It is with very great Pleasure I take an Opportunity of publishing the
Gratitude I owe You, for the Place You allow me in your Friendship and
Familiarity. I will not acknowledge to You that I have often had You in
my Thoughts, when I have endeavoured to Draw, in some Parts of these
Discourses, the Character of a Good-natured, Honest, and Accomplished
Gentleman. But such Representations give my Reader an Idea of a Person
blameless only, or only laudable for such Perfections as extend no
farther than to his own private Advantage and Reputation.
But when I speak of You, I Celebrate One who has had the Happiness of
Possessing also those Qualities which make a Man useful to Society, and
of having had Opportunities of Exerting them in the most Conspicuous
Manner.
The Great Part You had, as
British
Embassador, in Procuring and
Cultivating the Advantageous Commerce between the Courts of
England
and
Portugal
, has purchased you the lasting Esteem of all who
understand the Interest of either Nation.
Those Personal Excellencies which are overrated by the ordinary World,
and too much neglected by Wise Men, You have applied with the justest
Skill and Judgment. The most graceful Address in Horsemanship, in the
Use of the Sword, and in Dancing, has been employed by You as lower
Arts, and as they have occasionally served to recover, or introduce the
Talents of a skilful Minister.
But your Abilities have not appear'd only in one Nation. When it was
your Province to Act as Her Majesty's Minister at the Court of
Savoy
,
at that time encamped, You accompanied that Gallant Prince thro' all the
Vicissitudes of his Fortune, and shared, by His Side, the Dangers of
that Glorious Day in which He recovered His Capital. As far as it
regards Personal Qualities, You attained, in that one Hour, the highest
Military Reputation. The Behaviour of our Minister in the Action, and
the good Offices done the Vanquished in the Name of the Queen of
England
, gave both the Conqueror and the Captive the most lively
Examples of the Courage and Generosity of the Nation He represented.
Your Friends and Companions in your Absence frequently talk these things
of You, and You cannot hide from us, (by the most discreet Silence in
any Thing which regards Your self) that the frank Entertainment we have
at your Table, your easie Condescension in little Incidents of Mirth and
Diversion, and general Complacency of Manners, are far from being the
greatest Obligations we have to You. I do assure You there is not one of
your Friends has a Greater Sense of your Merit in general, and of the
Favours You every Day do us, than,
Sir
,
Your most Obedient, and
most Humble Servant,
Richard
Steele.
Paul Methuen, at the date of this Dedication M.P. for
Brackley, and forty-two years old, was a lawyer who had distinguished
himself as a diplomatist at the Court of Lisbon in 1703, and arranged
the very short commercial treaty between Great Britain and Portugal which
bears his name. Methuen then represented England at the Court of the
Duke of Savory, who deserted the French cause at the end of 1602, and
the ambassador proved his courage also as a combatant when he took part
in the defence and rescue of Turin from the French in 1706. After his
return to England Paul Methuen was made (in 1709) a Commissioner of the
Admirality. In the year 1713 he first sat in Parliament as member of
Brackley. He held afterwards various offices in the States, as those of
Commissioner of the Treasury, Comptroller of the Household, Treasurer of
the Household, Commissioner for inspecting the Law, was made
Sir
Paul
Methuen, Knight of the Bath, and attained his highest dignity as Lord
Chancellor of Ireland before his death in 1757, at the age of 86. The
seventh volume, to which this Dedication is prefixed, is the last of the
original
Spectator
. With the eighth volume, representing an unsuccessful
attempt made to revive it, some time after its demise, Steele had
nothing to do, and that volume is not inscribed to any living person.
Contents
|
Wednesday, September 3, 1712 |
Steele |
Asperitas agrestis et inconcinna.
Hor.
translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Being of the Number of those that have lately retired from the Center
of Business and Pleasure, my Uneasiness in the Country where I am,
arises rather from the Society than the Solitude of it. To be obliged
to receive and return Visits from and to a Circle of Neighbours, who
through Diversity of Age or Inclinations, can neither be entertaining
or serviceable to us, is a vile Loss of Time, and a Slavery from which
a Man should deliver himself, if possible: For why must I lose the
remaining part of my Life, because they have thrown away the former
Part of theirs? It is to me an insupportable Affliction, to be
tormented with the Narrations of a Set of People, who are warm in
their Expressions of the quick Relish of that Pleasure which their
Dogs and Horses have a more delicate Taste of. I do also in my Heart
detest and abhor that damnable Doctrine and Position of the Necessity
of a Bumper, though to one's own Toast; for though 'tis pretended that
these deep Politicians are used only to inspire Gaiety, they certainly
drown that Chearfulness which would survive a moderate Circulation. If
at these Meetings it were left to every Stranger either to fill his
Glass according to his own Inclination, or to make his Retreat when he
finds he has been sufficiently obedient to that of others, these
Entertainments would be governed with more good Sense, and
consequently with more good Breeding, than at present they are. Indeed
where any of the Guests are known to measure their Fame or Pleasure by
their Glass, proper Exhortations might be used to these to push their
Fortunes in this sort of Reputation; but where 'tis unseasonably
insisted on to a modest Stranger, this Drench may be said to be
swallowed with
the same Necessity, as if it had been tendered in the
Horn
1 for that purpose, with this aggravating Circumstance, that it
distresses the Entertainer's Guest in the same degree as it relieves
his Horses.
To attend without Impatience an Account of five-barr'd Gates, double
Ditches, and Precipices, and to survey the Orator with de
Sir ing Eyes,
is to me extremely difficult, but absolutely necessary, to be upon
tolerable Terms with him: but then the occasional Burstings out into
Laughter, is of all other Accomplishments the most requisite. I
confess at present I have not that command of these Convulsions, as is
necessary to be good Company; therefore I beg you would publish this
Letter, and let me be known all at once for a queer Fellow, and
avoided. It is monstrous to me, that we, who are given to Reading and
calm Conversation, should ever be visited by these Roarers: But they
think they themselves, as Neighbours, may come into our Rooms with the
same Right, that they and their Dogs hunt in our Grounds.
Your Institution of Clubs I have always admir'd, in which you
constantly endeavoured the Union of the metaphorically Defunct, that
is such as are neither serviceable to the Busy and Enterprizing part
of Mankind, nor entertaining to the Retir'd and Speculative. There
should certainly therefore in each County be established a Club of the
Persons whose Conversations I have described, who for their own
private, as also the publick Emolument, should exclude, and be
excluded all other Society. Their Attire should be the same with their
Huntsmen's, and none should be admitted into this green
Conversation-Piece, except he had broke his Collar-bone thrice. A
broken Rib or two might also admit a Man without the least Opposition.
The President must necessarily have broken his Neck, and have been
taken up dead once or twice: For the more Maims this Brotherhood shall
have met with, the easier will their Conversation flow and keep up;
and when any one of these vigorous Invalids had finished his Narration
of the Collar-bone, this naturally would introduce the History of the
Ribs. Besides, the different Circumstances of their Falls and
Fractures would help to prolong and diversify their Relations. There
should also be another Club of such Men, who have not succeeded so
well in maiming themselves, but are however in the constant Pursuit of
these Accomplishments. I would by no means be suspected by what I have
said to traduce in general the Body of Fox-hunters; for whilst I look
upon a reasonable Creature full-speed after a Pack of Dogs, by way of
Pleasure, and not of Business, I shall always make honourable mention
of it.
But the most irksome Conversation of all others I have met with in the
Neighbourhood, has been among two or three of your Travellers, who
have overlooked Men and Manners, and have passed through
Franceand
Italywith the same Observation that the Carriers and Stage-Coachmen
do through
Great-Britain;that is, their Stops and Stages have been
regulated according to the Liquor they have met with in their Passage.
They indeed remember the Names of abundance of Places, with the
particular Fineries of certain Churches: But their distinguishing Mark
is certain Prettinesses of Foreign Languages, the Meaning of which
they could have better express'd in their own. The Entertainment of
these fine Observers,
Shakespearhas described to consist
In talking of the Alps and Appennines,
The Pyrenean, and the River Po.2
and then concludes with a Sigh,
Now this is worshipful Society!
I would not be thought in all this to hate such honest Creatures as
Dogs; I am only unhappy that I cannot partake in their Diversions. But
I love them so well, as Dogs, that I often go with my Pockets stuffed
with Bread to dispense my Favours, or make my way through them at
Neighbours' Houses. There is in particular a young Hound of great
Expectation, Vivacity, and Enterprize, that attends my Flights
where-ever he spies me. This Creature observes my Countenance, and
behaves himself accordingly. His Mirth, his Frolick, and Joy upon the
Sight of me has been observed, and I have been gravely de
Sir ed not to
encourage him so much, for it spoils his Parts; but I think he shews
them sufficiently in the several Boundings, Friskings, and Scourings,
when he makes his Court to me: But I foresee in a little time he and I
must keep Company with one another only, for we are fit for no other
in these Parts. Having informd you how I do pass my time in the
Country where I am, I must proceed to tell you how I would pass it,
had I such a Fortune as would put me above the Observance of Ceremony
and Custom.
My Scheme of a Country Life then should be as follows. As I am happy
in three or four very agreeable Friends, these I would constantly have
with me; and the Freedom we took with one another at School and the
University, we would maintain and exert upon all Occasions with great
Courage. There should be certain Hours of the Day to be employ'd in
Reading, during which time it should be impossible for any one of us
to enter the other's Chamber, unless by Storm. After this we would
communicate the Trash or Treasure we had met with, with our own
Reflections upon the Matter; the Justness of which we would controvert
with good-humour'd Warmth, and never spare one another out of the
complaisant Spirit of Conversation, which makes others affirm and deny
the same matter in a quarter of an Hour. If any of the Neighbouring
Gentlemen, not of our Turn, should take it in their heads to visit me,
I should look upon these Persons in the same degree Enemies to my
particular state of Happiness, as ever the French were to that of the
Publick, and I would be at an annual Expence in Spies to observe their
Motions. Whenever I should be surprized with a Visit, as I hate
Drinking. I would be brisk in swilling Bumpers, upon this Maxim, That
it is better to trouble others with my Impertinence, than to be
troubled my self with theirs. The Necessity of an Infirmary makes me
resolve to fall into that Project; and as we should be but Five, the
Terrors of an involuntary Separation, which our Number cannot so well
admit of, would make us exert our selves, in opposition to all the
particulars mentioned in your Institution of that equitable
Confinement. This my way of Life I know would subject me to the
Imputation of a morose, covetous and singular Fellow. These and all
other hard words, with all manner of insipid Jests, and all other
Reproach, would be matter of Mirth to me and my Friends: Besides, I
would destroy the Application of the Epithets Morose and Covetous, by
a yearly Relief of my undeservedly necessitous Neighbours, and by
treating my Friends and Domesticks with an Humanity that should
express the Obligation to lie rather on my side; and for the word
Singular, I was always of opinion every Man must be so, to be what one
would de
Sir e him.
Your very humble Servant,
J. R.
3
Mr. SPECTATOR,
About two Years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a Country
Family,
by my Mother's side related to me, to visit Mr.
Campbell,
the dumb Man
4; for they told me that that was chiefly what brought
them to Town, having heard Wonders of him in
Essex. I, who always
wanted Faith in Matters of that kind, was not easily prevailed on to
go; but lest they should take it ill, I went with them; when to my
surprize, Mr.
Campbell related all their past Life, (in short, had
he not been prevented, such a Discovery would have come out, as would
have ruined the next design of their coming to Town,
viz. buying
Wedding-Cloaths.) Our Names—though he never heard of us before—and
we endeavoured to conceal—were as familiar to him as to our selves.
To be sure,
Mr. SPECTATOR, he is a very learned and wise Man. Being
impatient to know my Fortune, having paid my respects in a
Family-
Jacobus, he told me (after his manner) among several other
things, that in a Year and nine Months I should fall ill of a new
Fever, be given over by my Physicians, but should with much difficulty
recover: That the first time I took the Air afterwards, I should be
address'd to by a young Gentleman of a plentiful Fortune, good Sense,
and a generous Spirit.
Mr. SPECTATOR, he is the purest Man in the
World, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest She in
Kent. I have been in quest of Mr.
Campbell these three Months, and
cannot find him out. Now hearing you are a dumb Man too, I thought you
might correspond, and be able to tell me something; for I think my
self highly oblig'd to make his Fortune, as he has mine. 'Tis very
possible your Worship, who has Spies all over this Town, can inform me
how to send to him: If you can, I Beseech you be as speedy as
possible, and you will highly oblige
Your constant Reader and Admirer,
Dulcibella Thankley.
Ordered
, That the Inspector I employ about Wonders, enquire at the
Golden-Lion
, opposite to the
Half-Moon
Tavern in
Drury-Lane
, into
the Merit of this Silent Sage, and report accordingly.
T.
Used for giving a drench to horses.
Falconbridge in
King John
Act. I sc. i.
This letter was by Steele's old college friend, Richard
Parker, who took his degree of M.A. in 1697, became fellow of Merton,
and died Vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland. This is the friend whose
condemnation of the comedy written by him in student days Steele had
accepted without question.
See note p. 421, vol. ii. [Volume 2 links:
of
.]
Contents
|
Thursday, September 4, 1712 |
Addison |
—Quæ res in se neque Consilium neque modum
Habet ullum, eam consilio regere non potes.
Tert.
translation
It is an old Observation, which has been made of Politicians who would
rather ingratiate themselves with their Sovereign, than promote his real
Service, that they accommodate their Counsels to his Inclinations, and
advise him to such Actions only as his Heart is naturally set upon. The
Privy-Counsellor of one in Love must observe the same Conduct, unless he
would forfeit the Friendship of the Person who de
Sir
es his Advice. I
have known several odd Cases of this Nature.
Hipparchus
was going to
marry a common Woman, but being resolved to do nothing without the
Advice of his Friend
Philander
, he consulted him upon the Occasion.
Philander
told him his Mind freely, and represented his Mistress to
him in such strong Colours, that the next Morning he received a
Challenge for his Pains, and before Twelve a Clock was run through the
Body by the Man who had asked his Advice.
Celia
was more prudent on
the like occasion; she de
Sir
ed
Leonilla
to give her Opinion freely
upon a young Fellow who made his Addresses to her.
Leonilla
, to oblige
her, told her with great Frankness, that, she looked upon him as one of
the most worthless—
Celia
, foreseeing what a Character she was to
expect, begged her not to go on, for that she had been privately married
to him above a Fortnight. The truth of it is, a Woman seldom asks Advice
before she has bought her Wedding-Cloaths. When she has made her own
Choice, for Form's sake she sends a
Congé d'elire
to her Friends.
If we look into the secret Springs and Motives that set People at work
in these Occasions, and put them upon asking Advice, which they never
intend to take; I look upon it to be none of the least, that they are
incapable of keeping a Secret which is so very pleasing to them. A Girl
longs to tell her Confident, that she hopes to be married in a little
time, and, in order to talk of the pretty Fellow that dwells so much in
her Thoughts, asks her very gravely, what she would advise her to do in
a case of so much Difficulty. Why else should
Melissa
, who had not a
Thousand Pound in the World, go into every Quarter of the Town to ask
her Acquaintance whether they would advise her to take
Tom Townly
,
that made his Addresses to her with an Estate of Five Thousand a Year?
'Tis very pleasant on this occasion, to hear the Lady propose her
Doubts, and to see the Pains she is at to get over them.
I must not here omit a Practice that is in use among the vainer Part of
our own Sex, who will often ask a Friend's Advice, in relation to a
Fortune whom they are never likely to come at.
Will. Honeycomb
, who is
now on the Verge of Threescore, took me aside not long since, and asked
me in his most serious Look, whether I would advise him to marry my Lady
Betty Single
, who, by the way, is one of the greatest Fortunes about
Town. I star'd him full in the Face upon so strange a Question; upon
which he immediately gave me an Inventory of her Jewels and Estate,
adding, that he was resolved to do nothing in a matter of such
Consequence without my Approbation. Finding he would have an Answer, I
told him, if he could get the Lady's Consent, he had mine. This is about
the Tenth Match which, to my knowledge,
Will
, has consulted his Friends
upon, without ever opening his Mind to the Party herself.
I have been engaged in this Subject by the following Letter, which comes
to me from some notable young Female Scribe, who, by the Contents of it,
seems to have carried Matters so far, that she is ripe for asking
Advice; but as I would not lose her Good-Will, nor forfeit the
Reputation which I have with her for Wisdom, I shall only communicate
the Letter to the Publick, without returning any Answer to it.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Now, Sir , the thing is this: Mr. Shapely is the prettiest Gentleman
about Town. He is very tall, but not too tall neither. He dances like
a Angel. His Mouth is made I don't know how, but 'tis the prettiest
that I ever saw in my Life. He is always laughing, for he has an
infinite deal of Wit. If you did but see how he rolls his Stockins! He
has a thousand pretty Fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, you
would like him. He is a very good Scholar, and can talk Latin as
fast as English. I wish you could but see him dance. Now you must
understand poor Mr. Shapely has no Estate; but how can he help that,
you know? And yet my Friends are so unreasonable as to be always
teazing me about him, because he has no Estate: but I am sure he has
that that is better than an Estate; for he is a Good-natured,
Ingenious, Modest, Civil, Tall, Well-bred, Handsome Man, and I am
obliged to him for his Civilities ever since I saw him. I forgot to
tell you that he has black Eyes, and looks upon me now and then as if
he had tears in them. And yet my Friends are so unreasonable, that
they would have me be uncivil to him. I have a good Portion which they
cannot hinder me of, and I shall be fourteen on the 29th Day of
August next, and am therefore willing to settle in the World as soon
as I can, and so is Mr. Shapely. But every body I advise with here
is poor Mr. Shapely's Enemy. I deSir e therefore you will give me
your Advice, for I know you are a wise Man; and if you advise me well,
I am resolved to follow it. I heartily wish you could see him dance,
and am,
Sir ,
Your most humble Servant,
B. D.
He loves your Spectators mightily.
C.
Contents
|
Friday, September 5, 1712 |
Addison |
Among my Daily-Papers which I bestow on the Publick, there are some
which are written with Regularity and Method, and others that run out
into the Wildness of those Compositions which go by the Names of
Essays
. As for the first, I have the whole Scheme of the Discourse in
my Mind before I set Pen to Paper. In the other kind of Writing, it is
sufficient that I have several Thoughts on a Subject, without troubling
my self to range them in such order, that they may seem to grow out of
one another, and be disposed under the proper Heads.
Seneca
and
Montaigne
are Patterns for Writing in this last kind, as
Tully
and
Aristotle
excel in the other. When I read an Author of Genius who
writes without Method, I fancy myself in a Wood that abounds with a
great many noble Objects, rising among one another in the greatest
Confusion and Disorder. When I read a methodical Discourse, I am in a
regular Plantation, and can place my self in its several Centres, so as
to take a view of all the Lines and Walks that are struck from them. You
may ramble in the one a whole Day together, and every Moment discover
something or other that is new to you; but when you have done, you will
have but a confused imperfect Notion of the Place: In the other, your
Eye commands the whole Prospect, and gives you such an Idea of it, as is
not easily worn out of the Memory.
Irregularity and want of Method are only supportable in Men of great
Learning or Genius, who are often too full to be exact, and therefore
chuse to throw down their Pearls in Heaps before the Reader, rather than
be at the Pains of stringing them.
Method is of advantage to a Work, both in respect to the Writer and the
Reader. In regard to the first, it is a great help to his Invention.
When a Man has plann'd his Discourse, he finds a great many Thoughts
rising out of every Head, that do not offer themselves upon the general
Survey of a Subject. His Thoughts are at the same time more
intelligible, and better discover their Drift and Meaning, when they are
placed in their proper Lights, and follow one another in a regular
Series, than when they are thrown together without Order and Connexion.
There is always an Obscurity in Confusion, and the same Sentence that
would have enlightened the Reader in one part of a Discourse, perplexes
him in another. For the same reason likewise
Thought in a
methodical Discourse shews
it
` self in its greatest Beauty, as the
several Figures in a piece of Painting receive new Grace from their
Disposition in the Picture. The Advantages of a Reader from a methodical
Discourse, are correspondent with those of the Writer. He comprehends
every thing easily, takes it in with Pleasure, and retains it long.
Method is not less requisite in ordinary Conversation than in Writing,
provided a Man would talk to make himself understood. I, who hear a
thousand Coffee-house Debates every Day, am very sensible of this want
of Method in the Thoughts of my honest Countrymen. There is not one
Dispute in ten which is managed in those Schools of Politicks, where,
after the three first Sentences, the Question is not entirely lost. Our
Disputants put me in mind of the Cuttle-Fish, that when he is unable to
extricate himself, blackens all the Water about him till he becomes
invisible. The Man who does not know how to methodize his Thoughts, has
always,
borrow a Phrase from the Dispensary,
a barren Superfluity of
Words;
the Fruit is lost amidst the Exuberance of Leaves.
Tom Puzzle
is one of the most Eminent Immethodical Disputants of any
that has fallen under my Observation.
Tom
has read enough to make him
very Impertinent; his Knowledge is sufficient to raise Doubts, but not
to clear them. It is pity that he has so much Learning, or that he has
not a great deal more. With these Qualifications
Tom
sets up for a
Free-thinker, finds a great many things to blame in the Constitution of
his Country, and gives shrewd Intimations that he does not believe
another World. In short,
Puzzle
is an Atheist as much as his Parts
will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen common-place Topicks,
into which he never fails to turn the Conversation, whatever was the
Occasion of it: Tho' the matter in debate be about
Doway
or
Denain
,
it is ten to one but half his Discourse runs upon the Unreasonableness
of Bigottry and Priest-craft. This makes Mr.
Puzzle
the Admiration of
all those who have less Sense than himself, and the Contempt of those
who have more. There is none in Town whom
Tom
dreads so much as my
Friend
Will Dry
.
Will
, who is acquainted with
Tom's
Logick, when
he finds him running off the Question, cuts him short with a
What then?
We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our present Purpose?
I
have known
Tom
eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he
thought, in the Superiority of the Argument, when he has been non-plus'd
on a sudden by Mr.
Dry's
de
Sir
ing him to tell the Company what it was
that he endeavoured to prove. In short,
Dry
is a Man of a clear
methodical Head, but few Words, and gains the same Advantage over
Puzzle
, that a small Body of regular Troops would gain over a
numberless undisciplined Militia.
C.
its