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The Spectator, Volume 1 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

Part 17 out of 19

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When_ Telephus _his youthful Charms,
His rosie Neck and winding Arms,
With endless Rapture you recite,
And in the pleasing Name delight;
My Heart, inflam'd by jealous Heats,
With numberless Resentments beats;
From my pale Cheek the Colour flies,
And all the Man within me dies:
By Turns my hidden Grief appears
In rising Sighs and falling Tears,
That shew too well the warm Desires,
The silent, slow, consuming Fires,
Which on my inmost Vitals prey,
And melt my very Soul away_.

The Jealous Man is not indeed angry if you dislike another, but if you
find those Faults which are to be found in his own Character, you
discover not only your Dislike of another, but of himself. In short, he
is so desirous of ingrossing all your Love, that he is grieved at the
want of any Charm, which he believes has Power to raise it; and if he
finds by your Censures on others, that he is not so agreeable in your
Opinion as he might be, he naturally concludes you could love him better
if he had other Qualifications, and that by Consequence your Affection
does not rise so high as he thinks it ought. If therefore his Temper be
grave or sullen, you must not be too much pleased with a Jest, or
transported with any thing that is gay and diverting. If his Beauty be
none of the best, you must be a professed Admirer of Prudence, or any
other Quality he is Master of, or at least vain enough to think he is.

In the next place, you must be sure to be free and open in your
Conversation with him, and to let in Light upon your Actions, to unravel
all your Designs, and discover every Secret however trifling or
indifferent. A jealous Husband has a particular Aversion to Winks and
Whispers, and if he does not see to the Bottom of every thing, will be
sure to go beyond it in his Fears and Suspicions. He will always expect
to be your chief Confident, and where he finds himself kept out of a
Secret, will believe there is more in it than there should be. And here
it is of great concern, that you preserve the Character of your
Sincerity uniform and of a piece: for if he once finds a false Gloss put
upon any single Action, he quickly suspects all the rest; his working
Imagination immediately takes a false Hint, and runs off with it into
several remote Consequences, till he has proved very ingenious in
working out his own Misery.

If both these Methods fail, the best way will be to let him see you are
much cast down and afflicted for the ill Opinion he entertains of you,
and the Disquietudes he himself suffers for your Sake. There are many
who take a kind of barbarous Pleasure in the Jealousy of those [who [2]]
love them, that insult over an aking Heart, and triumph in their Charms
which are able to excite so much Uneasiness.

'Ardeat ipsa licet tormentis gaudet amantis'.

Juv.

But these often carry the Humour so far, till their affected Coldness
and Indifference quite kills all the Fondness of a Lover, and are then
sure to meet in their Turn with all the Contempt and Scorn that is due
to so insolent a Behaviour. On the contrary, it is very probable a
melancholy, dejected Carriage, the usual effects of injured Innocence,
may soften the jealous Husband into Pity, make him sensible of the Wrong
he does you, and work out of his Mind all those Fears and Suspicions
that make you both unhappy. At least it will have this good Effect, that
he will keep his Jealousy to himself, and repine in private, either
because he is sensible it is a Weakness, and will therefore hide it from
your Knowledge, or because he will be apt to fear some ill Effect it may
produce, in cooling your Love towards him, or diverting it to another.

There is still another Secret that can never fail, if you can once get
it believ'd, and what is often practis'd by Women of greater Cunning
than Virtue: This is to change Sides for a while with the jealous Man,
and to turn his own Passion upon himself; to take some Occasion of
growing Jealous of him, and to follow the Example he himself hath set
you. This Counterfeited Jealousy will bring him a great deal of
Pleasure, if he thinks it real; for he knows experimentally how much
Love goes along with [this Passion, [3]] and will [besides feel [4]]
something like the Satisfaction of a Revenge, in seeing you undergo all
his own Tortures. But this, indeed, is an Artifice so difficult, and at
the same time so dis-ingenuous, that it ought never to be put in
Practice, but by such as have Skill enough to cover the Deceit, and
Innocence to render it excusable.

I shall conclude this Essay with the Story of _Herod_ and _Mariamne_, as
I have collected it out of _Josephus_; [5] which may serve almost as an
Example to whatever can be said on this Subject.

_Mariamne_ had all the Charms that Beauty, Birth, Wit and Youth could
give a Woman, and _Herod_ all the Love that such Charms are able to
raise in a warm and amorous Disposition. In the midst of this his
Fondness for _Mariamne_, he put her Brother to Death, as he did her
Father not many Years after. The Barbarity of the Action was represented
to _Mark Antony_, who immediately summoned _Herod_ into _Egypt_, to
answer for the Crime that was there laid to his Charge. _Herod_
attributed the Summons to _Antony's_ Desire of _Mariamne_, whom
therefore, before his Departure, he gave into the Custody of his Uncle
_Joseph_, with private Orders to put her to Death, if any such Violence
was offered to himself. This _Joseph_ was much delighted with
_Mariamne's_ Conversation, and endeavoured, with all his Art and
Rhetorick, to set out the Excess of _Herod's_ Passion for her; but when
he still found her Cold and Incredulous, he inconsiderately told her, as
a certain Instance of her Lord's Affection, the private Orders he had
left behind him, which plainly shewed, according to _Joseph's_
Interpretation, that he could neither Live nor Die without her. This
Barbarous Instance of a wild unreasonable Passion quite put out, for a
time, those little Remains of Affection she still had for her Lord: Her
Thoughts were so wholly taken up with the Cruelty of his Orders, that
she could not consider the Kindness that produced them, and therefore
represented him in her Imagination, rather under the frightful Idea of a
Murderer than a Lover. _Herod_ was at length acquitted and dismissed by
_Mark Antony_, when his Soul was all in Flames for his _Mariamne_; but
before their Meeting, he was not a little alarm'd at the Report he had
heard of his Uncle's Conversation and Familiarity with her in his
Absence. This therefore was the first Discourse he entertained her with,
in which she found it no easy matter to quiet his Suspicions. But at
last he appeared so well satisfied of her Innocence, that from
Reproaches and Wranglings he fell to Tears and Embraces. Both of them
wept very tenderly at their Reconciliation, and _Herod_ poured out his
whole Soul to her in the warmest Protestations of Love and Constancy:
when amidst all his Sighs and Languishings she asked him, whether the
private Orders he left with his Uncle _Joseph_ were an Instance of such
an inflamed Affection. The Jealous King was immediately roused at so
unexpected a Question, and concluded his Uncle must have been too
Familiar with her, before he would have discovered such a Secret. In
short, he put his Uncle to Death, and very difficultly prevailed upon
himself to spare _Mariamne_.

After this he was forced on a second Journey into _Egypt_, when he
committed his Lady to the Care of _Sohemus_, with the same private
Orders he had before given his Uncle, if any Mischief befel himself. In
the mean while _Mariamne_ so won upon _Sohemus_ by her Presents and
obliging Conversation, that she drew all the Secret from him, with which
_Herod_ had intrusted him; so that after his Return, when he flew to her
with all the Transports of Joy and Love, she received him coldly with
Sighs and Tears, and all the Marks of Indifference and Aversion. This
Reception so stirred up his Indignation, that he had certainly slain her
with his own Hands, had not he feared he himself should have become the
greater Sufferer by it. It was not long after this, when he had another
violent Return of Love upon him; _Mariamne_ was therefore sent for to
him, whom he endeavoured to soften and reconcile with all possible
conjugal Caresses and Endearments; but she declined his Embraces, and
answered all his Fondness with bitter Invectives for the Death of her
Father and her Brother. This Behaviour so incensed _Herod_, that he very
hardly refrained from striking her; when in the Heat of their Quarrel
there came in a Witness, suborn'd by some of _Mariamne's_ Enemies, who
accused her to the King of a Design to poison him. _Herod_ was now
prepared to hear any thing in her Prejudice, and immediately ordered her
Servant to be stretch'd upon the Rack; who in the Extremity of his
Tortures confest, that his Mistress's Aversion to the King arose from
[something [6]] _Sohemus_ had told her; but as for any Design of
poisoning, he utterly disowned the least Knowledge of it. This
Confession quickly proved fatal to _Sohemus_, who now lay under the same
Suspicions and Sentence that _Joseph_ had before him on the like
Occasion. Nor would _Herod_ rest here; but accused her with great
Vehemence of a Design upon his Life, and by his Authority with the
Judges had her publickly Condemned and Executed. _Herod_ soon after her
Death grew melancholy and dejected, retiring from the Publick
Administration of Affairs into a solitary Forest, and there abandoning
himself to all the black Considerations, which naturally arise from a
Passion made up of Love, Remorse, Pity and Despair, he used to rave for
his _Mariamne_, and to call upon her in his distracted Fits; and in all
probability would soon have followed her, had not his Thoughts been
seasonably called off from so sad an Object by Publick Storms, which at
that Time very nearly threatned him.

L.

[Footnote 1: ", part of which I find Translated to my Hand."]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: it]

[Footnote 4: receive]

[Footnote 5: 'Antiquities of the Jews', Bk. xv. ch. iii. Sec. 5, 6, 9; ch.
vii. Sec. 1, 2, &c.]

[Footnote 6: some thing that]

* * * * *

No. 172. Monday, September 17, 1711. Steele.

'Non solum Scientia, quae est remota a Justitia, Calliditas potius
quam Sapientia est appellanda; verum etiam Animus paratus ad
periculum, si sua cupiditate, non utilitate communi impellitur,
Audaciae potius nomen habeat, quam Fortitudinis.'

Plato apnd Tull.

There can be no greater Injury to humane Society than that good Talents
among Men should be held honourable to those who are endowed with them
without any Regard how they are applied. The Gifts of Nature and
Accomplishments of Art are valuable, but as they are exerted in the
Interest of Virtue, or governed by the Rules of Honour. We ought to
abstract our Minds from the Observation of any Excellence in those we
converse with, till we have taken some Notice, or received some good
Information of the Disposition of their Minds; otherwise the Beauty of
their Persons, or the Charms of their Wit, may make us fond of those
whom our Reason and Judgment will tell us we ought to abhor.

When we suffer our selves to be thus carried away by meer Beauty, or
meer Wit, _Omniamante_, with all her Vice, will bear away as much
of our Good-will as the most innocent Virgin or discreetest Matron; and
there cannot be a more abject Slavery in this World, than to doat upon
what we think we ought to contemn: Yet this must be our Condition in all
the Parts of Life, if we suffer our selves to approve any Thing but what
tends to the Promotion of what is good and honourable. If we would take
true Pains with our selves to consider all Things by the Light of Reason
and Justice, tho' a Man were in the Height of Youth and amorous
Inclinations, he would look upon a Coquet with the same Contempt or
Indifference as he would upon a Coxcomb: The wanton Carriage in a Woman,
would disappoint her of the Admiration which she aims at; and the vain
Dress or Discourse of a Man would destroy the Comeliness of his Shape,
or Goodness of his Understanding. I say the Goodness of his
Understanding, for it is no less common to see Men of Sense commence
Coxcombs, than beautiful Women become immodest. When this happens in
either, the Favour we are naturally inclined to give to the good
Qualities they have from Nature, should abate in Proportion. But however
just it is to measure the Value of Men by the Application of their
Talents, and not by the Eminence of those Qualities abstracted from
their Use; I say, however just such a Way of judging is, in all Ages as
well as this, the Contrary has prevailed upon the Generality of Mankind.
How many lewd Devices have been preserved from one Age to another, which
had perished as soon as they were made, if Painters and Sculptors had
been esteemed as much for the Purpose as the Execution of their Designs?
Modest and well-governed Imaginations have by this Means lost the
Representations of Ten Thousand charming Portraitures, filled with
Images of innate Truth, generous Zeal, couragious Faith, and tender
Humanity; instead of which, Satyrs, Furies, and Monsters are recommended
by those Arts to a shameful Eternity.

The unjust Application of laudable Talents, is tolerated, in the general
Opinion of Men, not only in such Cases as are here mentioned, but also
in Matters which concern ordinary Life. If a Lawyer were to be esteemed
only as he uses his Parts in contending for Justice, and were
immediately despicable when he appeared in a Cause which he could not
but know was an unjust one, how honourable would his Character be? And
how honourable is it in such among us, who follow the Profession no
otherwise than as labouring to protect the Injured, to subdue the
Oppressor, to imprison the careless Debtor, and do right to the painful
Artificer? But many of this excellent Character are overlooked by the
greater Number; who affect covering a weak Place in a Client's Title,
diverting the Course of an Enquiry, or finding a skilful Refuge to
palliate a Falsehood: Yet it is still called Eloquence in the latter,
though thus unjustly employed; but Resolution in an Assassin is
according to Reason quite as laudable, as Knowledge and Wisdom exercised
in the Defence of an ill Cause.

Were the Intention stedfastly considered, as the Measure of Approbation,
all Falsehood would soon be out of Countenance; and an Address in
imposing upon Mankind, would be as contemptible in one State of Life as
another. A Couple of Courtiers making Professions of Esteem, would make
the same Figure under Breach of Promise, as two Knights of the Post
convicted of Perjury. But Conversation is fallen so low in point of
Morality, that as they say in a Bargain, _Let the Buyer look to
it_; so in Friendship, he is the Man in Danger who is most apt to
believe: He is the more likely to suffer in the Commerce, who begins
with the Obligation of being the more ready to enter into it.

But those Men only are truly great, who place their Ambition rather in
acquiring to themselves the Conscience of worthy Enterprizes, than in
the Prospect of Glory which attends them. These exalted Spirits would
rather be secretly the Authors of Events which are serviceable to
Mankind, than, without being such, to have the publick Fame of it. Where
therefore an eminent Merit is robbed by Artifice or Detraction, it does
but encrease by such Endeavours of its Enemies: The impotent Pains which
are taken to sully it, or diffuse it among a Crowd to the Injury of a
single Person, will naturally produce the contrary Effect; the Fire will
blaze out, and burn up all that attempt to smother what they cannot
extinguish.

There is but one thing necessary to keep the Possession of true Glory,
which is, to hear the Opposers of it with Patience, and preserve the
Virtue by which it was acquired. When a Man is thoroughly perswaded that
he ought neither to admire, wish for, or pursue any thing but what is
exactly his Duty, it is not in the Power of Seasons, Persons, or
Accidents to diminish his Value: He only is a great Man who can neglect
the Applause of the Multitude, and enjoy himself independent of its
Favour. This is indeed an arduous Task; but it should comfort a glorious
Spirit that it is the highest Step to which human Nature can arrive.
Triumph, Applause, Acclamation, are dear to the Mind of Man; but it is
still a more exquisite Delight to say to your self, you have done well,
than to hear the whole human Race pronounce you glorious, except you
your self can join with them in your own Reflections. A Mind thus equal
and uniform may be deserted by little fashionable Admirers and
Followers, but will ever be had in Reverence by Souls like it self. The
Branches of the Oak endure all the Seasons of the Year, though its
Leaves fall off in Autumn; and these too will be restored with the
returning Spring.

T.

* * * * *

No. 173. Tuesday, September 18, 1711. Addison.

'... Remove fera monstra, tuaegue
Saxificos vultus, quaecunque ea, tolle Medusae.'

Ovid. Met.

In a late Paper I mention'd the Project of an Ingenious Author for the
erecting of several Handicraft Prizes to be contended for by our
_British_ Artizans, and the Influence they might have towards the
Improvement of our several Manufactures. I have since that been very
much surprized by the following Advertisement which I find in the
'Post-Boy' of the 11th Instant, and again repeated in the 'Post-Boy' of
the 15th.

On the 9th of October next will be run for upon Coleshill-Heath in
Warwickshire, a Plate of 6 Guineas Value, 3 Heats, by any Horse, Mare or
Gelding that hath not won above the Value of L5, the winning Horse to be
sold for L10, to carry 10 Stone Weight, if 14 Hands high; if above or
under to carry or be allowed Weight for Inches, and to be entered Friday
the 5th at the Swan in Coleshill, before Six in the Evening. Also a
Plate of less Value to be run for by Asses. The same Day a Gold Ring to
be Grinn'd for by Men.

The first of these Diversions, that is to be exhibited by the L10
Race-Horses, may probably have its Use; but the two last, in which the
Asses and Men are concerned, seem to me altogether extraordinary and
unaccountable. Why they should keep Running Asses at _Coleshill_, or how
making Mouths turns to account in _Warwickshire_, more than in any other
Parts of _England_, I cannot comprehend. I have looked over all the
Olympic Games, and do not find any thing in them like an Ass-Race, or a
Match at Grinning. However it be, I am informed that several Asses are
now kept in Body-Cloaths, and sweated every Morning upon the Heath, and
that all the Country-Fellows within ten Miles of the _Swan_, grinn an
Hour or two in their Glasses every Morning, in order to qualify
themselves for the 9th of _October_. The Prize, which is proposed to be
Grinn'd for, has raised such an Ambition among the Common People of
Out-grinning one another, that many very discerning Persons are afraid
it should spoil most of the Faces in the Country; and that a
_Warwickshire_ Man will be known by his Grinn, as Roman-Catholicks
imagine a _Kentish_ Man is by his Tail. The Gold Ring which is made the
Prize of Deformity, is just the Reverse of the Golden Apple that was
formerly made the Prize of Beauty, and should carry for its Posy the old
Motto inverted.

'Detur tetriori'.

Or to accommodate it to the Capacity of the Combatants,

_The frightfull'st Grinner
Be the Winner_.

In the mean while I would advise a _Dutch_ Painter to be present at this
great Controversy of Faces, in order to make a Collection of the most
remarkable Grinns that shall be there exhibited.

I must not here omit an Account which I lately received of one of these
Grinning Matches from a Gentleman, who, upon reading the above-mentioned
Advertisement, entertained a Coffee-house with the following Narrative.

Upon the taking of _Namur_ [1], amidst other publick Rejoicings made on
that Occasion, there was a Gold Ring given by a Whig Justice of Peace to
be grinn'd for. The first Competitor that entered the Lists, was a black
swarthy _French Man_, who accidentally passed that way, and being a Man
naturally of a wither'd Look, and hard Features, promised himself good
Success. He was placed upon a Table in the great Point of View, and
looking upon the Company like _Milton's_ Death,

_Grinn'd horribly [2]
a Ghastly Smile ..._

His Muscles were so drawn together on each side of his Face, that he
shew'd twenty Teeth at a Grinn, and put the County in some pain, lest a
Foreigner should carry away the Honour of the Day; but upon a farther
Tryal they found he was Master only of the merry Grinn.

The next that mounted the Table was a Malecontent in those Days, and a
great Master in the whole Art of Grinning, but particularly excelled in
the angry Grinn. He did his Part so well, that he is said to have made
half a dozen Women miscarry; but the Justice being apprised by one who
stood near him, that the Fellow who Grinned in his Face was a
_Jacobite_, and being unwilling that a Disaffected Person should win the
Gold Ring, and be looked upon as the best Grinner in the Country, he
ordered the Oaths to be tendered unto him upon his quitting the Table,
which the Grinner refusing, he was set aside as an unqualified Person.
There were several other Grotesque Figures that presented themselves,
which it would be too tedious to describe. I must not however omit a
Ploughman, who lived in the farther Part of the Country, and being very
lucky in a Pair of long Lanthorn-Jaws, wrung his face into such a
hideous Grimace that every Feature of it appeared under a different
Distortion. The whole Company stood astonished at such a complicated
Grinn, and were ready to assign the Prize to him, had it not been proved
by one of his Antagonists, that he had practised with Verjuice for some
Days before, and had a Crab found upon him at the very time of Grinning;
upon which the best Judges of Grinning declared it as their Opinion,
that he was not to be looked upon as a fair Grinner, and therefore
ordered him to be set aside as a Cheat.

The Prize, it seems, fell at length upon a Cobler, _Giles Gorgon_ by
Name, who produced several new Grinns of his own Invention, having been
used to cut Faces for many Years together over his Last. At the very
first Grinn he cast every Human Feature out of his Countenance; at the
second he became the Face of a Spout; at the third a Baboon, at the
fourth the Head of a Base-Viol, and at the fifth a Pair of Nut-Crackers.
The whole Assembly wondered at his Accomplishments, and bestowed the
Ring on him unanimously; but, what he esteemed more than all the rest, a
Country Wench, whom he had wooed in vain for above five Years before,
was so charmed with his Grinns, and the Applauses which he received on
all Sides, that she Married him the Week following, and to this Day
wears the Prize upon her Finger, the Cobler having made use of it as his
Wedding-Ring.

This Paper might perhaps seem very impertinent, if it grew serious in
the Conclusion. I would nevertheless leave it to the Consideration of
those who are the Patrons of this monstrous Tryal of Skill, whether or
no they are not guilty, in some measure, of an Affront to their Species,
in treating after this manner the _Human Face Divine_, and turning that
Part of us, which has so great an Image impressed upon it, into the
Image of a Monkey; whether the raising such silly Competitions among the
Ignorant, proposing Prizes for such useless Accomplishments, filling the
common People's Heads with such Senseless Ambitions, and inspiring them
with such absurd Ideas of Superiority and Preheminence, has not in it
something Immoral as well as Ridiculous. [3]

L.

[Footnote 1: Sept. 1, 1695.]

[Footnote 2: _horridly_. Neither is quite right.

'Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile.'

P. L., Bk. II. 1. 864.]

[Footnote 3: Two volumes of Original Letters sent to the Tatler and
Spectator and not inserted, were published by Charles Lillie in 1725. In
Vol. II. (pp. 72, 73), is a letter from Coleshill, informing the
Spectator that in deference to his opinion, and chiefly through the
mediation of some neighbouring ladies, the Grinning Match had been
abandoned, and requesting his advice as to the disposal of the Grinning
Prize.]

* * * * *

No. 174. Wednesday, September 19, 1711. Steele.

'Haec memini et victum frustra contendere Thyrsin.'

Virg.

There is scarce any thing more common than Animosities between Parties
that cannot subsist but by their Agreement: this was well represented in
the Sedition of the Members of the humane Body in the old _Roman_ Fable.
It is often the Case of lesser confederate States against a superior
Power, which are hardly held together, though their Unanimity is
necessary for their common Safety: and this is always the Case of the
landed and trading Interest of _Great Britain_: the Trader is fed by the
Product of the Land, and the landed Man cannot be clothed but by the
Skill of the Trader; and yet those Interests are ever jarring.

We had last Winter an Instance of this at our Club, in Sir ROGER DE
COVERLEY and Sir ANDREW FREEPORT, between whom there is generally a
constant, though friendly, Opposition of Opinions. It happened that one
of the Company, in an Historical Discourse, was observing, that
_Carthaginian_ Faith [1] was a proverbial Phrase to intimate Breach of
Leagues. Sir ROGER said it could hardly be otherwise: That the
_Carthaginians_ were the greatest Traders in the World; and as Gain is
the chief End of such a People, they never pursue any other: The Means
to it are never regarded; they will, if it comes easily, get Money
honestly; but if not, they will not scruple to attain it by Fraud or
Cozenage: And indeed, what is the whole Business of the Trader's
Account, but to over-reach him who trusts to his Memory? But were that
not so, what can there great and noble be expected from him whose
Attention is for ever fixed upon ballancing his Books, and watching over
his Expences? And at best, let Frugality and Parsimony be the Virtues of
the Merchant, how much is his punctual Dealing below a Gentleman's
Charity to the Poor, or Hospitality among his Neighbours?

CAPTAIN SENTRY observed Sir ANDREW very diligent in hearing Sir ROGER,
and had a mind to turn the Discourse, by taking notice in general, from
the highest to the lowest Parts of human Society, there was a secret,
tho' unjust, Way among Men, of indulging the Seeds of ill Nature and
Envy, by comparing their own State of Life to that of another, and
grudging the Approach of their Neighbour to their own Happiness; and on
the other Side, he who is the less at his Ease, repines at the other
who, he thinks, has unjustly the Advantage over him. Thus the Civil and
Military Lists look upon each other with much ill Nature; the Soldier
repines at the Courtier's Power, and the Courtier rallies the Soldier's
Honour; or, to come to lower Instances, the private Men in the Horse and
Foot of an Army, the Carmen and Coachmen in the City Streets, mutually
look upon each other with ill Will, when they are in Competition for
Quarters or the Way, in their respective Motions.

It is very well, good Captain, interrupted Sir ANDREW: You may attempt
to turn the Discourse if you think fit; but I must however have a Word
or two with Sir ROGER, who, I see, thinks he has paid me off, and been
very severe upon the Merchant. I shall not, continued he, at this time
remind Sir ROGER of the great and noble Monuments of Charity and Publick
Spirit, which have been erected by Merchants since the Reformation, but
at present content my self with what he allows us, Parsimony and
Frugality. If it were consistent with the Quality of so antient a
Baronet as Sir ROGER, to keep an Account, or measure Things by the most
infallible Way, that of Numbers, he would prefer our Parsimony to his
Hospitality. If to drink so many Hogsheads is to be Hospitable, we do
not contend for the Fame of that Virtue; but it would be worth while to
consider, whether so many Artificers at work ten Days together by my
Appointment, or so many Peasants made merry on Sir ROGER'S Charge, are
the Men more obliged? I believe the Families of the Artificers will
thank me, more than the Households of the Peasants shall Sir ROGER. Sir
ROGER gives to his Men, but I place mine above the Necessity or
Obligation of my Bounty. I am in very little Pain for the _Roman_
Proverb upon the _Carthaginian_ Traders; the _Romans_ were their
professed Enemies: I am only sorry no _Carthaginian_ Histories have come
to our Hands; we might have been taught perhaps by them some Proverbs
against the _Roman_ Generosity, in fighting for and bestowing other
People's Goods. But since Sir ROGER has taken Occasion from an old
Proverb to be out of Humour with Merchants, it should be no Offence to
offer one not quite so old in their Defence. When a Man happens to break
in _Holland_, they say of him that _he has not kept true Accounts_. This
Phrase, perhaps, among us, would appear a soft or humorous way of
speaking, but with that exact Nation it bears the highest Reproach; for
a Man to be Mistaken in the Calculation of his Expence, in his Ability
to answer future Demands, or to be impertinently sanguine in putting his
Credit to too great Adventure, are all Instances of as much Infamy as
with gayer Nations to be failing in Courage or common Honesty.

Numbers are so much the Measure of every thing that is valuable, that it
is not possible to demonstrate the Success of any Action, or the
Prudence of any Undertaking, without them. I say this in Answer to what
Sir ROGER is pleased to say, That little that is truly noble can be
expected from one who is ever poring on his Cashbook, or ballancing his
Accounts. When I have my Returns from abroad, I can tell to a Shilling,
by the Help of Numbers, the Profit or Loss by my Adventure; but I ought
also to be able to shew that I had Reason for making it, either from my
own Experience or that of other People, or from a reasonable Presumption
that my Returns will be sufficient to answer my Expence and Hazard; and
this is never to be done without the Skill of Numbers. For Instance, if
I am to trade to _Turkey_, I ought beforehand to know the Demand of our
Manufactures there, as well as of their Silks in _England_, and the
customary Prices that are given for both in each Country. I ought to
have a clear Knowledge of these Matters beforehand, that I may presume
upon sufficient Returns to answer the Charge of the Cargo I have fitted
out, the Freight and Assurance out and home, the Custom to the Queen,
and the Interest of my own Money, and besides all these Expences a
reasonable Profit to my self. Now what is there of Scandal in this
Skill? What has the Merchant done, that he should be so little in the
good Graces of Sir ROGER? He throws down no Man's Enclosures, and
tramples upon no Man's Corn; he takes nothing from the industrious
Labourer; he pays the poor Man for his Work; he communicates his Profit
with Mankind; by the Preparation of his Cargo and the Manufacture of his
Returns, he furnishes Employment and Subsistence to greater Numbers than
the richest Nobleman; and even the Nobleman is obliged to him for
finding out foreign Markets for the Produce of his Estate, and for
making a great Addition to his Rents; and yet 'tis certain, that none of
all these Things could be done by him without the Exercise of his Skill
in Numbers.

This is the Oeconomy of the Merchant; and the Conduct of the Gentleman
must be the same, unless by scorning to be the Steward, he resolves the
Steward shall be the Gentleman. The Gentleman, no more than the
Merchant, is able, without the Help of Numbers, to account for the
Success of any Action, or the Prudence of any Adventure. If, for
Instance, the Chace is his whole Adventure, his only Returns must be the
Stag's Horns in the great Hall, and the Fox's Nose upon the Stable Door.
Without Doubt Sir ROGER knows the full Value of these Returns; and if
beforehand he had computed the Charges of the Chace, a Gentleman of his
Discretion would certainly have hanged up all his Dogs, he would never
have brought back so many fine Horses to the Kennel, he would never have
gone so often, like a Blast, over Fields of Corn. If such too had been
the Conduct of all his Ancestors, he might truly have boasted at this
Day, that the Antiquity of his Family had never been sullied by a Trade;
a Merchant had never been permitted with his whole Estate to purchase a
Room for his Picture in the Gallery of the COVERLEYS, or to claim his
Descent from the Maid of Honour. But 'tis very happy for Sir ROGER that
the Merchant paid so dear for his Ambition. 'Tis the Misfortune of many
other Gentlemen to turn out of the Seats of their Ancestors, to make way
for such new Masters as have been more exact in their Accounts than
themselves; and certainly he deserves the Estate a great deal better,
who has got it by his Industry, than he who has lost it by his
Negligence.

T.

[Footnote 1: Punica fides.]

* * * * *

No. 175. Thursday, September 20, 1711. Budgell.

'Proximus a tectis ignis defenditur aegre:'

Ov. 'Rem. Am.'

I shall this Day entertain my Readers with two or three Letters I have
received from my Correspondents: The first discovers to me a Species of
Females which have hitherto escaped my Notice, and is as follows.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Gentleman of a competent Fortune, and a sufficient Taste
of Learning, to spend five or six Hours every Day very agreeably among
my Books. That I might have nothing to divert me from my Studies, and
to avoid the Noises of Coaches and Chair-men, I have taken Lodgings in
a very narrow Street, not far from _Whitehall_; but it is my
Misfortune to be so posted, that my Lodgings are directly opposite to
those of a _Jezebel_. You are to know, Sir, that a _Jezebel_ (so
call'd by the Neighbourhood from displaying her pernicious Charms at
her Window) appears constantly dress'd at her Sash, and has a thousand
little Tricks and Fooleries to attract the Eyes of all the idle young
Fellows in the Neighbourhood. I have seen more than six Persons at
once from their several Windows observing the _Jezebel_ I am now
complaining of. I at first looked on her my self with the highest
Contempt, could divert my self with her Airs for half an Hour, and
afterwards take up my _Plutarch_ with great Tranquillity of Mind; but
was a little vexed to find that in less than a Month she had
considerably stoln upon my Time, so that I resolved to look at her no
more. But the _Jezebel_, who, as I suppose, might think it a
Diminution to her Honour, to have the Number of her Gazers lessen'd,
resolved not to part with me so, and began to play so many new Tricks
at her Window, that it was impossible for me to forbear observing her.
I verily believe she put her self to the Expence of a new Wax Baby on
purpose to plague me; she us'd to dandle and play with this Figure as
impertinently as if it had been a real Child: sometimes she would let
fall a Glove or a Pin Cushion in the Street, and shut or open her
Casement three or four times in a Minute. When I had almost wean'd my
self from this, she came in her Shift-Sleeves, and dress'd at the
Window. I had no Way left but to let down my Curtains, which I
submitted to, though it considerably darkned my Room, and was pleased
to think that I had at last got the better of her; but was surpriz'd
the next Morning to hear her talking out of her Window quite cross the
Street, with another Woman that lodges over me: I am since informed,
that she made her a Visit, and got acquainted with her within three
Hours after the Fall of my Window Curtains.

Sir, I am plagued every Moment in the Day one way or other in my own
Chambers; and the _Jezebel_ has the Satisfaction to know, that, tho' I
am not looking at her, I am list'ning to her impertinent Dialogues
that pass over my Head. I would immediately change my Lodgings, but
that I think it might look like a plain Confession that I am
conquer'd; and besides this, I am told that most Quarters of the Town
are infested with these Creatures. If they are so, I am sure 'tis such
an Abuse, as a Lover of Learning and Silence ought to take notice of.

_I am, SIR,_
_Yours, &c._'

I am afraid, by some Lines in this Letter, that my young Student is
touched with a Distemper which he hardly seems to dream of and is too
far gone in it to receive Advice. However, I shall animadvert in due
time on the Abuse which he mentions, having my self observed a Nest of
_Jezebels_ near the _Temple_, who make it their Diversion to draw up the
Eyes of young Templars, that at the same time they may see them stumble
in an unlucky Gutter which runs under the Window.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I have lately read the Conclusion of your forty-seventh Speculation
upon _Butts_ with great Pleasure, and have ever since been thoroughly
perswaded that one of those Gentlemen is extreamly necessary to
enliven Conversation. I had an Entertainment last Week upon the Water
for a Lady to whom I make my Addresses, with several of our Friends of
both Sexes. To divert the Company in general, and to shew my Mistress
in particular my Genius for Raillery, I took one of the most
celebrated _Butts_ in Town along with me. It is with the utmost Shame
and Confusion that I must acquaint you with the Sequel of my
Adventure: As soon as we were got into the Boat, I played a Sentence
or two at my _Butt_ which I thought very smart, when my ill Genius,
who I verily believe inspir'd him purely for my Destruction, suggested
to him such a Reply, as got all the Laughter on his Side. I was
clashed at so unexpected a Turn; which the _Butt_ perceiving, resolved
not to let me recover my self, and pursuing his Victory, rallied and
tossed me in a most unmerciful and barbarous manner 'till we came to
_Chelsea_. I had some small Success while we were eating Cheese-Cakes;
but coming Home, he renewed his Attacks with his former good Fortune,
and equal Diversion to the whole Company. In short, Sir, I must
ingenuously own that I was never so handled in all my Life; and to
compleat my Misfortune, I am since told that the _Butt_, flushed with
his late Victory, has made a Visit or two to the dear Object of my
Wishes, so that I am at once in danger of losing all my Pretensions to
Wit, and my Mistress [into [1]] the Bargain. This, Sir, is a true
Account of my present Troubles, which you are the more obliged to
assist me in, as you were your self in a great measure the Cause of
them, by recommending to us an Instrument, and not instructing us at
the same time how to play upon it.

I have been thinking whether it might not be highly convenient, that
all _Butts_ should wear an Inscription affixed to some Part of their
Bodies, shewing on which Side they are to be come at, and that if any
of them are Persons of unequal Tempers, there should be some Method
taken to inform the World at what Time it is safe to attack them, and
when you had best to let them alone. But, submitting these Matters to
your more serious Consideration,

_I am, SIR,_
_Yours, &c._'

I have, indeed, seen and heard of several young Gentlemen under the same
Misfortune with my present Correspondent. The best Rule I can lay down
for them to avoid the like Calamities for the future, is thoroughly to
consider not only _Whether their Companions are weak_, but _Whether
themselves are Wits_.

The following Letter comes to me from _Exeter_, and being credibly
informed that what it contains is Matter of Fact, I shall give it my
Reader as it was sent me.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

_Exeter, Sept_. 7.

'You were pleased in a late Speculation to take notice of the
Inconvenience we lie under in the Country, in not being able to keep
Pace with the Fashion: But there is another Misfortune which we are
subject to, and is no less grievous than the former, which has
hitherto escaped your Observation. I mean, the having Things palmed
upon us for _London_ Fashions, which were never once heard of there.

A Lady of this Place had some time since a Box of the newest Ribbons
sent down by the Coach: Whether it was her own malicious Invention, or
the Wantonness of a _London_ Milliner, I am not able to inform you;
but, among the rest, there was one Cherry-coloured Ribbon, consisting
of about half a Dozen Yards, made up in the Figure of a small
Head-Dress. The foresaid Lady had the Assurance to affirm, amidst a
Circle of Female Inquisitors, who were present at the opening of the
Box, that this was the newest Fashion worn at Court. Accordingly the
next _Sunday_ we had several Females, who came to Church with their
Heads dress'd wholly in Ribbons, and looked like so many Victims ready
to be Sacrificed. This is still a reigning Mode among us. At the same
time we have a Set of Gentlemen who take the Liberty to appear in all
Publick Places without any Buttons to their Coats, which they supply
with several little Silver Hasps, tho' our freshest Advices from
_London_ make no mention of any such Fashion; and we are something shy
of affording Matter to the Button-Makers for a second Petition. [2]

What I would humbly propose to the Publick is, that there may be a
Society erected in _London_, to consist of the most skilful Persons of
both Sexes, for the _Inspection of Modes and Fashions_; and that
hereafter no Person or Persons shall presume to appear singularly
habited in any Part of the Country, without a Testimonial from the
foresaid Society, that their Dress is answerable to the Mode at
_London_. By this means, Sir, we shall know a little whereabout we
are.

If you could bring this Matter to bear, you would very much oblige
great Numbers of your Country Friends, and among the rest,

_Your very Humble Servant_,
Jack Modish.

X.

[Footnote 1: in]

[Footnote 2: In 1609 the Button-Makers sent a petition to Parliament,
which produced the Act of the 8th year of Anne (1709), framed because

'the maintenance and subsistence of many thousands of men, women and
children depends upon the making of silk, mohair, gimp, and thread
buttons, and button-holes with the needle,' and these have been ruined
by 'a late unforeseen practice of making and binding button-holes with
cloth, serge,' &c.]

* * * * *

No. 176. Friday, September 21, 1711. Steele.

'Parvula, pumilio, [Greek: charit_on mia], lota merum Sal.'

Luc.

There are in the following Letter Matters, which I, a Batchelor, cannot
be supposed to be acquainted with; therefore shall not pretend to
explain upon it till further Consideration, but leave the Author of the
Epistle to express his Condition his own Way.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR.

'I do not deny but you appear in many of your Papers to understand
Human Life pretty well; but there are very many Things which you
cannot possibly have a true Notion of, in a single Life; these are
such as respect the married State; otherwise I cannot account for your
having overlooked a very good Sort of People, which are commonly
called in Scorn the _Henpeckt_. You are to understand that I am one of
those innocent Mortals who suffer Derision under that Word for being
governed by the best of Wives. It would be worth your Consideration to
enter into the Nature of Affection it self, and tell us, according to
your Philosophy, why it is that our Dears shall do what they will with
us, shall be froward, ill-natured, assuming, sometimes whine, at
others rail, then swoon away, then come to Life, have the Use of
Speech to the greatest Fluency imaginable, and then sink away again,
and all because they fear we do not love them enough: that is, the
poor things love us so heartily, that they cannot think it possible we
should be able to love them in so great a Degree, which makes them
take on so. I say, Sir, a true good-natured Man, whom Rakes and
Libertines call _Hen-peckt_, shall fall into all these different Moods
with his dear Life, and at the same time see they are wholly put on;
and yet not be hard-hearted enough to tell the dear good Creature that
she is an Hypocrite. This sort of good Man is very frequent in the
populous and wealthy City of _London_, and is the true _Hen-peckt_
Man; the kind Creature cannot break through his Kindnesses so far as
to come to an Explanation with the tender Soul, and therefore goes on
to comfort her when nothing ails her, to appease her when she is not
angry, and to give her his Cash when he knows she does not want it;
rather than be uneasy for a whole Month, which is computed by
hard-hearted Men the Space of Time which a froward Woman takes to come
to her self, if you have Courage to stand out.

There are indeed several other Species of the _Hen-peckt_, and in my
Opinion they are certainly the best Subjects the Queen has; and for
that Reason I take it to be your Duty to keep us above Contempt.

I do not know whether I make my self understood in the Representation
of an Hen-peckt Life, but I shall take leave to give you an Account of
my self, and my own Spouse. You are to know that I am reckoned no
Fool, have on several Occasions been tried whether I will take ill
Usage, and yet the Event has been to my Advantage; and yet there is
not such a Slave in _Turkey_ as I am to my Dear. She has a good Share
of Wit, and is what you call a very pretty agreeable Woman. I
perfectly doat on her, and my Affection to her gives me all the
Anxieties imaginable but that of Jealousy. My being thus confident of
her, I take, as much as I can judge of my Heart, to be the Reason,
that whatever she does, tho' it be never so much against my
Inclination, there is still left something in her Manner that is
amiable. She will sometimes look at me with an assumed Grandeur, and
pretend to resent that I have not had Respect enough for her Opinion
in such an Instance in Company. I cannot but smile at the pretty Anger
she is in, and then she pretends she is used like a Child. In a Word,
our great Debate is, which has the Superiority in point of
Understanding. She is eternally forming an Argument of Debate; to
which I very indolently answer, Thou art mighty pretty. To this she
answers, All the World but you think I have as much Sense as your
self. I repeat to her, Indeed you are pretty. Upon this there is no
Patience; she will throw down any thing about her, stamp and pull off
her Head-Cloaths. Fie, my Dear, say I; how can a Woman of your Sense
fall into such an intemperate Rage? This is an Argument which never
fails. Indeed, my Dear, says she, you make me mad sometimes, so you
do, with the silly Way you have of treating me like a pretty Idiot.
Well, what have I got by putting her into good Humour? Nothing, but
that I must convince her of my good Opinion by my Practice; and then I
am to give her Possession of my little Ready Money, and, for a Day and
half following, dislike all she dislikes, and extol every thing she
approves. I am so exquisitely fond of this Darling, that I seldom see
any of my Friends, am uneasy in all Companies till I see her again;
and when I come home she is in the Dumps, because she says she is sure
I came so soon only because I think her handsome. I dare not upon this
Occasion laugh; but tho' I am one of the warmest Churchmen in the
Kingdom, I am forced to rail at the Times, because she is a violent
Whig. Upon this we talk Politicks so long, that she is convinc'd I
kiss her for her Wisdom. It is a common Practice with me to ask her
some Question concerning the Constitution, which she answers me in
general out of _Harington's Oceana_ [1]: Then I commend her strange
Memory, and her Arm is immediately lock'd in mine. While I keep her in
this Temper she plays before me, sometimes dancing in the Midst of the
Room, sometimes striking an Air at her Spinnet, varying her Posture
and her Charms in such a Manner that I am in continual Pleasure: She
will play the Fool if I allow her to be wise; but if she suspects I
like her for [her] Trifling, she immediately grows grave.

These are the Toils in which I am taken, and I carry off my Servitude
as well as most Men; but my Application to you is in Behalf of the
_Hen-peckt_ in general, and I desire a Dissertation from you in
Defence of us. You have, as I am informed, very good Authorities in
our Favour, and hope you will not omit the mention of the Renowned
_Socrates_, and his Philosophick Resignation to his Wife _Xantippe_.
This would be a very good Office to the World in general, for the
_Hen-peckt_ are powerful in their Quality and Numbers, not only in
Cities but in Courts; in the latter they are ever the most obsequious,
in the former the most wealthy of all Men. When you have considered
Wedlock throughly, you ought to enter into the Suburbs of Matrimony,
and give us an Account of the Thraldom of kind Keepers and irresolute
Lovers; the Keepers who cannot quit their Fair Ones tho' they see
their approaching Ruin; the Lovers who dare not marry, tho' they know
they never shall be happy without the Mistresses whom they cannot
purchase on other Terms.

What will be a great Embellishment to your Discourse, will be, that
you may find Instances of the Haughty, the Proud, the Frolick, the
Stubborn, who are each of them in secret downright Slaves to their
Wives or Mistresses. I must beg of you in the last Place to dwell upon
this, That the Wise and Valiant in all Ages have been _Hen-peckt_: and
that the sturdy Tempers who are not Slaves to Affection, owe that
Exemption to their being enthralled by Ambition, Avarice, or some
meaner Passion. I have ten thousand thousand Things more to say, but
my Wife sees me Writing, and will, according to Custom, be consulted,
if I do not seal this immediately.

_Yours_,
T. Nathaniel Henroost.'

[Footnote 1: The 'Oceana' is an ideal of an English Commonwealth,
written by James Harrington, after the execution of Charles I. It was
published in 1656, having for a time been stopped at press by Cromwell's
government. After the Restoration, Harrington was sent to the Tower by
Charles II. on a false accusation of conspiracy. Removed to Plymouth, he
there lost his health and some part of his reason, which he did not
regain before his death, in 1677, at the age of 66. His book argues that
Empire follows the balance of property, which, since Henry VII.'s time,
had been daily falling into the scale of the Commons from that of the
King and Lords. In the 'Oceana' other theories of government are
discussed before Harrington elaborates his own, and English history
appears under disguise of names, William the Conqueror being called
Turbo; King John, Adoxus; Richard II., Dicotome; Henry VII., Panurgus;
Henry VIII., Coraunus; Queen Elizabeth, Parthenia; James I., Morpheus;
and Oliver Cromwell, Olphaus Megaletor. Scotland is Marpesia, and
Ireland, Panopaea. A careful edition of Harrington's 'Oceana' and other
of his works, edited by John Toland, had been produced in 1700.]

* * * * *

No. 177. Saturday, September 22, 1711. Addison.

'... Quis enim bonus, aut face dignus
Arcana, qualem Cereris vult esse sacerdos,
Ulla aliena sibi credat mala?'

Juv.

In one of my last Week's Papers I treated of Good-Nature, as it is the
Effect of Constitution; I shall now speak of it as it is a Moral Virtue.
The first may make a Man easy in himself and agreeable to others, but
implies no Merit in him that is possessed of it. A Man is no more to be
praised upon this Account, than because he has a regular Pulse or a good
Digestion. This Good-Nature however in the Constitution, which Mr.
_Dryden_ somewhere calls a _Milkiness of Blood_, [1] is an admirable
Groundwork for the other. In order therefore to try our Good-Nature,
whether it arises from the Body or the Mind, whether it be founded in
the Animal or Rational Part of our Nature; in a word, whether it be such
as is entituled to any other Reward, besides that secret Satisfaction
and Contentment of Mind which is essential to it, and the kind Reception
it procures us in the World, we must examine it by the following Rules.

First, whether it acts with Steadiness and Uniformity in Sickness and in
Health, in Prosperity and in Adversity; if otherwise, it is to be looked
upon as nothing else but an Irradiation of the Mind from some new Supply
of Spirits, or a more kindly Circulation of the Blood. _Sir Francis
Bacon_ mentions a cunning Solicitor, [who [2]] would never ask a Favour
of a great Man before Dinner; but took care to prefer his Petition at a
Time when the Party petitioned had his Mind free from Care, and his
Appetites in good Humour. Such a transient temporary Good-Nature as
this, is not that _Philanthropy_, that Love of Mankind, which deserves
the Title of a Moral Virtue.

The next way of a Man's bringing his Good-Nature to the Test, is, to
consider whether it operates according to the Rules of Reason and Duty:
For if, notwithstanding its general Benevolence to Mankind, it makes no
Distinction between its Objects, if it exerts it self promiscuously
towards the Deserving and Undeserving, if it relieves alike the Idle and
the Indigent, if it gives it self up to the first Petitioner, and lights
upon any one rather by Accident than Choice, it may pass for an amiable
Instinct, but must not assume the Name of a Moral Virtue.

The third Tryal of Good-Nature will be, the examining ourselves, whether
or no we are able to exert it to our own Disadvantage, and employ it on
proper Objects, notwithstanding any little Pain, Want, or Inconvenience
which may arise to our selves from it: In a Word, whether we are willing
to risque any Part of our Fortune, our Reputation, our Health or Ease,
for the Benefit of Mankind. Among all these Expressions of Good-Nature,
I shall single out that which goes under the general Name of Charity, as
it consists in relieving the Indigent; that being a Tryal of this Kind
which offers itself to us almost at all Times and in every Place.

I should propose it as a Rule to every one who is provided with any
Competency of Fortune more than sufficient for the Necessaries of Life,
to lay aside a certain Proportion of his Income for the Use of the Poor.
This I would look upon as an Offering to him who has a Right to the
whole, for the Use of those whom, in the Passage hereafter mentioned, he
has described as his own Representatives upon Earth. At the same time we
should manage our Charity with such Prudence and Caution, that we may
not hurt our own Friends or Relations, whilst we are doing Good to those
who are Strangers to us.

This may possibly be explained better by an Example than by a Rule.

_Eugenius_ is a Man of an universal Good-Nature, and generous beyond the
Extent of his Fortune; but withal so prudent in the Oeconomy of his
Affairs, that what goes out in Charity is made up by good Management.
_Eugenius_ has what the World calls Two hundred Pounds a Year; but never
values himself above Ninescore, as not thinking he has a Right to the
Tenth Part, which he always appropriates to charitable Uses. To this Sum
he frequently makes other voluntary Additions, insomuch that in a good
Year, for such he accounts those in which he has been able to make
greater Bounties than ordinary, he has given above twice that Sum to the
Sickly and Indigent. _Eugenius_ prescribes to himself many particular
Days of Fasting and Abstinence, in order to increase his private Bank of
Charity, and sets aside what would be the current Expences of those
Times for the Use of the Poor. He often goes afoot where his Business
calls him, and at the End of his Walk has given a Shilling, which in his
ordinary Methods of Expence would have gone for Coach-Hire, to the first
Necessitous Person that has fallen in his way. I have known him, when he
has been going to a Play or an Opera, divert the Money which was
designed for that Purpose, upon an Object of Charity whom he has met
with in the Street; and afterwards pass his Evening in a Coffee-House,
or at a Friend's Fire-side, with much greater Satisfaction to himself
than he could have received from the most exquisite Entertainments of
the Theatre. By these means he is generous, without impoverishing
himself, and enjoys his Estate by making it the Property of others.

There are few Men so cramped in their private Affairs, who may not be
charitable after this manner, without any Disadvantage to themselves, or
Prejudice to their Families. It is but sometimes sacrificing a Diversion
or Convenience to the Poor, and turning the usual Course of our Expences
into a better Channel. This is, I think, not only the most prudent and
convenient, but the most meritorious Piece of Charity, which we can put
in practice. By this Method we in some measure share the Necessities of
the Poor at the same time that we relieve them, and make ourselves not
only [their Patrons, [3]] but their Fellow Sufferers.

Sir _Thomas Brown_, in the last Part of his _Religio Medici_, in which
he describes his Charity in several Heroick Instances, and with a noble
Heat of Sentiments, mentions that Verse in the Proverbs of _Solomon, He
that giveth to the Poor, lendeth to the Lord_. [4]

'There is more Rhetorick in that one Sentence, says he, than in a
Library of Sermons; and indeed if those Sentences were understood by
the Reader, with the same Emphasis as they are delivered by the
Author, we needed not those Volumes of Instructions, but might be
honest by an Epitome. [5]'

This Passage in Scripture is indeed wonderfully persuasive; but I think
the same Thought is carried much further in the New Testament, where our
Saviour tells us in a most pathetick manner, that he shall hereafter
regard the Cloathing of the Naked, the Feeding of the Hungry, and the
Visiting of the Imprisoned, as Offices done to himself, and reward them
accordingly. [6] Pursuant to those Passages in Holy Scripture, I have
somewhere met with the Epitaph of a charitable Man, which has very much
pleased me. I cannot recollect the Words, but the Sense of it is to this
Purpose; What I spent I lost; what I possessed is left to others; what I
gave away remains with me. [7]

Since I am thus insensibly engaged in Sacred Writ, I cannot forbear
making an Extract of several Passages which I have always read with
great Delight in the Book of _Job_. It is the Account which that Holy
Man gives of his Behaviour in the Days of his Prosperity, and, if
considered only as a human Composition, is a finer Picture of a
charitable and good-natured Man than is to be met with in any other
Author.

_Oh that I were as in Months past, as in the Days when God preserved
me: When his Candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I
walked through darkness: When the Almighty was yet with me: when my
Children were about me: When I washed my steps with butter, and the
rock poured out rivers of oyl.

When the Ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the Eye saw me, it
gave witness to me. Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the
fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him
that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the Widow's Heart
to sing for joy. I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame;
I was a father to the poor, and the cause which I knew not I searched
out. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? was not my Soul
grieved for the poor? Let me be weighed in an even ballance, that God
may know mine Integrity. If I did despise the cause of my man-servant
or my maid-servant when they contended with me: What then shall I do
when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him? Did
not he that made me in the womb, make him? and did not one fashion us
in the womb? If I have withheld the poor from their desire, or have
caused the eyes of the widow to fail, or have eaten my morsel myself
alone, and the fatherless hath not eaten thereof: If I have seen any
perish for want of cloathing, or any poor without covering: If his
loins have not blessed me, and if he were not warmed with the fleece
of my sheep: If I have lift up my hand against the fatherless, when I
saw my help in the gate; then let mine arm fall from my
shoulder-blade, and mine arm be broken from the bone. If I have
rejoiced at the Destruction of him that hated me, or lift up myself
when evil found him: (Neither have I suffered my mouth to sin, by
wishing a curse to his soul). The stranger did not lodge in the
street; but I opened my doors to the traveller. If my land cry against
me, or that the furrows likewise thereof complain: If I have eaten the
Fruits thereof without mony, or have caused the owners thereof to lose
their Life; Let thistles grow instead of wheat, and cockle instead of
barley_. [8]

[Footnote 1: Cleomenes to Pantheus,

'Would I could share thy Balmy, even Temper,
And Milkiness of Blood.'

'Cleomenes', Act i. sc. I.]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: the Patrons of the Indigent]

[Footnote 4: 'Proverbs' xix. 17.]

[Footnote 5: 'Rel. Med.' Part II. sect. 13.]

[Footnote 6: 'Matt.' xxi. 31, &c.]

[Footnote 7: The Epitaph was in St. George's Church at Doncaster, and
ran thus:

'How now, who is heare?
I Robin of Doncastere
And Margaret my feare.
That I spent, that I had;
That I gave, that I have;
That I left, that I lost.']

[Footnote 8: 'Job' xxix. 2, &c.; xxx. 25, &c.; xxxi. 6, &c.]

* * * * *

No. 178. Monday, September 24, 1711. Steele.

'Comis in uxorem ...'

Hor.

I cannot defer taking Notice of this Letter.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am but too good a Judge of your Paper of the 15th Instant, which is
a Master-piece; I mean that of Jealousy: But I think it unworthy of
you to speak of that Torture in the Breast of a Man, and not to
mention also the Pangs of it in the Heart of a Woman. You have very
Judiciously, and with the greatest Penetration imaginable, considered
it as Woman is the Creature of whom the Diffidence is raised; but not
a Word of a Man who is so unmerciful as to move Jealousy in his Wife,
and not care whether she is so or not. It is possible you may not
believe there are such Tyrants in the World; but alas, I can tell you
of a Man who is ever out of Humour in his Wife's Company, and the
pleasantest Man in the World every where else; the greatest Sloven at
home when he appears to none but his Family, and most exactly
well-dressed in all other Places. Alas, Sir, is it of Course, that to
deliver one's self wholly into a Man's Power without Possibility of
Appeal to any other Jurisdiction but to his own Reflections, is so
little an Obligation to a Gentleman, that he can be offended and fall
into a Rage, because my Heart swells Tears into my Eyes when I see him
in a cloudy Mood? I pretend to no Succour, and hope for no Relief but
from himself; and yet he that has Sense and Justice in every thing
else, never reflects, that to come home only to sleep off an
Intemperance, and spend all the Time he is there as if it were a
Punishment, cannot but give the Anguish of a jealous Mind. He always
leaves his Home as if he were going to Court, and returns as if he
were entring a Gaol. I could add to this, that from his Company and
his usual Discourse, he does not scruple being thought an abandoned
Man, as to his Morals. Your own Imagination will say enough to you
concerning the Condition of me his Wife; and I wish you would be so
good as to represent to him, for he is not ill-natured, and reads you
much, that the Moment I hear the Door shut after him, I throw myself
upon my Bed, and drown the Child he is so fond of with my Tears, and
often frighten it with my Cries; that I curse my Being; that I run to
my Glass all over bathed in Sorrows, and help the Utterance of my
inward Anguish by beholding the Gush of my own Calamities as my Tears
fall from my Eyes. This looks like an imagined Picture to tell you,
but indeed this is one of my Pastimes. Hitherto I have only told you
the general Temper of my Mind, but how shall I give you an Account of
the Distraction of it? Could you but conceive how cruel I am one
Moment in my Resentment, and at the ensuing Minute, when I place him
in the Condition my Anger would bring him to, how compassionate; it
would give you some Notion how miserable I am, and how little I
deserve it. When I remonstrate with the greatest Gentleness that is
possible against unhandsome Appearances, and that married Persons are
under particular Rules; when he is in the best Humour to receive this,
I am answered only, That I expose my own Reputation and Sense if I
appear jealous. I wish, good Sir, you would take this into serious
Consideration, and admonish Husbands and Wives what Terms they ought
to keep towards each other. Your Thoughts on this important Subject
will have the greatest Reward, that which descends on such as feel the
Sorrows of the Afflicted. Give me leave to subscribe my self,
Your unfortunate humble Servant,
CELINDA.

I had it in my Thoughts, before I received the Letter of this Lady, to
consider this dreadful Passion in the Mind of a Woman; and the Smart she
seems to feel does not abate the Inclination I had to recommend to
Husbands a more regular Behaviour, than to give the most exquisite of
Torments to those who love them, nay whose Torment would be abated if
they did not love them.

It is wonderful to observe how little is made of this inexpressible
Injury, and how easily Men get into a Habit of being least agreeable
where they are most obliged to be so. But this Subject deserves a
distinct Speculation, and I shall observe for a Day or two the Behaviour
of two or three happy Pair I am acquainted with, before I pretend to
make a System of Conjugal Morality. I design in the first Place to go a
few Miles out of Town, and there I know where to meet one who practises
all the Parts of a fine Gentleman in the Duty of an Husband. When he was
a Batchelor much Business made him particularly negligent in his Habit;
but now there is no young Lover living so exact in the Care of his
Person. One who asked why he was so long washing his Mouth, and so
delicate in the Choice and Wearing of his Linen, was answered, Because
there is a Woman of Merit obliged to receive me kindly, and I think it
incumbent upon me to make her Inclination go along with her Duty.

If a Man would give himself leave to think, he would not be so
unreasonable as to expect Debauchery and Innocence could live in
Commerce together; or hope that Flesh and Blood is capable of so strict
an Allegiance, as that a fine Woman must go on to improve her self 'till
she is as good and impassive as an Angel, only to preserve a Fidelity to
a Brute and a Satyr. The Lady who desires me for her Sake to end one of
my Papers with the following Letter, I am persuaded, thinks such a
Perseverance very impracticable.

_Husband_,
Stay more at home. I know where you visited at Seven of [the] Clock on
_Thursday_ Evening. The Colonel whom you charged me to see no more, is
in Town.
_Martha Housewife_.

T.

* * * * *

No. 179. Tuesday, September 25, 1711. Addison.

'Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis:
Celsi praetereunt austera Poemata Rhamnes.
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci,
Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo ...'

Hor.

I may cast my Readers under two general Divisions, the _Mercurial_ and
the _Saturnine_. The first are the gay Part of my Disciples, who require
Speculations of Wit and Humour; the others are those of a more solemn
and sober Turn, who find no Pleasure but in Papers of Morality and sound
Sense. The former call every thing that is Serious, Stupid; the latter
look upon every thing as Impertinent that is Ludicrous. Were I always
Grave, one half of my Readers would fall off from me: Were I always
Merry, I should lose the other. I make it therefore my Endeavour to find
out Entertainments of both Kinds, and by that means perhaps consult the
Good of both, more than I should do, did I always write to the
particular Taste of either. As they neither of them know what I proceed
upon, the sprightly Reader, who takes up my Paper in order to be
diverted, very often finds himself engaged unawares in a serious and
profitable Course of Thinking; as on the contrary, the thoughtful Man,
who perhaps may hope to find something Solid, and full of deep
Reflection, is very often insensibly betrayed into a Fit of Mirth. In a
word, the Reader sits down to my Entertainment without knowing his Bill
of Fare, and has therefore at least the Pleasure of hoping there may be
a Dish to his Palate.

I must confess, were I left to my self, I should rather aim at
Instructing than Diverting; but if we will be useful to the World, we
must take it as we find it. Authors of professed Severity discourage the
looser Part of Mankind from having any thing to do with their Writings.
A man must have Virtue in him, before he will enter upon the reading of
a _Seneca_ or an _Epictetus_. The very Title of a Moral Treatise has
something in it austere and shocking to the Careless and Inconsiderate.

For this Reason several unthinking Persons fall in my way, who would
give no Attention to Lectures delivered with a Religious Seriousness or
a Philosophick Gravity. They are insnared into Sentiments of Wisdom and
Virtue when they do not think of it; and if by that means they arrive
only at such a Degree of Consideration as may dispose them to listen to
more studied and elaborate Discourses, I shall not think my Speculations
useless. I might likewise observe, that the Gloominess in which
sometimes the Minds of the best Men are involved, very often stands in
need of such little Incitements to Mirth and Laughter, as are apt to
disperse Melancholy, and put our Faculties in good Humour. To which some
will add, that the _British_ Climate, more than any other, makes
Entertainments of this Nature in a manner necessary.

If what I have here said does not recommend, it will at least excuse the
Variety of my Speculations. I would not willingly Laugh but in order to
Instruct, or if I sometimes fail in this Point, when my Mirth ceases to
be Instructive, it shall never cease to be Innocent. A scrupulous
Conduct in this Particular has, perhaps, more Merit in it than the
Generality of Readers imagine; did they know how many Thoughts occur in
a Point of Humour, which a discreet Author in Modesty suppresses; how
many Stroaks in Raillery present themselves, which could not fail to
please the ordinary Taste of Mankind, but are stifled in their Birth by
reason of some remote Tendency which they carry in them to corrupt the
Minds of those who read them; did they know how many Glances of
Ill-nature are industriously avoided for fear of doing Injury to the
Reputation of another, they would be apt to think kindly of those
Writers who endeavour to make themselves Diverting, without being
Immoral. One may apply to these Authors that Passage in _Waller_, [1]

'Poets lose half the Praise they would have got,
Were it but known what they discreetly blot'.

As nothing is more easy than to be a Wit, with all the above-mentioned
Liberties, it requires some Genius and Invention to appear such without
them.

What I have here said is not only in regard to the Publick, but with an
Eye to my particular Correspondent who has sent me the following Letter,
which I have castrated in some Places upon these Considerations.

_SIR_,

'Having lately seen your Discourse upon a Match of Grinning, I cannot
forbear giving you an Account of a Whistling Match, which, with many
others, I was entertained with about three Years since at the _Bath_.
The Prize was a Guinea, to be conferred upon the ablest Whistler, that
is, on him who could whistle clearest, and go through his Tune without
Laughing, [to] which at the same time he was [provoked [2]] by the
antick Postures of a _Merry-Andrew_, who was to stand upon the Stage
and play his Tricks in the Eye of the Performer. There were three
Competitors for the Ring. The first was a Plow-man of a very promising
Aspect; his Features were steady, and his Muscles composed in so
inflexible a Stupidity, that upon his first Appearance every one gave
the Guinea for lost. The Pickled Herring however found the way to
shake him; for upon his Whistling a Country Jigg, this unlucky Wag
danced to it with such a Variety of Distortions and Grimaces, that the
Country-man could not forbear smiling upon him, and by that means
spoiled his Whistle, and lost the Prize.

The next that mounted the Stage was an Under-Citizen of the _Bath_, a
Person remarkable among the inferior People of that Place for his
great Wisdom and his Broad Band. He contracted his Mouth with much
Gravity, and, that he might dispose his Mind to be more serious than
ordinary, began the Tune of _The Children in the Wood_, and went
through part of it with good Success; when on a sudden the Wit at his
Elbow, who had appeared wonderfully grave and attentive for some time,
gave him a Touch upon the left Shoulder, and stared him in the Face
with so bewitching a Grin, that the Whistler relaxed his Fibres into a
kind of Simper, and at length burst out into an open Laugh. The third
who entered the Lists was a Foot-man, who in Defiance of the
_Merry-Andrew_, and all his Arts, whistled a _Scotch_ Tune and an
_Italian_ Sonata, with so settled a Countenance, that he bore away the
Prize, to the great Admiration of some Hundreds of Persons, who, as
well as my self, were present at this Trial of Skill. Now, Sir, I
humbly conceive, whatever you have determined of the Grinners, the
Whistlers ought to be encouraged, not only as their Art is practised
without Distortion, but as it improves Country Musick, promotes
Gravity, and teaches ordinary People to keep their Countenances, if
they see any thing ridiculous in their Betters; besides that it seems
an Entertainment very particularly adapted to the _Bath_, as it is
usual for a Rider to whistle to his Horse when he would make his
Waters pass.

_I am, Sir, &c_.

_POSTSCRIPT_.

After having despatched these two important Points of Grinning and
Whistling, I hope you will oblige the World with some Reflections upon
Yawning, as I have seen it practised on a Twelfth-Night among other
_Christmas_ Gambols at the House of a very worthy Gentleman, who
always entertains his Tenants at that time of the Year. They Yawn for
a _Cheshire_ Cheese, and begin about Midnight, when the whole Company
is disposed to be drowsie. He that Yawns widest, and at the same time
so naturally as to produce the most Yawns among his Spectators,
carries home the Cheese. If you handle this Subject as you ought, I
question not but your Paper will set half the Kingdom a Yawning, tho'
I dare promise you it will never make any Body fall asleep.

L.

[Footnote 1: Upon Roscommon's Tr. of Horace's 'Art of Poetry'.]

[Footnote 2: provoked to]

* * * * *

No. 180. Wednesday, September 26, 1711. Steele.

'... Delirant Reges, plectuntur Achivi.'

Hor.

The following Letter [1] has so much Weight and good Sense, that I
cannot forbear inserting it, tho' it relates to an hardened Sinner, whom
I have very little Hopes of reforming, _viz. Lewis_ XIV. of _France_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Amidst the Variety of Subjects of which you have treated, I could
wish it had fallen in your way to expose the Vanity of Conquests. This
Thought would naturally lead one to the _French_ King, who has been
generally esteemed the greatest Conqueror of our Age, 'till her
Majesty's Armies had torn from him so many of his Countries, and
deprived him of the Fruit of all his former Victories. For my own
Part, if I were to draw his Picture, I should be for taking him no
lower than to the Peace of _Reswick_ [2], just at the End of his
Triumphs, and before his Reverse of Fortune: and even then I should
not forbear thinking his Ambition had been vain and unprofitable to
himself and his People.

As for himself, it is certain he can have gained nothing by his
Conquests, if they have not rendered him Master of more Subjects, more
Riches, or greater Power. What I shall be able to offer upon these
Heads, I resolve to submit to your Consideration.

To begin then with his Increase of Subjects. From the Time he came of
Age, and has been a Manager for himself, all the People he had
acquired were such only as he had reduced by his Wars, and were left
in his Possession by the Peace; he had conquered not above one third
Part of _Flanders_, and consequently no more than one third Part of
the Inhabitants of that Province.

About 100 Years ago the Houses in that Country were all Numbered, and
by a just Computation the Inhabitants of all Sorts could not then
exceed 750000 Souls. And if any Man will consider the Desolation by
almost perpetual Wars, the numerous Armies that have lived almost ever
since at Discretion upon the People, and how much of their Commerce
has removed for more Security to other Places, he will have little
Reason to imagine that their Numbers have since increased; and
therefore with one third Part of that Province that Prince can have
gained no more than one third Part of the Inhabitants, or 250000 new
Subjects, even tho' it should be supposed they were all contented to
live still in their native Country. and transfer their Allegiance to a
new Master.

The Fertility of this Province, its convenient Situation for Trade and
Commerce, its Capacity for furnishing Employment and Subsistence to
great Numbers, and the vast Armies that have been maintained here,
make it credible that the remaining two Thirds of _Flanders_ are equal
to all his other Conquests; and consequently by all he cannot have
gained more than 750000 new Subjects, Men, Women and Children,
especially if a Deduction shall be made of such as have retired from
the Conqueror to live under their old Masters.

It is Time now to set his Loss against his Profit, and to shew for the
new Subjects he had acquired, how many old ones he had lost in the
Acquisition: I think that in his Wars he has seldom brought less into
the Field in all Places than 200000 fighting Men, besides what have
been left in Garrisons; and I think the common Computation is, that of
an Army, at the latter End of a Campaign, without Sieges or Battle,
scarce Four Fifths can be mustered of those that came into the Field
at the Beginning of the Year. His Wars at several Times till the last
Peace have held about 20 Years; and if 40000 yearly lost, or a fifth
Part of his Armies, are to be multiplied by 20, he cannot have lost
less than 800000 of his old Subjects, all able-body'd Men; a greater
Number than the new Subjects he had acquired.

But this Loss is not all: Providence seems to have equally divided the
whole Mass of Mankind into different Sexes, that every Woman may have
her Husband, and that both may equally contribute to the Continuance
of the Species. It follows then, that for all the Men that have been
lost, as many Women must have lived single, and it were but Charity to
believe they have not done all the Service they were capable of doing
in their Generation. In so long a Course of Years great part of them
must have died, and all the rest must go off at last without leaving
any Representatives behind. By this Account he must have lost not only
800000 Subjects, but double that Number, and all the Increase that was
reasonably to be expected from it.

It is said in the last War there was a Famine in his Kingdom, which
swept away two Millions of his People. This is hardly credible: If the
loss was only of one fifth Part of that Sum, it was very great. But
'tis no wonder there should be Famine, where so much of the People's
Substance is taken away for the King's Use, that they have not
sufficient left to provide against Accidents: where so many of the Men
are taken from the Plough to serve the King in his Wars, and a great
part of the Tillage is left to the weaker Hands of so many Women and
Children. Whatever was the Loss, it must undoubtedly be placed to the
Account of his Ambition.

And so must also the Destruction or Banishment of 3 or 400000 of his
reformed Subjects; he could have no other Reasons for valuing those
Lives so very cheap, but only to recommend himself to the Bigotry of
the _Spanish_ Nation.

How should there be Industry in a Country where all Property is
precarious? What Subject will sow his Land that his Prince may reap
the whole Harvest? Parsimony and Frugality must be Strangers to such a
People; for will any Man save to-day what he has Reason to fear will
be taken from him to-morrow? And where is the Encouragement for
marrying? Will any Man think of raising Children, without any
Assurance of Cloathing for their Backs, or so much as Food for their
Bellies? And thus by his fatal Ambition he must have lessened the
Number of his Subjects not only by Slaughter and Destruction, but by
preventing their very Births, he has done as much as was possible
towards destroying Posterity itself.

Is this then the great, the invincible _Lewis?_ This the immortal Man,
the _tout-puissant_, or the Almighty, as his Flatterers have called
him? Is this the Man that is so celebrated for his Conquests? For
every Subject he has acquired, has he not lost three that were his
Inheritance? Are not his Troops fewer, and those neither so well fed,
or cloathed, or paid, as they were formerly, tho' he has now so much
greater Cause to exert himself? And what can be the Reason of all
this, but that his Revenue is a great deal less, his Subjects are
either poorer, or not so many to be plundered by constant Taxes for
his Use?

It is well for him he had found out a Way to steal a Kingdom; if he
had gone on conquering as he did before, his Ruin had been long since
finished. This brings to my Mind a saying of King _Pyrrhus_, after he
had a second time beat the _Romans_ in a pitched Battle, and was
complimented by his Generals; _Yes_, says he, _such another Victory
and I am quite undone_. And since I have mentioned _Pyrrhus_, I will
end with a very good, though known Story of this ambitious mad Man.
When he had shewn the utmost Fondness for his Expedition against the
_Romans, Cyneas_ his chief Minister asked him what he proposed to
himself by this War? Why, says _Pyrrhus_, to conquer the _Romans_, and
reduce all _Italy_ to my Obedience. What then? says _Cyneas_. To pass
over into _Sicily_, says _Pyrrhus_, and then all the _Sicilians_ must
be our Subjects. And what does your Majesty intend next? Why truly,
says the King, to conquer _Carthage_, and make myself Master of all
_Africa_. And what, Sir, says the Minister is to be the End of all
your Expeditions? Why then, says the King, for the rest of our Lives
we'll sit down to good Wine. How, Sir, replied Cyneas, to better than
we have now before us? Have we not already as much as we can drink?
[3]

Riot and Excess are not the becoming Characters of Princes: but if
Pyrrhus and Lewis had debauched like Vitellius, they had been less
hurtful to their People.'

Your humble Servant,

T. PHILARITHMUS.

[Footnote 1: The letter is, with other contributions not now traceable
to him, by Henry Martyn, son of Edward Martyn, Esq., of Melksham, Wilts.
He was bred to the bar, but his health did not suffer him to practise.
He has been identified with the Cottilus of No. 143 of the Spectator. In
1713 Henry Martyn opposed the ratification of the Treaty of Commerce
made with France at the Peace of Utrecht in a Paper called 'The British
Merchant, or Commerce Preserved,' which was a reply to Defoe's
'Mercator, or Commerce Retrieved.' Martyn's paper is said to have been a
principal cause of the rejection of the Treaty, and to have procured him
the post of Inspector-General of Imports and Exports. He died at
Blackheath, March 25, 1721, leaving one son, who became Secretary to the
Commissioners of Excise. As an intimate friend of Steele's, it has been
thought that Henry Martyn suggested a trait or two in the Sir Andrew
Freeport of the Spectator's Club.]

[Footnote 2: Sept. 20, 1696.]

[Footnote 3: These anecdotes are from Plutarch's 'Life of Pyrrhus'.]

* * * * *

No. 181. Thursday, September 27, 1711. Addison.

'His lacrymis vitam damus, et miserescimus ultro.'

Virg.

I am more pleased with a Letter that is filled with Touches of Nature
than of Wit. The following one is of this Kind.

SIR,

'Among all the Distresses which happen in Families, I do not remember
that you have touched upon the Marriage of Children without the
Consent of their Parents. I am one of [these [1]] unfortunate Persons.
I was about Fifteen when I took the Liberty to choose for my self; and
have ever since languished under the Displeasure of an inexorable
Father, who, though he sees me happy in the best of Husbands, and
blessed with very fine Children, can never be prevailed upon to
forgive me. He was so kind to me before this unhappy Accident, that
indeed it makes my Breach of Duty, in some measure, inexcusable; and
at the same Time creates in me such a Tenderness towards him, that I
love him above all things, and would die to be reconciled to him. I
have thrown myself at his Feet, and besought him with Tears to pardon
me; but he always pushes me away, and spurns me from him; I have
written several Letters to him, but he will neither open nor receive
them. About two Years ago I sent my little Boy to him, dressed in a
new Apparel; but the Child returned to me crying, because he said his
Grandfather would not see him, and had ordered him to be put out of
his House. My Mother is won over to my Side, but dares not mention me
to my Father for fear of provoking him. About a Month ago he lay sick
upon his Bed, and in great Danger of his Life: I was pierced to the
Heart at the News, and could not forbear going to inquire after his
Health. My Mother took this Opportunity of speaking in my Behalf: she
told him with abundance of Tears, that I was come to see him, that I
could not speak to her for weeping, and that I should certainly break
my Heart if he refus'd at that Time to give me his Blessing, and be
reconciled to me. He was so far from relenting towards me, that he bid
her speak no more of me, unless she had a mind to disturb him in his
last Moments; for, Sir, you must know that he has the Reputation of an
honest and religious Man, which makes my Misfortune so much the
greater. God be thanked he is since recovered: But his severe Usage
has given me such a Blow, that I shall soon sink under it, unless I
may be relieved by any Impressions which the reading of this in your
Paper may make upon him.

_I am, &c._

Of all Hardnesses of Heart there is none so inexcusable as that of
Parents towards their Children. An obstinate, inflexible, unforgiving
Temper is odious upon all Occasions; but here it is unnatural. The Love,
Tenderness, and Compassion, which are apt to arise in us towards those
[who [2]] depend upon us, is that by which the whole World of Life is
upheld. The Supreme Being, by the transcendent Excellency and Goodness
of his Nature, extends his Mercy towards all his Works; and because his
Creatures have not such a spontaneous Benevolence and Compassion towards
those who are under their Care and Protection, he has implanted in them
an Instinct, that supplies the Place of this inherent Goodness. I have
illustrated this kind of Instinct in former Papers, and have shewn how
it runs thro' all the Species of brute Creatures, as indeed the whole
Animal Creation subsists by it.

This Instinct in Man is more general and uncircumscribed than in Brutes,
as being enlarged by the Dictates of Reason and Duty. For if we consider
our selves attentively, we shall find that we are not only inclined to
love those who descend from us, but that we bear a kind of [Greek:
atorgae], or natural Affection, to every thing which relies upon us for
its Good and Preservation. Dependance is a perpetual Call upon Humanity,
and a greater Incitement to Tenderness and Pity than any other Motive
whatsoever.

The Man therefore who, notwithstanding any Passion or Resentment, can
overcome this powerful Instinct, and extinguish natural Affection,
debases his Mind even below Brutality, frustrates, as much as in him
lies, the great Design of Providence, and strikes out of his Nature one
of the most Divine Principles that is planted in it.

Among innumerable Arguments [which [3]] might be brought against such an
unreasonable Proceeding, I shall only insist on one. We make it the
Condition of our Forgiveness that we forgive others. In our very Prayers
we desire no more than to be treated by this kind of Retaliation. The
Case therefore before us seems to be what they call a Case in Point; the
Relation between the Child and Father being what comes nearest to that
between a Creature and its Creator. If the Father is inexorable to the
Child who has offended, let the Offence be of never so high a Nature,
how will he address himself to the Supreme Being under the tender
Appellation of a Father, and desire of him such a Forgiveness as he
himself refuses to grant?

To this I might add many other religious, as well as many prudential
Considerations; but if the last mentioned Motive does not prevail, I
despair of succeeding by any other, and shall therefore conclude my
Paper with a very remarkable Story, which is recorded in an old
Chronicle published by Freher, among the Writers of the German History.
[4]

Eginhart, who was Secretary to Charles the Great, became exceeding
popular by his Behaviour in that Post. His great Abilities gain'd him
the Favour of his Master, and the Esteem of the whole Court. Imma, the
Daughter of the Emperor, was so pleased with his Person and
Conversation, that she fell in Love with him. As she was one of the
greatest Beauties of the Age, Eginhart answer'd her with a more than
equal Return of Passion. They stifled their Flames for some Time, under
Apprehension of the fatal Consequences that might ensue. Eginhart at
length resolving to hazard all, rather than be deprived of one whom his
Heart was so much set upon, conveyed himself one Night into the
Princess's Apartment, and knocking gently at the Door, was admitted as a
Person [who [5]] had something to communicate to her from the Emperor.
He was with her in private most Part of the Night; but upon his
preparing to go away about Break of Day, he observed that there had
fallen a great Snow during his Stay with the Princess. This very much
perplexed him, lest the Prints of his Feet in the Snow might make
Discoveries to the King, who often used to visit his Daughter in the
Morning. He acquainted the Princess Imma with his Fears; who, after some
Consultations upon the Matter, prevailed upon him to let her carry him
through the Snow upon her own Shoulders. It happened, that the Emperor
not being able to sleep, was at that time up and walking in his Chamber,
when upon looking through the Window he perceived his Daughter tottering
under her Burden, and carrying his first Minister across the Snow; which
she had no sooner done, but she returned again with the utmost Speed to
her own Apartment. The Emperor was extreamly troubled and astonished at
this Accident; but resolved to speak nothing of it till a proper
Opportunity. In the mean time, Eginhart knowing that what he had done
could not be long a Secret, determined to retire from Court; and in
order to it begged the Emperor that he would be pleased to dismiss him,
pretending a kind of Discontent at his not having been rewarded for his
long Services. The Emperor would not give a direct Answer to his
Petition, but told him he would think of it, and [appointed [6]] a
certain Day when he would let him know his Pleasure. He then called
together the most faithful of his Counsellors, and acquainting them with
his Secretary's Crime, asked them their Advice in so delicate an Affair.
They most of them gave their Opinion, that the Person could not be too
severely punished who had thus dishonoured his Master. Upon the whole
Debate, the Emperor declared it was his Opinion, that Eginhart's
Punishment would rather encrease than diminish the Shame of his Family,
and that therefore he thought it the most adviseable to wear out the
Memory of the Fact, by marrying him to his Daughter. Accordingly
Eginhart was called in, and acquainted by the Emperor, that he should no
longer have any Pretence of complaining his Services were not rewarded,
for that the Princess Imma should be given [him [7]] in Marriage, with a
Dower suitable to her Quality; which was soon after performed
accordingly.

L.

[Footnote 1: those]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: Marquard Freher, who died at Heidelberg in 1614, aged 49,
was Counsellor to the Elector Palatine, and Professor of Jurisprudence
at Heidelberg, until employed by the Elector (Frederick IV) as his
Minister in Poland, and at other courts. The chief of many works of his
were, on the Monetary System of the Ancient Romans and of the German
Empire in his day, a History of France, a collection of Writers on
Bohemian History, and another of Writers on German History, Rerum
Germanicarum Scriptores, in three volumes. It is from a Chronicle of the
monastery of Lorsch (or Laurisheim), in Hesse Darmstadt, under the year
805, in the first volume of the last-named collection, that the story
about Eginhart was taken by Bayle, out of whose Dictionary Addison got
it. Bayle, indeed, specially recommends it as good matter for a story.
Imma, the chronicle says, had been betrothed to the Grecian Emperor.]

[Footnote 5: that]

[Footnote 6: fixed on]

[Footnote 7: to him]

* * * * *

No. 182. Friday, September 28, 1711. Steele.

'Plus aloes quam mellis habet ...'

Juv.

As all Parts of humane Life come under my Observation, my Reader must
not make uncharitable Inferences from my speaking knowingly of that Sort
of Crime which is at present treated of. He will, I hope, suppose I know
it only from the Letters of Correspondents, two of which you shall have
as follow.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'It is wonderful to me that among the many Enormities which you have
treated of, you have not mentioned that of Wenching, and particularly
the Insnaring Part; I mean, that it is a Thing very fit for your Pen,
to expose the Villany of the Practice of deluding Women. You are to
know, Sir, that I myself am a Woman who have been one of the Unhappy
that have fallen into this Misfortune, and that by the Insinuation of
a very worthless Fellow, who served others in the same Manner both
before my Ruin and since that Time. I had, as soon as the Rascal left
me, so much Indignation and Resolution, as not to go upon the Town, as
the Phrase is, but took to Work for my Living in an obscure Place, out
of the Knowledge of all with whom I was before acquainted.

It is the ordinary Practice and Business of Life with a Set of idle
Fellows about this Town, to write Letters, send Messages, and form
Appointments with little raw unthinking Girls, and leave them after
Possession of them, without any Mercy, to Shame, Infamy, Poverty, and
Disease. Were you to read the nauseous Impertinences which are written
on these Occasions, and to see the silly Creatures sighing over them,
it could not but be Matter of Mirth as well as Pity. A little Prentice
Girl of mine has been for some time applied to by an Irish Fellow, who
dresses very fine, and struts in a laced Coat, and is the Admiration
of Seamstresses who are under Age in Town. Ever since I have had some
Knowledge of the Matter, I have debarred my Prentice from Pen, Ink and
Paper. But the other Day he bespoke some Cravats of me: I went out of
the Shop, and left his Mistress to put them up into a Band-box in
order to be sent to him when his Man called. When I came into the Shop
again, I took occasion to send her away, and found in the Bottom of
the Box written these Words, Why would you ruin a harmless Creature
that loves you? then in the Lid, There is no resisting Strephon: I
searched a little farther, and found in the Rim of the Box, At Eleven
of clock at Night come in an Hackney-Coach at the End of our Street.
This was enough to alarm me; I sent away the things, and took my
Measures accordingly. An Hour or two before the appointed Time I
examined my young Lady, and found her Trunk stuffed with impertinent
Letters, and an old Scroll of Parchment in Latin, which her Lover had
sent her as a Settlement of Fifty Pounds a Year: Among other things,
there was also the best Lace I had in my Shop to make him a Present
for Cravats. I was very glad of this last Circumstance, because I
could very conscientiously swear against him that he had enticed my
Servant away, and was her Accomplice in robbing me: I procured a
Warrant against him accordingly. Every thing was now prepared, and the
tender Hour of Love approaching, I, who had acted for myself in my
Youth the same senseless Part, knew how to manage accordingly.
Therefore after having locked up my Maid, and not being so much unlike
her in Height and Shape, as in a huddled way not to pass for her, I
delivered the Bundle designed to be carried off to her Lover's Man,
who came with the Signal to receive them. Thus I followed after to the
Coach, where when I saw his Master take them in, I cryed out, Thieves!
Thieves! and the Constable with his Attendants seized my expecting
Lover. I kept my self unobserved till I saw the Crowd sufficiently
encreased, and then appeared to declare the Goods to be mine; and had
the Satisfaction to see my Man of Mode put into the Round-House, with
the stolen Wares by him, to be produced in Evidence against him the
next Morning. This Matter is notoriously known to be Fact; and I have
been contented to save my Prentice, and take a Year's Rent of this
mortified Lover, not to appear further in the Matter. This was some
Penance; but, Sir, is this enough for a Villany of much more
pernicious Consequence than the Trifles for which he was to have been
indicted? Should not you, and all Men of any Parts or Honour, put
things upon so right a Foot, as that such a Rascal should not laugh at
the Imputation of what he was really guilty, and dread being accused
of that for which he was arrested?

In a word, Sir, it is in the Power of you, and such as I hope you are,
to make it as infamous to rob a poor Creature of her Honour as her
Cloaths. I leave this to your Consideration, only take Leave (which I
cannot do without sighing) to remark to you, that if this had been the
Sense of Mankind thirty Years ago, I should have avoided a Life spent
in Poverty and Shame.

I am, Sir, Your most humble Servant, Alice Threadneedle.

_Round-House, Sept. 9_.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am a Man of Pleasure about Town, but by the Stupidity of a dull
Rogue of a Justice of Peace, and an insolent Constable, upon the Oath
of an old Harridan, am imprisoned here for Theft, when I designed only
Fornication. The Midnight Magistrate, as he conveyed me along, had you
in his Mouth, and said, this would make a pure Story for the
SPECTATOR. I hope, Sir, you won't pretend to Wit, and take the Part of
dull Rogues of Business. The World is so altered of late Years, that
there was not a Man who would knock down a Watchman in my Behalf, but
I was carried off with as much Triumph as if I had been a Pick-pocket.
At this rate, there is an end of all the Wit and Humour in the World.
The Time was when all the honest Whore-masters in the Neighbourhood
would have rose against the Cuckolds to my Rescue. If Fornication is
to be scandalous, half the fine things that have been writ by most of
the Wits of the last Age may be burnt by the common Hangman. Harkee,
[Mr.] SPEC, do not be queer; after having done some things pretty
well, don't begin to write at that rate that no Gentleman can read
thee. Be true to Love, and burn your _Seneca_. You do not expect me to
write my Name from hence, but I am
_Your unknown humble, &c_.'

* * * * *

No. 183. Saturday, September 29, 1711. Addison.

[Greek:

"Idmen pseudea polla legein etymoisin homoia,
Idmen d' eut' ethel_omen alaethea mythaesasthai".

Hesiod.]

Fables were the first Pieces of Wit that made their Appearance in the
World, and have been still highly valued, not only in Times of the
greatest Simplicity, but among the most polite Ages of Mankind.
_Jotham's_ Fable of the Trees [1] is the oldest that is extant, and as
beautiful as any which have been made since that Time. _Nathan's_ Fable

Book of the day: