English
Family with
the News of what he had seen; who upon coming to the Place saw the Woman
dead, and the two Negroes expiring by her with Wounds they had given
themselves.
We see in this amazing Instance of Barbarity, what strange Disorders are
bred in the minds of those Men whose Passions are not regulated by
Virtue, and disciplined by Reason. Though the Action which I have
recited is in it self full of Guilt and Horror, it proceeded from a
Temper of Mind which might have produced very noble Fruits, had it been
informed and guided by a suitable Education.
It is therefore an unspeakable Blessing to be born in those Parts of the
World where Wisdom and Knowledge flourish; tho' it must be confest,
there are, even in these Parts, several poor uninstructed Persons, who
are but little above the Inhabitants of those Nations of which I have
been here speaking; as those who have had the Advantages of a more
liberal Education, rise above one another by several different Degrees
of Perfection. For to return to our Statue in the Block of Marble, we
see it sometimes only begun to be chipped, sometimes rough-hewn and but
just sketched into an human Figure; sometimes we see the Man appearing
distinctly in all his Limbs and Features, sometimes we find the Figure
wrought up to a great Elegancy, but seldom meet with any to which the
Hand of a
Phidias
or
Praxiteles
could not give several nice Touches
and Finishings.
Discourses of Morality, and Reflections upon human Nature, are the best
Means we can make use of to improve our Minds, and gain a true Knowledge
of our selves, and consequently to recover our Souls out of the Vice,
Ignorance, and Prejudice, which naturally cleave to them. I have all
along profest myself in this Paper a Promoter of these great Ends; and I
flatter my self that I do from Day to Day contribute something to the
polishing of Mens Minds: at least my Design is laudable, whatever the
Execution may be. I must confess I am not a little encouraged in it by
many Letters, which I receive from unknown Hands, in Approbation of my
Endeavours; and must take this Opportunity of returning my Thanks to
those who write them, and excusing my self for not inserting several of
them in my Papers, which I am sensible would be a very great Ornament to
them. Should I publish the Praises which are so well penned, they would
do Honour to the Persons who write them; but my publishing of them would
I fear be a sufficient Instance to the World that I did not deserve them.
C.
Contents
|
Wednesday, November 7, 1711 |
Steele |
Siquidem hercle possis, nil prius, neque fortius:
Verum si incipies, neque perficies naviter,
Atque ubi pati non poteris, cum nemo expetet,
Infecta pace ultrò ad eam venies indicans
Te amare, et ferre non posse: Actum est, ilicet,
Perîsti: eludet ubi te victum senserit.
Ter.
translation
To Mr. Spectator,
Sir,
This is to inform you, that Mr. Freeman
1 had no sooner taken Coach,
but his Lady was taken with a terrible Fit of the Vapours, which,'tis
feared will make her miscarry, if not endanger her Life; therefore,
dear Sir, if you know of any Receipt that is good against this
fashionable reigning Distemper, be pleased to communicate it for the
Good of the Publick, and you will oblige
Yours,
A. Noewill.
Mr.
Spectator,
'The Uproar was so great as soon as I had read the
Spectator
concerning Mrs.
Freeman, that after many Revolutions in her Temper,
of raging, swooning, railing, fainting, pitying herself, and reviling
her Husband, upon an accidental coming in of a neighbouring Lady (who
says she has writ to you also) she had nothing left for it but to fall
in a Fit. I had the Honour to read the Paper to her, and have a pretty
good Command of my Countenance and Temper on such Occasions; and soon
found my historical Name to be
Tom Meggot in your Writings, but
concealed my self till I saw how it affected Mrs. Freeman. She looked
frequently at her Husband, as often at me; and she did not tremble as
she filled Tea, till she came to the Circumstance of
Armstrong's
writing out a Piece of
Tully for an Opera Tune: Then she burst out,
She was exposed, she was deceiv'd, she was wronged and abused. The
Tea-cup was thrown in the Fire; and without taking Vengeance on her
Spouse, she said of me, That I was a pretending Coxcomb, a Medler that
knew not what it was to interpose in so nice an Affair as between a
Man and his Wife. To which Mr.
Freeman; Madam, were I less fond of
you than I am, I should not have taken this Way of writing to the
Spectator, to inform a Woman whom God and Nature has placed under my
Direction with what I request of her; but since you are so indiscreet
as not to take the Hint which I gave you in that Paper, I must tell
you, Madam, in so many Words, that you have for a long and tedious
Space of Time acted a Part unsuitable to the Sense you ought to have
of the Subordination in which you are placed. And I must acquaint you
once for all, that the Fellow without, ha
Tom! (here the Footman
entered and answered Madam) 'Sirrah don't you know my Voice; look upon
me when I speak to you: I say, Madam, this Fellow here is to know of
me my self, whether I am at Leisure to see Company or not. I am from
this Hour Master of this House; and my Business in it, and every where
else, is to behave my self in such a Manner, as it shall be hereafter
an Honour to you to bear my Name; and your Pride, that you are the
Delight, the Darling, and Ornament of a Man of Honour, useful and
esteemed by his Friends; and I no longer one that has buried some
Merit in the World, in Compliance to a froward Humour which has grown
upon an agreeable Woman by his Indulgence. Mr.
Freeman ended this
with a Tenderness in his Aspect and a downcast Eye, which shewed he
was extremely moved at the Anguish he saw her in; for she sat swelling
with Passion, and her Eyes firmly fixed on the Fire; when I, fearing
he would lose all again, took upon me to provoke her out of that
amiable Sorrow she was in, to fall upon me; upon which I said very
seasonably for my Friend, That indeed Mr.
Freeman was become the
common Talk of the Town; and that nothing was so much a Jest, as when
it was said in Company Mr.
Freeman had promised to come to such a
Place. Upon which the good Lady turned her Softness into downright
Rage, and threw the scalding Tea-Kettle upon your humble Servant; flew
into the Middle of the Room, and cried out she was the unfortunatest
of all Women: Others kept Family Dissatisfactions for Hours of Privacy
and Retirement: No Apology was to be made to her, no Expedient to be
found, no previous Manner of breaking what was amiss in her; but all
the World was to be acquainted with her Errors, without the least
Admonition. Mr.
Freeman was going to make a soft'ning Speech, but I
interposed; Look you, Madam, I have nothing to say to this Matter, but
you ought to consider you are now past a Chicken; this Humour, which
was well enough in a Girl, is insufferable in one of your Motherly
Character. With that she lost all Patience, and flew directly at her
Husband's Periwig.
I got her in my Arms, and defended my Friend: He
making Signs at the same time that it was too much; I beckoning,
nodding, and frowning over her Shoulder, that
he2 was
lost if he did not persist.
In this manner
3 flew round and round the Room in a Moment, 'till the
Lady I spoke of above and Servants entered; upon which she fell on a
Couch as breathless. I still kept up my Friend; but he, with a very
silly Air, bid them bring the Coach to the Door, and we went off, I
forced to bid the Coachman drive on. We were no sooner come to my
Lodgings, but all his Wife's Relations came to enquire after him; and
Mrs.
Freeman's Mother writ a Note, wherein she thought never to have
seen this Day, and so forth.
In a word, Sir, I am afraid we are upon a thing we have no Talents
for; and I can observe already, my Friend looks upon me rather as a
Man that knows a Weakness of him that he is ashamed of, than one who
has rescu'd him from Slavery. Mr.
Spectator, I am but a young Fellow,
and if Mr.
Freeman submits, I shall be looked upon as an Incendiary,
and never get a Wife as long as I breathe. He has indeed sent Word
home he shall lie at
Hampstead to-night; but I believe Fear of the
first Onset after this Rupture has too great a Place in this
Resolution. Mrs.
Freeman has a very pretty Sister; suppose I
delivered him up, and articled with the Mother for her for bringing
him home. If he has not Courage to stand it, (you are a great Casuist)
is it such an ill thing to bring my self off, as well as I can? What
makes me doubt my Man, is, that I find he thinks it reasonable to
expostulate at least with her; and Capt. SENTREY will tell you, if you
let your Orders be disputed, you are no longer a Commander. I wish you
could advise me how to get clear of this Business handsomely.
Yours,
Tom Meggot.
T.
See
we
he
Contents
|
Thursday, November 1, 1711 |
Budgell |
—Tunc fœmina simplex,
Et pariter toto repetitur clamor ab antro.
Juv.
Sat. 6.translation
I shall entertain my Reader to-day with some Letters from my
Correspondents. The first of them is the Description of a Club, whether
real or imaginary I cannot determine; but am apt to fancy, that the
Writer of it, whoever she is, has formed a kind of Nocturnal Orgie out
of her own Fancy: Whether this be so or not, her Letter may conduce to
the Amendment of that kind of Persons who are represented in it, and
whose Characters are frequent enough in the World.
Mr. Spectator,
'In some of your first Papers you were pleased to give the Publick a
very diverting Account of several Clubs and nocturnal Assemblies; but
I am a Member of a Society which has wholly escaped your Notice, I
mean a Club of She-Romps. We take each a Hackney-Coach, and meet once
a Week in a large upper Chamber, which we hire by the Year for that
Purpose; our Landlord and his Family, who are quiet People, constantly
contriving to be abroad on our Club-Night. We are no sooner come
together than we throw off all that Modesty and Reservedness with
which our Sex are obliged to disguise themselves in publick Places. I
am not able to express the Pleasure we enjoy from Ten at Night 'till
four in the Morning, in being as rude as you Men can be, for your
Lives. As our Play runs high the Room is immediately filled with
broken Fans, torn Petticoats, Lappets of Head-dresses, Flounces,
Furbelows, Garters, and Working-Aprons. I had forgot to tell you at
first, that besides the Coaches we come in our selves, there is one
which stands always empty to carry off our dead Men, for so we call
all those Fragments and Tatters with which the Room is strewed, and
which we pack up together in Bundles and put into the aforesaid Coach.
It is no small Diversion for us to meet the next Night at some
Member's Chamber, where every one is to pick out what belonged to her
from this confused Bundle of Silks, Stuffs, Laces, and Ribbons. I have
hitherto given you an Account of our Diversion on ordinary
Club-Nights; but must acquaint you farther, that once a Month we
demolish a Prude, that is, we get some queer formal Creature in
among us, and unrig her in an Instant. Our last Month's Prude was so
armed and fortified in Whalebone and Buckram that we had much ado to
come at her; but you would have died with laughing to have seen how
the sober awkward Thing looked when she was forced out of her
Intrenchments. In short, Sir,'tis impossible to give you a true Notion
of our Sports, unless you would come one Night amongst us; and tho' it
be directly against the Rules of our Society to admit a Male Visitant,
we repose so much Confidence in your Silence and Taciturnity,
that 'twas agreed by the whole Club, at our last Meeting, to give you
Entrance for one Night as a Spectator.
I am, Your Humble Servant,
Kitty Termagant.
P. S. We shall demolish a Prude next Thursday.
Tho' I thank
Kitty
for her kind Offer, I do not at present find in my
self any Inclination, to venture my Person with her and her romping
Companions. I should regard my self as a second
Clodius
intruding on
the Mysterious Rites of the
Bona Dea
, and should apprehend being
Demolished
as much as the
Prude
.
The following Letter comes from a Gentleman, whose Taste I find is much
too delicate to endure the least Advance towards Romping. I may perhaps
hereafter improve upon the Hint he has given me, and make it the Subject
of a whole
Spectator;
in the mean time take it as it follows in his
own Words.
Mr. Spectator,
'It is my Misfortune to be in Love with a young Creature who is daily
committing Faults, which though they give me the utmost Uneasiness, I
know not how to reprove her for, or even acquaint her with. She is
pretty, dresses well, is rich, and good-humour'd; but either wholly
neglects, or has no Notion of that which Polite People have agreed to
distinguish by the Name of Delicacy. After our Return from a Walk
the other Day she threw her self into an Elbow-Chair, and professed
before a large Company, that she was all over in a Sweat. She told
me this Afternoon that her Stomach aked; and was complaining
Yesterday at Dinner of something that stuck in her Teeth. I treated
her with a Basket of Fruit last Summer, which she eat so very
greedily, as almost made me resolve never to see her more. In short,
Sir, I begin to tremble whenever I see her about to speak or move. As
she does not want Sense, if she takes these Hints I am happy; if not,
I am more than afraid, that these Things which shock me even in the
Behaviour of a Mistress, will appear insupportable in that of a Wife.
I am, Sir, Yours, &c.
My next Letter comes from a Correspondent whom I cannot but very much
value, upon the Account which she gives of her self.
Mr.
Spectator,
I am happily arrived at a State of Tranquillity, which few People
envy, I mean that of an old Maid; therefore being wholly unconcerned
in all that Medley of Follies which our Sex is apt to contract from
their silly Fondness of yours, I read your Railleries on us without
Provocation. I can say with
Hamlet,
—Man delights not me,
Nor Woman neither—
Therefore, dear Sir, as you never spare your own Sex, do not be afraid
of reproving what is ridiculous in ours, and you will oblige at least
one Woman, who is
Your humble Servant,
Susannah Frost.
Mr.
Spectator,
I am Wife to a Clergyman, and cannot help thinking that in your Tenth
or Tithe-Character of Womankind
1 you meant my self, therefore I
have no Quarrel against you for the other Nine Characters.
Your humble Servant,
A.B.
X.
See
Contents
|
Friday, November 9, 1711 |
Steele |
Quid de quoque viro et cui dicas sæpe caveto.
Hor.
translation
I happened the other Day, as my Way is, to strole into a little
Coffee-house beyond Aldgate; and as I sat there, two or three very plain
sensible Men were talking of the
Spectator
. One said, he had that
Morning drawn the great Benefit Ticket; another wished he had; but a
third shaked his Head and said, It was pity that the Writer of that
Paper was such a sort of Man, that it was no great Matter whether he had
it or no. He is, it seems, said the good Man, the most extravagant
Creature in the World; has run through vast Sums, and yet been in
continual Want; a Man, for all he talks so well of Œconomy, unfit for
any of the Offices of Life, by reason of his Profuseness. It would be an
unhappy thing to be his Wife, his Child, or his Friend; and yet he talks
as well of those Duties of Life as any one. Much Reflection has brought
me to so easy a Contempt for every thing which is false, that this heavy
Accusation gave me no manner of Uneasiness; but at the same Time it
threw me into deep Thought upon the Subject of Fame in general; and I
could not but pity such as were so weak, as to value what the common
People say out of their own talkative Temper to the Advantage or
Diminution of those whom they mention, without being moved either by
Malice or Good-will. It will be too long to expatiate upon the Sense all
Mankind have of Fame, and the inexpressible Pleasure which there is in
the Approbation of worthy Men, to all who are capable of worthy Actions;
but methinks one may divide the general Word Fame into three different
Species, as it regards the different Orders of Mankind who have any
Thing to do with it. Fame therefore may be divided into Glory, which
respects the Hero; Reputation, which is preserved by every Gentleman;
and Credit, which must be supported by every Tradesman. These
Possessions in Fame are dearer than Life to these Characters of Men, or
rather are the Life of those Characters. Glory, while the Hero pursues
great and noble Enterprizes, is impregnable; and all the Assailants of
his Renown do but shew their Pain and Impatience of its Brightness,
without throwing the least Shade upon it. If the Foundation of an high
Name be Virtue and Service, all that is offered against it is but
Rumour, which is too short-liv'd to stand up in Competition with Glory,
which is everlasting.
Reputation, which is the Portion of every Man who would live with the
elegant and knowing Part of Mankind, is as stable as Glory, if it be as
well founded; and the common Cause of human Society is thought concerned
when we hear a Man of good Behaviour calumniated: Besides which,
according to a prevailing Custom amongst us, every Man has his Defence
in his own Arm; and Reproach is soon checked, put out of Countenance,
and overtaken by Disgrace.
The most unhappy of all Men, and the most exposed to the Malignity or
Wantonness of the common Voice, is the Trader. Credit is undone in
Whispers. The Tradesman's Wound is received from one who is more private
and more cruel than the Ruffian with the Lanthorn and Dagger. The Manner
of repeating a Man's Name, As;
Mr
. Cash,
Oh! do you leave your Money
at his Shop? Why, do you know Mr
. Searoom?
He is indeed a general
Merchant
. I say, I have seen, from the Iteration of a Man's Name,
hiding one Thought of him, and explaining what you hide by saying
something to his Advantage when you speak, a Merchant hurt in his
Credit; and him who, every Day he lived, literally added to the Value of
his Native Country, undone by one who was only a Burthen and a Blemish
to it. Since every Body who knows the World is sensible of this great
Evil, how careful ought a Man to be in his Language of a Merchant? It
may possibly be in the Power of a very shallow Creature to lay the Ruin
of the best Family in the most opulent City; and the more so, the more
highly he deserves of his Country; that is to say, the farther he places
his Wealth out of his Hands, to draw home that of another Climate.
In this Case an ill Word may change Plenty into Want, and by a rash
Sentence a free and generous Fortune may in a few Days be reduced to
Beggary. How little does a giddy Prater imagine, that an idle Phrase to
the Disfavour of a Merchant may be as pernicious in the Consequence, as
the Forgery of a Deed to bar an Inheritance would be to a Gentleman?
Land stands where it did before a Gentleman was calumniated, and the
State of a great Action is just as it was before Calumny was offered to
diminish it, and there is Time, Place and Occasion expected to unravel
all that is contrived against those Characters; but the Trader who is
ready only for probable Demands upon him, can have no Armour against the
Inquisitive, the Malicious, and the Envious, who are prepared to fill
the Cry to his Dishonour. Fire and Sword are slow Engines of
Destruction, in Comparison of the Babbler in the Case of the Merchant.
For this Reason I thought it an imitable Piece of Humanity of a
Gentleman of my Acquaintance, who had great Variety of Affairs, and used
to talk with Warmth enough against Gentlemen by whom he thought himself
ill dealt with; but he would never let any thing be urged against a
Merchant (with whom he had any Difference) except in a Court of Justice.
He used to say, that to speak ill of a Merchant, was to begin his Suit
with Judgment and Execution. One cannot, I think, say more on this
Occasion, than to repeat, That the Merit of the Merchant is above that
of all other Subjects; for while he is untouched in his Credit, his
Hand-writing is a more portable Coin for the Service of his
Fellow-Citizens, and his Word the Gold of Ophir to the Country wherein
he resides.
T.
Contents
|
Saturday, November 10, 1711 |
Addison |
There are but few Men, who are not ambitious of distinguishing
themselves in the Nation or Country where they live, and of growing
considerable among those with whom they converse. There is a kind of
Grandeur and Respect, which the meanest and most insignificant Part of
Mankind endeavour to procure in the little Circle of their Friends and
Acquaintance. The poorest Mechanick, nay the Man who lives upon common
Alms, gets him his Set of Admirers, and delights in that Superiority
which he enjoys over those who are in some Respects beneath him. This
Ambition, which is natural to the Soul of Man, might methinks receive a
very happy turn; and, if it were rightly directed, contribute as much to
a Person's Advantage, as it generally does to his Uneasiness and
Disquiet.
I shall therefore put together some Thoughts on this Subject, which I
have not met with in other Writers: and shall set them down as they have
occurred to me, without being at the Pains to Connect or Methodise them.
All Superiority and Preeminence that one Man can have over another, may
be reduced to the Notion of Quality, which, considered at large, is
either that of Fortune, Body, or Mind. The first is that which consists
in Birth, Title, or Riches, and is the most foreign to our Natures, and
what we can the least call our own of any of the three Kinds of Quality.
In relation to the Body, Quality arises from Health, Strength, or
Beauty, which are nearer to us, and more a Part of our selves than the
former. Quality, as it regards the Mind, has its Rise from Knowledge or
Virtue; and is that which is more essential to us, and more intimately
united with us than either of the other two.
The Quality of Fortune, tho' a Man has less Reason to value himself upon
it than on that of the Body or Mind, is however the kind of Quality
which makes the most shining Figure in the Eye of the World.
As Virtue is the most reasonable and genuine Source of Honour, we
generally find in Titles an Imitation of some particular Merit that
should recommend Men to the high Stations which they possess. Holiness
is ascribed to the Pope; Majesty to Kings; Serenity or Mildness of
Temper to Princes; Excellence or Perfection to Ambassadors; Grace to
Archbishops; Honour to Peers; Worship or Venerable Behaviour to
Magistrates; and Reverence, which is of the same Import as the former,
to the inferior Clergy.
In the Founders of great Families, such Attributes of Honour are
generally correspondent with the Virtues of the Person to whom they are
applied; but in the Descendants they are too often the Marks rather of
Grandeur than of Merit. The Stamp and Denomination still continues, but
the Intrinsick Value is frequently lost.
The Death-Bed shews the Emptiness of Titles in a true Light. A poor
dispirited Sinner lies trembling under the Apprehensions of the State he
is entring on; and is asked by a grave Attendant how his Holiness does?
Another hears himself addressed to under the Title of Highness or
Excellency, who lies under such mean Circumstances of Mortality as are
the Disgrace of Human Nature. Titles at such a time look rather like
Insults and Mockery than Respect.
The truth of it is, Honours are in this World under no Regulation; true
Quality is neglected, Virtue is oppressed, and Vice triumphant. The last
Day will rectify this Disorder, and assign to every one a Station
suitable to the Dignity of his Character; Ranks will be then adjusted,
and Precedency set right.
Methinks we should have an Ambition, if not to advance our selves in
another World, at least to preserve our Post in it, and outshine our
Inferiors in Virtue here, that they may not be put above us in a State
which is to Settle the Distinction for Eternity.
Men in Scripture are called
Strangers
and
Sojourners
upon
Earth
,
and Life a
Pilgrimage
. Several Heathen, as well as Christian Authors,
under the same kind of Metaphor, have represented the World as an Inn,
which was only designed to furnish us with Accommodations in this our
Passage. It is therefore very absurd to think of setting up our Rest
before we come to our Journey's End, and not rather to take care of the
Reception we shall there meet, than to fix our Thoughts on the little
Conveniences and Advantages which we enjoy one above another in the Way
to it.
Epictetus
makes use of another kind of Allusion, which is very
beautiful, and wonderfully proper to incline us to be satisfied with the
Post in which Providence has placed us. We are here, says he, as in a
Theatre, where every one has a Part allotted to him. The great Duty
which lies upon a Man is to act his Part in Perfection. We may indeed
say, that our Part does not suit us, and that we could act another
better. But this (says the Philosopher) is not our Business. All that we
are concerned in is to excel in the Part which is given us.
it be an
improper one, the Fault is not in us, but in him who has
cast
our
several Parts, and is the great Disposer of the Drama
.
The Part that was acted by this Philosopher himself was but a very
indifferent one, for he lived and died a Slave. His Motive to
Contentment in this Particular, receives a very great Inforcement from
the above-mentioned Consideration, if we remember that our Parts in the
other World will be new cast, and that Mankind will be there ranged in
different Stations of Superiority and Præeminence, in Proportion as
they have here excelled one another in Virtue, and performed in their
several Posts of Life the Duties which belong to them.
There are many beautiful Passages in the little Apocryphal Book,
entitled,
The Wisdom of
Solomon, to set forth the Vanity of Honour,
and the like temporal Blessings which are in so great Repute among Men,
and to comfort those who have not the Possession of them. It represents
in very warm and noble Terms this Advancement of a good Man in the other
World, and the great Surprize which it will produce among those who are
his Superiors in this.
Then shall the righteous Man stand in great
Boldness before the Face of such as have afflicted him, and made no
Account of his Labours. When they see it, they shall be troubled with
terrible Fear, and shall be amazed at the Strangeness of his Salvation,
so far beyond all that they looked for. And they repenting and groaning
for Anguish of Spirit, shall say within themselves; This was he whom we
had sometime in Derision, and a Proverb of Reproach. We Fools accounted
his Life Madness, and his End to be without Honour. How is he numbered
among the Children of God, and his Lot is among the Saints!
the Reader would see the Description of a Life that is passed away in
Vanity and among the Shadows of Pomp and Greatness, he may see it very
finely drawn in the same Place
. In the mean time, since it is
necessary in the present Constitution of things, that Order and
Distinction should be kept in the World, we should be happy, if those
who enjoy the upper Stations in it, would endeavour to surpass others in
Virtue, as much as in Rank, and by their Humanity and Condescension make
their Superiority easy and acceptable to those who are beneath them: and
if, on the contrary, those who are in meaner Posts of Life, would
consider how they may better their Condition hereafter, and by a just
Deference and Submission to their Superiors, make them happy in those
Blessings with which Providence has thought fit to distinguish them.
C.