English
Peer
,
who has not been long dead, used to tell a pleasant Story of a
French
Gentleman that visited him early one Morning at
Paris
, and after great Professions of Respect, let him know that
he had it in his Power to oblige him; which in short, amounted to this,
that he believed he could tell his Lordship the Person's Name who
justled him as he came out from the Opera, but before he would proceed,
he begged his Lordship that he would not deny him the Honour of making
him his Second. The
English
Lord, to avoid being drawn into a
very foolish Affair, told him, that he was under Engagements for his two
next Duels to a Couple of particular Friends. Upon which the Gentleman
immediately withdrew, hoping his Lordship would not take it ill if he
medled no farther in an Affair from whence he himself was to receive no
Advantage.
The beating down this false Notion of Honour, in so vain and lively a
People as those of
France
, is deservedly looked upon as one of
the most glorious Parts of their present King's Reign. It is pity but
the Punishment of these mischievous Notions should have in it some
particular Circumstances of Shame and Infamy, that those who are Slaves
to them may see, that instead of advancing their Reputations they lead
them to Ignominy and Dishonour.
Death is not sufficient to deter Men who make it their Glory to despise
it, but if every one that fought a Duel were to stand in the Pillory, it
would quickly lessen the Number of these imaginary Men of Honour, and
put an end to so absurd a Practice.
When Honour is a Support to virtuous Principles, and runs parallel with
the Laws of God and our Country, it cannot be too much cherished and
encouraged: But when the Dictates of Honour are contrary to those of
Religion and Equity, they are the greatest Depravations of human Nature,
by giving wrong Ambitions and false Ideas of what is good and laudable;
and should therefore be exploded by all Governments, and driven out as
the Bane and Plague of Human Society.
L.
Percy said he had been told that this was William
Cavendish, first Duke of Devonshire, who died in 1707.
Contents
Contents p.4
|
Monday, June 25, 1711 |
Steele |
Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico.
Hor.
A man advanced in Years that thinks fit to look back upon his former
Life, and calls that only Life which was passed with Satisfaction and
Enjoyment, excluding all Parts which were not pleasant to him, will find
himself very young, if not in his Infancy. Sickness, Ill-humour, and
Idleness, will have robbed him of a great Share of that Space we
ordinarily call our Life. It is therefore the Duty of every Man that
would be true to himself, to obtain, if possible, a Disposition to be
pleased, and place himself in a constant Aptitude for the Satisfactions
of his Being. Instead of this, you hardly see a Man who is not uneasy in
proportion to his Advancement in the Arts of Life. An affected Delicacy
is the common Improvement we meet with in those who pretend to be
refined above others: They do not aim at true Pleasures themselves, but
turn their Thoughts upon observing the false Pleasures of other Men.
Such People are Valetudinarians in Society, and they should no more come
into Company than a sick Man should come into the Air: If a Man is too
weak to bear what is a Refreshment to Men in Health, he must still keep
his Chamber. When any one in Sir
Roger's
Company complains he is out of
Order, he immediately calls for some Posset-drink for him; for which
reason that sort of People who are ever bewailing their Constitution in
other Places are the Chearfullest imaginable when he is present.
It is a wonderful thing that so many, and they not reckoned absurd,
shall entertain those with whom they converse by giving them the History
of their Pains and Aches; and imagine such Narrations their Quota of the
Conversation. This is of all other the meanest Help to Discourse, and a
Man must not think at all, or think himself very insignificant, when he
finds an Account of his Head-ach answer'd by another's asking what News
in the last Mail? Mutual good Humour is a Dress we ought to appear in
whenever we meet, and we should make no mention of what concerns our
selves, without it be of Matters wherein our Friends ought to rejoyce:
But indeed there are Crowds of People who put themselves in no Method of
pleasing themselves or others; such are those whom we usually call
indolent Persons. Indolence is, methinks, an intermediate State between
Pleasure and Pain, and very much unbecoming any Part of our Life after
we are out of the Nurse's Arms. Such an Aversion to Labour creates a
constant Weariness, and one would think should make Existence it self a
Burthen. The indolent Man descends from the Dignity of his Nature, and
makes that Being which was Rational merely Vegetative: His Life consists
only in the meer Encrease and Decay of a Body, which, with relation to
the rest of the World, might as well have been uninformed, as the
Habitation of a reasonable Mind.
Of this kind is the Life of that extraordinary Couple
Harry Tersett
and his Lady.
Harry
was in the Days of his Celibacy one of those pert
Creatures who have much Vivacity and little Understanding; Mrs.
Rebecca
Quickly
, whom he married, had all that the Fire of Youth and a lively
Manner could do towards making an agreeable Woman. The two People of
seeming Merit fell into each other's Arms; and Passion being sated, and
no Reason or good Sense in either to succeed it, their Life is now at a
Stand; their Meals are insipid, and their Time tedious; their Fortune
has placed them above Care, and their Loss of Taste reduced them below
Diversion. When we talk of these as Instances of Inexistence, we do not
mean, that in order to live it is necessary we should always be in
Jovial Crews, or crowned with Chaplets of Roses, as the merry Fellows
among the Ancients are described; but it is intended by considering
these Contraries to Pleasure, Indolence, and too much Delicacy, to shew
that it is Prudence to preserve a Disposition in our selves to receive a
certain Delight in all we hear and see.
This portable Quality of good Humour seasons all the Parts and
Occurrences we meet with, in such a manner, that, there are no Moments
lost; but they all pass with so much Satisfaction, that the heaviest of
Loads (when it is a Load) that of Time, is never felt by us.
Varilas
has this Quality to the highest Perfection, and communicates it wherever
he appears: The Sad, the Merry, the Severe, the Melancholy, shew a new
Chearfulness when he comes amongst them. At the same time no one can
repeat any thing that
Varilas
has ever said that deserves Repetition;
but the Man has that innate Goodness of Temper, that he is welcome to
every Body, because every Man thinks he is so to him. He does not seem
to contribute any thing to the Mirth of the Company; and yet upon
Reflection you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was
whimsically said of a Gentleman, That if
Varilas
had Wit, it would be
the best Wit in the World. It is certain, when a well-corrected lively
Imagination and good Breeding are added to a sweet Disposition, they
qualify it to be one of the greatest Blessings, as well as Pleasures of
Life.
Men would come into Company with ten times the Pleasure they do, if they
were sure of hearing nothing which should shock them, as well as
expected what would please them. When we know every Person that is
spoken of is represented by one who has no ill Will, and every thing
that is mentioned described by one that is apt to set it in the best
Light, the Entertainment must be delicate; because the Cook has nothing
brought to his Hand but what is the most excellent in its Kind.
Beautiful Pictures are the Entertainments of pure Minds, and Deformities
of the corrupted. It is a Degree towards the Life of Angels, when we
enjoy Conversation wherein there is nothing presented but in its
Excellence: and a Degree towards that of Dæmons, wherein nothing is
shewn but in its Degeneracy.
T.
Contents
Contents p.4
|
Tuesday, June 26, 1711 |
Addison |
Romulus, et Liber pater, et cum Castore Pollux,
Post ingentia facta, Deorum in templa recepti;
Dum terras hominumque colunt genus, aspera bella
Componunt, agros assignant, oppida condunt;
Ploravere suis non respondere favorem
Speratum meritis: ...
Hor.
, says a late ingenious Author,
is the Tax a Man pays to the
Publick for being Eminent
. It is a Folly for an eminent Man to
think of escaping it, and a Weakness to be affected with it. All the
illustrious Persons of Antiquity, and indeed of every Age in the World,
have passed through this fiery Persecution. There is no Defence against
Reproach, but Obscurity; it is a kind of Concomitant to Greatness, as
Satyrs and Invectives were an essential Part of a
Roman
Triumph.
If Men of Eminence are exposed to Censure on one hand, they are as much
liable to Flattery on the other. If they receive Reproaches which are
not due to them, they likewise receive Praises which they do not
deserve. In a word, the Man in a high Post is never regarded with an
indifferent Eye, but always considered as a Friend or an Enemy. For this
Reason Persons in great Stations have seldom their true Characters drawn
till several Years after their Deaths. Their personal Friendships and
Enmities must cease, and the Parties they were engaged in be at an End,
before their Faults or their Virtues can have Justice done them. When
Writers have the least Opportunities of knowing the Truth they are in
the best Disposition to tell it.
It is therefore the Privilege of Posterity to adjust the Characters of
illustrious Persons, and to set Matters right between those Antagonists,
who by their Rivalry for Greatness divided a whole Age into Factions. We
can now allow
Cæsar
to be a great Man, without derogating from
Pompey
; and celebrate the Virtues of
Cato
, without
detracting from those of
Cæsar
. Every one that has been long dead
has a due Proportion of Praise allotted him, in which whilst he lived
his Friends were too profuse and his Enemies too sparing.
to Sir
Isaac Newton's
Calculations, the last Comet that
made its Appearance in 1680, imbib'd so much Heat by its Approaches to
the Sun, that it would have been two thousand times hotter than red hot
Iron, had it been a Globe of that Metal; and that supposing it as big as
the Earth, and at the same Distance from the Sun, it would be fifty
thousand Years in cooling, before it recovered its natural Temper
.
In the like manner, if an
Englishman
considers the great Ferment
into which our Political World is thrown at present, and how intensely
it is heated in all its Parts, he cannot suppose that it will cool again
in less than three hundred Years. In such a Tract of Time it is possible
that the Heats of the present Age may be extinguished, and our several
Classes of great Men represented under their proper Characters. Some
eminent Historian may then probably arise that will not write
recentibus odiis
(as
Tacitus
expresses it) with the
Passions and Prejudices of a contemporary Author, but make an impartial
Distribution of Fame among the Great Men of the present Age.
I cannot forbear entertaining my self very often with the Idea of such
an imaginary Historian describing the Reign of
Anne
the First,
and introducing it with a Preface to his Reader, that he is now entring
upon the most shining Part of the
English
Story. The great Rivals
in Fame will then be distinguished according to their respective Merits,
and shine in their proper Points of
. Such
an
one (says the
Historian) tho' variously represented by the Writers of his own Age,
appears to have been a Man of more than ordinary Abilities, great
Application and uncommon Integrity: Nor was such an one (tho' of an
opposite Party and Interest) inferior to him in any of these Respects.
The several Antagonists who now endeavour to depreciate one another, and
are celebrated or traduced by different Parties, will then have the same
Body of Admirers, and appear Illustrious in the Opinion of the whole
British
Nation. The deserving Man, who can now recommend himself
to the Esteem of but half his Countrymen, will then receive the
Approbations and Applauses of a whole Age.
Among the several Persons that flourish in this Glorious Reign, there is
no question but such a future Historian as the Person of whom I am
speaking, will make mention of the Men of Genius and Learning, who have
now any Figure in the
British
Nation. For my own part, I often
flatter my self with the honourable Mention which will then be made of
me; and have drawn up a Paragraph in my own Imagination, that I fancy
will not be altogether unlike what will be found in some Page or other
of this imaginary Historian.
It was under this Reign, says he, that the
Spectator publish'd those
little Diurnal Essays which are still extant. We know very little of the
Name or Person of this Author, except only that he was a Man of a very
short Face, extreamly addicted to Silence, and so great a Lover of
Knowledge, that he made a Voyage to
Grand Cairo for no other
Reason, but to take the Measure of a Pyramid. His chief Friend was one
Sir
Roger De Coverley, a whimsical Country Knight, and a
Templar
whose Name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a Lodger at the
House of a Widow-Woman, and was a great Humourist in all Parts of his
Life. This is all we can affirm with any Certainty of his Person and
Character. As for his Speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete
Words and obscure Phrases of the Age in which he lived, we still
understand enough of them to see the Diversions and Characters of the
English Nation in his Time: Not but that we are to make Allowance
for the Mirth and Humour of the Author, who has doubtless strained many
Representations of Things beyond the Truth.
For if we interpret his
Words in the literal Meaning, we must suppose that Women of the first
Quality used to pass away whole Mornings at a Puppet-Show: That they
attested their Principles by their
Patches: That an Audience
would sit out
an4 Evening to hear a Dramatical Performance written
in a Language which they did not understand: That Chairs and Flower-pots
were introduced as Actors upon the
British Stage: That a
promiscuous Assembly of Men and Women were allowed to meet at Midnight
in Masques within the Verge of the Court; with many Improbabilities of
the like Nature. We must therefore, in these and the like Cases, suppose
that these remote Hints and Allusions aimed at some certain Follies
which were then in Vogue, and which at present we have not any Notion
of. We may guess by several Passages in the
Speculations, that
there were Writers who endeavoured to detract from the Works of this
Author; but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot
guess at any Objections that could be made to his Paper. If we consider
his Style with that Indulgence which we must shew to old
English
Writers, or if we look into the Variety of his Subjects, with those
several Critical Dissertations, Moral Reflections,
The following Part of the Paragraph is so much to my Advantage, and
beyond any thing I can pretend to, that I hope my Reader will excuse me
for not inserting it.
L.
Swift.
In his
Principia
, published 1687, Newton says this
to show that the nuclei of Comets must consist of solid matter.
a
a whole
Contents
Contents p.4
|
Wednesday, June 27, 1711 |
Addison |
... Lusus animo debent aliquando dari,
Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.
Phædr.
I do not know whether to call the following Letter a Satyr upon Coquets,
or a Representation of their several fantastical Accomplishments, or
what other Title to give it; but as it is I shall communicate it to the
Publick. It will sufficiently explain its own Intentions, so that I
shall give it my Reader at Length, without either Preface or Postscript.
Mr. Spectator,
'Women are armed with Fans as Men with Swords, and sometimes do more
Execution with them. To the end therefore that Ladies may be entire
Mistresses of the Weapon which they bear, I have erected an Academy
for the training up of young Women in the
Exercise of the Fan,
according to the most fashionable Airs and Motions that are now
practis'd at Court. The Ladies who
carry Fans under me are
drawn up twice a-day in my great Hall, where they are instructed in
the Use of their Arms, and
exercised by the following Words of
Command,
Handle your Fans,
Unfurl your fans.
Discharge your Fans,
Ground your Fans,
Recover your Fans,
Flutter your Fans.
By the right Observation of these few plain Words of Command, a Woman
of a tolerable Genius,
who1 will apply herself diligently to her
Exercise for the Space of but one half Year, shall be able to give her
Fan all the Graces that can possibly enter into that little modish
Machine.
But to the end that my Readers may form to themselves a right Notion
of this
Exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its
Parts. When my Female Regiment is drawn up in Array, with every one
her Weapon in her Hand, upon my giving the Word to
handle their
Fans, each of them shakes her Fan at me with a Smile, then gives
her Right-hand Woman a Tap upon the Shoulder, then presses her Lips
with the Extremity of her Fan, then lets her Arms fall in an easy
Motion, and stands in a Readiness to receive the next Word of Command.
All this is done with a close Fan, and is generally learned in the
first Week.
The next Motion is that of
unfurling the Fan, in which
are2 comprehended several little Flirts and Vibrations, as also
gradual and deliberate Openings, with many voluntary Fallings asunder
in the Fan itself, that are seldom learned under a Month's Practice.
This Part of the
Exercise pleases the Spectators more than any
other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite Number of
Cupids,
Garlands, Altars, Birds, Beasts, Rainbows, and the
like agreeable Figures, that display themselves to View, whilst every
one in the Regiment holds a Picture in her Hand.
Upon my giving the Word to
discharge their Fans, they give one
general Crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the
Wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult Parts of the
Exercise; but I have several Ladies with me, who at their first
Entrance could not give a Pop loud enough to be heard at the further
end of a Room, who can now
discharge a Fan in such a manner,
that it shall make a Report like a Pocket-Pistol. I have likewise
taken care (in order to hinder young Women from letting off their Fans
in wrong Places or unsuitable Occasions) to shew upon what Subject the
Crack of a Fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a Fan,
with which a Girl of Sixteen, by the help of a little Wind which is
inclosed about one of the largest Sticks, can make as loud a Crack as
a Woman of Fifty with an ordinary Fan.
When the Fans are thus
discharged, the Word of Command in
course is to
ground their Fans. This teaches a Lady to quit her
Fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to take up a Pack of
Cards, adjust a Curl of Hair, replace a falling Pin, or apply her self
to any other Matter of Importance. This Part of the
Exercise,
as it only consists in tossing a Fan with an Air upon a long Table
(which stands by for that Purpose) may be learned in two Days Time as
well as in a Twelvemonth.
When my Female Regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let them walk
about the Room for some Time; when on a sudden (like Ladies that look
upon their Watches after a long Visit) they all of them hasten to
their Arms, catch them up in a Hurry, and place themselves in their
proper Stations upon my calling out
Recover your Fans. This
Part of the
Exercise is not difficult, provided a Woman applies
her Thoughts to it.
The
Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and indeed the
Master-piece of the whole
Exercise; but if a Lady does not
mis-spend her Time, she may make herself Mistress of it in three
Months. I generally lay aside the Dog-days and the hot Time of the
Summer for the teaching this Part of the
Exercise; for as soon
as ever I pronounce
Flutter your Fans, the Place is fill'd with
so many Zephyrs and gentle Breezes as are very refreshing in that
Season of the Year, tho' they might be dangerous to Ladies of a tender
Constitution in any other.
There is an infinite Variety of Motions to be made use of in the
Flutter of a Fan. There is the angry Flutter, the modest
Flutter, the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the merry
Flutter, and the amorous Flutter.
Not to be tedious, there is scarce
any Emotion in the Mind
which3 does not produce a suitable
Agitation in the Fan; insomuch, that if I only see the Fan of a
disciplin'd Lady, I know very well whether she laughs, frowns, or
blushes. I have seen a Fan so very angry, that it would have been
dangerous for the absent Lover
who3 provoked it to have come
within the Wind of it; and at other times so very languishing, that I
have been glad for the Lady's sake the Lover was at a sufficient
Distance from it. I need not add, that a Fan is either a Prude or
Coquet according to the Nature of the Person
who3 bears it. To
conclude my Letter, I must acquaint you that I have from my own
Observations compiled a little Treatise for the use of my Scholars,
entitled
The Passions of the Fan; which I will communicate to
you, if you think it may be of use to the Publick. I shall have a
general Review on
Thursday next; to which you shall be very
welcome if you will honour it with your Presence.
I am, &c.
P. S. I teach young Gentlemen the whole Art of Gallanting a
Fan.
N. B. I have several little plain Fans made for this Use, to
avoid Expence.'
L.
that
is
that
Contents
Contents p.4
|
Thursday, June 28, 1711 |
Steele |
... Sibi quivis
Speret idem frusta sudet frustraque laboret
Ausus idem ...
Hor.
My Friend the Divine having been used with Words of Complaisance (which
he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could
be only spoken of him, and that in his Absence) was so extreamly
offended with the excessive way of speaking Civilities among us, that he
made a Discourse against it at the Club; which he concluded with this
Remark, That he had not heard one Compliment made in our Society since
its Commencement. Every one was pleased with his Conclusion; and as each
knew his good Will to the rest, he was convinced that the many
Professions of Kindness and Service, which we ordinarily meet with, are
not natural where the Heart is well inclined; but are a Prostitution of
Speech, seldom intended to mean Any Part of what they express, never to
mean All they express.
Reverend Friend, upon this Topick, pointed to
us two or three Paragraphs on this Subject in the first Sermon of the
first Volume of the late Arch-Bishop's Posthumous Works
. I do not
know that I ever read any thing that pleased me more, and as it is the
Praise of
Longinus
, that he Speaks of the Sublime in a Style
suitable to it, so one may say of this Author upon Sincerity, that he
abhors any Pomp of Rhetorick on this Occasion, and treats it with a more
than ordinary Simplicity, at once to be a Preacher and an Example. With
what Command of himself does he lay before us, in the Language and
Temper of his Profession, a Fault, which by the least Liberty and Warmth
of Expression would be the most lively Wit and Satyr? But his Heart was
better disposed, and the good Man chastised the great Wit in such a
manner, that he was able to speak as follows.
'... Amongst too many other Instances of the great Corruption and
Degeneracy of the Age wherein we live, the great and general Want of
Sincerity in Conversation is none of the least. The World is grown so
full of Dissimulation and Compliment, that Mens Words are hardly any
Signification of their Thoughts; and if any Man measure his Words by
his Heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not express more Kindness to
every Man, than Men usually have for any Man, he can hardly escape the
Censure of want of Breeding. The old English Plainness and
Sincerity, that generous Integrity of Nature, and Honesty of
Disposition, which always argues true Greatness of Mind and is usually
accompanied with undaunted Courage and Resolution, is in a great
measure lost amongst us: There hath been a long Endeavour to transform
us into Foreign Manners and Fashions, and to bring us to a servile
Imitation of none of the best of our Neighbours in some of the worst
of their Qualities. The Dialect of Conversation is now-a-days so
swelled with Vanity and Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may say) of
Expressions of Kindness and Respect, that if a Man that lived an Age
or two ago should return into the World again he would really want a
Dictionary to help him to understand his own Language, and to know the
true intrinsick Value of the Phrase in Fashion, and would hardly at
first believe at what a low Rate the highest Strains and Expressions
of Kindness imaginable do commonly pass in current Payment; and when
he should come to understand it, it would be a great while before he
could bring himself with a good Countenance and a good Conscience to
converse with Men upon equal Terms, and in their own way.
And in truth it is hard to say, whether it should more provoke our
Contempt or our Pity, to hear what solemn Expressions of Respect and
Kindness will pass between Men, almost upon no Occasion; how great
Honour and Esteem they will declare for one whom perhaps they never
saw before, and how entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his
Service and Interest, for no Reason; how infinitely and eternally
obliged to him, for no Benefit; and how extreamly they will be
concerned for him, yea and afflicted too, for no Cause. I know it is
said, in Justification of this hollow kind of Conversation, that there
is no Harm, no real Deceit in Compliment, but the Matter is well
enough, so long as we understand one another; et Verba valent ut
Nummi: Words are like Money; and when the current Value of them is
generally understood, no Man is cheated by them. This is something, if
such Words were any thing; but being brought into the Account, they
are meer Cyphers. However, it is still a just Matter of Complaint,
that Sincerity and Plainness are out of Fashion, and that our Language
is running into a Lie; that Men have almost quite perverted the use of
Speech, and made Words to signifie nothing, that the greatest part of
the Conversation of Mankind is little else but driving a Trade of
Dissimulation; insomuch that it would make a Man heartily sick and
weary of the World, to see the little Sincerity that is in Use and
Practice among Men.
When the Vice is placed in this contemptible Light, he argues
unanswerably against it, in Words and Thoughts so natural, that any
Man who reads them would imagine he himself could have been the Author
of them.
If the Show of any thing be good for any thing, I am sure Sincerity is
better: for why does any Man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is
not, but because he thinks it good to have such a Quality as he
pretends to? For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the
Appearance of some real Excellency. Now the best way in the World to
seem to be any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be.
Besides, that it is many times as troublesome to make good the
Pretence of a good Quality, as to have it; and if a Man have it not,
it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it; and then all his
Pains and Labour to seem to have it, is lost.