of Mind, as it is
generally very innocent in it self, so it renders his Conversation
highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same Degree of Sense and
Virtue would appear in their common and ordinary Colours. As I was
walking with him last Night, he asked me how I liked the good Man whom I
have just now mentioned? and without staying for my Answer told me, That
he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own Table;
for which Reason he desired a particular Friend of his at the University
to find him out a Clergyman rather of plain Sense than much Learning, of
a good Aspect, a clear Voice, a sociable Temper, and, if possible, a Man
that understood a little of Back-Gammon.

My Friend, says Sir ROGER, found me out this Gentleman, who, besides
the Endowments [required] of him, is, they tell me, a good
Scholar, tho' he does not shew it. I have given him the Parsonage of
the Parish; and because I know his Value have settled upon him a good
Annuity for Life. If he outlives me, he shall find that he was higher
in my Esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me
thirty Years; and tho' he does not know I have taken Notice of it, has
never in all that time asked anything of me for himself, tho' he is
every Day solliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of my
Tenants his Parishioners. There has not been a Law-suit in the Parish
since he has liv'd among them: If any Dispute arises they apply
themselves to him for the Decision; if they do not acquiesce in his
Judgment, which I think never happened above once or twice at most,
they appeal to me. At his first settling with me, I made him a Present
of all the good Sermons [which] have been printed in
English, and only begg'd of him that every Sunday he
would pronounce one of them in the Pulpit. Accordingly, he has
digested them into such a Series, that they follov one another
naturally, and make a continued System of practical Divinity.

As Sir ROGER was going on in his Story, the Gentleman we were talking
of came up to us; and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to morrow
(for it was Saturday Night) told us, the Bishop of
St. Asaph in the Morning, and Dr. South in the
Afternoon. He then shewed us his List of Preachers for the whole Year,
where I saw with a great deal of Pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Doctor Barrow,
Doctor Calamy, with several living Authors who have
published Discourses of Practical Divinity. I no sooner saw this
venerable Man in the Pulpit, but I very much approved of my Friend's
insisting upon the Qualifications of a good Aspect and a clear
Voice; for I was so charmed with the Gracefulness of his Figure
and Delivery, as well as with the Discourses he pronounced, that
I think I never passed any Time more to
my Satisfaction. A Sermon repeated after this Manner, is like the
Composition of a Poet in the Mouth of a graceful Actor.

I could heartily wish that more of our Country Clergy would follow this
Example; and instead of wasting their Spirits in laborious Compositions
of their own, would endeavour after a handsome Elocution, and all those
other Talents that are proper to enforce what has been penned by greater
Masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more
edifying to the People.

L.

1. Archbishop Tillotson's Sermons appeared in 14 volumes,
small 8vo, published at intervals; the first in 1671; the second in
1678; the third in 1682; the fourth in 1694; and the others after his
death in that year. Robert Sanderson, who died in 1663, was a friend of
Laud and chaplain to Charles I., who made him Regius Professor of
Divinity at Oxford. At the Restoration he was made Bishop of Lincoln.
His fame was high for piety and learning. The best edition of his
Sermons was the eighth, published in 1687: Thirty-six Sermons, with Life
by Izaak Walton. Isaac Barrow, Theologian and Mathematician, Cambridge
Professor and Master of Trinity, died in 1677. His Works were edited by
Archbishop Tillotson, and include Sermons that must have been very much
to the mind of Sir Roger de Coverley, 'Against Evil Speaking.' Edmund
Calamy, who died in 1666, was a Nonconformist, and one of the writers of
the Treatise against Episcopacy called, from the Initials of its
authors, Smeetymnuus, which Bishop Hall attacked and John Milton
defended. Calamy opposed the execution of Charles I. and aided in
bringing about the Restoration. He became chaplain to Charles II., but
the Act of Uniformity again made him a seceder. His name, added to the
other three, gives breadth to the suggestion of Sir Roger's orthodoxy. [H.M.]

A Taxonomy of Pedants

2004-06-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

'... Id arbitror
Adprime in vita esse utile, ne quid nimis.'

Ter[ence]. Andr[ia, i. 60-1 (C.G.S.)].

My Friend WILL. HONEYCOMB values himself very much upon what he calls
the Knowledge of Mankind, which has cost him many Disasters in his
Youth; for WILL. reckons every Misfortune that he has met with among the
Women, and every Rencounter among the Men, as Parts of his Education,
and fancies he should never have been the Man he is, had not he broke
Windows, knocked down Constables, disturbed honest People with his
Midnight Serenades, and beat up a lewd Woman's Quarters, when he was a
young Fellow. The engaging in Adventures of this Nature WILL. calls the
studying of Mankind; and terms this Knowledge of the Town, the Knowledge
of the World. WILL. ingenuously confesses, that for half his Life his
Head ached every Morning with reading of Men over-night; and at present
comforts himself under certain Pains which he endures from time to time,
that without them he could not have been acquainted with the Gallantries
of the Age. This WILL. looks upon as the Learning of a Gentleman, and
regards all other kinds of Science as the Accomplishments of one whom he
calls a Scholar, a Bookish Man, or a Philosopher.

For these Reasons WILL. shines in mixt Company, where he has the
Discretion not to go out of his Depth, and has often a certain way of
making his real Ignorance appear a seeming one. Our Club however has
frequently caught him tripping, at which times they never spare him. For
as WILL. often insults us with the Knowledge of the Town, we sometimes
take our Revenge upon him by our Knowledge [of] Books.

He was last Week producing two or three Letters which he writ in his
Youth to a Coquet Lady. The Raillery of them was natural, and well
enough for a mere Man of the Town; but, very unluckily, several of the
Words were wrong spelt. WILL. laught this off at first as well as he
could; but finding himself pushed on all sides, and especially by the
Templar, he told us, with a little Passion, that he never liked
Pedantry in Spelling, and that he spelt like a Gentleman, and not like a
Scholar: Upon this WILL. had recourse to his old Topick of shewing the
narrow-Spiritedness, the Pride, and Ignorance of Pedants; which he
carried so far, that upon my retiring to my Lodgings, I could not
forbear throwing together such Reflections as occurred to me upon that
Subject.

A Man [who] has been brought up among Books, and is able to talk of
nothing else, is a very indifferent Companion, and what we call a
Pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the Title, and give it every
one that does not know how to think out of his Profession and particular
way of Life.

What is a greater Pedant than a meer Man of the Town? Bar him the
Play-houses, a Catalogue of the reigning Beauties, and an Account of a
few fashionable Distempers that have befallen him, and you strike him
dumb. How many a pretty Gentleman's Knowledge lies all within the Verge
of the Court? He will tell you the Names of the principal Favourites,
repeat the shrewd Sayings of a Man of Quality, whisper an Intreague that
is not yet blown upon by common Fame; or, if the Sphere of his
Observations is a little larger than ordinary, will perhaps enter into
all the Incidents, Turns, and Revolutions in a Game of Ombre. When he
has gone thus far he has shown you the whole Circle of his
Accomplishments, his Parts are drained, and he is disabled from any
further Conversation. What are these but rank Pedants? and yet these are
the Men [who] value themselves most on their Exemption from the
Pedantry of Colleges.

I might here mention the Military Pedant who always talks in a Camp, and
is storming Towns, making Lodgments and fighting Battles from one end of
the Year to the other. Every thing he speaks smells of Gunpowder; if you
take away his Artillery from him, he has not a Word to say for himself.
I might likewise mention the Law-Pedant, that is perpetually putting
Cases, repeating the Transactions of Westminster-Hall, wrangling with
you upon the most indifferent Circumstances of Life, and not to be
convinced of the Distance of a Place, or of the most trivial Point in
Conversation, but by dint of Argument. The State-Pedant is wrapt up in
News, and lost in Politicks. If you mention either of the Kings of
Spain or Poland, he talks very notably; but if you go out of the
Gazette, you drop him. In short, a meer Courtier, a meer Soldier, a
meer Scholar, a meer any thing, is an insipid Pedantick Character, and
equally ridiculous.

Of all the Species of Pedants, which I have [mentioned], the
Book-Pedant is much the most supportable; he has at least an exercised
Understanding, and a Head which is full though confused, so that a Man
who converses with him may often receive from him hints of things that
are worth knowing, and what he may possibly turn to his own Advantage,
tho' they are of little Use to the Owner. The worst kind of Pedants
among Learned Men, are such as are naturally endued with a very small
Share of common Sense, and have read a great number of Books without
Taste or Distinction.

The Truth of it is, Learning, like Travelling, and all other Methods of
Improvement, as it finishes good Sense, so it makes a silly Man ten
thousand times more insufferable, by supplying variety of Matter to his
Impertinence, and giving him an Opportunity of abounding in Absurdities.

Shallow Pedants cry up one another much more than Men of solid and
useful Learning. To read the Titles they give an Editor, or Collator of
a Manuscript, you would take him for the Glory of the Commonwealth of
Letters, and the Wonder of his Age, when perhaps upon Examination you
find that he has only Rectify'd a Greek Particle, or laid out a whole
Sentence in proper Commas.

They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of their Praises, that they
may keep one another in Countenance; and it is no wonder if a great deal
of Knowledge, which is not capable of making a Man wise, has a natural
Tendency to make him Vain and Arrogant.

L.

The Menace of Feminine Transvestitism

2004-06-29T09:40:00.000-07:00

'... Qualis equos Threissa fatigat
Harpalyce ...'

Virg.

It would be a noble Improvement, or rather a Recovery of what we call
good Breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst us for agreeable which
was the least Transgression against that Rule of Life called Decorum, or
a Regard to Decency. This would command the Respect of Mankind, because
it carries in it Deference to their good Opinion, as Humility lodged in
a worthy Mind is always attended with a certain Homage, which no haughty
Soul, with all the Arts imaginable, will ever be able to purchase.
Tully says, Virtue and Decency are so nearly related, that it is
difficult to separate them from each other but in our Imagination. As
the Beauty of the Body always accompanies the Health of it, so certainly
is Decency concomitant to Virtue: As Beauty of Body, with an agreeable
Carriage, pleases the Eye, and that Pleasure consists in that we observe
all the Parts with a certain Elegance are proportioned to each other; so
does Decency of Behaviour which appears in our Lives obtain the
Approbation of all with whom we converse, from the Order, Consistency,
and Moderation of our Words and Actions. This flows from the Reverence
we bear towards every good Man, and to the World in general; for to be
negligent of what any one thinks of you, does not only shew you arrogant
but abandoned. In all these Considerations we are to distinguish how one
Virtue differs from another; As it is the Part of Justice never to do
Violence, it is of Modesty never to commit Offence. In this last
Particular lies the whole Force of what is called Decency; to this
purpose that excellent Moralist above-mentioned talks of Decency; but
this Quality is more easily comprehended by an ordinary Capacity, than
expressed with all his Eloquence. This Decency of Behaviour is generally
transgressed among all Orders of Men; nay, the very Women, tho'
themselves created as it were for Ornament, are often very much mistaken
in this ornamental Part of Life. It would methinks be a short Rule for
Behaviour, if every young Lady in her Dress, Words, and Actions were
only to recommend her self as a Sister, Daughter, or Wife, and make
herself the more esteemed in one of those Characters. The Care of
themselves, with regard to the Families in which Women are born, is the
best Motive for their being courted to come into the Alliance of other
Houses. Nothing can promote this End more than a strict Preservation of
Decency. I should be glad if a certain Equestrian Order of Ladies, some
of whom one meets in an Evening at every Outlet of the Town, would take
this Subject into their serious Consideration; In order thereunto the
following Letter may not be wholly unworthy their Perusal.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Going lately to take the Air in one of the most beautiful Evenings
this Season has produced, as I was admiring the Serenity of the Sky,
the lively Colours of the Fields, and the Variety of the Landskip
every Way around me, my Eyes were suddenly called off from these
inanimate Objects by a little party of Horsemen I saw passing the
Road. The greater Part of them escaped my particular Observation, by
reason that my whole Attention was fixed on a very fair Youth who rode
in the midst of them, and seemed to have been dressed by some
Description in a Romance. His Features, Complexion, and Habit had a
remarkable Effeminacy, and a certain languishing Vanity appeared in
his Air: His Hair, well curl'd and powder'd, hung to a considerable
Length on his Shoulders, and was wantonly ty'd, as if by the Hands of
his Mistress, in a Scarlet Ribbon, which played like a Streamer behind
him: He had a Coat and Wastecoat of blue Camlet trimm'd and
embroidered with Silver; a Cravat of the finest Lace; and wore, in a
smart Cock, a little Beaver Hat edged with Silver, and made more
sprightly by a Feather. His Horse too, which was a Pacer, was adorned
after the same airy Manner, and seemed to share in the Vanity of the
Rider. As I was pitying the Luxury of this young Person, who appeared
to me to have been educated only as an Object of Sight, I perceived on
my nearer Approach, and as I turned my Eyes downward, a Part of the
Equipage I had not observed before, which was a Petticoat of the same
with the Coat and Wastecoat. After this Discovery, I looked again on
the Face of the fair Amazonwho had thus deceived me, and thought
those Features which had before offended me by their Softness, were
now strengthened into as improper a Boldness; and tho' her Eyes Nose
and Mouth seemed to be formed with perfect Symmetry, I am not certain
whether she, who in Appearance was a very handsome Youth, may not be
in Reality a very indifferent Woman.

There is an Objection which naturally presents it self against these
occasional Perplexities and Mixtures of Dress, which is, that they
seem to break in upon that Propriety and Distinction of Appearance in
which the Beauty of different Characters is preserved; and if they
should be more frequent than they are at present, would look like
turning our publick Assemblies into a general Masquerade. The Model of
this Amazonian Hunting-Habit for Ladies, was, as I take it, first
imported from France, and well enough expresses the Gaiety of a
People who are taught to do any thing so it be with an Assurance; but
I cannot help thinking it sits awkwardly yet on our English Modesty.
The Petticoat is a kind of Incumbrance upon it, and if the Amazons
should think fit to go on in this Plunder of our Sex's Ornaments, they
ought to add to their Spoils, and compleat their Triumph over us, by
wearing the Breeches.

If it be natural to contract insensibly the Manners of those we
imitate, the Ladies who are pleased with assuming our Dresses will do
us more Honour than we deserve, but they will do it at their own
Expence. Why should the lovely Camilla deceive us in more Shapes
than her own, and affect to be represented in her Picture with a Gun
and a Spaniel, while her elder Brother, the Heir of a worthy Family,
is drawn in Silks like his Sister? The Dress and Air of a Man are not
well to be divided; and those who would not be content with the
Latter, ought never to think of assuming the Former. There is so large
a portion of natural Agreeableness among the Fair Sex of our Island,
that they seem betrayed into these romantick Habits without having the
same Occasion for them with their Inventors: All that needs to be
desired of them is, that they would be themselves, that is, what
Nature designed them; and to see their Mistake when they depart from
this, let them look upon a Man who affects the Softness and Effeminacy
of a Woman, to learn how their Sex must appear to us, when approaching
to the Resemblance of a Man.

I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant_.

T.

The Plain Style

2004-06-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

'... Sibi quivis
Speret idem frusta sudet frustraque laboret
Ausus idem ...'

Hor.

My Friend the Divine having been used with Words of Complaisance (which
he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could
be only spoken of him, and that in his Absence) was so extreamly
offended with the excessive way of speaking Civilities among us, that he
made a Discourse against it at the Club; which he concluded with this
Remark, That he had not heard one Compliment made in our Society since
its Commencement. Every one was pleased with his Conclusion; and as each
knew his good Will to the rest, he was convinced that the many
Professions of Kindness and Service, which we ordinarily meet with, are
not natural where the Heart is well inclined; but are a Prostitution of
Speech, seldom intended to mean Any Part of what they express, never to
mean All they express. Our Reverend Friend, upon this Topick, pointed to
us two or three Paragraphs on this Subject in the first Sermon of the
first Volume of the late Arch-Bishop's Posthumous Works. I do not
know that I ever read any thing that pleased me more, and as it is the
Praise of Longinus, that he Speaks of the Sublime in a Style suitable
to it, so one may say of this Author upon Sincerity, that he abhors any
Pomp of Rhetorick on this Occasion, and treats it with a more than
ordinary Simplicity, at once to be a Preacher and an Example. With what
Command of himself does he lay before us, in the Language and Temper of
his Profession, a Fault, which by the least Liberty and Warmth of
Expression would be the most lively Wit and Satyr? But his Heart was
better disposed, and the good Man chastised the great Wit in such a
manner, that he was able to speak as follows.

'... Amongst too many other Instances of the great Corruption and
Degeneracy of the Age wherein we live, the great and general Want of
Sincerity in Conversation is none of the least. The World is grown so
full of Dissimulation and Compliment, that Mens Words are hardly any
Signification of their Thoughts; and if any Man measure his Words by
his Heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not express more Kindness to
every Man, than Men usually have for any Man, he can hardly escape the
Censure of want of Breeding. The old English Plainness and
Sincerity, that generous Integrity of Nature, and Honesty of
Disposition, which always argues true Greatness of Mind and is usually
accompanied with undaunted Courage and Resolution, is in a great
measure lost amongst us: There hath been a long Endeavour to transform
us into Foreign Manners and Fashions, and to bring us to a servile
Imitation of none of the best of our Neighbours in some of the worst
of their Qualities. The Dialect of Conversation is now-a-days so
swelled with Vanity and Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may say) of
Expressions of Kindness and Respect, that if a Man that lived an Age
or two ago should return into the World again he would really want a
Dictionary to help him to understand his own Language, and to know the
true intrinsick Value of the Phrase in Fashion, and would hardly at
first believe at what a low Rate the highest Strains and Expressions
of Kindness imaginable do commonly pass in current Payment; and when
he should come to understand it, it would be a great while before he
could bring himself with a good Countenance and a good Conscience to
converse with Men upon equal Terms, and in their own way.

And in truth it is hard to say, whether it should more provoke our
Contempt or our Pity, to hear what solemn Expressions of Respect and
Kindness will pass between Men, almost upon no Occasion; how great
Honour and Esteem they will declare for one whom perhaps they never
saw before, and how entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his
Service and Interest, for no Reason; how infinitely and eternally
obliged to him, for no Benefit; and how extreamly they will be
concerned for him, yea and afflicted too, for no Cause. I know it is
said, in Justification of this hollow kind of Conversation, that there
is no Harm, no real Deceit in Compliment, but the Matter is well
enough, so long as we understand one another; et Verba valent ut
Nummi: Words are like Money; and when the current Value of them is
generally understood, no Man is cheated by them. This is something, if
such Words were any thing; but being brought into the Account, they
are meer Cyphers. However, it is still a just Matter of Complaint,
that Sincerity and Plainness are out of Fashion, and that our Language
is running into a Lie; that Men have almost quite perverted the use of
Speech, and made Words to signifie nothing, that the greatest part of
the Conversation of Mankind is little else but driving a Trade of
Dissimulation; insomuch that it would make a Man heartily sick and
weary of the World, to see the little Sincerity that is in Use and
Practice among Men.

When the Vice is placed in this contemptible Light, he argues
unanswerably against it, in Words and Thoughts so natural, that any
Man who reads them would imagine he himself could have been the Author
of them.

If the Show of any thing be good for any thing, I am sure Sincerity is
better: for why does any Man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is
not, but because he thinks it good to have such a Quality as he
pretends to? For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the
Appearance of some real Excellency. Now the best way in the World to
seem to be any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be.
Besides, that it is many times as troublesome to make good the
Pretence of a good Quality, as to have it; and if a Man have it not,
it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it; and then all his
Pains and Labour to seem to have it, is lost.

In another Part of the same Discourse he goes on to shew, that all
Artifice must naturally tend to the Disappointment of him that practises
it.

'Whatsoever Convenience may be thought to be in Falshood and
Dissimulation, it is soon over; but the Inconvenience of it is
perpetual, because it brings a Man under an everlasting Jealousie and
Suspicion, so that he is not believed when he speaks Truth, nor
trusted when perhaps he means honestly. When a Man hath once forfeited
the Reputation of his Integrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then
serve his Turn, neither Truth nor Falshood.'

R.

Boot Camp for Coquettes

2004-06-27T16:11:00.000-07:00

'... Lusus animo debent aliquando dari,
Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.'

Phædr.

I do not know whether to call the following Letter a Satyr upon Coquets,
or a Representation of their several fantastical Accomplishments, or
what other Title to give it; but as it is I shall communicate it to the
Publick. It will sufficiently explain its own Intentions, so that I
shall give it my Reader at Length, without either Preface or Postscript.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Women are armed with Fans as Men with Swords, and sometimes do more
Execution with them. To the end therefore that Ladies may be entire
Mistresses of the Weapon which they bear, I have erected an Academy
for the training up of young Women in the Exercise of the Fan,
according to the most fashionable Airs and Motions that are now
practis'd at Court. The Ladies who carry Fans under me are drawn up
twice a-day in my great Hall, where they are instructed in the Use of
their Arms, and exercised by the following Words of Command,

Handle your Fans,
Unfurl your fans.
Discharge your Fans,
Ground your Fans,
Recover your Fans,
Flutter your Fans.

By the right Observation of these few plain Words of Command, a Woman
of a tolerable Genius, [who] will apply herself diligently to her
Exercise for the Space of but one half Year, shall be able to give her
Fan all the Graces that can possibly enter into that little modish
Machine.

But to the end that my Readers may form to themselves a right Notion
of this Exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its
Parts. When my Female Regiment is drawn up in Array, with every one
her Weapon in her Hand, upon my giving the Word to handle their
Fans, each of them shakes her Fan at me with a Smile, then gives her
Right-hand Woman a Tap upon the Shoulder, then presses her Lips with
the Extremity of her Fan, then lets her Arms fall in an easy Motion,
and stands in a Readiness to receive the next Word of Command. All
this is done with a close Fan, and is generally learned in the first
Week.

The next Motion is that of unfurling the Fan, in which [are]
comprehended several little Flirts and Vibrations, as also gradual and
deliberate Openings, with many voluntary Fallings asunder in the Fan
itself, that are seldom learned under a Month's Practice. This Part of
the Exercise pleases the Spectators more than any other, as it
discovers on a sudden an infinite Number of Cupids, [Garlands,]
Altars, Birds, Beasts, Rainbows, and the like agreeable Figures, that
display themselves to View, whilst every one in the Regiment holds a
Picture in her Hand.

Upon my giving the Word to discharge their Fans, they give one
general Crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the
Wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult Parts of the
Exercise; but I have several Ladies with me, who at their first
Entrance could not give a Pop loud enough to be heard at the further
end of a Room, who can now discharge a Fan in such a manner, that it
shall make a Report like a Pocket-Pistol. I have likewise taken care
(in order to hinder young Women from letting off their Fans in wrong
Places or unsuitable Occasions) to shew upon what Subject the Crack of
a Fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a Fan, with which
a Girl of Sixteen, by the help of a little Wind which is inclosed
about one of the largest Sticks, can make as loud a Crack as a Woman
of Fifty with an ordinary Fan.

When the Fans are thus discharged, the Word of Command in course is
to ground their Fans. This teaches a Lady to quit her Fan gracefully
when she throws it aside in order to take up a Pack of Cards, adjust a
Curl of Hair, replace a falling Pin, or apply her self to any other
Matter of Importance. This Part of the Exercise, as it only consists
in tossing a Fan with an Air upon a long Table (which stands by for
that Purpose) may be learned in two Days Time as well as in a
Twelvemonth.

When my Female Regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let them walk
about the Room for some Time; when on a sudden (like Ladies that look
upon their Watches after a long Visit) they all of them hasten to
their Arms, catch them up in a Hurry, and place themselves in their
proper Stations upon my calling out Recover your Fans. This Part of
the Exercise is not difficult, provided a Woman applies her Thoughts
to it.

The Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and indeed the Master-piece
of the whole Exercise; but if a Lady does not mis-spend her Time,
she may make herself Mistress of it in three Months. I generally lay
aside the Dog-days and the hot Time of the Summer for the teaching
this Part of the Exercise; for as soon as ever I pronounce Flutter
your Fans, the Place is fill'd with so many Zephyrs and gentle
Breezes as are very refreshing in that Season of the Year, tho' they
might be dangerous to Ladies of a tender Constitution in any other.

There is an infinite Variety of Motions to be made use of in the
Flutter of a Fan. There is the angry Flutter, the modest Flutter,
the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the merry Flutter, and the
amorous Flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any Emotion in the
Mind [which] does not produce a suitable Agitation in the Fan;
insomuch, that if I only see the Fan of a disciplin'd Lady, I know
very well whether she laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have seen a Fan so
very angry, that it would have been dangerous for the absent Lover
[who] provoked it to have come within the Wind of it; and at other
times so very languishing, that I have been glad for the Lady's sake
the Lover was at a sufficient Distance from it. I need not add, that a
Fan is either a Prude or Coquet according to the Nature of the Person
[who] bears it. To conclude my Letter, I must acquaint you that I
have from my own Observations compiled a little Treatise for the use
of my Scholars, entitled The Passions of the Fan; which I will
communicate to you, if you think it may be of use to the Publick. I
shall have a general Review on Thursday next; to which you shall be
very welcome if you will honour it with your Presence. I am, &c.

P. S. I teach young Gentlemen the whole Art of Gallanting a Fan.'

N. B. I have several little plain Fans made for this Use, to avoid
Expence.'

L.

Second-Guessing Posterity

2004-06-26T09:31:00.000-07:00

'Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux,
Post ingentia facta, Deorum in templa recepti;
Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella
Componunt, agros assignant, oppida condunt;
Ploravere suis non respondere favorem
Speratum meritis: ...'

Hor[ace].

Censure, says a late ingenious Author, is the Tax a Man pays to the
Publick for being Eminent. It is a Folly for an eminent Man to
think of escaping it, and a Weakness to be affected with it. All the
illustrious Persons of Antiquity, and indeed of every Age in the World,
have passed through this fiery Persecution. There is no Defence against
Reproach, but Obscurity; it is a kind of Concomitant to Greatness, as
Satyrs and Invectives were an essential Part of a Roman Triumph.

If Men of Eminence are exposed to Censure on one hand, they are as much
liable to Flattery on the other. If they receive Reproaches which are
not due to them, they likewise receive Praises which they do not
deserve. In a word, the Man in a high Post is never regarded with an
indifferent Eye, but always considered as a Friend or an Enemy. For this
Reason Persons in great Stations have seldom their true Characters drawn
till several Years after their Deaths. Their personal Friendships and
Enmities must cease, and the Parties they were engaged in be at an End,
before their Faults or their Virtues can have Justice done them. When
Writers have the least Opportunities of knowing the Truth they are in
the best Disposition to tell it.

It is therefore the Privilege of Posterity to adjust the Characters of
illustrious Persons, and to set Matters right between those Antagonists,
who by their Rivalry for Greatness divided a whole Age into Factions. We
can now allow Caesar to be a great Man, without derogating from
Pompey; and celebrate the Virtues of Cato, without detracting from
those of Caesar. Every one that has been long dead has a due Proportion
of Praise allotted him, in which whilst he lived his Friends were too
profuse and his Enemies too sparing.

According to Sir Isaac Newton's Calculations, the last Comet that made
its Appearance in 1680, imbib'd so much Heat by its Approaches to the
Sun, that it would have been two thousand times hotter than red hot
Iron, had it been a Globe of that Metal; and that supposing it as big as
the Earth, and at the same Distance from the Sun, it would be fifty
thousand Years in cooling, before it recovered its natural Temper.
In the like manner, if an Englishman considers the great Ferment into
which our Political World is thrown at present, and how intensely it is
heated in all its Parts, he cannot suppose that it will cool again in
less than three hundred Years. In such a Tract of Time it is possible
that the Heats of the present Age may be extinguished, and our several
Classes of great Men represented under their proper Characters. Some
eminent Historian may then probably arise that will not write
recentibus odiis(as Tacitus expresses it) with the Passions and
Prejudices of a contemporary Author, but make an impartial Distribution
of Fame among the Great Men of the present Age.

I cannot forbear entertaining my self very often with the Idea of such
an imaginary Historian describing the Reign of ANNEthe First, and
introducing it with a Preface to his Reader, that he is now entring upon
the most shining Part of the EnglishStory. The great Rivals in Fame
will then be distinguished according to their respective Merits, and
shine in their proper Points of Light. Such [an] one (says the
Historian) tho' variously represented by the Writers of his own Age,
appears to have been a Man of more than ordinary Abilities, great
Application and uncommon Integrity: Nor was such an one (tho' of an
opposite Party and Interest) inferior to him in any of these Respects.
The several Antagonists who now endeavour to depreciate one another, and
are celebrated or traduced by different Parties, will then have the same
Body of Admirers, and appear Illustrious in the Opinion of the whole
BritishNation. The deserving Man, who can now recommend himself to
the Esteem of but half his Countrymen, will then receive the
Approbations and Applauses of a whole Age.

Among the several Persons that flourish in this Glorious Reign, there is
no question but such a future Historian as the Person of whom I am
speaking, will make mention of the Men of Genius and Learning, who have
now any Figure in the British Nation. For my own part, I often flatter
my self with the honourable Mention which will then be made of me; and
have drawn up a Paragraph in my own Imagination, that I fancy will not
be altogether unlike what will be found in some Page or other of this
imaginary Historian.

It was under this Reign, says he, that the SPECTATOR publish'd those
little Diurnal Essays which are still extant. We know very little of
the Name or Person of this Author, except only that he was a Man of a
very short Face, extreamly addicted to Silence, and so great a Lover
of Knowledge, that he made a Voyage to Grand Cairofor no other
Reason, but to take the Measure of a Pyramid. His chief Friend was one
Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY, a whimsical Country Knight, and a Templar
whose Name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a Lodger at the
House of a Widow-Woman, and was a great Humourist in all Parts of his
Life. This is all we can affirm with any Certainty of his Person and
Character. As for his Speculations, notwithstanding the several
obsolete Words and obscure Phrases of the Age in which he lived, we
still understand enough of them to see the Diversions and Characters
of the English Nation in his Time: Not but that we are to make
Allowance for the Mirth and Humour of the Author, who has doubtless
strained many Representations of Things beyond the Truth. For if we
interpret his Words in the literal Meaning, we must suppose that Women
of the first Quality used to pass away whole Mornings at a
Puppet-Show: That they attested their Principles by their Patches:
That an Audience would sit out [an] Evening to hear a Dramatical
Performance written in a Language which they did not understand: That
Chairs and Flower-pots were introduced as Actors upon the British
Stage: That a promiscuous Assembly of Men and Women were allowed to
meet at Midnight in Masques within the Verge of the Court; with many
Improbabilities of the like Nature. We must therefore, in these and
the like Cases, suppose that these remote Hints and Allusions aimed at
some certain Follies which were then in Vogue, and which at present we
have not any Notion of. We may guess by several Passages in the
Speculations, that there were Writers who endeavoured to detract
from the Works of this Author; but as nothing of this nature is come
down to us, we cannot guess at any Objections that could be made to
his Paper. If we consider his Style with that Indulgence which we must
shew to old EnglishWriters, or if we look into the Variety of his
Subjects, with those several Critical Dissertations, Moral Reflections,

The following Part of the Paragraph is so much to my Advantage, and
beyond any thing I can pretend to, that I hope my Reader will excuse me
for not inserting it.

L.

In Praise of Good Humour

2004-06-25T00:11:00.000-07:00

'Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico.'

Hor[ace].

A man advanced in Years that thinks fit to look back upon his former
Life, and calls that only Life which was passed with Satisfaction and
Enjoyment, excluding all Parts which were not pleasant to him, will find
himself very young, if not in his Infancy. Sickness, Ill-humour, and
Idleness, will have robbed him of a great Share of that Space we
ordinarily call our Life. It is therefore the Duty of every Man that
would be true to himself, to obtain, if possible, a Disposition to be
pleased, and place himself in a constant Aptitude for the Satisfactions
of his Being. Instead of this, you hardly see a Man who is not uneasy in
proportion to his Advancement in the Arts of Life. An affected Delicacy
is the common Improvement we meet with in those who pretend to be
refined above others: They do not aim at true Pleasures themselves, but
turn their Thoughts upon observing the false Pleasures of other Men.
Such People are Valetudinarians in Society, and they should no more come
into Company than a sick Man should come into the Air: If a Man is too
weak to bear what is a Refreshment to Men in Health, he must still keep
his Chamber. When any one in Sir ROGER'S Company complains he is out of
Order, he immediately calls for some Posset-drink for him; for which
reason that sort of People who are ever bewailing their Constitution in
other Places are the Chearfullest imaginable when he is present.

It is a wonderful thing that so many, and they not reckoned absurd,
shall entertain those with whom they converse by giving them the History
of their Pains and Aches; and imagine such Narrations their Quota of the
Conversation. This is of all other the meanest Help to Discourse, and a
Man must not think at all, or think himself very insignificant, when he
finds an Account of his Head-ach answer'd by another's asking what News
in the last Mail? Mutual good Humour is a Dress we ought to appear in
whenever we meet, and we should make no mention of what concerns our
selves, without it be of Matters wherein our Friends ought to rejoyce:
But indeed there are Crowds of People who put themselves in no Method of
pleasing themselves or others; such are those whom we usually call
indolent Persons. Indolence is, methinks, an intermediate State between
Pleasure and Pain, and very much unbecoming any Part of our Life after
we are out of the Nurse's Arms. Such an Aversion to Labour creates a
constant Weariness, and one would think should make Existence it self a
Burthen. The indolent Man descends from the Dignity of his Nature, and
makes that Being which was Rational merely Vegetative: His Life consists
only in the meer Encrease and Decay of a Body, which, with relation to
the rest of the World, might as well have been uninformed, as the
Habitation of a reasonable Mind.

Of this kind is the Life of that extraordinary Couple Harry Tersett
and his Lady. Harry was in the Days of his Celibacy one of those pert
Creatures who have much Vivacity and little Understanding; Mrs. Rebecca
Quickly, whom he married, had all that the Fire of Youth and a lively
Manner could do towards making an agreeable Woman. The two People of
seeming Merit fell into each other's Arms; and Passion being sated, and
no Reason or good Sense in either to succeed it, their Life is now at a
Stand; their Meals are insipid, and their Time tedious; their Fortune
has placed them above Care, and their Loss of Taste reduced them below
Diversion. When we talk of these as Instances of Inexistence, we do not
mean, that in order to live it is necessary we should always be in
Jovial Crews, or crowned with Chaplets of Roses, as the merry Fellows
among the Ancients are described; but it is intended by considering
these Contraries to Pleasure, Indolence, and too much Delicacy, to shew
that it is Prudence to preserve a Disposition in our selves to receive a
certain Delight in all we hear and see.

This portable Quality of good Humour seasons all the Parts and
Occurrences we meet with, in such a manner, that, there are no Moments
lost; but they all pass with so much Satisfaction, that the heaviest of
Loads (when it is a Load) that of Time, is never felt by us. Varilas
has this Quality to the highest Perfection, and communicates it wherever
he appears: The Sad, the Merry, the Severe, the Melancholy, shew a new
Chearfulness when he comes amongst them. At the same time no one can
repeat any thing that Varilas has ever said that deserves Repetition;
but the Man has that innate Goodness of Temper, that he is welcome to
every Body, because every Man thinks he is so to him. He does not seem
to contribute any thing to the Mirth of the Company; and yet upon
Reflection you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was
whimsically said of a Gentleman, That if Varilas had Wit, it would be
the best Wit in the World. It is certain, when a well-corrected lively
Imagination and good Breeding are added to a sweet Disposition, they
qualify it to be one of the greatest Blessings, as well as Pleasures of
Life.

Men would come into Company with ten times the Pleasure they do, if they
were sure of hearing nothing which should shock them, as well as
expected what would please them. When we know every Person that is
spoken of is represented by one who has no ill Will, and every thing
that is mentioned described by one that is apt to set it in the best
Light, the Entertainment must be delicate; because the Cook has nothing
brought to his Hand but what is the most excellent in its Kind.
Beautiful Pictures are the Entertainments of pure Minds, and Deformities
of the corrupted. It is a Degree towards the Life of Angels, when we
enjoy Conversation wherein there is nothing presented but in its
Excellence: and a Degree towards that of Daemons, wherein nothing is
shewn but in its Degeneracy.

T.

Chastity and Courage

2004-06-23T03:15:00.000-07:00

'... Turpi secernis Honestum.'

Hor[ace].

The Club, of which I have often declared my self a Member, were last
Night engaged in a Discourse upon that which passes for the chief Point
of Honour among Men and Women; and started a great many Hints upon the
Subject, which I thought were entirely new: I shall therefore methodize
the several Reflections that arose upon this Occasion, and present my
Reader with them for the Speculation of this Day; after having premised,
that if there is any thing in this Paper which seems to differ with any
Passage of last Thursday's, the Reader will consider this as the
Sentiments of the Club, and the other as my own private Thoughts, or
rather those of Pharamond.

The great Point of Honour in Men is Courage, and in Women Chastity. If a
Man loses his Honour in one Rencounter, it is not impossible for him to
regain it in another; a Slip in a Woman's Honour is irrecoverable. I can
give no Reason for fixing the Point of Honour to these two Qualities,
unless it be that each Sex sets the greatest Value on the Qualification
which renders them the most amiable in the Eyes of the contrary Sex. Had
Men chosen for themselves, without Regard to the Opinions of the Fair
Sex, I should believe the Choice would have fallen on Wisdom or Virtue;
or had Women determined their own Point of Honour, it is probable that
Wit or Good-Nature would have carried it against Chastity.

Nothing recommends a Man more to the Female Sex than Courage; whether it
be that they are pleased to see one who is a Terror to others fall like
a Slave at their Feet, or that this Quality supplies their own principal
Defect, in guarding them from Insults and avenging their Quarrels, or
that Courage is a natural Indication of a strong and sprightly
Constitution. On the other side, nothing makes a Woman more esteemed by
the opposite Sex than Chastity; whether it be that we always prize those
most who are hardest to come at, or that nothing besides Chastity, with
its collateral Attendants, Truth, Fidelity, and Constancy, gives the Man
a Property in the Person he loves, and consequently endears her to him
above all things.

I am very much pleased with a Passage in the Inscription on a Monument
erected in Westminster Abbey to the late Duke and Dutchess of
Newcastle: 'Her Name was Margaret Lucas, youngest Sister to the Lord
Lucas of Colchester; a noble Family, for all the Brothers were
valiant, and all the Sisters virtuous.

In Books of Chivalry, where the Point of Honour is strained to Madness,
the whole Story runs on Chastity and Courage. The Damsel is mounted on a
white Palfrey, as an Emblem of her Innocence; and, to avoid Scandal,
must have a Dwarf for her Page. She is not to think of a Man, 'till some
Misfortune has brought a Knight-Errant to her Relief. The Knight falls
in Love, and did not Gratitude restrain her from murdering her
Deliverer, would die at her Feet by her Disdain. However he must wait
some Years in the Desart, before her Virgin Heart can think of a
Surrender. The Knight goes off, attacks every thing he meets that is
bigger and stronger than himself, seeks all Opportunities of being
knock'd on the Head, and after seven Years Rambling returns to his
Mistress, whose Chastity has been attacked in the mean time by Giants
and Tyrants, and undergone as many Tryals as her Lover's Valour.

In Spain, where there are still great Remains of this Romantick
Humour, it is a transporting Favour for a Lady to cast an accidental
Glance on her Lover from a Window, tho' it be two or three Stories high;
as it is usual for the Lover to assert his Passion for his Mistress, in
single Combat with a mad Bull.

The great Violation of the Point of Honour from Man to Man, is giving
the Lie. One may tell another he Whores, Drinks, Blasphemes, and it may
pass unresented; but to say he Lies, tho' but in Jest, is an Affront
that nothing but Blood can expiate. The Reason perhaps may be, because
no other Vice implies a want of Courage so much as the making of a Lie;
and therefore telling a man he Lies, is touching him in the most
sensible Part of Honour, and indirectly calling him a Coward. [I cannot
omit under this Head what Herodotus tells us of the ancient
Persians, That from the Age of five Years to twenty they instruct
their Sons only in three things, to manage the Horse, to make use of the
Bow, and to speak Truth.]

The placing the Point of Honour in this false kind of Courage, has given
Occasion to the very Refuse of Mankind, who have neither Virtue nor
common Sense, to set up for Men of Honour. An English Peer, who
has not been long dead, used to tell a pleasant Story of a French
Gentleman that visited him early one Morning at Paris, and after great
Professions of Respect, let him know that he had it in his Power to
oblige him; which in short, amounted to this, that he believed he could
tell his Lordship the Person's Name who justled him as he came out from
the Opera, but before he would proceed, he begged his Lordship that he
would not deny him the Honour of making him his Second. The English
Lord, to avoid being drawn into a very foolish Affair, told him, that he
was under Engagements for his two next Duels to a Couple of particular
Friends. Upon which the Gentleman immediately withdrew, hoping his
Lordship would not take it ill if he medled no farther in an Affair from
whence he himself was to receive no Advantage.

The beating down this false Notion of Honour, in so vain and lively a
People as those of France, is deservedly looked upon as one of the
most glorious Parts of their present King's Reign. It is pity but the
Punishment of these mischievous Notions should have in it some
particular Circumstances of Shame and Infamy, that those who are Slaves
to them may see, that instead of advancing their Reputations they lead
them to Ignominy and Dishonour.

Death is not sufficient to deter Men who make it their Glory to despise
it, but if every one that fought a Duel were to stand in the Pillory, it
would quickly lessen the Number of these imaginary Men of Honour, and
put an end to so absurd a Practice.

When Honour is a Support to virtuous Principles, and runs parallel with
the Laws of God and our Country, it cannot be too much cherished and
encouraged: But when the Dictates of Honour are contrary to those of
Religion and Equity, they are the greatest Depravations of human Nature,
by giving wrong Ambitions and false Ideas of what is good and laudable;
and should therefore be exploded by all Governments, and driven out as
the Bane and Plague of Human Society.

L.

Horace. Addison here quotes from I.VI.63 of the Satires. Palmer Bovie translates this phrase as "[you] who distinguish the true from the fakes." [D.R.]