They are, after the first, with a few changes of phrase and
the alteration of date proper to the design of this paper, copies of
Steele's own love-letters addressed to Mrs. Scurlock, in August and
September, 1707; except the last, a recent one, written since marriage.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Tuesday, August 14, 1711 |
Steele |
Non est vivere sed valere Vita.
Martial.
It is an unreasonable thing some Men expect of their Acquaintance. They
are ever complaining that they are out of Order, or Displeased, or they
know not how, and are so far from letting that be a Reason for retiring
to their own Homes, that they make it their Argument for coming into
Company. What has any body to do with Accounts of a Man's being
Indispos'd but his Physician? If a Man laments in Company, where the
rest are in Humour enough to enjoy themselves, he should not take it ill
if a Servant is ordered to present him with a Porringer of Cawdle or
Posset-drink, by way of Admonition that he go Home to Bed. That Part of
Life which we ordinarily understand by the Word Conversation, is an
Indulgence to the Sociable Part of our Make; and should incline us to
bring our Proportion of good Will or good Humour among the Friends we
meet with, and not to trouble them with Relations which must of
necessity oblige them to a real or feigned Affliction. Cares,
Distresses, Diseases, Uneasinesses, and Dislikes of our own, are by no
means to be obtruded upon our Friends. If we would consider how little
of this Vicissitude of Motion and Rest, which we call Life, is spent
with Satisfaction, we should be more tender of our Friends, than to
bring them little Sorrows which do not belong to them. There is no real
Life, but chearful Life; therefore Valetudinarians should be sworn
before they enter into Company, not to say a Word of themselves till the
Meeting breaks up.
is not here pretended, that we should be always
sitting
with Chaplets of Flowers round our Heads, or be crowned
with Roses, in order to make our Entertainment agreeable to us; but if
(as it is usually observed) they who resolve to be Merry, seldom are so;
it will be much more unlikely for us to be well-pleased, if they are
admitted who are always complaining they are sad. Whatever we do we
should keep up the Chearfulness of our Spirits, and never let them sink
below an Inclination at least to be well-pleased: The Way to this, is to
keep our Bodies in Exercise, our Minds at Ease. That insipid State
wherein neither are in Vigour, is not to be accounted any part of our
Portion of Being. When we are in the Satisfaction of some Innocent
Pleasure, or Pursuit of some laudable Design, we are in the Possession
of Life, of Human Life. Fortune will give us Disappointments enough, and
Nature is attended with Infirmities enough, without our adding to the
unhappy Side of our Account by our Spleen or ill Humour. Poor
Cottilus
, among so many real Evils, a Chronical Distemper and a
narrow Fortune, is never heard to complain: That equal Spirit of his,
which any Man may have, that, like him, will conquer Pride, Vanity and
Affectation, and follow Nature, is not to be broken, because it has no
Points to contend for. To be anxious for nothing but what Nature demands
as necessary, if it is not the Way to an Estate, is the Way to what Men
aim at by getting an Estate. This Temper will preserve Health in the
Body, as well as Tranquility in the Mind.
Cottilus
sees the World in a
Hurry, with the same Scorn that a Sober Person sees a Man Drunk. Had he
been contented with what he ought to have been, how could, says he, such
a one have met with such a Disappointment? If another had valued his
Mistress for what he ought to have lov'd her, he had not been in her
Power. If her Virtue had had a Part of his Passion, her Levity had been
his Cure; she could not then have been false and amiable at the same
time.
Since we cannot promise ourselves constant Health, let us endeavour at
such a Temper as may be our best Support in the Decay of it.
Uranius
has arrived at that Composure of Soul, and wrought himself up to such a
Neglect of every thing with which the Generality of Mankind is
enchanted, that nothing but acute Pains can give him Disturbance, and
against those too he will tell his intimate Friends he has a Secret
which gives him present Ease:
Uranius
is so thoroughly perswaded of
another Life, and endeavours so sincerely to secure an Interest in it,
that he looks upon Pain but as a quickening of his Pace to an Home,
where he shall be better provided for than in his present Apartment.
Instead of the melancholy Views which others are apt to give themselves,
he will tell you that he has forgot he is Mortal, nor will he think of
himself as such. He thinks at the Time of his Birth he entered into an
Eternal Being; and the short Article of Death he will not allow an
Interruption of Life, since that Moment is not of half the Duration as
is his ordinary Sleep. Thus is his Being one uniform and consistent
Series of chearful Diversions and moderate Cares, without Fear or Hope
of Futurity. Health to him is more than Pleasure to another Man, and
Sickness less affecting to him than Indisposition is to others.
I must confess, if one does not regard Life after this manner, none but
Ideots can pass it away with any tolerable Patience. Take a Fine Lady
who is of a Delicate Frame, and you may observe from the Hour she rises
a certain Weariness of all that passes about her. I know more than one
who is much too nice to be quite alive. They are sick of such strange
frightful People that they meet; one is so awkward, and another so
disagreeable, that it looks like a Penance to breathe the same Air with
them. You see this is so very true, that a great Part of Ceremony and
Good-breeding among Ladies turns upon their Uneasiness; and I'll
undertake, if the How-d'ye Servants of our Women were to make a Weekly
Bill of Sickness, as the Parish Clerks do of Mortality, you would not
find in an Account of seven Days, one in Thirty that was not downright
Sick or indisposed, or but a very little better than she was, and so
forth.
It is certain that to enjoy Life and Health as a constant Feast, we
should not think Pleasure necessary, but, if possible, to arrive at an
Equality of Mind. It is as mean to be overjoyed upon Occasions of
Good-Fortune, as to be dejected in Circumstances of Distress. Laughter
in one Condition is as unmanly as Weeping in the other. We should not
form our Minds to expect Transport on every Occasion, but know how to
make it Enjoyment to be out of Pain. Ambition, Envy, vagrant Desire, or
impertinent Mirth will take up our Minds, without we can possess our
selves in that Sobriety of Heart which is above all Pleasures, and can
be felt much better than described. But the ready Way, I believe, to the
right Enjoyment of Life, is by a Prospect towards another to have but a
very mean Opinion of it.
great Author of our Time has set this in an
excellent Light, when with a Philosophick Pity of Human Life, he spoke
of it in his
Theory of the Earth
, in the following manner.
For what is this Life but a Circulation of little mean Actions? We
lie down and rise again, dress and undress, feed and wax hungry, work or
play, and are weary, and then we lie down again, and the Circle returns.
We spend the Day in Trifles, and when the Night comes we throw our
selves into the Bed of Folly, amongst Dreams and broken Thoughts, and
wild Imaginations. Our Reason lies asleep by us, and we are for the Time
as arrant Brutes as those that sleep in the Stalls or in the Field. Are
not the Capacities of Man higher than these? And ought not his Ambition
and Expectations to be greater? Let us be Adventurers for another World:
'Tis at least a fair and noble Chance; and there is nothing in this
worth our Thoughts or our Passions. If we should be disappointed, we are
still no worse than the rest of our Fellow-Mortals; and if we succeed in
our Expectations, we are Eternally Happy.
sit
Ed. Amsterdam, 1699, p. 241.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Wednesday, August 15, 1711 |
Steele |
... Nôris quam elegans formarum
Spectator siem.
Ter.
Beauty has been the Delight and Torment of the World ever since it
began. The Philosophers have felt its Influence so sensibly, that almost
every one of them has left us some Saying or other, which has intimated
that he too well knew the Power of it. One
has
us, that a
graceful Person is a more powerful Recommendation than the best Letter
that can be writ in your Favour. Another
desires the Possessor of it
to consider it as a meer Gift of Nature, and not any Perfection of his
own. A Third
calls it a short liv'd Tyranny; a Fourth
, a silent
Fraud, because it imposes upon us without the Help of Language; but I
think
Carneades
spoke as much like a Philosopher as any of them,
tho' more like a Lover, when he call'd it Royalty without Force. It is
not indeed to be denied, that there is something irresistible in a
Beauteous Form; the most Severe will not pretend, that they do not feel
an immediate Prepossession in Favour of the Handsome. No one denies them
the Privilege of being first heard, and being regarded before others in
Matters of ordinary Consideration. At the same time the Handsome should
consider that it is a Possession, as it were, foreign to them. No one
can give it himself, or preserve it when they have it. Yet so it is,
that People can bear any Quality in the World better than Beauty. It is
the Consolation of all who are naturally too much affected with the
Force of it, that a little Attention, if a Man can attend with Judgment,
will cure them. Handsome People usually are so fantastically pleas'd
with themselves, that if they do not kill at first Sight, as the Phrase
is, a second Interview disarms them of all their Power. But I shall make
this Paper rather a Warning-piece to give Notice where the Danger is,
than to propose Instructions how to avoid it when you have fallen in the
way of it. Handsome Men shall be the Subject of another Chapter, the
Women shall take up the present Discourse.
Amaryllis
, who has been in Town but one Winter, is extreamly
improved with the Arts of Good-Breeding, without leaving Nature. She has
not lost the Native Simplicity of her Aspect, to substitute that
Patience of being stared at, which is the usual Triumph and Distinction
of a Town Lady. In Publick Assemblies you meet her careless Eye
diverting itself with the Objects around her, insensible that she her
self is one of the brightest in the Place.
Dulcissa
is quite
of
another Make, she is almost a Beauty by
Nature, but more than one by Art. If it were possible for her to let her
Fan or any Limb about her rest, she would do some Part of the Execution
she meditates; but tho' she designs her self a Prey she will not stay to
be taken. No Painter can give you Words for the different Aspects of
Dulcissa
in half a Moment, whereever she appears: So little does
she accomplish what she takes so much pains for, to be gay and careless.
Merab
is attended with all the Charms of Woman and
Accomplishments of Man. It is not to be doubted but she has a great deal
of Wit, if she were not such a Beauty; and she would have more Beauty
had she not so much Wit. Affectation prevents her Excellencies from
walking together. If she has a Mind to speak such a Thing, it must be
done with such an Air of her Body; and if she has an Inclination to look
very careless, there is such a smart Thing to be said at the same Time,
that the Design of being admired destroys it self. Thus the unhappy
Merab
, tho' a Wit and Beauty, is allowed to be neither, because
she will always be both.
Albacinda
has the Skill as well as Power of pleasing. Her Form is
majestick, but her Aspect humble. All good Men should beware of the
Destroyer. She will speak to you like your Sister, till she has you
sure; but is the most vexatious of Tyrants when you are so. Her
Familiarity of Behaviour, her indifferent Questions, and general
Conversation, make the silly Part of her Votaries full of Hopes, while
the wise fly from her Power. She well knows she is too Beautiful and too
Witty to be indifferent to any who converse with her, and therefore
knows she does not lessen herself by Familiarity, but gains Occasions of
Admiration, by seeming Ignorance of her Perfections.
Eudosia
adds to the Height of her Stature a Nobility of Spirit
which still distinguishes her above the rest of her Sex. Beauty in
others is lovely, in others agreeable, in others attractive; but in
Eudosia
it is commanding: Love towards
Eudosia
is a
Sentiment like the Love of Glory. The Lovers of other Women are softened
into Fondness, the Admirers of
Eudosia
exalted into Ambition.
Eucratia
presents her self to the Imagination with a more kindly
Pleasure, and as she is Woman, her Praise is wholly Feminine. If we were
to form an Image of Dignity in a Man, we should give him Wisdom and
Valour, as being essential to the Character of Manhood. In like manner,
if you describe a right Woman in a laudable Sense, she should have
gentle Softness, tender Fear, and all those Parts of Life, which
distinguish her from the other Sex; with some Subordination to it, but
such an Inferiority that makes her still more lovely.
Eucratia
is
that Creature, she is all over Woman. Kindness is all her Art, and
Beauty all her Arms. Her Look, her Voice, her Gesture, and whole
Behaviour is truly Feminine. A Goodness mixed with Fear, gives a
Tincture to all her Behaviour. It would be Savage to offend her, and
Cruelty to use Art to gain her.
are beautiful, but
Eucratia
thou art Beauty!
Omnamante
is made for Deceit, she has an Aspect as Innocent as
the famed
Lucrece
, but a Mind as Wild as the more famed
Cleopatra
. Her Face speaks a Vestal, but her Heart a
Messalina
. Who that beheld
Omnamante's
negligent
unobserving Air, would believe that she hid under that regardless Manner
the witty Prostitute, the rapacious Wench, the prodigal Courtesan? She
can, when she pleases, adorn those Eyes with Tears like an Infant that
is chid! She can cast down that pretty Face in Confusion, while you rage
with Jealousy, and storm at her Perfidiousness; she can wipe her Eyes,
tremble and look frighted, till you think yourself a Brute for your
Rage, own yourself an Offender, beg Pardon, and make her new Presents.
I go too far in reporting only the Dangers in beholding the
Beauteous, which I design for the Instruction of the Fair as well as
their Beholders; and shall end this Rhapsody with mentioning what I
thought was well enough said of an Antient Sage to a Beautiful Youth,
whom he saw admiring his own Figure in Brass. What, said the
Philosopher
, could that Image of yours say for it self if it could
speak? It might say, (answered the Youth)
That it is very Beautiful.
And are not you ashamed
, reply'd the Cynick,
to value your self
upon that only of which a Piece of Brass is capable?
T.
Aristotle.
Plato.
Socrates.
Theophrastus.
Eudosia
Antisthenes. Quoted from Diogenes Laertius, Lib. vi. cap.
I.
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Thursday, August 16, 1711 |
Steele |
Stultitiam patiuntur opes ...
Hor.
If the following Enormities are not amended upon the first Mention, I
desire further Notice from my Correspondents.
Mr.
Spectator,
'I am obliged to you for your Discourse the other Day upon frivolous
Disputants, who with great Warmth, and Enumeration of many
Circumstances and Authorities, undertake to prove Matters which no
Body living denies. You cannot employ your self more usefully than in
adjusting the Laws of Disputation in Coffee-houses and accidental
Companies, as well as in more formal Debates. Among many other things
which your own Experience must suggest to you, it will be very
obliging if you please to take notice of Wagerers.
I will not here
repeat what
Hudibras says of such Disputants, which is so true,
that it is almost Proverbial
1; but shall only acquaint you with a
Set of young Fellows of the Inns of Court, whose Fathers have provided
for them so plentifully, that they need not be very anxious to get Law
into their Heads for the Service of their Country at the Bar; but are
of those who are sent (as the Phrase of Parents is) to the
Temple to know how to keep their own. One of these Gentlemen is
very loud and captious at a Coffee-house which I frequent, and being
in his Nature troubled with an Humour of Contradiction, though withal
excessive Ignorant, he has found a way to indulge this Temper, go on
in Idleness and Ignorance, and yet still give himself the Air of a
very learned and knowing Man, by the Strength of his Pocket. The
Misfortune of the thing is, I have, as it happens sometimes, a greater
Stock of Learning than of Mony. The Gentleman I am speaking of, takes
Advantage of the Narrowness of my Circumstances in such a manner, that
he has read all that I can pretend to, and runs me down with such a
positive Air, and with such powerful Arguments, that from a very
Learned Person I am thought a mere Pretender. Not long ago I was
relating that I had read such a Passage in
Tacitus, up starts
my young Gentleman in a full Company, and pulling out his Purse
offered to lay me ten Guineas, to be staked immediately in that
Gentleman's Hands, (pointing to one smoaking at another Table) that I
was utterly mistaken. I was Dumb for want of ten Guineas; he went on
unmercifully to Triumph over my Ignorance how to take him up, and told
the whole Room he had read
Tacitus twenty times over, and such
a remarkable Instance as that could not escape him. He has at this
time three considerable Wagers depending between him and some of his
Companions, who are rich enough to hold an Argument with him. He has
five Guineas upon Questions in Geography, two that the
Isle of
Wight is a Peninsula, and three Guineas to one that the World is
round. We have a Gentleman comes to our Coffee-house, who deals
mightily in Antique Scandal; my Disputant has laid him twenty Pieces
upon a Point of History, to wit, that
Cæsar never lay with
Cato's Sister, as is scandalously reported by some People.
There are several of this sort of Fellows in Town, who wager
themselves into Statesmen, Historians, Geographers, Mathematicians,
and every other Art, when the Persons with whom they talk have not
Wealth equal to their Learning. I beg of you to prevent, in these
Youngsters, this compendious Way to Wisdom, which costs other People
so much Time and Pains, and you will oblige
Your humble Servant.
Coffee-House near the Temple, Aug. 12, 1711.
Mr.
Spectator,
'Here's a young Gentleman that sings Opera-Tunes or Whistles in a full
House. Pray let him know that he has no Right to act here as if he
were in an empty Room. Be pleased to divide the Spaces of a Publick
Room, and certify Whistlers, Singers, and Common Orators, that are
heard further than their Portion of the Room comes
to, that the Law
is open, and that there is an Equity which will relieve us from such
as interrupt us in our Lawful Discourse, as much as against such as
stop us on the Road. I take these Persons, Mr.
Spectator, to be such
Trespassers as the Officer in your Stage-Coach, and of the same
Sentiment with Counsellor
Ephraim.
It is true the Young Man is
rich, and, as the Vulgar say,
needs2 not care for any Body; but
sure that is no Authority for him to go whistle where he pleases.
I am, Sir,
Your Most Humble Servant,
P.S. I have Chambers in the
Temple, and here are Students
that learn upon the Hautboy; pray desire the Benchers that all Lawyers
who are Proficients in Wind-Musick may lodge to the
Thames.
Mr.
Spectator,
We are a Company of young Women who pass our Time very much together,
and obliged by the mercenary Humour of the Men to be as Mercenarily
inclined as they are. There visits among us an old Batchelor whom each
of us has a Mind to. The Fellow is rich, and knows he may have any of
us, therefore is particular to none, but excessively ill-bred. His
Pleasantry consists in Romping, he snatches Kisses by Surprize, puts
his Hand in our Necks, tears our Fans, robs us of Ribbons, forces
Letters out of our Hands, looks into any of our Papers, and a thousand
other Rudenesses. Now what I'll desire of you is to acquaint him, by
Printing this, that if he does not marry one of us very suddenly, we
have all agreed, the next time he pretends to be merry, to affront
him, and use him like a Clown as he is. In the Name of the Sisterhood
I take my Leave of you, and am, as they all are,
Your Constant Reader and Well-wisher.
Mr.
Spectator,
I and several others of your Female Readers, have conformed our selves
to your Rules, even to our very Dress. There is not one of us but has
reduced our outward Petticoat to its ancient Sizable Circumference,
tho' indeed we retain still a Quilted one underneath, which makes us
not altogether unconformable to the Fashion; but 'tis on Condition,
Mr.
Spectator extends not his Censure so far. But we find you Men
secretly approve our Practice, by imitating our Pyramidical Form. The
Skirt of your fashionable Coats forms as large a Circumference as our
Petticoats; as these are set out with Whalebone, so are those with
Wire, to encrease and sustain the Bunch of Fold that hangs down on
each Side; and the Hat, I perceive, is decreased in just proportion to
our Head-dresses. We make a regular Figure, but I defy your
Mathematicks to give Name to the Form you appear in. Your Architecture
is mere
Gothick, and betrays a worse Genius than ours;
therefore if you are partial to your own Sex, I shall be less than I
am now
Your Humble Servant.
T.
I have heard old cunning Stagers
Say Fools for Arguments lay Wagers.
Hudibras, Part II. c. i.
need
Contents
Contents p.5
|
Friday, August 17, 1711 |
Steele |
Nemo Vir Magnus sine aliquo Afflatu divino unquam fuit.
Tull.
We know the highest Pleasure our Minds are capable of enjoying with
Composure, when we read Sublime Thoughts communicated to us by Men of
great Genius and Eloquence. Such is the Entertainment we meet with in
the Philosophick Parts of
Cicero
's Writings. Truth and good Sense
have there so charming a Dress, that they could hardly be more agreeably
represented with the Addition of Poetical Fiction and the Power of
Numbers. This ancient Author, and a modern one, had fallen into my Hands
within these few Days; and the Impressions they have left upon me, have
at the present quite spoiled me for a merry Fellow. The Modern is that
admirable Writer the Author of
The Theory of the Earth
. The
Subjects with which I have lately been entertained in them both bear a
near Affinity; they are upon Enquiries into Hereafter, and the Thoughts
of the latter seem to me to be raised above those of the former in
proportion to his Advantages of Scripture and Revelation. If I had a
Mind to it, I could not at present talk of any thing else; therefore I
shall translate a Passage in the one, and transcribe a Paragraph out of
the other, for the Speculation of this
.
Cicero
tells us
,
that
Plato
reports
Socrates
, upon receiving his Sentence,
to have spoken to his Judges in the following manner.
I have great Hopes, oh my Judges, that it is infinitely to my
Advantage that I am sent to Death: For it is of necessity that one of
these two things must be the Consequence. Death must take away all
these Senses, or convey me to another Life. If all Sense is to be
taken away, and Death is no more than that profound Sleep without
Dreams, in which we are sometimes buried, oh Heavens! how desirable is
it to die? how many Days do we know in Life preferable to such a
State? But if it be true that Death is but a Passage to Places which
they who lived before us do now inhabit, how much still happier is it
to go from those who call themselves Judges, to appear before those
that really are such; before Minos, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, and
Triptolemus, and to meet Men who have lived with Justice and
Truth? Is this, do you think, no happy Journey? Do you think it
nothing to speak with Orpheus, Musceus, Homer, and
Hesiod? I would, indeed, suffer many Deaths to enjoy these
Things. With what particular Delight should I talk to Palamedes,
Ajax, and others, who like me have suffered by the Iniquity of
their Judges. I should examine the Wisdom of that great Prince, who
carried such mighty Forces against Troy; and argue with
Ulysses and Sisyphus, upon difficult Points, as I have
in Conversation here, without being in Danger of being condemned. But
let not those among you who have pronounced me an innocent Man be
afraid of Death. No Harm can arrive at a good Man whether dead or
living; his Affairs are always under the direction of the Gods; nor
will I believe the Fate which is allotted to me myself this Day to
have arrived by Chance; nor have I ought to say either against my
Judges or Accusers, but that they thought they did me an Injury ...
But I detain you too long, it is Time that I retire to Death, and you
to your Affairs of Life; which of us has the Better is known to the
Gods, but to no Mortal Man.