I must here take notice, that
Rosalinda
, a famous Whig Partizan,
has most unfortunately a very beautiful Mole on the Tory Part of her
Forehead; which being very conspicuous, has occasioned many Mistakes,
and given an Handle to her Enemies to misrepresent her Face, as tho' it
had Revolted from the Whig Interest. But, whatever this natural Patch
may seem to intimate, it is well known that her Notions of Government
are still the same. This unlucky Mole, however, has mis-led several
Coxcombs; and like the hanging out of false Colours, made some of them
converse with
Rosalinda
in what they thought the Spirit of her
Party, when on a sudden she has given them an unexpected Fire, that has
sunk them all at once. If
Rosalinda
is unfortunate in her Mole,
Nigranilla
is as unhappy in a Pimple, which forces her, against
her Inclinations, to Patch on the Whig Side.
I am told that many virtuous Matrons, who formerly have been taught to
believe that this artificial Spotting of the Face was unlawful, are now
reconciled by a Zeal for their Cause, to what they could not be prompted
by a Concern for their Beauty.
way of declaring War upon one
another, puts me in mind of what is reported of the Tigress, that
several Spots rise in her Skin when she is angry, or as Mr.
Cowley
has imitated the Verses that stand as the Motto on this
Paper,
...
She swells with angry Pride,
And calls forth all her Spots on ev'ry Side1.
When I was in the Theatre the Time above-mentioned, I had the Curiosity
to count the Patches on both Sides, and found the Tory Patches to be
about Twenty stronger than the Whig; but to make amends for this small
Inequality, I the next Morning found the whole Puppet-Show filled with
Faces spotted after the Whiggish Manner. Whether or no the Ladies had
retreated hither in order to rally their Forces I cannot tell; but the
next Night they came in so great a Body to the Opera, that they
out-number'd the Enemy.
This Account of Party Patches, will, I am afraid, appear improbable to
those who live at a Distance from the fashionable World: but as it is a
Distinction of a very singular Nature, and what perhaps may never meet
with a Parallel, I think I should not have discharged the Office of a
faithful
Spectator
, had I not recorded it.
I have, in former Papers, endeavoured to expose this Party-Rage in
Women, as it only serves to aggravate the Hatreds and Animosities that
reign among Men, and in a great measure deprive the Fair Sex of those
peculiar Charms with which Nature has endowed them.
When the
Romans
and
Sabines
were at War, and just upon the Point of
giving Battel, the Women, who were allied to both of them, interposed
with so many Tears and Intreaties, that they prevented the mutual
Slaughter which threatned both Parties, and united them together in a
firm and lasting Peace.
I would recommend this noble Example to our
British
Ladies, at a Time
when their Country is torn with so many unnatural Divisions, that if
they continue, it will be a Misfortune to be born in it. The
Greeks
thought it so improper for Women to interest themselves in Competitions
and Contentions, that for this Reason, among others, they forbad them,
under Pain of Death, to be present at the
Olympick
Games,
notwithstanding these were the publick Diversions of all
Greece
.
our
English
Women excel those of all Nations in Beauty, they should
endeavour to outshine them in all other Accomplishments
proper
to
the Sex, and to distinguish themselves as tender Mothers, and faithful
Wives, rather than as furious Partizans. Female Virtues are of a
Domestick Turn. The Family is the proper Province for Private Women to
shine in. If they must be shewing their Zeal for the Publick, let it not
be against those who are perhaps of the same Family, or at least of the
same Religion or Nation, but against those who are the open, professed,
undoubted Enemies of their Faith, Liberty and Country. When the
Romans
were pressed with a Foreign Enemy, the Ladies voluntarily contributed
all their Rings and Jewels to assist the Government under a publick
Exigence, which appeared so laudable an Action in the Eyes of their
Countrymen, that from thenceforth it was permitted by a Law to pronounce
publick Orations at the Funeral of a Woman in Praise of the deceased
Person, which till that Time was peculiar to Men. Would our
English
Ladies, instead of sticking on a Patch against those of their own
Country, shew themselves so truly Publick-spirited as to sacrifice every
one her Necklace against the common Enemy, what Decrees ought not to be
made in Favour of them?
I am recollecting upon this Subject such Passages as occur to my
Memory out of ancient Authors, I cannot omit a Sentence in the
celebrated Funeral Oration of
Pericles
which he made in Honour of
those brave
Athenians
that were slain in a fight with the
Lacedæmonians
. After having addressed himself to the several Ranks
and Orders of his Countrymen, and shewn them how they should behave
themselves in the Publick Cause, he turns to the Female Part of his
Audience;
'And as for you (says he) I shall advise you in very few
Words: Aspire only to those Virtues that are peculiar to your Sex;
follow your natural Modesty, and think it your greatest Commendation not
to be talked of one way or other'.
C.
Davideis
, Bk III. But Cowley's Tiger is a Male.
that are proper
Thucydides, Bk II.
Contents
Contents p.3
'
|
Monday, June 4, 1711 |
Steele |
... Caput domina venate sub hasta.
Juv.
under
Ludgate
the other Day, I heard a Voice bawling for
Charity, which I thought I had somewhere heard before. Coming near to
the Grate, the Prisoner called me by my Name, and desired I would throw
something into the Box: I was out of Countenance for him, and did as he
bid me, by putting in half a Crown. I went away, reflecting upon the
strange Constitution of some Men, and how meanly they behave themselves
in all Sorts of Conditions. The Person who begged of me is now, as I
take it, Fifty; I was well acquainted with him till about the Age of
Twenty-five; at which Time a good Estate fell to him by the Death of a
Relation. Upon coming to this unexpected good Fortune, he ran into all
the Extravagancies imaginable; was frequently in drunken Disputes, broke
Drawers Heads, talked and swore loud, was unmannerly to those above him,
and insolent to those below him. I could not but remark, that it was the
same Baseness of Spirit which worked in his Behaviour in both Fortunes:
The same little Mind was insolent in Riches, and shameless in Poverty.
This Accident made me muse upon the Circumstances of being in Debt in
general, and solve in my Mind what Tempers were most apt to fall into
this Error of Life, as well as the Misfortune it must needs be to
languish under such Pressures. As for my self, my natural Aversion to
that sort of Conversation which makes a Figure with the Generality of
Mankind, exempts me from any Temptations to Expence; and all my Business
lies within a very narrow Compass, which is only to give an honest Man,
who takes care of my Estate, proper Vouchers for his quarterly Payments
to me, and observe what Linnen my Laundress brings and takes away with
her once a Week: My Steward brings his Receipt ready for my Signing; and
I have a pretty Implement with the respective Names of Shirts, Cravats,
Handkerchiefs and Stockings, with proper Numbers to know how to reckon
with my Laundress. This being almost all the Business I have in the
World for the Care of my own Affairs, I am at full Leisure to observe
upon what others do, with relation to their Equipage and Œconomy.
When I walk the Street, and observe the Hurry about me in this Town,
Where with like Haste, tho' diff'rent Ways they run;
Some to undo, and some to be undone;2
I say, when I behold this vast Variety of Persons and Humours, with the
Pains they both take for the Accomplishment of the Ends mentioned in the
above Verse of
Denham,
I cannot much wonder at the Endeavour after
Gain, but am extremely astonished that Men can be so insensible of the
Danger of running into Debt. One would think it impossible a Man who is
given to contract Debts should know, that his Creditor has, from that
Moment in which he transgresses Payment, so much as that Demand comes to
in his Debtor's Honour, Liberty, and Fortune. One would think he did not
know, that his Creditor can say the worst thing imaginable of him, to
wit,
That he is unjust
, without Defamation; and can seize his Person,
without being guilty of an Assault. Yet such is the loose and abandoned
Turn of some Men's Minds, that they can live under these constant
Apprehensions, and still go on to encrease the Cause of them. Can there
be a more low and servile Condition, than to be ashamed, or afraid, to
see any one Man breathing? Yet he that is much in Debt, is in that
Condition with relation to twenty different People. There are indeed
Circumstances wherein Men of honest Natures may become liable to Debts,
by some unadvised Behaviour in any great Point of their Life, or
mortgaging a Man's Honesty as a Security for that of another, and the
like; but these Instances are so particular and circumstantiated, that
they cannot come within general Considerations: For one such Case as one
of these, there are ten, where a Man, to keep up a Farce of Retinue and
Grandeur within his own House, shall shrink at the Expectation of surly
Demands at his Doors. The Debtor is the Creditor's Criminal, and all the
Officers of Power and State, whom we behold make so great a Figure, are
no other than so many Persons in Authority to make good his Charge
against him. Human Society depends upon his having the Vengeance Law
allots him; and the Debtor owes his Liberty to his Neighbour, as much as
the Murderer does his Life to his Prince.
Our Gentry are, generally speaking, in Debt; and many Families have put
it into a kind of Method of being so from Generation to Generation. The
Father mortgages when his Son is very young: and the Boy is to marry as
soon as he is at Age, to redeem it, and find Portions for his Sisters.
This, forsooth, is no great Inconvenience to him; for he may wench, keep
a publick Table or feed Dogs, like a worthy
English
Gentleman, till he
has out-run half his Estate, and leave the same Incumbrance upon his
First-born, and so on, till one Man of more Vigour than ordinary goes
quite through the Estate, or some Man of Sense comes into it, and scorns
to have an Estate in Partnership, that is to say, liable to the Demand
or Insult of any Man living. There is my Friend Sir
Andrew.
, tho' for
many Years a great and general Trader, was never the Defendant in a
Law-Suit, in all the Perplexity of Business, and the Iniquity of Mankind
at present: No one had any Colour for the least Complaint against his
Dealings with him. This is certainly as uncommon, and in its Proportion
as laudable in a Citizen, as it is in a General never to have suffered a
Disadvantage in Fight. How different from this Gentleman is
Jack
Truepenny,
who has been an old Acquaintance of Sir
Andrew.
and my self
from Boys, but could never learn our Caution.
Jack
has a whorish
unresisting Good-nature, which makes him incapable of having a Property
in any thing. His Fortune, his Reputation, his Time and his Capacity,
are at any Man's Service that comes first. When he was at School, he was
whipped thrice a Week for Faults he took upon him to excuse others;
since he came into the Business of the World, he has been arrested twice
or thrice a Year for Debts he had nothing to do with, but as a Surety
for others; and I remember when a Friend of his had suffered in the Vice
of the Town, all the Physick his Friend took was conveyed to him by
Jack
, and inscribed, 'A Bolus or an Electuary for Mr.
Truepenny
.'
Jack
had a good Estate left him, which came to nothing; because he
believed all who pretended to Demands upon it. This Easiness and
Credulity destroy all the other Merit he has; and he has all his Life
been a Sacrifice to others, without ever receiving Thanks, or doing one
good Action.
I will end this Discourse with a Speech which I heard
Jack
make to one
of his Creditors, (of whom he deserved gentler Usage) after lying a
whole Night in Custody at his Suit.
Sir,
'Your Ingratitude for the many Kindnesses I have done you, shall not
make me unthankful for the Good you have done me, in letting me see
there is such a Man as you in the World. I am obliged to you for the
Diffidence I shall have all the rest of my Life: I shall hereafter
trust no Man so far as to be in his Debt.'
R.
Ludgate was originally built in 1215, by the Barons who
entered London, destroyed houses of Jews and erected this gate with
their ruins. It was first used as a prison in 1373, being then a free
prison, but soon losing that privilege. Sir Stephen Forster, who was
Lord Mayor in 1454, had been a prisoner at Ludgate and begged at the
grate, where he was seen by a rich widow who bought his liberty, took
him into her service, and eventually married him. To commemorate this he
enlarged the accommodation for the prisoners and added a chapel. The old
gate was taken down and rebuilt in 1586. That second gate was destroyed
in the Fire of London.
The gate which succeeded and was used, like its predecessors, as a
wretched prison for debtors, was pulled down in 1760, and the prisoners
removed, first to the London workhouse, afterwards to part of the
Giltspur Street Compter.
Sir John Denham's
Cooper's Hill.
Contents
Contents p.3
|
Tuesday, June 5, 1711 |
Addison |
... Animum pictura pascit inani.
Virg.
When the Weather hinders me from taking my Diversions without Doors, I
frequently make a little Party with two or three select Friends, to
visit any thing curious that may be seen under Covert. My principal
Entertainments of this Nature are Pictures, insomuch that when I have
found the Weather set in to be very bad, I have taken a whole Day's
Journey to see a Gallery that is furnished by the Hands of great
Masters. By this means, when the Heavens are filled with Clouds, when
the Earth swims in Rain, and all Nature wears a lowering Countenance, I
withdraw myself from these uncomfortable Scenes into the visionary
Worlds of Art; where I meet with shining Landskips, gilded Triumphs,
beautiful Faces, and all those other Objects that fill the mind with gay
Ideas, and disperse that Gloominess which is apt to hang upon it in
those dark disconsolate Seasons.
I was some Weeks ago in a Course of these Diversions; which had taken
such an entire Possession of my Imagination, that they formed in it a
short Morning's Dream, which I shall communicate to my Reader, rather as
the first Sketch and Outlines of a Vision, than as a finished Piece.
I dreamt that I was admitted into a long spacious Gallery, which had one
Side covered with Pieces of all the Famous Painters who are now living,
and the other with the Works of the greatest Masters that are dead.
On the side of the
Living
, I saw several Persons busy in Drawing,
Colouring, and Designing; on the side of the
Dead
Painters, I could
not discover more than one Person at Work, who was exceeding slow in his
Motions, and wonderfully nice in his Touches.
I was resolved to examine the several Artists that stood before me, and
accordingly applied my self to the side of the
Living
. The first I
observed at Work in this Part of the Gallery was
Vanity
, with his Hair
tied behind him in a Ribbon, and dressed like a
Frenchman
. All the
Faces he drew were very remarkable for their Smiles, and a certain
smirking Air which he bestowed indifferently on every Age and Degree of
either Sex. The
Toujours Gai
appeared even in his Judges, Bishops, and
Privy-Counsellors: In a word all his Men were
Petits Maitres
, and all
his Women
Coquets
. The Drapery of his Figures was extreamly
well-suited to his Faces, and was made up of all the glaring Colours
that could be mixt together; every Part of the Dress was in a Flutter,
and endeavoured to distinguish itself above the rest.
On the left Hand of
Vanity
stood a laborious Workman, who I found was
his humble Admirer, and copied after him. He was dressed like a
German
, and had a very hard Name, that sounded something like
Stupidity
.
The third Artist that I looked over was
Fantasque
, dressed like a
Venetian Scaramouch. He had an excellent Hand at a
Chimera
, and
dealt very much in Distortions and Grimaces: He would sometimes affright
himself with the Phantoms that flowed from his Pencil. In short, the
most elaborate of his Pieces was at best but a terrifying Dream; and one
could say nothing more of his finest Figures, than that they were
agreeable Monsters.
The fourth Person I examined was very remarkable for his hasty Hand,
which left his Pictures so unfinished, that the Beauty in the Picture
(which was designed to continue as a monument of it to Posterity) faded
sooner than in the Person after whom it was drawn.
made so much haste
to dispatch his Business, that he neither gave himself time to clean his
Pencils,
nor
mix his Colours. The Name of this expeditious Workman
was
Avarice
.
Not far from this Artist I saw another of a quite different Nature, who
was dressed in the Habit of a
Dutchman
, and known by the Name of
Industry
. His Figures were wonderfully laboured; If he drew the
Portraiture of a man, he did not omit a single Hair in his Face; if the
Figure of a Ship, there was not a Rope among the Tackle that escaped
him. He had likewise hung a great Part of the Wall with Night-pieces,
that seemed to shew themselves by the Candles which were lighted up in
several Parts of them; and were so inflamed by the Sun-shine which
accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight I could scarce forbear
crying out,
Fire
.
The five foregoing Artists were the most considerable on this Side the
Gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had not time to look
into. One of them, however, I could not forbear observing, who was very
busie in retouching the finest Pieces, tho' he produced no Originals of
his own. His Pencil aggravated every Feature that was before
over-charged, loaded every Defect, and poisoned every Colour it touched.
Though this workman did so much Mischief on the Side of the Living, he
never turned his Eye towards that of the Dead. His Name was
Envy
.
Having taken a cursory View of one Side of the Gallery, I turned my self
to that which was filled by the Works of those great Masters that were
dead; when immediately I fancied my self standing before a Multitude of
Spectators, and thousands of Eyes looking upon me at once; for all
before me appeared so like Men and Women, that I almost forgot they were
Pictures.
Raphael's
Figures stood in one Row,
Titian's
in another,
Guido Rheni's
in a third. One Part of the Wall was peopled by
Hannibal Carrache
, another by
Correggio
, and another by
Rubens
. To
be short, there was not a great Master among the Dead who had not
contributed to the Embellishment of this Side of the Gallery. The
Persons that owed their Being to these several Masters, appeared all of
them to be real and alive, and differed among one another only in the
Variety of their Shapes, Complexions, and Cloaths; so that they looked
like different Nations of the same Species.
Observing an old Man (who was the same Person I before mentioned, as the
only Artist that was at work on this Side of the Gallery) creeping up
and down from one Picture to another, and retouching all the fine Pieces
that stood before me, I could not but be very attentive to all his
Motions. I found his Pencil was so very light, that it worked
imperceptibly, and after a thousand Touches, scarce produced any visible
Effect in the Picture on which he was employed. However, as he busied
himself incessantly, and repeated Touch after Touch without Rest or
Intermission, he wore off insensibly every little disagreeable Gloss
that hung upon a Figure.
also added such a beautiful Brown to the
Shades, and Mellowness to the Colours, that he made every Picture appear
more perfect than when it came fresh from
the
Master's Pencil. I
could not forbear looking upon the Face of this ancient Workman, and
immediately, by the long Lock of Hair upon his Forehead, discovered him
to be
Time
.
Whether it were because the Thread of my Dream was at an End I cannot
tell, but upon my taking a Survey of this imaginary old Man, my Sleep
left me.
C.
or
its
Contents
Contents p.3
|
Wednesday, June 6, 1711 |
Steele |
... Quis talia fando
Myrmidonum Dolopumve aut duri miles Ulyssei
Temperet a Lachrymis?
Virg.
over the old Manuscript wherein the private Actions of
Pharamond
are set down by way of Table-Book. I found many things
which gave me great Delight; and as human Life turns upon the same
Principles and Passions in all Ages, I thought it very proper to take
Minutes of what passed in that Age, for the Instruction of this. The
Antiquary, who lent me these Papers, gave me a Character of
Eucrate
,
the Favourite of
Pharamond
, extracted from an Author who lived in that
Court. The Account he gives both of the Prince and this his faithful
Friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have Occasion
to mention many of their Conversations, into which these Memorials of
them may give Light.
'
Pharamond, when he had a Mind to retire for an Hour or two from the
Hurry of Business and Fatigue of Ceremony, made a Signal to
Eucrate,
by putting his Hand to his Face, placing his Arm negligently on a
Window, or some such Action as appeared indifferent to all the rest of
the Company. Upon such Notice, unobserved by others, (for their entire
Intimacy was always a Secret)
Eucrate repaired to his own Apartment
to receive the King. There was a secret Access to this Part of the
Court, at which
Eucrate used to admit many whose mean Appearance in
the Eyes of the ordinary Waiters and Door-keepers made them be
repulsed from other Parts of the Palace. Such as these were let in
here by Order of
Eucrate, and had Audiences of
Pharamond. This
Entrance
Pharamond called
The Gate of the Unhappy, and the Tears
of the Afflicted who came before him, he would say were Bribes
received by
Eucrate; for
Eucrate had the most compassionate Spirit
of all Men living, except his generous Master, who was always kindled
at the least Affliction which was communicated to him. In the Regard
for the Miserable,
Eucrate took particular Care, that the common
Forms of Distress, and the idle Pretenders to Sorrow, about Courts,
who wanted only Supplies to Luxury, should never obtain Favour by his
Means: But the Distresses which arise from the many inexplicable
Occurrences that happen among Men, the unaccountable Alienation of
Parents from their Children, Cruelty of Husbands to Wives, Poverty
occasioned from Shipwreck or Fire, the falling out of Friends, or such
other terrible Disasters, to which the Life of Man is exposed; In
Cases of this Nature,
Eucrate was the Patron; and enjoyed this Part
of the Royal Favour so much without being envied, that it was never
inquired into by whose Means, what no one else cared for doing, was
brought about.
'One Evening when
Pharamond came into the Apartment of
Eucrate, he
found him extremely dejected; upon which he asked (with a Smile which
was natural to him)
"What, is there any one too miserable to be
relieved by Pharamond, that Eucrate is melancholy?
I fear there
is, answered the Favourite; a Person without, of a good Air, well
Dressed, and tho' a Man in the Strength of his Life, seems to faint
under some inconsolable Calamity: All his Features seem suffused with
Agony of Mind; but I can observe in him, that it is more inclined to
break away in Tears than Rage. I asked him what he would have; he said
he would speak to Pharamond. I desired his Business; he could hardly
say to me, Eucrate, carry me to the King, my Story is not to be told
twice, I fear I shall not be able to speak it at all."
Pharamond
commanded Eucrate to let him enter; he did so, and the Gentleman
approached the King with an Air which spoke
him under the greatest
Concern in what Manner to demean himself2. The King, who had a
quick Discerning, relieved him from the Oppression he was under; and
with the most beautiful Complacency said to him,
"Sir, do not add to
that Load of Sorrow I see in your Countenance, the Awe of my Presence:
Think you are speaking to your Friend; if the Circumstances of your
Distress will admit of it, you shall find me so."
To whom the
Stranger:
"Oh excellent
Pharamond, name not a Friend to the
unfortunate
Spinamont. I had one, but he is dead by my own Hand
3;
but, oh
Pharamond, tho' it was by the Hand of
Spinamont, it was by
the Guilt of
Pharamond. I come not, oh excellent Prince, to implore
your Pardon; I come to relate my Sorrow, a Sorrow too great for human
Life to support: From henceforth shall all Occurrences appear Dreams
or short Intervals of Amusement, from this one Affliction which has
seiz'd my very Being: Pardon me, oh
Pharamond, if my Griefs give me
Leave, that I lay before you, in the Anguish of a wounded Mind, that
you, good as you are, are guilty of the generous Blood spilt this Day
by this unhappy Hand: Oh that it had perished before that Instant!"
Here the Stranger paused, and recollecting his Mind, after some little
Meditation, he went on in a calmer Tone and Gesture as follows.
"There is an Authority due to Distress; and as none of human Race is
above the Reach of Sorrow, none should be above the Hearing the Voice
of it: I am sure Pharamond is not. Know then, that I have this
Morning unfortunately killed in a Duel, the Man whom of all Men living
I most loved. I command my self too much in your royal Presence, to
say, Pharamond, give me my Friend! Pharamond has taken him from
me! I will not say, shall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own
Subjects? Will the Father of his Country murder his People? But, the
merciful Pharamond does destroy his Subjects, the Father of his
Country does murder his People. Fortune is so much the Pursuit of
Mankind, that all Glory and Honour is in the Power of a Prince,
because he has the Distribution of their Fortunes. It is therefore the
Inadvertency, Negligence, or Guilt of Princes, to let any thing grow
into Custom which is against their Laws. A Court can make Fashion and
Duty walk together; it can never, without the Guilt of a Court,
happen, that it shall not be unfashionable to do what is unlawful. But
alas! in the Dominions of Pharamond, by the Force of a Tyrant
Custom, which is mis-named a Point of Honour, the Duellist kills his
Friend whom he loves; and the Judge condemns the Duellist, while he
approves his Behaviour. Shame is the greatest of all Evils; what avail
Laws, when Death only attends the Breach of them, and Shame Obedience
to them? As for me, oh Pharamond, were it possible to describe
the nameless Kinds of Compunctions and Tendernesses I feel, when I
reflect upon the little Accidents in our former Familiarity, my Mind
swells into Sorrow which cannot be resisted enough to be silent in the
Presence of Pharamond."
With that he fell into a Flood of
Tears, and wept aloud.
"Why should not Pharamond hear the
Anguish he only can relieve others from in Time to come? Let him hear
from me, what they feel who have given Death by the false Mercy of his
Administration, and form to himself the Vengeance call'd for by those
who have perished by his Negligence.'