Sappho
could have been upon adding two Strings to the Lute. To be
short, I found that his whole Kitchen was furnished with musical
Instruments; and could not but look upon this Artist as a kind of
Burlesque Musician.
He afterwards of his own Accord fell into the Imitation of several
Singing-Birds. My Friend and I toasted our Mistresses to the
Nightingale, when all of a sudden we were surpriz'd with the musick of
the Thrush. He next proceeded to the Sky-Lark, mounting up by a proper
Scale of Notes, and afterwards falling to the Ground with a very easy
and regular Descent. He then contracted his Whistle to the Voice of
several Birds of the smallest Size. As he is a Man of a larger Bulk and
higher Stature than ordinary, you would fancy him a Giant when you
look'd upon him, and a Tom Tit when you shut your Eyes. I must not omit
acquainting my Reader, that this accomplished Person was formerly the
Master of a Toy-shop near
Temple-Bar
; and that the famous
Charles
Mathers
was bred up under him. I am told that the Misfortunes which he
has met with in the World, are chiefly owing to his great Application to
his Musick; and therefore cannot but recommend him to my Readers as one
who deserves their Favour, and may afford them great Diversion over a
Bottle of Wine, which he sells at the Queen's Arms, near the End of the
little Piazza in
Covent-Garden.
Footnote 1:
Named Daintry. He was of the trained bands, and commonly
known as Captain Daintry.
Contents
|
Friday, July 23, 1714 |
Addison |
As the Work I have engaged in, will not only consist of Papers of Humour
and Learning, but
several Essays Moral and Divine, I shall publish
the following one, which is founded on a former SPECTATOR
, and sent
me by a particular Friend, not questioning but it will please such of my
Readers, as think it no Disparagement to their Understandings to give
way sometimes to a serious Thought.
Sir ,
In your Paper of
Friday the 9th Instant, you had Occasion to
consider the Ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time, to shew,
that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to
every thing, and privy to all the Modes and Parts of its Existence;
or, in other Words, that his Omniscience and Omnipresence are
coexistent, and run together through the whole Infinitude of Space.
This Consideration might furnish us with many Incentives to Devotion
and Motives to Morality, but as this Subject has been handled by
several excellent Writers, I shall consider it in a Light wherein I
have not seen it placed by others.
- First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being
who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence!
-
Secondly, How deplorable is the Condition of an intellectual Being,
who feels no other Effects from this his Presence but such as proceed
from Divine Wrath and Indignation!
-
Thirdly, How happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being, who
is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his
Mercy and Loving-kindness!
First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being,
who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence!
Every
Particle of Matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes
through it. The Heavens and the Earth, the Stars and Planets, move and
gravitate by Vertue of this great Principle within them. All the dead
Parts of Nature are invigorated by the Presence of their Creator, and
made capable of exerting their respective Qualities. The several
Instincts, in the brute Creation, do likewise operate and work towards
the several Ends which are agreeable to them, by this Divine Energy.
Man only, who does not co-operate with this holy Spirit, and is
unattentive to his Presence, receives none of those Advantages from
it, which are perfective of his Nature, and necessary to his
Well-being. The Divinity is with him, and in him, and everywhere about
him, but of no Advantage to him. It is the same thing to a Man without
Religion, as if there were no God in the World. It is indeed
impossible for an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his
Creatures, but tho' he cannot withdraw his Essence from us, which
would argue an Imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the
Joys and Consolations of it. His Presence may perhaps be necessary to
support us in our Existence; but he may leave this our Existence to it
self, with regard to its Happiness or Misery. For, in this Sense, he
may cast us away from his Presence, and take his holy Spirit from us.
This single Consideration one would think sufficient to make us open
our Hearts to all those Infusions of Joy and Gladness which are so
near at Hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we
consider,
Secondly, The deplorable Condition of an intellectual Being who
feels no other Effects from his Maker's Presence, but such as proceed
from Divine Wrath and Indignation!
We may assure our selves, that the great Author of Nature will not
always be as one who is indifferent to any of his Creatures. Those who
will not feel him in his Love, will be sure at length to feel him in
his Displeasure. And how dreadful is the Condition of that Creature,
who is only sensible of the Being of his Creator by what he suffers
from him! He is as essentially present in Hell as in Heaven, but the
Inhabitants of those accursed Places behold him only in his Wrath, and
shrink within the Flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in
the Power of Imagination to conceive the fearful Effects of
Omnipotence incensed.
But I shall only consider the Wretchedness of an intellectual Being,
who, in this Life, lies under the Displeasure of him, that at all Times
and in all Places is intimately united with him. He is able to disquiet
the Soul, and vex it in all its Faculties. He can hinder any of the
greatest Comforts of Life from refreshing us, and give an Edge to every
one of its slightest Calamities. Who then can bear the Thought of being
an Out-cast from his Presence, that is, from the Comforts of it, or of
feeling it only in its Terrors? How pathetick is that Expostulation of
Job, when, for the Tryal of his Patience, he was made to look upon
himself in this deplorable Condition!
Why hast thou set me as a Mark against thee, so that I am
become a Burthen to my self?
But,
Thirdly, how happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being,
who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his
Mercy and Loving-kindness.
The Blessed in Heaven behold him Face to Face; that is, are as
sensible of his Presence as we are of the Presence of any Person whom
we look upon with our Eyes. There is doubtless a Faculty in Spirits,
by which they apprehend one another, as our Senses do material
Objects; and there is no Question but our Souls, when they are
disembodied, or placed in glorified Bodies, will by this Faculty, in
whatever Part of Space they reside, be always sensible of the Divine
Presence. We, who have this Veil of Flesh standing between us and the
World of Spirits, must be Content to know that the Spirit of God is
present with us, by the Effects which he produces in us. Our outward
Senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however taste and see
how gracious he is, by his Influence upon our Minds, by those Virtuous
Thoughts which he awakens in us, by those secret Comforts and
Refreshments which he conveys into our Souls, and by those ravishing
Joys and inward Satisfactions, which are perpetually springing up, and
diffusing themselves among all the Thoughts of good Men. He is lodged
in our very Essence, and is as a Soul within the Soul, to irradiate
its Understanding, rectifie its Will, purifie its Passions, and
enliven all the Powers of Man. How happy therefore is an intellectual
Being, who, by Prayer and Meditation, by Virtue and good Works, opens
this Communication between God and his own Soul! Tho' the whole
Creation frowns upon him, and all Nature looks black about him, he has
his Light and Support within him, that are able to cheer his Mind, and
bear him up in the Midst of all those Horrors which encompass him. He
knows that his Helper is at Hand, and is always nearer to him than any
thing else can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying him. In
the Midst of Calumny or Contempt, he attends to that Being who
whispers better things within his Soul, and whom he looks upon as his
Defender, his Glory, and the Lifter up of his Head. In his deepest
Solitude and Retirement, he knows that he is in Company with the
greatest of Beings; and perceives within himself such real Sensations
of his Presence, as are more delightful than any thing that can be met
with in the Conversation of his Creatures. Even in the Hour of Death,
he considers the Pains of his Dissolution to be nothing else but the
breaking down of that Partition, which stands betwixt his Soul, and
the Sight of that Being, who is always present with him, and is about
to manifest it self to him in Fullness of Joy.
If we would be thus Happy, and thus Sensible of our Maker's Presence,
from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Goodness, we must keep such a
Watch over all our Thoughts, that, in the Language of the Scripture, his
Soul may have Pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his Holy
Spirit, and endeavour to make the Meditations of our Hearts always
acceptable in his Sight, that he may delight thus to reside and dwell in
us. The Light
of Nature could direct
Seneca to this Doctrine, in a
very remarkable Passage among his Epistles:
Sacer inest in
nobis spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et Observator, et
quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos.2
There is a Holy Spirit residing in us, who watches and observes both
Good and Evil Men, and will treat us after the same Manner that we
treat him. But I
shall conclude this Discourse with those more
emphatical Words in Divine Revelation,
If a Man
love me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love him,
and we will come unto him, and make our Abode with him.3
Footnote 1:
No.
, and see Nos.
,
, and
.
Footnote 2:
Ep. 41. To Lucilius. 'Deum in viro bono sedere.'
Footnote 3:
John
xiv. 23.
Contents
|
Monday, July 26, 1714 |
Z. Pearce1 |
I am the more pleased with these my Papers, since I find they have
encouraged several Men of Learning and Wit to become my Correspondents:
I Yesterday received the following Essay against Quacks, which I shall
here communicate to my Readers for the Good of the Publick, begging the
Writer's Pardon for those Additions and Retrenchments which I have made
in it.
The De
Sir
e of Life is so natural and strong a Passion, that I have long
since ceased to wonder at the great Encouragement which the Practice of
Physick finds among us. Well-constituted Governments have always made
the Profession of a Physician both honourable and advantageous.
Homer's
Machaon
and
Virgil's Japis
were Men of Renown, Heroes in War, and
made at least as much Havock among their Enemies as among their Friends.
Those who have little or no Faith in the Abilities of a Quack will apply
themselves to him, either because he is willing to sell Health at a
reasonable Profit, or because the Patient, like a drowning Man, catches
at every Twig, and hopes for Relief from the most Ignorant, when the
most able Physicians give him none. Though Impudence and many Words are
as necessary to these Itinerary
Galens
as a laced Hat or a Merry
Andrew
, yet they would turn very littl to the Advantage of the Owner,
if there were not some inward Disposition in the sick Man to favour the
Pretensions of the Mountebank. Love of Life in the one, and of Mony in
the other, creates a good Correspondence between them.
There is scarce a City in
Great-Britain
but has one of this Tribe, who
takes it into his Protection, and on the Market-Day harangues the good
People of the Place with Aphorisms and Receipts. You may depend upon it,
he comes not there for his own private Interest, but out of a particular
Affection to the Town. I remember one of those Public-spirited Artists
at
Hammersmith
, who told his Audience 'that he had been born and bred
there, and that having a special Regard for the Place of his Nativity,
he was determined to make a Present of five Shillings to as many as
would accept of it.' The whole Crowd stood agape, and ready to take the
Doctor at his Word; when putting his Hand into a long Bag, as every one
was expecting his Crown-Piece, he drew out an handful of little Packets,
each of which he informed the
Spectators
was constantly sold at five
Shillings and six pence, but that he would bate the odd five Shillings
to every Inhabitant of that Place: The whole Assembly immediately closed
with this generous Offer, and took off all his Physick, after the Doctor
had made them vouch for one another, that there were no Foreigners among
them, but that they were all
Hammersmith
-Men.
There is another Branch of Pretenders to this Art, who, without either
Horse or Pickle-Herring, lie snug in a Garret, and send down Notice to
the World of their extraordinary Parts and Abilities by printed Bills
and Advertisements. These seem to have derived their Custom from an
Eastern
Nation which
Herodotus
speaks of, among whom it was a Law,
that whenever any Cure was performed, both the Method of the Cure, and
an Account of the Distemper, should be fixed in some Publick Place; but
as Customs will corrupt, these our Moderns provide themselves of Persons
to attest the Cure, before they publish or make an Experiment of the
Prescription. I have heard of a Porter, who serves as a Knight of the
Post under one of these Operators, and tho' he was never sick in his
Life, has been cured of all the Diseases in the Dispensary. These are
the Men whose Sagacity has invented Elixirs of all sorts, Pills and
Lozenges, and take it as an Affront if you come to them before you are
given over by every Body else. Their Medicines
are infallible, and
never fail of Success
, that is of enriching the Doctor, and setting the
Patient effectually at Rest.
I lately dropt into a Coffee-house at
Westminster
, where I found the
Room hung round with Ornaments of this Nature. There were Elixirs,
Tinctures, the
Anodine Fotus, English
Pills, Electuaries, and, in
short, more Remedies than I believe there are Diseases. At the Sight of
so many Inventions, I could not but imagine my self in a kind of Arsenal
or Magazine, where store of Arms were reposited against any sudden
Invasion. Should you be attack'd by the Enemy Side-ways, here was an
infallible Piece of defensive Armour to cure the Pleurisie: Should a
Distemper beat up your Head Quarters, here you might purchase an
impenetrable Helmet, or, in the Language of the Artist, a Cephalic
Tincture: If your main Body be assaulted, here are various Kinds of
Armour in Case of various Onsets. I began to congratulate the present
Age upon the Happiness Men might reasonably hope for in Life, when Death
was thus in a manner Defeated; and when Pain it self would be of so
short a Duration, that it would but just serve to enhance the Value of
Pleasure: While I was in these Thoughts, I unluckily called to mind a
Story of an Ingenious Gentleman of the last Age, who lying violently
afflicted with the Gout, a Person came and offered his Service to Cure
him by a Method, which he assured him was Infallible; the Servant who
received the Message carried it up to his Master, who enquiring whether
the Person came on Foot or in a Chariot; and being informed that he was
on Foot:
Go, says he, send the Knave about his Business: Was his Method
as infallible as he pretends, he would long before now have been in his
Coach and Six.
In like manner I concluded, that had all these
Advertisers arrived to that Skill they pretend to, they would have had
no Need for so many Years successively to publish to the World the Place
of their Abode, and the Virtues of their Medicines. One of these
Gentlemen indeed pretends to an effectual Cure for Leanness: What
Effects it may have had upon those who have try'd it I cannot tell; but
I am credibly informed, that the Call for it has been so great, that it
has effectually cured the Doctor himself of that Distemper. Could each
of them produce so good an Instance of the Success of his Medicines,
they might soon persuade the World into an Opinion of them.
I observe that most of the Bills agree in one Expression,
viz.
that
(
with God's Blessing
) they perform such and such Cures: This
Expression is certainly very proper and emphatical, for that is all they
have for it. And if ever a Cure is performed on a Patient where they are
concerned, they can claim no greater Share in it than
Virgil's Japis
in the curing of
Æneas
; he tried his Skill, was very assiduous about
the Wound, and indeed was the only visible Means that relieved the Hero;
but the Poet assures us it was the particular Assistance of a Deity that
speeded the Operation. An
English
Reader may see the whole Story in
Mr.
Dryden's
Translation.
Prop'd on his Lance the pensive Heroe stood,
And heard, and saw unmov'd, the Mourning Crowd.
The fam'd Physician tucks his Robes around,
With ready Hands, and hastens to the Wound.
With gentle Touches he performs his Part,
This Way and that, solliciting the Dart,
And exercises all his Heavenly Art.
All softning Simples, known of Sov'reign Use,
He presses out, and pours their noble Juice;
These first infus'd, to lenifie the Pain,
He tugs with Pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the Patron of his Art he pray'd;
The Patron of his Art refus'd his Aid.
But now the Goddess Mother, mov'd with Grief,
And pierc'd with Pity, hastens her Relief.
A Branch of Healing Dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan Fields with Care she sought;
Rough is the Stem, which woolly Leaves surround;
The Leafs with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs with Purple crown'd:
Well known to-wounded Goats; a sure Relief
To draw the pointed Steel, and ease the Grief.
This Venus brings, in Clouds involv'd; and brews
Th' extracted Liquor with Ambrosian Dews,
And od'rous Panacee: Unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the Mixture with her heav'nly Hands:
And pours it in a Bowl, already crown'd
With Juice of medc'nal Herbs, prepared to bathe the Wound.
The Leech, unknowing of superior Art,
Which aids the Cure, with this foments the Part;
And in a Moment ceas'd the raging Smart.
Stanched is the Blood, and in the bottom stands:
The Steel, but scarcely touched with tender Hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own Accord;
And Health and Vigour are at once restor'd.
Japis first perceiv'd the closing Wound;
And first the Footsteps of a God he found.
Arms, Arms! he cries, the Sword and Shield prepare,
And send the willing Chief, renew'd to War.
This is no mortal Work, no cure of mine,
Nor Art's effect, but done by Hands Divine.
Footnote 1:
Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester, with alterations
by Addison.
Contents
My Paper on the Club of Widows has brought me in several Letters; and,
among the rest, a long one from Mrs. President, as follows.
Smart Sir ,
'You are pleased to be very merry, as you imagine, with us Widows: And
you seem to ground your Satyr on our receiving Consolation so soon
after the Death of our Dears, and the Number we are pleased to admit
for our Companions; but you never reflect what Husbands we have
buried, and how short a Sorrow the Loss of them was capable of
occasioning. For my own Part, Mrs. President as you call me, my First
Husband I was marry'd to at Fourteen, by my Uncle and Guardian (as I
afterwards discovered) by way of Sale, for the Third part of my
Fortune. This Fellow looked upon me as a meer Child, he might breed up
after his own Fancy; if he kissed my Chamber-Maid before my Face, I
was supposed so ignorant, how could I think there was any Hurt in it?
When he came home Roaring Drunk at five in the Morning, 'twas the
Custom of all Men that live in the World. I was not to see a Penny of
Money, for, poor Thing, how could I manage it? He took a handsome
Cousin of his into the House, (as he said) to be my Housekeeper, and
to govern my Servants; for how should I know how to rule a Family? and
while she had what Money she pleased, which was but reasonable for the
Trouble she was at for my Good, I was not to be so censorious as to
dislike Familiarity and Kindness between near Relations. I was too
great a Coward to contend, but not so ignorant a Child to be thus
imposed upon. I resented his Contempt as I ought to do, and as most
poor passive blinded Wives do, 'till it pleased Heaven to take away my
Tyrant, who left me free Possession of my own Land, and a large
Jointure. My Youth and Money brought me many Lovers, and several
endeavoured to establish an Interest in my Heart while my Husband was
in his last Sickness; the Honourable Edward Waitfort was one of the
first who addressed to me, advised to it by a Cousin of his that was
my intimate Friend, and knew to a Penny what I was worth. Mr.
Waitfort is a very agreeable Man, and every Body would like him as
well as he does himself, if they did not plainly see that his Esteem
and Love is all taken up, and by such an Object, as 'tis impossible to
get the better of. I mean himself. He made no doubt of marrying me
within Four or Five Months, and begun to proceed with such an assured
easie Air, that piqued my Pride not to banish him; quite contrary, out
of pure Malice, I heard his first Declaration with so much innocent
Surprize, and blushed so prettily, I perceived it touched his very
Heart, and he thought me the best-natured Silly poor thing on Earth.
When a Man has such a Notion of a Woman, he loves her better than he
thinks he does. I was overjoy'd to be thus revenged on him, for
designing on my Fortune; and finding it was in my Power to make his
Heart ake, I resolved to compleat my Conquest, and entertain'd several
other Pretenders. The first Impression of my undesigning Innocence was
so strong in his Head, he attributed all my Followers to the
inevitable Force of my Charms, and from several Blushes and side
Glances, concluded himself the Favourite; and when I used him like a
Dog for my Diversion, he thought it was all Prudence and Fear, and
pitied the Violence I did my own Inclinations to comply with my
Friends, when I marry'd Sir Nicholas Fribble of Sixty Years of Age.
You know, Sir , the Case of Mrs. Medlar, I hope you would not have
had me cry out my Eyes for such a Husband. I shed Tears enough for my
Widowhood a Week after my Marriage, and when he was put in his Grave,
reckoning he had been two Years dead, and my self a Widow of that
Standing, I married three Weeks afterwards John Sturdy, Esq., his
next Heir. I had indeed some Thoughts of taking Mr. Waitfort, but I
found he could stay, and besides he thought it indecent to ask me to
marry again 'till my Year was out, so privately resolving him for my
Fourth, I took Mr. Sturdy for the present. Would you believe it,
Sir , Mr. Sturdy was just Five and Twenty, about Six Foot high, and
the stoutest Fox-hunter in the Country, and I believe I wished ten
thousand times for my old Fribble again; he was following his Dogs
all the Day, and all the Night keeping them up at Table with him and
his Companions: however I think my self obliged to them for leading
him a Chase in which he broke his Neck. Mr. Waitfort began his
Addresses anew, and I verily believe I had married him now, but there
was a young Officer in the Guards, that had debauched two or three of
my Acquaintance, and I could not forbear being a little vain of his
Courtship. Mr. Waitfort heard of it, and read me such an insolent
Lecture upon the Conduct of Women, I married the Officer that very
Day, out of pure Spight to him. Half an Hour after I was married I
received a Penitential Letter from the Honourable Mr. Edward
Waitfort, in which he begged Pardon for his Passion, as proceeding
from the Violence of his Love: I triumphed when I read it, and could
not help, out of the Pride of my Heart, shewing it to my new Spouse:
and we were very merry together upon it. Alas! my Mirth lasted a short
time; my young Husband was very much in Debt when I marry'd him, and
his first Action afterwards was to set up a gilt Chariot and Six, in
fine Trappings before and behind. I had married so hastily, I had not
the Prudence to reserve my Estate in my own Hands; my ready Money was
lost in two Nights at the Groom Porter's; and my Diamond Necklace,
which was stole I did not know how, I met in the Street upon Jenny
Wheadle's Neck. My Plate vanished Piece by Piece, and I had been
reduced to downright Pewter, if my Officer had not been deliciously
killed in a Duel, by a Fellow that had cheated him of Five Hundred
Pounds, and afterwards, at his own Request, satisfy'd him and me too,
by running him through the Body. Mr. Waitfort was still in Love, and
told me so again; and to prevent all Fears of ill Usage, he deSir 'd me
to reserve every thing in my own Hands: But now my Acquaintance begun
to wish me Joy of his Constancy, my Charms were declining, and I could
not resist the Delight I took in shewing the young Flirts about Town,
it was yet in my Power to give Pain to a Man of Sense: This, and some
private Hopes he would hang himself, and what a Glory would it be for
me, and how I should be envy'd, made me accept of being third Wife to
my Lord Friday. I proposed from my Rank and his Estate, to live in
all the Joys of Pride, but how was I mistaken? he was neither
extravagant, nor ill-natured, nor debauched? I suffered however more
with him than with all my others. He was splenatick. I was forced to
sit whole Days hearkening to his imaginary Ails; it was impossible to
tell what would please him; what he liked when the Sun shined, made
him sick when it rained; he had no Distemper, but lived in constant
Fear of them all: my good Genius dictated to me to bring him
acquainted with Doctor Gruel; from that Day he was always contented,
because he had Names for all his Complaints; the good Doctor furnished
him with Reasons for all his Pains, and Prescriptions for every Fancy
that troubled him; in hot Weather he lived upon Juleps, and let Blood
to prevent Fevers; when it grew cloudy he generally apprehended a
Consumption; to shorten the History of this wretched Part of my Life,
he ruined a good Constitution by endeavouring to mend it, and took
several Medicines, which ended in taking the grand Remedy, which cured
both him and me of all our Uneasinesses. After his Death, I did not
expect to hear any more of Mr. Waitfort, I knew he had renounced me
to all his Friends, and been very witty upon my Choice, which he
affected to talk of with great Indifferency; I gave over thinking of
him, being told that he was engaged with a pretty Woman and a great
Fortune; it vexed me a little, but not enough to make me neglect the
Advice of my Cousin Wishwell, that came to see me the Day my Lord
went into the Country with Russel; she told me experimentally,
nothing put an unfaithful Lover and a dear Husband so soon out of ones
Head, as a new one; and, at the same time, propos'd to me a Kinsman of
hers; You understand enough of the World (said she) to know Money is
the most valuable Consideration; he is very rich, and I am sure cannot
live long; he has a Cough that must carry him off soon. I knew
afterwards she had given the self-same Character of me to him; but
however I was so much persuaded by her, I hastned on the Match, for
fear he should die before the time came; he had the same Fears, and
was so pressing, I married him in a Fortnight, resolving to keep it
private a Fortnight longer. During this Fortnight Mr. Waitfort came
to make me a Visit; he told me he had waited on me sooner, but had
that Respect for me, he would not interrupt me in the first Day of my
Affliction for my dead Lord; that as soon as he heard I was at Liberty
to make another Choice, he had broke off a Match very advantageous for
his Fortune, just upon the Point of Conclusion, and was forty times
more in Love with me than ever. I never received more Pleasure in my
Life than from this Declaration, but I composed my Face to a grave
Air, and said the News of his Engagement had touched me to the Heart,
that in a rash jealous Fit, I had married a Man I could never have
thought on if I had not lost all hopes of him. Good-natured Mr.
Waitfort had like to have dropped down dead at hearing this, but
went from me with such an Air as plainly shewed me he laid all the
Blame upon himself, and hated those Friends that had advised him to
the Fatal Application; he seemed as much touched by my Misfortune as
his own, for he had not the least Doubt I was still passionately in
Love with him. The Truth of the Story is, my new Husband gave me
Reason to repent I had not staid for him; he had married me for my
Money, and I soon found he loved Money to Distraction; there was
nothing he would not do to get it, nothing he would not suffer to
preserve it; the smallest Expence keep him awake whole Nights, and
when he paid a Bill, 'twas with as many Sighs, and after as many
Delays, as a Man that endures the Loss of a Limb. I heard nothing but
Reproofs for Extravagancy whatever I did. I saw very well that he
would have starved me, but for losing my Jointures; and he suffered
Agonies between the Grief of seeing me have so good a Stomach, and the
Fear that if he made me fast, it might prejudice my Health. I did not
doubt he would have broke my Heart, if I did not break his, which was
allowed by the Law of Self-defence. The Way was very easy. I resolved
to spend as much Money as I could, and before he was aware of the
Stroke, appeared before him in a two thousand Pound Diamond Necklace;
he said nothing, but went quietly to his Chamber, and, as it is
thought, composed himself with a Dose of Opium. I behaved my self so
well upon the Occasion, that to this Day I believe he died of an
Apoplexy. Mr. Waitfort was resolved not to be too late this time,
and I heard from him in two Days. I am almost out of my Weed at this
present Writing, and am very doubtful whether I'll marry him or no. I
do not think of a Seventh, for the ridiculous Reason you mention, but
out of pure Morality that I think so much Constancy should be
rewarded, tho' I may not do it after all perhaps. I do not believe all
the unreasonable Malice of Mankind can give a Pretence why I should
have been constant to the Memory of any of the Deceased, or have spent
much time in grieving for so insolent, insignificant, negligent,
extravagant, splenatick, or covetous Husband; my first insulted me, my
second was nothing to me, my third disgusted me, the fourth would have
ruined me, the fifth tormented me, and the sixth would have starved
me. If the other Ladies you name would thus give in their Husbands
Pictures at length, you would see they have had as little Reason as my
self to lose their Hours in weeping and wailing.
Contents
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Friday, July 30, 1714 |
Addison |
Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Rectè Beatum, recliùs occupat
Nomen Beati, qui Deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti
Duramque callet pauperiem pati.
Hor.
translation