Buck
. Is it that People's Passions have their Rise in
Self-Love, and thought themselves (in spite of all the Courage they had)
liable to the Fate of
Miller
, but could not so easily think themselves
qualified like
Buck
?
Tully
of this Custom with less Horrour than one would expect,
though he confesses it was much abused in his Time, and seems directly
to approve of it under its first Regulations, when Criminals only fought
before the People.
Crudele Gladiatorum spectaculum et inhumanum
nonnullis videri solet; et haud scio annon ita sit ut nunc fit; cum vero
sontes ferro depugnabant, auribus fortasse multa, oculis quidem nulla,
poterat esse fortior contra dolorem et mortem disciplina. The Shows of
Gladiators may be thought barbarous and inhumane, and I know not but it
is so as it is now practised; but in those Times when only Criminals
were Combatants, the Ear perhaps might receive many better Instructions,
but it is impossible that any thing which affects our Eyes, should
fortifie us so well against Pain and Death.
T.
See note on p. 118, vol. i. [Volume 1 links:
of
.]
John Sparkes of Coventry has this piece of biography upon
his tombstone:
'To the memory of Mr. John Sparkes, a native of this city; he was a
man of a mild disposition, a gladiator by profession, who, after
having fought 350 battles in the principal parts of Europe with honour
and applause, at length quitted the stage, sheathed his sword, and,
with Christian resignation, submitted to the grand victor in the 52nd
year of his age.
Anno salutis humanæ, 1733.'
Serjeant James Miller afterwards became a captain, and fought in
Scotland, under the Duke of Cumberland in 1745.
Tuscul. Quaest. lib. II.,
De Tolerando Dolore
.
Contents
Tune impune hæc facias? Tune hic homines adolescentulos
Imperitos rerum, eductos libere, in fraudem illicis?
Sollicitando, et pollicitando eorum animos lactas?
Ac meritricios amores nuptiis conglutinas?
Ter. And.
translation
The other Day passed by me in her Chariot a Lady with that pale and wan
Complexion, which we sometimes see in young People, who are fallen into
Sorrow and private Anxiety of Mind, which antedate Age and Sickness. It
is not three Years ago since she was gay, airy, and a little towards
Libertine in her Carriage; but, methought, I easily forgave her that
little Insolence, which she so severely pays for in her present
Condition.
Favilla
, of whom I am speaking, is married to a sullen Fool
with Wealth: Her Beauty and Merit are lost upon the Dolt, who is
insensible of Perfection in any thing. Their Hours together are either
painful or insipid: The Minutes she has to herself in his Absence, are
not sufficient to give Vent at her Eyes to the Grief and Torment of his
last Conversation. This poor Creature was sacrificed with a Temper
(which, under the Cultivation of a Man of Sense, would have made the
most agreeable Companion) into the Arms of this loathsome Yoak-fellow by
Sempronia
.
Sempronia
is a good Lady, who supports herself in an
affluent Condition, by contracting Friendship with rich young Widows and
Maids of plentiful Fortunes at their own Disposal, and bestowing her
Friends upon worthless indigent Fellows; on the other Side, she ensnares
inconsiderate and rash Youths of great Estates into the Arms of vitious
Women. For this Purpose, she is accomplished in all the Arts which can
make her acceptable at impertinent Visits; she knows all that passes in
every Quarter, and is well acquainted with all the favourite Servants,
Busiebodies, Dependants, and poor Relations of all Persons of Condition
in the whole Town. At the Price of a good Sum of Money,
Sempronia
, by
the Instigation of
Favilla's
Mother, brought about the Match for the
Daughter, and the Reputation of this, which is apparently, in point of
Fortune, more than
Favilla
could expect, has gained her the Visits and
frequent Attendance of the Crowd of Mothers, who had rather see their
Children miserable in great Wealth, than the happiest of the Race of
Mankind in a less conspicuous State of Life. When
Sempronia
is so well
acquainted with a Woman's Temper and Circumstance, that she believes
Marriage would be acceptable to her, and advantageous to the Man who
shall get her; her next Step is to look out for some one, whose
Condition has some secret Wound in it, and wants a Sum, yet, in the Eye
of the World, not unsuitable to her. If such is not easily had, she
immediately adorns a worthless Fellow with what Estate she thinks
convenient, and adds as great a Share of good Humour and Sobriety as is
requisite: After this is settled, no Importunities, Arts, and Devices
are omitted to hasten the Lady to her Happiness. In the general indeed
she is a Person of so strict Justice, that she marries a poor Gallant to
a rich Wench, and a Moneyless Girl to a Man of Fortune. But then she has
no manner of Conscience in the Disparity, when she has a Mind to impose
a poor Rogue for one of an Estate, she has no Remorse in adding to it,
that he is illiterate, ignorant, and unfashioned; but makes those
Imperfections Arguments of the Truth of his Wealth, and will, on such an
Occasion, with a very grave Face, charge the People of Condition with
Negligence in the Education of their Children. Exception being made
t'other Day against an ignorant Booby of her own Cloathing, whom she was
putting off for a rich Heir,
Madam
, said she,
you know there is no
making Children who know they have Estates attend their Books.
Sempronia,
by these Arts, is loaded with Presents, importuned for her
Acquaintance, and admired by those who do not know the first Taste of
Life, as a Woman of exemplary good Breeding. But sure, to murder and to
rob are less Iniquities, than to raise Profit by Abuses, as irreparable
as taking away Life; but more grievous, as making it lastingly unhappy.
To rob a Lady at Play of Half her Fortune, is not so ill, as giving the
whole and her self to an unworthy Husband. But
Sempronia
can
administer Consolation to an unhappy Fair at Home, by leading her to an
agreeable Gallant elsewhere. She can then preach the general Condition
of all the Married World, and tell an unexperienced young Woman the
Methods of softning her Affliction, and laugh at her Simplicity and Want
of Knowledge, with an
Oh! my Dear, you will know better.
The Wickedness of
Sempronia,
one would think, should be superlative;
but I cannot but esteem that of some Parents equal to it; I mean such as
sacrifice the greatest Endowments and Qualifications to base Bargains. A
Parent who forces a Child of a liberal and ingenious Spirit into the
Arms of a Clown or a Blockhead, obliges her to a Crime too odious for a
Name. It is in a Degree the unnatural Conjunction of rational and brutal
Beings. Yet what is there so common, as the bestowing an accomplished
Woman with such a Disparity. And I could name Crowds who lead miserable
Lives, or want of Knowledge in their Parents, of this Maxim, that good
Sense and good Nature always go together. That which is attributed to
Fools, and called good Nature, is only an Inability of observing what is
faulty, which turns in Marriage, into a Suspicion of every thing as
such, from a Consciousness of that Inability.
Mr.
Spectator,
'I am entirely of your Opinion with Relation to the Equestrian
Females, who affect both the Masculine and Feminine Air at the same
time; and cannot forbear making a Presentment against another Order of
them who grow very numerous and powerful; and since our Language is
not very capable of good compound Words, I must be contented to call
them only the
Naked Shouldered. These Beauties are not contented to
make Lovers where-ever they appear, but they must make Rivals at the
same time. Were you to see
Gatty walk the
Park at high Mall, you
would expect those who followed her and those who met her could
immediately draw their Swords for her. I hope,
Sir , you will provide
for the future, that Women may stick to their Faces for doing any
future Mischief and not allow any but direct Traders in Beauty to
expose more than the fore Part of the Neck, unless you please to allow
this After-Game to those who are very defective in the Charms of the
Countenance. I can say, to my Sorrow, the present Practice is very
unfair, when to look back is Death; and it may be said of our
Beauties, as a great Poet did of Bullets,
They kill and wound like Parthians as they fly.
I submit this to your Animadversion; and am, for the little while I
have left,
Your humble Servant, the languishing Philanthus.
P. S. Suppose you mended my Letter, and made a Simile about the
Porcupine, but I submit that also.
T.
Contents
|
Wednesday, July 23, 1712 |
Steele |
It is a very common Expression, That such a one is very good-natur'd,
but very passionate. The Expression indeed is very good-natur'd, to
allow passionate People so much Quarter: But I think a passionate Man
deserves the least Indulgence Imaginable. It is said, it is soon over;
that is, all the Mischief he does is quickly dispatch'd, which, I think,
is no great Recommendation to Favour. I have known one of these
good-natur'd passionate Men say in a mix'd Company even to his own Wife
or Child, such Things as the most inveterate Enemy of his Family would
not have spoke, even in Imagination. It is certain that quick
Sensibility is inseparable from a ready Understanding; but why should
not that good Understanding call to it self all its Force on such
Occasions, to master that sudden Inclination to Anger.
of the
greatest Souls now in the World
is the most subject by Nature to
Anger, and yet so famous from a Conquest of himself this Way, that he is
the known Example when you talk of Temper and Command of a Man's Self.
To contain the Spirit of Anger, is the worthiest Discipline we can put
our selves to. When a Man has made any Progress this way, a frivolous
Fellow in a Passion, is to him as contemptible as a froward Child. It
ought to be the Study of every Man, for his own Quiet and Peace. When he
stands combustible and ready to flame upon every thing that touches him,
Life is as uneasie to himself as it is to all about him.
Syncropius
leads, of all Men living, the most ridiculous Life; he is ever
offending, and begging Pardon. If his Man enters the Room without what
he sent for,
That Blockhead
, begins he—
Gentlemen, I ask your
Pardon, but Servants now a-days
—The wrong Plates are laid, they are
thrown into the Middle of the Room; his Wife stands by in Pain for him,
which he sees in her Face, and answers as if he had heard all she was
thinking;
Why, what the Devil! Why don't you take Care to give Orders
in these things?
His Friends sit down to a tasteless Plenty of every
thing, every Minute expecting new Insults from his impertinent Passions.
In a Word, to eat with, or visit
Syncropius
, is no other than going to
see him exercise his Family, exercise their Patience, and his own Anger.
It is monstrous that the Shame and Confusion in which this good-natured
angry Man must needs behold his Friends while he thus lays about him,
does not give him so much Reflection as to create an Amendment. This is
the most scandalous Disuse of Reason imaginable; all the harmless Part
of him is no more than that of a Bull-Dog, they are tame no longer than
they are not offended. One of these good-natured angry Men shall, in an
Instant, assemble together so many Allusions to secret Circumstances, as
are enough to dissolve the Peace of all the Families and Friends he is
acquainted with, in a Quarter of an Hour, and yet the next Moment be the
best-natured Man in the whole World. If you would see Passion in its
Purity, without Mixture of Reason, behold it represented in a mad Hero,
drawn by a mad Poet.
Nat Lee
makes his
Alexander
say thus:
Away, begon, and give a Whirlwind Room,
Or I will blow you up like Dust! Avaunt;
Madness but meanly represents my Toil.
Eternal Discord!
Fury! Revenge! Disdain and Indignation!
Tear my swoln Breast, make way for Fire and Tempest.
My Brain is burst, Debate and Reason quench'd;
The Storm is up, and my hot bleeding Heart
Splits with the Rack, while Passions, like the Wind,
Rise up to Heav'n, and put out all the Stars.
Every passionate Fellow in Town talks half the Day with as little
Consistency, and threatens Things as much out of his Power.
The next disagreeable Person to the outrageous Gentleman, is one of a
much lower Order of Anger, and he is what we commonly call a peevish
Fellow. A peevish Fellow is one who has some Reason in himself for being
out of Humour, or has a natural Incapacity for Delight, and therefore
disturbs all who are happier than himself with Pishes and Pshaws, or
other well-bred Interjections, at every thing that is said or done in
his Presence. There should be Physick mixed in the Food of all which
these Fellows eat in good Company. This Degree of Anger passes,
forsooth, for a Delicacy of Judgment, that won't admit of being easily
pleas'd: but none above the Character of wearing a peevish Man's Livery,
ought to bear with his ill Manners. All Things among Men of Sense and
Condition should pass the Censure, and have the Protection, of the Eye
of Reason.
No Man ought to be tolerated in an habitual Humour, Whim, or
Particularity of Behaviour, by any who do not wait upon him for Bread.
Next to the peevish Fellow is the Snarler. This Gentleman deals mightily
in what we call the Irony, and as those sort of People exert themselves
most against these below them, you see their Humour best, in their Talk
to their Servants.
That is so like you, You are a fine Fellow, Thou art
the quickest Head-piece
, and the like. One would think the Hectoring,
the Storming, the Sullen, and all the different Species and
Subordinations of the Angry should be cured, by knowing they live only
as pardoned Men; and how pityful is the Condition of being only
suffered? But I am interrupted by the pleasantest Scene of Anger and the
Disappointment of it that I have ever known, which happened while I was
yet Writing, and I overheard as I sat in the Backroom at a
French
Bookseller's. There came into the Shop a very learned Man with an erect
Solemn Air, and tho' a Person of great Parts otherwise, slow in
understanding anything which makes against himself. The Composure of the
faulty Man, and the whimsical Perplexity of him that was justly angry,
is perfectly New: After turning over many Volumes, said the Seller to
the Buyer,
Sir , you know I have long asked you to send me back the
first Volume of French Sermons I formerly lent you;
Sir
, said the
Chapman, I have often looked for it but cannot find it; It is certainly
lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is so many Years ago;
then,
Sir , here is the other Volume, I'll send you home that, and please to
pay for both
. My Friend, reply'd he, canst thou be so Senseless as not
to know that one Volume is as imperfect in my Library as in your Shop?
Yes, Sir , but it is you have lost the first Volume, and to be short I
will be Paid.
Sir
, answered the Chapman, you are a young Man, your Book
is lost, and learn by this little Loss to bear much greater Adversities,
which you must expect to meet with.
Yes, Sir , I'll bear when I must,
but I have not lost now, for I say you have it and shall pay me.
Friend, you grow Warm, I tell you the Book is lost, and I foresee in the
Course even of a prosperous Life, that you will meet Afflictions to make
you Mad, if you cannot bear this Trifle.
Sir , there is in this Case no
need of bearing, for you have the Book.
I say,
Sir
, I have not the
Book. But your Passion will not let you hear enough to be informed that
I have it not. Learn Resignation of your self to the Distresses of this
Life: Nay do not fret and fume, it is my Duty to tell you that you are
of an impatient Spirit, and an impatient Spirit is never without Woe.
Was ever any thing like this?
Yes,
Sir
, there have been many things
like this. The Loss is but a Trifle, but your Temper is Wanton, and
incapable of the least Pain; therefore let me advise you, be patient,
the Book is lost, but do not you for that Reason lose your self.
T.
Lord Somers.
Contents
|
Thursday, July 24, 1712 |
Addison |
Hi narrata ferunt alio: mensuraque ficti
Crescit; et auditis aliquid novus adjicit auctor.
Ovid.
translation
Ovid
the Palace of Fame
as situated in the very Center of
the Universe, and perforated with so many Windows and Avenues as gave
her the Sight of every thing that was done in the Heavens, in the Earth,
and in the Sea. The Structure of it was contrived in so admirable a
manner, that it Eccho'd every Word which was spoken in the whole Compass
of Nature; so that the Palace, says the Poet, was always filled with a
confused Hubbub of low dying Sounds, the Voices being almost spent and
worn out before they arrived at this General Rendezvous of Speeches and
Whispers.
I consider Courts with the same Regard to the Governments which they
superintend, as
Ovid's
Palace of Fame with regard to the Universe. The
Eyes of a watchful Minister run through the whole People. There is
scarce a Murmur or Complaint that does not reach his Ears. They have
News-gatherers and Intelligencers distributed into their several Walks
and Quarters, who bring in their respective Quotas, and make them
acquainted with the Discourse and Conversation of the whole Kingdom or
Common-wealth where they are employed. The wisest of Kings, alluding to
these invisible and unsuspected Spies, who are planted by Kings and
Rulers over their Fellow-Citizens, as well as to those Voluntary
Informers that are buzzing about the Ears of a great Man, and making
their Court by such secret Methods of Intelligence, has given us a very
prudent
:
Curse not the King, no not in thy Thought, and Curse
not the Rich in thy Bedchamber: For a Bird of the Air shall carry the
Voice, and that which hath Wings shall tell the matter.
As it is absolutely necessary for Rulers to make use of other People's
Eyes and Ears, they should take particular Care to do it in such a
manner, that it may not bear too hard on the Person whose Life and
Conversation are enquired into. A Man who is capable of so infamous a
Calling as that of a Spy, is not very much to be relied upon. He can
have no great Ties of Honour, or Checks of Conscience, to restrain him
in those covert Evidences, where the Person accused has no Opportunity
of vindicating himself. He will be more industrious to carry that which
is grateful, than that which is true.
There will be no Occasion for him, if he does not hear and see things
worth Discovery; so that he naturally inflames every Word and
Circumstance, aggravates what is faulty, perverts what is good, and
misrepresents what is indifferent. Nor is it to be doubted but that such
ignominious Wretches let their private Passions into these their
clandestine Informations, and often wreck their particular Spite or
Malice against the Person whom they are set to watch. It is a pleasant
Scene enough, which an
Italian
Author describes between a Spy, and a
Cardinal who employed him. The Cardinal is represented as minuting down
every thing that is told him. The Spy begins with a low Voice, Such an
one, the Advocate, whispered to one of his Friends, within my Hearing,
that your Eminence was a very great Poultron; and after having given his
Patron time to take it down, adds that another called him a Mercenary
Rascal in a publick Conversation. The Cardinal replies, Very well, and
bids him go on. The Spy proceeds, and loads him with Reports of the same
Nature, till the Cardinal rises in great Wrath, calls him an impudent
Scoundrel, and kicks him out of the Room.
It is observed of great and heroick Minds, that they have not only shewn
a particular Disregard to those unmerited Reproaches which have been
cast upon 'em, but have been altogether free from that Impertinent
Curiosity of enquiring after them, or the poor Revenge of resenting
them. The Histories of
Alexander
and
Cæsar
are full of this kind of
Instances. Vulgar Souls are of a quite contrary Character.
Dionysius
,
the Tyrant of
Sicily
, had a Dungeon which was a very curious Piece of
Architecture; and of which, as I am informed, there are still to be seen
some Remains in that Island. It was called
Dionysius's
Ear, and built
with several little Windings and Labyrinths in the form of a real Ear.
The Structure of it made it a kind of whispering Place, but such a one
as gathered the Voice of him who spoke into a Funnel, which was placed
at the very Top of it. The Tyrant used to lodge all his State-Criminals,
or those whom he supposed to be engaged together in any Evil Designs
upon him, in this Dungeon. He had at the
time an Apartment over it,
where he used to apply himself to the Funnel, and by that Means
over-hear every thing that was whispered in
the
Dungeon. I believe
one may venture to affirm, that a
Cæsar
or an
Alexander
would rather
have died by the Treason, than have used such disingenuous Means for the
detecting of it. A Man, who in ordinary Life is very Inquisitive after
every thing which is spoken ill of him, passes his Time but very
indifferently. He is wounded by every Arrow that is shot at him, and
puts it in the Power of every insignificant Enemy to disquiet him. Nay,
he will suffer from what has been said of him, when it is forgotten by
those who said or heard it. For this Reason I could never bear one of
those officious Friends,
would be telling every malicious Report,
every idle Censure that
passed
upon me. The Tongue of Man is so
petulant, and his Thoughts so variable, that one should not lay too
great a Stress upon any present Speeches and Opinions. Praise and
Obloquy proceed very frequently out of the same Mouth upon the same
Person, and upon the same Occasion. A generous Enemy will sometimes
bestow Commendations, as the dearest Friend cannot sometimes refrain
from speaking Ill. The Man who is indifferent in either of these
Respects, gives his Opinion at random, and praises or disapproves as he
finds himself in Humour.
I shall conclude this Essay with Part of a Character, which
is finely
by the Earl of
Clarendon
, in the first Book of
his History, and which gives us the lively Picture of a great
Man teizing himself with an absurd Curiosity.
'He had not that Application and Submission, and Reverence for the
Queen, as might have been expected from his Wisdom and Breeding; and
often crossed her Pretences and De
Sir es with more Rudeness than was
natural to him. Yet he was impertinently sollicitous to know what her
Majesty said of him in private, and what Resentments she had towards
him. And when by some Confidents, who had their Ends upon him from
those Offices, he was informed of some bitter Expressions fallen from
her Majesty, he was so exceedingly afflicted and tormented with the
Sense of it, that sometimes by passionate Complaints and
Representations to the King; sometimes by more dutiful Addresses and
Expostulations with the Queen, in bewailing his Misfortune; he
frequently exposed himself, and left his Condition worse than it was
before, and the Eclaircisment commonly ended in the Discovery of the
Persons from whom he had received his most secret Intelligence.'
5
C.
Metamorphoses
, Bk xii.
Eccl
. x. 20.
this
passes
Written of Lord Treasurer Western, Earl of Portland.
Contents
|
Friday, July 25, 1712 |
Addison |
Vivere si rectè nescis, discede peritis.
Hor.
translation