Strephon
makes great Progress in this Lady's good Graces, for most
Women being actuated by some little Spirit of Pride and Contradiction,
he has the good effects of both those Motives by this Covert-Way of
Courtship. He received a Message Yesterday from
Damon
in the following
Words, superscribed
With Speed
.
'All goes well; she is very angry at me, and I dare say hates me in
earnest. It is a good time to Visit.
Yours.'
The Comparison of
Strephon's
Gayety to
Damon's
Languishment, strikes
her Imagination with a Prospect of very agreeable Hours with such a Man
as the former, and Abhorrence of the insipid Prospect with one like the
latter. To know when a Lady is displeased with another, is to know the
best time of advancing your self. This method of two Persons playing
into each other's Hand is so dangerous, that I cannot tell how a Woman
could be able to withstand such a Siege. The Condition of
Gloriana
, I
am afraid, is irretrievable, for
Strephon
has had so many
Opportunities of pleasing without suspicion, that all which is left for
her to do is to bring him, now she is advised, to an Explanation of his
Passion, and beginning again, if she can conquer the kind Sentiments she
has already conceived for him. When one shews himself a Creature to be
avoided, the other proper to be fled to for Succour, they have the whole
Woman between them, and can occasionally rebound her Love and Hatred
from one to the other, in such a manner as to keep her at a distance
from all the rest of the World, and cast Lots for the Conquest.
N. B.
I have many other Secrets which concern the Empire of Love, but I
consider that while I alarm my Women, I instruct my Men
.
T.
Contents
|
Monday, July 7, 1712 |
Steele |
Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit—translation
Hor.
London, June 24.
Mr.
Spectator,
'A man who has it in his Power to chuse his own Company, would
certainly be much to blame should he not, to the best of his Judgment,
take such as are of a Temper most suitable to his own; and where that
Choice is wanting, or where a Man is mistaken in his Choice, and yet
under a Necessity of continuing in the same Company, it will certainly
be to his Interest to carry himself as easily as possible.
'In this I am sensible I do but repeat what has been said a thousand
times, at which however I think no Body has any Title to take
Exception, but they who never failed to put this in Practice—Not to
use any longer Preface, this being the Season of the Year in which
great Numbers of all sorts of People retire from this Place of
Business and Pleasure to Country Solitude, I think it not improper to
advise them to take with them as great a Stock of Good-humour as they
can; for tho' a Country-Life is described as the most pleasant of all
others, and though it may in Truth be so, yet it is so only to those
who know how to enjoy Leisure and Retirement.
'As for those who can't live without the constant helps of Business or
Company, let them consider, that in the Country there is no
Exchange, there are no Play-houses, no Variety of Coffee-houses, nor
many of those other Amusements which serve here as so many Reliefs
from the repeated Occurrences in their own Families; but that there
the greatest Part of their Time must be spent within themselves, and
consequently it behoves them to consider how agreeable it will be to
them before they leave this dear Town.
'I remember, Mr. SPECTATOR, we were very well entertained last Year,
with the Advices you gave us from
Sir Roger's Country Seat; which I
the rather mention, because 'tis almost impossible not to live
pleasantly, where the Master of a Family is such a one as you there
describe your Friend, who cannot therefore (I mean as to his domestick
Character) be too often recommended to the Imitation of others. How
amiable is that Affability and Benevolence with which he treats his
Neighbours, and every one, even the meanest of his own Family! And yet
how seldom imitated? instead of which we commonly meet with
ill-natured Expostulations, Noise, and Chidings—And this I hinted,
because the Humour and Disposition of the Head, is what chiefly
influences all the other Parts of a Family.
'An Agreement and kind Correspondence between Friends and
Acquaintance, is the greatest Pleasure of Life. This is an undoubted
Truth, and yet any Man who judges from the Practice of the World, will
be almost persuaded to believe the contrary; for how can we suppose
People should be so industrious to make themselves uneasie? What can
engage them to entertain and foment Jealousies of one another upon
every the least Occasion? Yet so it is, there are People who (as it
should seem) delight in being troublesome and vexatious, who (as
Tully speaks)
Mira sunt alacritate ad litigandum, Have a certain
Chearfulness in wrangling. And thus it happens, that there are very
few Families in which there are not Feuds and Animosities, tho' 'tis
every one's Interest, there more particularly, to avoid 'em, because
there (as I would willingly hope) no one gives another Uneasiness,
without feeling some share of it—But I am gone beyond what I
designed, and had almost forgot what I chiefly proposed; which was,
barely to tell you, how hardly we who pass most of our Time in Town
dispense with a long Vacation in the Country, how uneasie we grow to
our selves and to one another when our Conversation is confined,
insomuch that by
Michaelmas 'tis odds but we come to downright
squabbling, and make as free with one another to our Faces, as we do
with the rest of the World behind their Backs. After I have told you
this, I am to de
Sir e that you would now and then give us a Lesson of
Good-humour, a Family-Piece; which, since we are all very fond of you,
I hope may have some Influence upon us—
'After these plain Observations give me leave to give you an Hint of
what a Set of Company of my Acquaintance, who are now gone into the
Country, and have the Use of an absent Nobleman's Seat, have settled
among themselves, to avoid the Inconveniencies above mentioned. They
are a Collection of ten or twelve, of the same good Inclination
towards each other, but of very different Talents and Inclinations:
From hence they hope, that the Variety of their Tempers will only
create Variety of Pleasures. But as there always will arise, among the
same People, either for want of Diversity of Objects, or the like
Causes, a certain Satiety, which may grow into ill Humour or
Discontent, there is a large Wing of the House which they design to
employ in the Nature of an Infirmary. Whoever says a peevish thing, or
acts any thing which betrays a Sowerness or Indisposition to Company,
is immediately to be conveyed to his Chambers in the Infirmary; from
whence he is not to be relieved, till by his Manner of Submission, and
the Sentiments expressed in his Petition for that Purpose, he appears
to the Majority of the Company to be again fit for Society. You are to
understand, that all ill-natured Words or uneasie Gestures are
sufficient Cause for Banishment; speaking impatiently to Servants,
making a Man repeat what he says, or any thing that betrays
Inattention or Dishumour, are also criminal without Reprieve: But it
is provided, that whoever observes the ill-natured Fit coming upon
himself, and voluntarily retires, shall be received at his return from
the Infirmary with the highest Marks of Esteem. By these and other
wholesome Methods it is expected that if they cannot cure one another,
yet at least they have taken Care that the ill Humour of one shall not
be troublesome to the rest of the Company. There are many other Rules
which the Society have established for the Preservation of their Ease
and Tranquility, the Effects of which, with the Incidents that arise
among them, shall be communicated to you from Time to Time for the
publick Good, by,
Sir ,
Your most humble Servant,
R. O.
T.
Contents
|
Tuesday, July 8, 1712 |
Budgell |
Frigora mitescunt Zephyris, Ver proterit Æstas
Interitura, simul
Pomifer Autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox
Bruma recurrit inerstranslation
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'There is hardly any thing gives me a more sensible Delight, than the
Enjoyment of a cool still Evening after the Uneasiness of a hot sultry
Day. Such a one I passed not long ago, which made me rejoice when the
Hour as come for the Sun to set, that I might enjoy the Freshness of
the Evening in my Garden, which then affords me the pleasantest Hours
I pass in the whole Four and twenty. I immediately rose from my Couch,
and went down into it. You descend at first by twelve Stone Steps into
a large Square divided into four Grass-plots, in each of which is a
Statue of white Marble. This is separated from a large Parterre by a
low Wall, and from thence, thro' a Pair of Iron Gates, you are led
into a long broad Walk of the finest Turf, set on each Side with tall
Yews, and on either Hand bordered by a Canal, which on the Right
divides the Walk from a Wilderness parted into Variety of Allies and
Arbours, and on the Left from a kind of Amphitheatre, which is the
Receptacle of a great Number of Oranges and Myrtles. The Moon shone
bright, and seemed then most agreeably to supply the Place of the Sun,
obliging me with as much Light as was necessary to discover a thousand
pleasing Objects, and at the same time divested of all Power of Heat.
The Reflection of it in the Water, the Fanning of the Wind rustling on
the Leaves, the Singing of the Thrush and Nightingale, and the
Coolness of the Walks, all conspired to make me lay aside all
displeasing Thoughts, and brought me into such a Tranquility of Mind,
as is I believe the next Happiness to that of hereafter. In this sweet
Retirement I naturally fell into the Repetition of some Lines out of a
Poem of
Milton's, which he entitles
Il Penseroso, the Ideas of
which were exquisitely suited to my present Wandrings of Thought.
Sweet Bird! that shun'st the Noise of Folly,
Most musical! most melancholy!
Thee Chauntress, oft the Woods among,
I wooe to hear thy Evening Song:
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven Green,
To behold the wandring Moon,
Riding near her highest Noon,
Like one that hath been led astray,
Thro' the Heavn's wide pathless Way,
And oft, as if her Head she bow'd,
Stooping thro' a fleecy Cloud.
Then let some strange mysterious Dream
Wave with his Wings in airy Stream,
Of lively Portraiture displaid,
Softly on my Eyelids laid;
And as I wake, sweet Musick breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by Spirits to Mortals Good,
Or th' unseen Genius of the Wood.
I reflected then upon the sweet Vicissitudes of Night and Day, on the
charming Disposition of the Seasons, and their Return again in a
perpetual Circle; and oh! said I, that I could from these my declining
Years return again to my first Spring of Youth and Vigour; but that,
alas! is impossible: All that remains within my Power, is to soften
the Inconveniences I feel, with an easie contented Mind, and the
Enjoyment of such Delights as this Solitude affords me. In this
Thought I sate me down on a Bank of Flowers and dropt into a Slumber,
which whether it were the Effect of Fumes and Vapours, or my present
Thoughts, I know not; but methought the Genius of the Garden stood
before me, and introduced into the Walk where I lay this Drama and
different Scenes of the Revolution of the Year, which whilst I then
saw, even in my Dream, I resolved to write down, and send to the
SPECTATOR.
The first Person whom I saw advancing towards me was a Youth of a most
beautiful Air and Shape, tho' he seemed not yet arrived at that exact
Proportion and Symmetry of Parts which a little more time would have
given him; but however, there was such a Bloom in his Countenance,
such Satisfaction and Joy, that I thought it the most de
Sir able Form
that I had ever seen. He was cloathed in a flowing Mantle of green
Silk, interwoven with Flowers: He had a Chaplet of Roses on his Head,
and a
Narcissus in his Hand; Primroses and Violets sprang up under
his Feet, and all Nature was cheer'd at his Approach.
Flora was on
one Hand and
Vertumnus on the other in a Robe of changeable Silk.
After this I was surprized to see the Moon-beams reflected with a
sudden Glare from Armour, and to see a Man compleatly armed advancing
with his Sword drawn. I was soon informed by the Genius it was
Mars,
who had long usurp'd a Place among the Attendants of the
Spring. He
made Way for a softer Appearance, it was
Venus, without any Ornament
but her own Beauties, not so much as her own Cestus, with which she
had incompass'd a Globe, which she held in her right Hand, and in her
left she had a Sceptre of Gold. After her followed the Graces with
their Arms intwined within one another, their Girdles were loosed, and
they moved to the Sound of soft Musick, striking the Ground
alternately with their Feet: Then came up the three Months which
belong to this Season. As
March advanced towards me, there was
methought in his Look a louring Roughness, which ill befitted a Month
which was ranked in so soft a Season; but as he came forwards his
Features became insensibly more mild and gentle: He smooth'd his Brow,
and looked with so sweet a Countenance that I could not but lament his
Departure, though he made way for
April. He appeared in the greatest
Gaiety imaginable, and had a thousand Pleasures to attend him: His
Look was frequently clouded, but immediately return'd to its first
Composure, and remained fixed in a Smile. Then came
May attended by
Cupid, with his Bow strung, and in a Posture to let fly an Arrow: As
he passed by methought I heard a confused Noise of soft Complaints,
gentle Ecstacies, and tender Sighs of Lovers; Vows of Constancy, and
as many Complainings of Perfidiousness; all which the Winds wafted
away as soon as they had reached my Hearing. After these I saw a Man
advance in the full Prime and Vigour of his Age, his Complexion was
sanguine and ruddy, his Hair black, and fell down in beautiful
Ringlets not beneath his Shoulders, a Mantle of Hair-colour'd Silk
hung loosely upon him: He advanced with a hasty Step after the
Spring, and sought out the Shade and cool Fountains which plaid in
the Garden. He was particularly well pleased when a Troop of
Zephyrs
fanned him with their Wings: He had two Companions who walked on each
Side that made him appear the most agreeable, the one was
Aurora
with Fingers of Roses, and her Feet dewy, attired in grey: The other
was
Vesper in a Robe of Azure beset with Drops of Gold, whose Breath
he caught whilst it passed over a Bundle of Honey-Suckles and
Tuberoses which he held in his Hand.
Pan and
Ceres followed them
with four Reapers, who danced a Morrice to the Sound of Oaten Pipes
and Cymbals. Then came the Attendant Months.
June retained still
some small Likeness of the
Spring; but the other two seemed to step
with a less vigorous Tread, especially
August, who seem'd almost to
faint whilst for half the Steps he took the Dog-Star levelled his Rays
full at his Head: They passed on and made Way for a Person that seemed
to bend a little under the Weight of Years; his Beard and Hair, which
were full grown, were composed of an equal Number of black and grey;
he wore a Robe which he had girt round him of a yellowish Cast, not
unlike the Colour of fallen Leaves, which he walked upon. I thought he
hardly made Amends for expelling the foregoing Scene by the large
Quantity of Fruits which he bore in his Hands.
Plenty walked by his
Side with an healthy fresh Countenance, pouring out from an Horn all
the various Product of the Year.
Pomona followed with a Glass of
Cyder in her Hand, with
Bacchus in a Chariot drawn by Tygers,
accompanied by a whole Troop of Satyrs, Fauns, and Sylvans.
September, who came next, seem'd in his Looks to promise a new
Spring, and wore the Livery of those Months. The succeeding Month
was all soiled with the Juice of Grapes, as if he had just come from
the Wine-Press.
November, though he was in this Division, yet, by
the many Stops he made seemed rather inclined to the
Winter, which
followed close at his Heels. He advanced in the Shape of an old Man in
the Extremity of Age: The Hair he had was so very white it seem'd a
real Snow; his Eyes were red and piercing, and his Beard hung with a
great Quantity of Icicles: He was wrapt up in Furrs, but yet so
pinched with Excess of Cold that his Limbs were all contracted and his
Body bent to the Ground, so that he could not have supported himself
had it not been for
Comus the God of Revels, and
Necessity the
Mother of Fate, who sustained him on each side. The Shape and Mantle
of
Comus was one of the things that most surprized me; as he
advanced towards me, his Countenance seemed the most de
Sir able I had
ever seen: On the fore Part of his Mantle was pictured Joy, Delight,
and Satisfaction, with a thousand Emblems of Merriment, and Jests with
Faces looking two Ways at once; but as he passed from me I was amazed
at a Shape so little correspondent to his Face: His Head was bald, and
all the rest of his Limbs appeared old and deformed. On the hinder
Part of his Mantle was represented Murder with dishevelled Hair and a
Dagger all bloody, Anger in a Robe of Scarlet, and Suspicion squinting
with both Eyes; but above all the most conspicuous was the Battel of
the
Lapithæ and the
Centaurs. I detested so hideous a Shape, and
turned my Eyes upon
Saturn, who was stealing away behind him with a
Scythe in one Hand, and an Hour-glass in t'other unobserved. Behind
Necessity was
Vesta the Goddess of Fire with a Lamp which was
perpetually supply'd with Oyl; and whose Flame was eternal. She
cheered the rugged Brow of
Necessity, and warmed her so far as
almost to make her assume the Features and Likeness of
Choice.
December, January, and
February, passed on after the rest all in
Furrs; there was little Distinction to be made amongst them, and they
were only more or less displeasing as they discovered more or less
Haste towards the grateful Return of
Spring.
Z.
Contents
|
Wednesday, July 9, 1712 |
Steele |
—Quid non mortalia Pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames—translation
Virg.
A very agreeable Friend of mine, the other Day, carrying me in his Coach
into the Country to Dinner, fell into Discourse concerning the Care of
Parents due to their Children, and the Piety of Children towards their
Parents. He was reflecting upon the Succession of particular Virtues and
Qualities there might be preserved from one Generation to another, if
these Regards were reciprocally held in Veneration: But as he never
fails to mix an Air of Mirth and good Humour with his good Sense and
Reasoning, he entered into the following Relation.
I will not be confident in what Century, or under what Reign it
happened, that this Want of mutual Confidence and right Understanding
between Father and Son was fatal to the Family of the
Valentines
in
Germany
.
Basilius Valentinus
was a Person who had arrived at the
utmost Perfection in the Hermetick Art, and initiated his Son
Alexandrinus
in the same Mysteries: But as you know they are not to be
attained but by the Painful, the Pious, the Chaste, and Pure of Heart,
Basilius
did not open to him, because of his Youth, and the Deviations
too natural to it, the greatest Secrets of which he was Master, as well
knowing that the Operation would fail in the Hands of a Man so liable to
Errors in Life as
Alexandrinus
. But believing, from a certain
Indisposition of Mind as well as Body, his Dissolution was drawing nigh,
he called
Alexandrinus
to him, and as he lay on a Couch, over-against
which his Son was seated, and prepared by sending out Servants one after
another, and Admonition to examine that no one over-heard them, he
revealed the most important of his Secrets with the Solemnity and
Language of an Adept. My Son, said he, many have been the Watchings,
long the Lucubrations, constant the Labours of thy Father, not only to
gain a great and plentiful Estate to his Posterity, but also to take
Care that he should have no Posterity. Be not amazed, my Child; I do not
mean that thou shalt be taken from me, but that I will never leave thee,
and consequently cannot be said to have Posterity. Behold, my dearest
Alexandrinus
, the Effect of what was propagated in nine Months: We are
not to contradict Nature but to follow and to help her; just as long as
an Infant is in the Womb of its Parent, so long are these Medicines of
Revification in preparing. Observe this small Phial and this little
Gallipot, in this an Unguent, in the other a Liquor. In these, my child,
are collected such Powers, as shall revive the Springs of Life when they
are yet but just ceased, and give new Strength, new Spirits, and, in a
Word, wholly restore all the Organs and Senses of the human Body to as
great a Duration, as it had before enjoyed from its Birth to the Day of
the Application of these my Medicines. But, my beloved Son, Care must be
taken to apply them within ten Hours after the Breath is out of the
Body, while yet the Clay is warm with its late Life, and yet capable of
Resuscitation. I find my Frame grown crasie with perpetual Toil and
Meditation; and I conjure you, as soon as I am dead, to anoint me with
this Unguent; and when you see me begin to move, pour into my Lips this
inestimable Liquor, else the Force of the Ointment will be ineffectual.
By this Means you will give me Life as I have you, and we will from that
Hour mutually lay aside the Authority of having bestowed Life on each
other, but live as Brethren, and prepare new Medicines against such
another Period of Time as will demand another Application of the same
Restoratives. In a few Days after these wonderful Ingredients were
delivered to
Alexandrinus
,
Basilius
departed this Life. But such was
the pious Sorrow of the Son at the Loss of so excellent a Father, and
the first Transports of Grief had so wholly disabled him from all manner
of Business, that he never thought of the Medicines till the Time to
which his Father had limited their Efficacy was expired. To tell the
Truth,
Alexandrinus
was a Man of Wit and Pleasure, and considered his
Father had lived out his natural Time, his Life was long and uniform,
suitable to the Regularity of it; but that he himself, poor Sinner,
wanted a new Life, to repent of a very bad one hitherto; and in the
Examination of his Heart, resolved to go on as he did with this natural
Being of his, but repent very faithfully and spend very piously the Life
to which he should be restored by Application of these Rarities, when
Time should come, to his own Person.
It has been observed, that Providence frequently punishes the Self-love
of Men who would do immoderately for their own Off-spring, with Children
very much below their Characters and Qualifications, insomuch that they
only transmit their Names to be born by those who give daily Proofs of
the Vanity of the Labour and Ambition of their Progenitors.
It happened thus in the Family of
Basilius
; for
Alexandrinus
began
to enjoy his ample Fortune in all the Extremities of Houshold Expence,
Furniture, and insolent Equipage; and this he pursued till the Day of
his own Departure began, as he grew sensible, to approach. As
Basilius
was punished with a Son very unlike him,
Alexandrinus
was visited with
one of his own Disposition. It is natural that ill Men should be
suspicious, and
Alexandrinus
, besides that Jealousie, had Proofs of
the vitious Disposition of his Son
Renatus
, for that was his Name.
Alexandrinus
, as I observed, having very good Reasons for thinking it
unsafe to trust the real Secret of his Phial and Gallypot to any Man
living, projected to make sure Work, and hope for his Success depending
from the Avarice, not the Bounty of his Benefactor.
With this Thought he called
Renatus
to his Bed-side, and bespoke him
in the most pathetick Gesture and Accent. As much, my Son, as you have
been addicted to Vanity and Pleasure, as I also have been before you,
you nor I could escape the Fame, or the good Effects of the profound
Knowledge of our Progenitor, the Renowned
Basilius
. His Symbol is very
well known in the Philosophick World, and I shall never forget the
venerable Air of his Countenance, when he let me into the profound
Mysteries of
the Smaragdine Table of
Hermes.
It is true
, said he,
and far removed from all Colour of Deceit, That which is Inferior is
like that which is Superior, by which are acquired and perfected all the
Miracles of a certain Work. The Father is the Sun, the Mother the Moon:
the Wind is the Womb, the Earth is the Nurse of it, and Mother of all
Perfection. All this must be received with Modesty and Wisdom.
The
Chymical People carry in all their Jargon a whimsical sort of Piety,
which is ordinary with great Lovers of Money, and is no more but
deceiving themselves, that their Regularity and Strictness of Manners
for the Ends of this World, has some Affinity to the Innocence of Heart
which must recommend them to the next.
Renatus
wondered to hear his
Father talk so like an Adept, and with such a Mixture of Piety, while
Alexandrinus
observing his Attention fixed, proceeded: This Phial,
Child, and this little Earthen-Pot will add to thy Estate so much, as to
make thee the richest Man in the
German
Empire. I am going to my Long
Home, but shall not return to common Dust. Then he resumed a Countenance
of Alacrity, and told him, That if within an Hour after his Death he
anointed his whole Body, and poured down his Throat that Liquor which he
had from old
Basilius
, the Corps would be converted into pure Gold. I
will not pretend to express to you the unfeigned Tendernesses that
passed between these two extraordinary Persons; but if the Father
recommended the Care of his Remains with Vehemence and Affection, the
Son was not behind-hand in professing that he would not cut the least
Bit off him, but upon the utmost Extremity, or to provide for his
younger Brothers and Sisters.
Well,
Alexandrinus
died, and the Heir of his Body (as our Term is)
could not forbear in the Wantonness of his Heart, to measure the Length
and Breadth of his beloved Father, and cast up the ensuing Value of him
before he proceeded to Operation. When he knew the immense Reward of his
Pains, he began the Work:
lo! when he had anointed the Corps all
over, and began to apply the Liquor, the Body stirred, and
Renatus
, in
a Fright, broke the Phial
.
This tale is from the Description of the memorable
Sea and
Land Travels through Persia to the East Indies,
by Johann Albrecht von
Mandelslo, translated from the German of Olearius, by J. B. B. Bk v. p.
189. Basil Valentine, whom it makes the hero of a story after the manner
of the romances of Virgil the Enchanter, was an able chemist (in those
days an alchemist) of the sixteenth century, who is believed to have
been a Benedictine monk of Erfurth, and is not known to have had any
children. He was the author of the
Currus Triumphalis Antimonii
,
mentioned in a former note. His name was familiar through several books
in French, especially
L'Azoth des Philosophes, avec les 12 Clefs de
Philosophie
(Paris, 1660), and a
Testament de Basile Valentine
(London, 1671).
Contents
|
Thursday, July 10, 1712 |
Steele |
Quartum a rerum turpitudine abes, tantum Te a verborum libertate
sejungas.translation
Tull.
It is a certain Sign of an ill Heart to be inclined to Defamation. They
who are harmless and innocent, can have no Gratification that way; but
it ever arises from a Neglect of what is laudable in a Man's self, and
an Impatience of seeing it in another. Else why should Virtue provoke?
Why should Beauty displease in such a Degree, that a Man given to
Scandal never lets the Mention of either pass by him without offering
something to the Diminution of it? A Lady the other Day at a Visit being
attacked somewhat rudely by one, whose own Character has been very
roughly treated, answered a great deal of Heat and Intemperance very
calmly,
Good Madam spare me, who am none of your Match; I speak Ill of
no Body, and it is a new Thing to me to be spoken ill of.
Little Minds
think Fame consists in the Number of Votes they have on their Side among
the Multitude, whereas it is really the inseparable Follower of good and
worthy Actions. Fame is as natural a Follower of Merit, as a Shadow is
of a Body. It is true, when Crowds press upon you, this Shadow cannot be
seen, but when they separate from around you, it will again appear. The
Lazy, the Idle, and the Froward, are the Persons who are most pleas'd
with the little Tales which pass about the Town to the Disadvantage of
the rest of the World. Were it not for the Pleasure of speaking Ill,
there are Numbers of People who are too lazy to go out of their own
Houses, and too ill-natur'd to open their Lips in Conversation. It was
not a little diverting the other Day to observe a Lady reading a
Post-Letter, and at these Words,
After all her Airs, he has heard some
Story or other, and the Match is broke off
, give Orders in the midst of
her Reading,
Put to the Horses.
That a young Woman of Merit has missed
an advantagious Settlement, was News not to be delayed, lest some Body
else should have given her malicious Acquaintance that Satisfaction
before her. The Unwillingness to receive good Tidings is a Quality as
inseparable from a Scandal-Bearer, as the Readiness to divulge bad. But,
alas, how wretchedly low and contemptible is that State of Mind, that
cannot be pleased but by what is the Subject of Lamentation. This Temper
has ever been in the highest Degree odious to gallant Spirits. The
Persian
Soldier, who was heard reviling
Alexander
the Great, was
well admonished by his Officer;
Sir , you are paid to fight against
Alexander,
and not to rail at him
.
Cicero
in
of his Pleadings
, defending his Client from general
Scandal, says very handsomely, and with much Reason,
There are many who
have particular Engagements to the Prosecutor: There are many who are
known to have ill-will to him for whom I appear; there are many who are
naturally addicted to Defamation, and envious of any Good to any Man,
who may have contributed to spread Reports of this kind: For nothing is
so swift as Scandal, nothing is more easily sent abroad, nothing
received with more Welcome, nothing diffuses it self so universally. I
shall not deSir e, that if any Report to our Disadvantage has any Ground
for it, you would overlook or extenuate it: But if there be any thing
advanced without a Person who can say whence he had it, or which is
attested by one who forgot who told him it, or who had it from one of so
little Consideration that he did not then think it worth his Notice, all
such Testimonies as these, I know, you will think too slight to have any
Credit against the Innocence and Honour of your Fellow-Citizen
. When an
ill Report is traced, it very often vanishes among such as the Orator
has here recited. And how despicable a Creature must that be, who is in
Pain for what passes among so frivolous a People? There is a Town in
Warwickshire
of good Note, and formerly pretty famous for much
Animosity and Dissension, the chief Families of which have now turned
all their Whispers, Backbitings, Envies, and private Malices, into Mirth
and Entertainment, by means of a peevish old Gentlewoman, known by the
Title of the Lady
Bluemantle
. This Heroine had for many Years together
out-done the whole Sisterhood of Gossips in Invention, quick Utterance,
and unprovoked Malice. This good Body is of a lasting Constitution,
though extremely decayed in her Eyes, and decrepid in her Feet. The two
Circumstances of being always at Home from her Lameness, and very
attentive from her Blindness, make her Lodgings the Receptacle of all
that passes in Town, Good or Bad; but for the latter, she seems to have
the better Memory. There is another Thing to be noted of her, which is,
That as it is usual with old People, she has a livelier Memory of Things
which passed when she was very young, than of late Years. Add to all
this, that she does not only not love any Body, but she hates every
Body. The Statue in Rome does not serve to vent Malice half so well, as
this old Lady does to disappoint it. She does not know the Author of any
thing that is told her, but can readily repeat the Matter it self;
therefore, though she exposes all the whole Town, she offends no one
Body in it. She is so exquisitely restless and peevish, that she
quarrels with all about her, and sometimes in a Freak will instantly
change her Habitation. To indulge this Humour, she is led about the
Grounds belonging to the same House she is in, and the Persons to whom
she is to remove, being in the Plot, are ready to receive her at her own
Chamber again. At stated Times, the Gentlewoman at whose House she
supposes she is at the Time, is sent for to quarrel with, according to
her common Custom: When they have a Mind to drive the Jest, she is
immediately urged to that Degree, that she will board in a Family with
which she has never yet been; and away she will go this Instant, and
tell them all that the rest have been saying of them. By this means she
has been an Inhabitant of every House in the Place without stirring from
the same Habitation; and the many Stories which every body furnishes her
with to favour that Deceit, make her the general Intelligencer of the
Town of all that can be said by one Woman against another. Thus
groundless Stories die away, and sometimes Truths are smothered under
the general Word: When they have a Mind to discountenance a thing, Oh!
that is in my Lady