The Exercise of the Snuff-Box,
according to the most fashionable Airs and Motions,
in opposition to the Exercise of the Fan,
will be Taught with the best plain or perfumed Snuff,
at Charles Lillie's
Perfumer
at the Corner of Beaufort-Buildings in the Strand,
and Attendance given
for the Benefit of the young Merchants about the Exchange
for two Hours every Day at Noon, except Saturdays,
at a Toy-shop near Garraway's
Coffee-House.
There will be likewise Taught
The Ceremony of the Snuff-box,
or Rules for offering Snuff to a Stranger, a Friend, or a Mistress,
according to the Degrees of Familiarity or Distance;
with an Explanation of
the Careless, the Scornful, the Politick, and the Surly Pinch,
and the Gestures proper to each of them.
N. B.
The Undertaker does not question
but in a short time to have formed
a Body of Regular Snuff-Boxes
ready to meet and make head against
[all] the Regiment of Fans which have been
lately Disciplined, and are now in Motion.
T.
|
Thursday, August 9, 1711 |
Steele |
Vera Gloria radices agit, atque etiam propagatur: Ficta omnia celeriter, tanquam flosculi, decidunt, nec simulatum potest quidquam esse diuturnum.
Tull.
Of all the Affections which attend Human Life, the Love of Glory is the
most Ardent. According as this is Cultivated in Princes, it produces the
greatest Good or the greatest Evil. Where Sovereigns have it by
Impressions received from Education only, it creates an Ambitious rather
than a Noble Mind; where it is the natural Bent of the Prince's
Inclination, it prompts him to the Pursuit of Things truly Glorious. The
two greatest Men now in
Europe
(according to the common Acceptation of
the Word
Great
) are
Lewis
King of
France
, and
Peter
Emperor of
Russia
. As it is certain that all Fame does not arise from the
Practice of Virtue, it is, methinks, no unpleasing Amusement to examine
the Glory of these Potentates, and distinguish that which is empty,
perishing, and frivolous, from what is solid, lasting, and important.
Lewis
of
France
had
Infancy attended by Crafty and Worldly Men,
who made Extent of Territory the most glorious
Instance
of Power,
and mistook the spreading of Fame for the Acquisition of Honour. The
young Monarch's Heart was by such Conversation easily deluded into a
Fondness for Vain-glory, and upon these unjust Principles to form or
fall in with suitable Projects of Invasion, Rapine, Murder, and all the
Guilts that attend War when it is unjust. At the same time this Tyranny
was laid, Sciences and Arts were encouraged in the most generous Manner,
as if Men of higher Faculties were to be bribed to permit the Massacre
of the rest of the World. Every Superstructure which the Court of
France
built upon their first Designs, which were in themselves
vicious, was suitable to its false Foundation. The Ostentation of
Riches, the Vanity of Equipage, Shame of Poverty, and Ignorance of
Modesty, were the common Arts of Life: The generous Love of one Woman
was changed into Gallantry for all the Sex, and Friendships among Men
turned into Commerces of Interest, or mere Professions.
While these
were the Rules of Life, Perjuries in the Prince, and a general
Corruption of Manners in the Subject, were the Snares in which
France
has Entangled all her Neighbours.
With such false Colours have the
Eyes of
Lewis
been enchanted, from the Debauchery of his early Youth,
to the Superstition of his present old Age. Hence it is, that he has the
Patience to have Statues erected to his Prowess, his Valour, his
Fortitude; and in the Softnesses and Luxury of a Court, to be applauded
for Magnanimity and Enterprize in Military Atchievements.
Peter Alexiwitz
of
Russia
, when he came to Years of Manhood, though
he found himself Emperor of a vast and numerous People, Master of an
endless Territory, absolute Commander of the Lives and Fortunes of his
Subjects, in the midst of this unbounded Power and Greatness turned his
Thoughts upon Himself and People with Sorrow. Sordid Ignorance and a
Brute Manner of Life this Generous Prince beheld and contemned from the
Light of his own
Genius
. His Judgment suggested this to him, and his
Courage prompted him to amend it. In order to this he did not send to
the Nation from whence the rest of the World has borrowed its
Politeness, but himself left his Diadem to learn the true Way to Glory
and Honour, and Application to useful Arts, wherein to employ the
Laborious, the Simple, the Honest part of his People. Mechanick
Employments and Operations were very justly the first Objects of his
Favour and Observation. With this glorious Intention he travelled into
Foreign Nations in an obscure Manner, above receiving little Honours
where he sojourned, but prying into what was of more Consequence, their
Arts of Peace and of War. By this means has this great Prince laid the
Foundation of a great and lasting Fame, by personal Labour, personal
Knowledge, personal Valour. It would be Injury to any of Antiquity to
name them with him. Who, but himself, ever left a Throne to learn to sit
in it with more Grace? Who ever thought himself mean in Absolute
Power, 'till he had learned to use it?
If we consider this wonderful Person, it is Perplexity to know where to
begin his Encomium. Others may in a Metaphorical or Philosophick Sense
be said to command themselves, but this Emperor is also literally under
his own Command. How generous and how good was his entring his own Name
as a private Man in the Army he raised, that none in it might expect to
out-run the Steps with which he himself advanced! By such Measures this
god-like Prince learned to Conquer, learned to use his Conquests. How
terrible has he appeared in Battel, how gentle in Victory? Shall then
the base Arts of the
Frenchman
be held Polite, and the honest Labours
of the
Russian
Barbarous? No: Barbarity is the Ignorance of true
Honour, or placing any thing instead of it. The unjust Prince is Ignoble
and Barbarous, the good Prince only Renowned and Glorious.
Tho' Men may impose upon themselves what they please by their corrupt
Imaginations, Truth will ever keep its Station; and as Glory is nothing
else but the Shadow of Virtue, it will certainly disappear at the
Departure of Virtue. But how carefully ought the true Notions of it to
be preserved, and how industrious should we be to encourage any Impulses
towards it? The
Westminster
School-boy
said the other Day he
could not sleep or play for the Colours in the Hall
, ought to be
free from receiving a Blow for ever.
But let us consider what is truly Glorious according to the Author I
have to day quoted in the Front of my Paper.
Perfection of Glory, says
Tully
, consists in these three
Particulars:
That the People love us; that they have Confidence in
us; that being affected with a certain Admiration towards us, they think
we deserve Honour
.
This was spoken of Greatness in a Commonwealth: But if one were to form
a Notion of Consummate Glory under our Constitution, one must add to the
above-mentioned Felicities a certain necessary Inexistence, and
Disrelish of all the rest, without the Prince's Favour.
He should, methinks, have Riches, Power, Honour, Command, Glory; but
Riches, Power, Honour, Command and Glory should have no Charms, but as
accompanied with the Affection of his Prince. He should, methinks, be
Popular because a Favourite, and a Favourite because Popular.
Were it not to make the Character too imaginary, I would give him
Sovereignty over some Foreign Territory, and make him esteem that an
empty Addition without the kind Regards of his own Prince.
One may merely have an
Idea
of a Man thus composed and
circumstantiated, and if he were so made for Power without an Incapacity
of giving Jealousy, he would be also Glorious, without Possibility of
receiving Disgrace. This Humility and this Importance must make his
Glory immortal.
These Thoughts are apt to draw me beyond the usual Length of this Paper,
but if I could suppose such Rhapsodies cou'd outlive the common Fate of
ordinary things, I would say these Sketches and Faint Images of Glory
were drawn in
August, 1711,
when
John
Duke of
Marlborough
made that memorable March wherein he took the French
Lines without Bloodshed.
T.
Instances
The Colours taken at Blenheim hung in Westminster Hall.
Towards the close of the first
Philippic
.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Friday, August 10, 1711 |
Steele |
Animum curis nunc huc nunc dividit illuc.
Virg.
When I acquaint my Reader, that I have many other Letters not yet
acknowledged, I believe he will own, what I have a mind he should
believe, that I have no small Charge upon me, but am a Person of some
Consequence in this World. I shall therefore employ the present Hour
only in reading Petitions, in the Order as follows.
Mr. Spectator,
'I have lost so much Time already, that I desire, upon the Receipt
hereof, you would sit down immediately and give me your Answer. And I
would know of you whether a Pretender of mine really loves me.
As well as I can I will describe his Manners. When he sees me he is
always talking of Constancy, but vouchsafes to visit me but once a
Fortnight, and then is always in haste to be gone.
When I am sick, I hear, he says he is mightily concerned, but neither
comes nor sends, because, as he tells his Acquaintance with a Sigh, he
does not care to let me know all the Power I have over him, and how
impossible it is for him to live without me.
When he leaves the Town he writes once in six Weeks, desires to hear
from me, complains of the Torment of Absence, speaks of Flames,
Tortures, Languishings and Ecstasies. He has the Cant of an impatient
Lover, but keeps the Pace of a Lukewarm one.
You know I must not go faster than he does, and to move at this rate
is as tedious as counting a great Clock. But you are to know he is
rich, and my Mother says, As he is slow he is sure; He will love me
long, if he loves me little: But I appeal to you whether he loves at
all
Your Neglected, Humble Servant,
Lydia Novell.
All these Fellows who have Mony are extreamly sawcy and cold; Pray,
Sir, tell them of it.
Mr.Spectator,
'I have been delighted with nothing more through the whole Course of
your Writings than the Substantial Account you lately gave of Wit, and
I could wish you would take some other Opportunity to express further
the Corrupt Taste the Age is run into; which I am chiefly apt to
attribute to the Prevalency of a few popular Authors, whose Merit in
some respects has given a Sanction to their Faults in others.
Thus the Imitators of
Milton seem to place all the Excellency
of that sort of Writing either in the uncouth or antique Words, or
something else which was highly vicious, tho' pardonable, in that
Great Man.
The Admirers of what we call Point, or Turn, look upon it as the
particular Happiness to which
Cowley, Ovid and others owe their
Reputation, and therefore imitate them only in such Instances; what is
Just, Proper and Natural does not seem to be the Question with them,
but by what means a quaint Antithesis may be brought about, how one
Word may be made to look two Ways, and what will be the Consequence of
a forced Allusion.
Now tho' such Authors appear to me to resemble those who make
themselves fine, instead of being well dressed or graceful; yet the
Mischief is, that these Beauties in them, which I call Blemishes, are
thought to proceed from Luxuriance of Fancy and Overflowing of good
Sense: In one word, they have the Character of being too Witty; but if
you would acquaint the World they are not Witty at all, you would,
among many others, oblige,
Sir,
Your Most Benevolent Reader,
R. D.
Sir,
'I am a young Woman, and reckoned Pretty, therefore you'll pardon me
that I trouble you to decide a Wager between me and a Cousin of mine,
who is always contradicting one because he understands
Latin. Pray,
Sir. is
Dimpple spelt with a single or a double
P?'
I am, Sir,
Your very Humble Servant,
Betty Saunter.
Pray, Sir,
direct thus, To the kind Querist,
and leave it at;
Mr. Lillie's,
for I don't care to be known in the thing at all. I
am, Sir, again Your Humble Servant.'
Mr.
Spectator,
'I must needs tell you there are several of your Papers I do not much
like. You are often so Nice there is no enduring you, and so Learned
there is no understanding you. What have you to do with our
Petticoats?'
Your Humble Servant,
Parthenope.
Mr.
Spectator,
'Last Night as I was walking in the Park, I met a couple of Friends;
Prithee
Jack, says one of them, let us go drink a Glass of Wine, for
I am fit for nothing else. This put me upon reflecting on the many
Miscarriages which happen in Conversations over Wine, when Men go to
the Bottle to remove such Humours as it only stirs up and awakens.
This I could not attribute more to any thing than to the Humour of
putting Company upon others which Men do not like themselves. Pray,
Sir, declare in your Papers, that he who is a troublesome Companion to
himself, will not be an agreeable one to others. Let People reason
themselves into good-Humour, before they impose themselves upon their
Friends. Pray, Sir, be as Eloquent as you can upon this Subject, and
do Human Life so much Good, as to argue powerfully, that it is not
every one that can swallow who is fit to drink a Glass of Wine.'
Your most Humble Servant.
Sir,
'I this Morning cast my Eye upon your Paper concerning the Expence of
Time. You are very obliging to the Women, especially those who are not
Young and past Gallantry, by touching so gently upon Gaming: Therefore
I hope you do not think it wrong to employ a little leisure Time in
that Diversion; but I should be glad to hear you say something upon
the Behaviour of some of the Female Gamesters.
I have observed Ladies, who in all other respects are Gentle,
Good-humoured, and the very Pinks of good Breeding; who as soon as the
Ombre Table is called for, and set down to their Business, are
immediately Transmigrated into the veriest Wasps in Nature.
You must know I keep my Temper, and win their Mony; but am out of
Countenance to take it, it makes them so very uneasie. Be pleased,
dear Sir, to instruct them to lose with a better Grace, and you will
oblige'
Yours,
Rachel Basto.
Mr.
Spectator1,
'
Your Kindness to
Eleonora, in one of your Papers, has given me
Encouragement to do my self the Honour of writing to you. The great
Regard you have so often expressed for the Instruction and Improvement
of our Sex, will, I hope, in your own Opinion, sufficiently excuse me
from making any Apology for the Impertinence of this Letter. The great
Desire I have to embellish my Mind with some of those Graces which you
say are so becoming, and which you assert Reading helps us to, has
made me uneasie 'till I am put in a Capacity of attaining them: This,
Sir, I shall never think my self in, 'till you shall be pleased to
recommend some Author or Authors to my Perusal.
I thought indeed, when I first cast my Eye on
Eleonora's Letter,
that I should have had no occasion for requesting it of you; but to my
very great Concern, I found, on the Perusal of that
Spectator, I was
entirely disappointed, and am as much at a loss how to make use of my
Time for that end as ever. Pray, Sir, oblige me at least with one
Scene, as you were pleased to entertain
Eleonora with your Prologue.
I write to you not only my own Sentiments, but also those of several
others of my Acquaintance, who are as little pleased with the ordinary
manner of spending one's Time as my self: And if a fervent Desire
after Knowledge, and a great Sense of our present Ignorance, may be
thought a good Presage and Earnest of Improvement, you may look upon
your Time you shall bestow in answering this Request not thrown away
to no purpose. And I can't but add, that unless you have a particular
and more than ordinary Regard for
Eleonora, I have a better Title to
your Favour than she; since I do not content myself with Tea-table
Reading of your Papers, but it is my Entertainment very often when
alone in my Closet. To shew you I am capable of Improvement, and hate
Flattery, I acknowledge I do not like some of your Papers; but even
there I am readier to call in question my own shallow Understanding
than Mr.
Spector's profound Judgment.
I am, Sir,
your already (and in hopes of being more) your obliged Servant,
Parthenia.
This last Letter is written with so urgent and serious an Air, that I
cannot but think it incumbent upon me to comply with her Commands, which
I shall do very suddenly.
T.
This letter, signed
Parthenia
, was by Miss Shepheard,
sister of Mrs. Perry, who wrote the Letter in
, signed
Leonora
.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Saturday, August 11, 1711 |
Steele |
... Migravit ab Aure voluptas
Omnis ...
Hor.
In the present Emptiness of the Town, I have several Applications from
the lower Part of the Players, to admit Suffering to pass for Acting.
They in very obliging Terms desire me to let a Fall on the Ground, a
Stumble, or a good Slap on the Back, be reckoned a Jest. These Gambols I
shall tolerate for a Season, because I hope the Evil cannot continue
longer than till the People of Condition and Taste return to Town. The
Method, some time ago, was to entertain that Part of the Audience, who
have no Faculty above Eyesight, with Rope-dancers and Tumblers; which
was a way discreet enough, because it prevented Confusion, and
distinguished such as could show all the Postures which the Body is
capable of, from those who were to represent all the Passions to which
the Mind is subject. But tho' this was prudently settled, Corporeal and
Intellectual Actors ought to be kept at a still wider Distance than to
appear on the same Stage at all: For which Reason I must propose some
Methods for the Improvement of the Bear-Garden, by dismissing all Bodily
Actors to that Quarter.
In Cases of greater moment, where Men appear in Publick, the Consequence
and Importance of the thing can bear them out. And tho' a Pleader or
Preacher is Hoarse or Awkward, the Weight of the Matter commands Respect
and Attention; but in Theatrical Speaking, if the Performer is not
exactly proper and graceful, he is utterly ridiculous. In Cases where
there is little else expected, but the Pleasure of the Ears and Eyes,
the least Diminution of that Pleasure is the highest Offence. In Acting,
barely to perform the Part is not commendable, but to be the least out
is contemptible. To avoid these Difficulties and Delicacies, I am
informed, that while I was out of Town, the Actors have flown in the
Air, and played such Pranks, and run such Hazards, that none but the
Servants of the Fire-office, Tilers and Masons, could have been able to
perform the like. The Author of the following Letter, it seems, has been
of the Audience at one of these Entertainments, and has accordingly
complained to me upon it; but I think he has been to the utmost degree
Severe against what is exceptionable in the Play he mentions, without
dwelling so much as he might have done on the Author's most excellent
Talent of Humour. The pleasant Pictures he has drawn of Life, should
have been more kindly mentioned, at the same time that he banishes his
Witches, who are too dull Devils to be attacked with so much Warmth.
Mr.
Spectator1,
'
Upon a Report that
Moll White had followed you to Town, and was to
act a Part in the
Lancashire-Witches, I went last Week to see that
Play
2. It was my Fortune to sit next to a Country Justice of the
Peace, a Neighbour (as he said) of Sir
Roger's, who pretended to shew
her to us in one of the Dances. There was Witchcraft enough in the
Entertainment almost to incline me to believe him;
Ben Johnson was
almost lamed; young
Bullock narrowly saved his Neck; the Audience
was astonished, and an old Acquaintance of mine, a Person of Worth,
whom I would have bowed to in the Pit, at two Yards distance did not
know me.
If you were what the Country People reported you, a white Witch, I
could have wished you had been there to have exorcised that Rabble of
Broomsticks, with which we were haunted for above three Hours. I could
have allowed them to set
Clod in the Tree, to have scared the
Sportsmen, plagued the Justice, and employed honest
Teague with his
holy Water. This was the proper Use of them in Comedy, if the Author
had stopped here; but I cannot conceive what Relation the Sacrifice of
the Black Lamb, and the Ceremonies of their Worship to the Devil, have
to the Business of Mirth and Humour.
The Gentleman who writ this Play, and has drawn some Characters in it
very justly, appears to have been misled in his Witchcraft by an
unwary following the inimitable
Shakespear. The Incantations in
Mackbeth have a Solemnity admirably adapted to the Occasion of that
Tragedy, and fill the Mind with a suitable Horror; besides, that the
Witches are a Part of the Story it self, as we find it very
particularly related in
Hector Bœtius, from whom he seems to have
taken it. This therefore is a proper Machine where the Business is
dark, horrid, and bloody; but is extremely foreign from the Affair of
Comedy. Subjects of this kind, which are in themselves disagreeable,
can at no time become entertaining, but by passing through an
Imagination like
Shakespear's to form them;
for which Reason Mr.
Dryden would not allow even
Beaumont and
Fletcher capable of
imitating him.
But Shakespear's
Magick cou'd not copy'd be,
Within that Circle none durst walk but He3.
I should not, however, have troubled you with these Remarks, if there
were not something else in this Comedy, which wants to be exorcised more
than the Witches. I mean the Freedom of some Passages, which I should
have overlook'd, if I had not observed that those Jests can raise the
loudest Mirth, though they are painful to right Sense, and an Outrage
upon Modesty.
We must attribute such Liberties to the Taste of that Age, but indeed by
such Representations a Poet sacrifices the best Part of his Audience to
the worst; and, as one would think, neglects the Boxes, to write to the
Orange-Wenches.
I must not conclude till I have taken notice of the Moral with which
this Comedy ends. The two young Ladies having given a notable Example of
outwitting those who had a Right in the Disposal of them, and marrying
without Consent of Parents, one of the injur'd Parties, who is easily
reconciled, winds up all with this Remark,
... Design whate'er we will,
There is a Fate which over-rules us still.
We are to suppose that the Gallants are Men of Merit, but if they had
been Rakes the Excuse might have serv'd as well.
Hans Carvel's
Wife
4 was
of the same Principle, but has express'd it with a
Delicacy which shews she is not serious in her Excuse, but in a sort
of humorous Philosophy turns off the Thought of her Guilt, and says,
That if weak Women go astray,
Their Stars are more in fault than they.
This, no doubt, is a full Reparation, and dismisses the Audience with
very edifying Impressions.
These things fall under a Province you have partly pursued already,
and therefore demand your Animadversion, for the regulating so Noble
an Entertainment as that of the Stage. It were to be wished, that all
who write for it hereafter would raise their Genius, by the Ambition
of pleasing People of the best Understanding; and leave others who
shew nothing of the Human Species but Risibility, to seek their
Diversion at the Bear-Garden, or some other Privileg'd Place, where
Reason and Good-manners have no Right to disturb them.'
August 8, 1711.
I am, &c.
T.
This letter is by John Hughes.
Shadwell's Play of the
Lancashire Witches
was in the bill
of the Theatre advertised at the end of this number of the
Spectator
.
'By her Majesty's Company of Comedians.
At the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, on Tuesday next, being the 14th
Day of August, will be presented, A comedy call'd the Lancashire
Witches, Written by the Ingenious Mr. Shadwell, late Poet Laureat.
Carefully Revis'd. With all the Original Decorations of Scenes,
Witche's Songs and Dances, proper to the Dramma. The Principal Parts
to be perform'd by Mr. Mills, Mr. Booth, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Bullock,
Sen., Mr. Norris, Mr. Pack, Mr. Bullock, Jun., Mrs. Elrington, Mrs.
Powel, Mrs. Bradshaw, Mrs. Cox. And the Witches by Mr. Burkhead, Mr.
Ryan, Mrs. Mills, and Mrs. Willis. It being the last time of Acting in
this Season.'
Prologue to Davenant and Dryden's version of the
Tempest
.
In Prior's Poem of
Hans Carvel
.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Monday, August 13, 1711 |
Steele |
... Irrupta tenet Copula ...
Hor.
following Letters being Genuine
, and the Images of a Worthy
Passion, I am willing to give the old Lady's Admonition to my self, and
the Representation of her own Happiness, a Place in my Writings.
August 9, 1711.
Mr.
Spectator,
'I am now in the sixty seventh Year of my Age, and read you with
Approbation; but methinks you do not strike at the Root of the
greatest Evil in Life, which is the false Notion of Gallantry in Love.
It is, and has long been, upon a very ill Foot; but I, who have been a
Wife Forty Years, and was bred in a way that has made me ever since
very happy, see through the Folly of it. In a Word, Sir, when I was a
young Woman, all who avoided the Vices of the Age were very carefully
educated, and all fantastical Objects were turned out of our Sight.
The Tapestry Hangings, with the great and venerable Simplicity of the
Scripture Stories, had better Effects than now the Loves of
Venus and
Adonis or
Bacchus and
Ariadne in
your fine present Prints. The Gentleman I am married to made Love to
me in Rapture, but it was the Rapture of a Christian and a Man of
Honour, not a Romantick Hero or a Whining Coxcomb: This put our Life
upon a right Basis. To give you an Idea of our Regard one to another,
I inclose to you several of his Letters, writ Forty Years ago, when my
Lover; and one writ t'other Day, after so many Years Cohabitation.'
Your Servant,
Andromache.
August 7, 1671.
Madam,
'If my Vigilance and ten thousand Wishes for your Welfare and Repose
could have any force, you last Night slept in Security, and had
every good Angel in your Attendance. To have my Thoughts ever fixed
on you, to live in constant Fear of every Accident to which Human
Life is liable, and to send up my hourly Prayers to avert 'em from
you; I say, Madam, thus to think, and thus to suffer, is what I do
for Her who is in Pain at my Approach, and calls all my tender
Sorrow Impertinence. You are now before my Eyes, my Eyes that are
ready to flow with Tenderness, but cannot give relief to my gushing
Heart, that dictates what I am now Saying, and yearns to tell you
all its Achings. How art thou, oh my Soul, stoln from thy self! How
is all thy Attention broken! My Books are blank Paper, and my
Friends Intruders. I have no hope of Quiet but from your Pity; To
grant it, would make more for your Triumph. To give Pain is the
Tyranny, to make Happy the true Empire of Beauty. If you would
consider aright, you'd find an agreeable Change in dismissing the
Attendance of a Slave, to receive the Complaisance of a Companion. I
bear the former in hopes of the latter Condition: As I live in
Chains without murmuring at the Power which inflicts 'em, so I could
enjoy Freedom without forgetting the Mercy that gave it.'
Madam, I am
Your most devoted, most obedient Servant.
Tho' I made him no Declarations in his Favour, you see he had Hopes
of Me when he writ this in the Month following.
Madam, September 3, 1671.
'Before the Light this Morning dawned upon the Earth I awaked, and lay
in Expectation of its return, not that it cou'd give any new Sense of
Joy to me, but as I hoped it would bless you with its chearful Face,
after a Quiet which I wish'd you last Night. If my Prayers are heard,
the Day appeared with all the Influence of a Merciful Creator upon
your Person and Actions. Let others, my lovely Charmer, talk of a
blind Being that disposes their Hearts, I contemn their low Images of
Love. I have not a Thought which relates to you, that I cannot with
Confidence beseech the All-seeing Power to bless me in. May he direct
you in all your Steps, and reward your Innocence, your Sanctity of
Manners, your Prudent Youth, and becoming Piety, with the Continuance
of his Grace and Protection. This is an unusual Language to Ladies;
but you have a Mind elevated above the giddy Motions of a Sex insnared
by Flattery, and misled by a false and short Adoration into a solid
and long Contempt. Beauty, my fairest Creature, palls in the
Possession, but I love also your Mind; your Soul is as dear to me as
my own; and if the Advantages of a liberal Education, some Knowledge,
and as much Contempt of the World, join'd with the Endeavours towards
a Life of strict Virtue and Religion, can qualify me to raise new
Ideas in a Breast so well disposed as yours is, our Days will pass
away with Joy; and old Age, instead of introducing melancholy
Prospects of Decay, give us hope of Eternal Youth in a better Life. I
have but few Minutes from the Duty of my Employment to write in, and
without time to read over what I have writ, therefore beseech you to
pardon the first Hints of my Mind, which I have expressed in so little
Order.
I am, dearest Creature,
Your most Obedient,
most Devoted Servant.'
The two next were written after the Day of our Marriage was fixed.
September 25, 1671
Madam,
'It is the hardest thing in the World to be in Love, and yet attend
Business. As for me, all that speak to me find me out, and I must
lock myself up, or other People will do it for me. A Gentleman asked
me this Morning what News from Holland, and I answered, 'She's
Exquisitely handsome'. Another desir'd to know when I had been last
at Windsor, I reply'd, 'She designs to go with me'. Prethee, allow
me at least to kiss your Hand before the appointed Day, that my Mind
may be in some Composure. Methinks I could write a Volume to you,
but all the Language on Earth would fail in saying how much, and
with what dis-interested Passion,
I am ever Yours.
September 30, 1671.
Seven in the Morning.
Dear Creature,
Next to the Influence of Heav'n, I am to thank you that I see the
returning Day with Pleasure. To pass my Evenings in so sweet a
Conversation, and have the Esteem of a Woman of your Merit, has in
it a Particularity of Happiness no more to be express'd than
return'd. But I am, my Lovely Creature, contented to be on the
obliged Side, and to employ all my Days in new Endeavours to
convince you and all the World of the Sense I have of your
Condescension in Chusing,
Madam, Your Most Faithful,
Most Obedient Humble Servant.
He was, when he writ the following Letter, as agreeable and pleasant
a Man as any in England.
October 20, 1671.
Madam,
I Beg Pardon that my Paper is not Finer, but I am forced to write
from a Coffee-house where I am attending about Business. There is a
dirty Crowd of Busie Faces all around me talking of Mony, while all
my Ambition, all my Wealth is Love: Love which animates my Heart,
sweetens my Humour, enlarges my Soul, and affects every Action of my
Life. 'Tis to my lovely Charmer I owe that many noble Ideas are
continually affix'd to my Words and Actions: 'Tis the natural Effect
of that generous Passion to create in the Admirer some Similitude of
the Object admired; thus, my Dear, am I every Day to improve from so
sweet a Companion. Look up, my Fair One, to that Heaven which made
thee such, and join with me to implore its Influence on our tender
innocent Hours, and beseech the Author of Love to bless the Rites he
has ordained, and mingle with our Happiness a just Sense of our
transient Condition, and a Resignation to his Will, which only can
regulate our Minds to a steady Endeavour to please him and each
other.
I am, for Ever,
your Faithful Servant.
I will not trouble you with more Letters at this time, but if you
saw the poor withered Hand which sends you these Minutes, I am sure
you will smile to think that there is one who is so gallant as to
speak of it still as so welcome a Present, after forty Years
Possession of the Woman whom he writes to.
June 23, 1711.
Madam,
I Heartily beg your Pardon for my Omission to write Yesterday. It
was of no Failure of my tender Regard for you; but having been very
much perplexed in my Thoughts on the Subject of my last, made me
determine to suspend speaking of it 'till I came to myself. But, my
Lovely Creature, know it is not in the Power of Age, or Misfortune,
or any other Accident which hangs over Human Life, to take from me
the pleasing Esteem I have for you, or the Memory of the bright
Figure you appeared in when you gave your Hand and Heart to,
Madam,
Your most Grateful Husband,
and Obedient
Servant.