Conquest of Granada
."
Contents
Contents p.6
|
Wednesday,
September 12, 1711 |
Steele |
... Pectus Præceptis format amicis.
Hor.
It would be Arrogance to neglect the Application of my Correspondents so
far as not sometimes to insert their Animadversions upon my Paper; that
of this Day shall be therefore wholly composed of the Hints which they
have sent me.
Mr.
Spectator,
I Send you this to congratulate your late Choice of a Subject, for
treating on which you deserve publick Thanks; I mean that on those
licensed Tyrants the Schoolmasters. If you can disarm them of their
Rods, you will certainly have your old Age reverenced by all the young
Gentlemen of
Great-Britain who are now between seven and seventeen
Years. You may boast that the incomparably wise
Quintilian and you
are of one Mind in this Particular.
'
Si cui est (says he)
mens tam illiberalis ut objurgatione non
corrigatur, is etiam ad plagas, ut pessimo quæque mancipia,
durabitur1.
If any Child be of so disingenuous a Nature, as not to stand
corrected by Reproof, he, like the very worst of Slaves, will be
hardned even against Blows themselves.'
And afterwards,
'Pudet dicere in quæ probra nefandi homines isto cædendi jure
abutantur,
i. e. I blush to say how shamefully those wicked Men abuse the
Power of Correction.'
I was bred myself, Sir, in a very great School, of which the Master
was a
Welchman, but certainly descended from a
Spanish Family, as
plainly appeared from his Temper as well as his Name
2. I leave you
to judge what sort of a Schoolmaster a
Welchman ingrafted on a
Spaniard would make. So very dreadful had he made himself to me,
that altho' it is above twenty Years since I felt his heavy Hand, yet
still once a Month at least I dream of him, so strong an Impression
did he make on my Mind. 'Tis a Sign he has fully terrified me waking,
who still continues to haunt me sleeping.
And yet I may say without Vanity, that the Business of the School was
what I did without great Difficulty; and I was not remarkably unlucky;
and yet such was the Master's Severity that once a Month, or oftner, I
suffered as much as would have satisfied the Law of the Land for a
Petty Larceny.
Many a white and tender Hand, which the fond Mother has passionately
kissed a thousand and a thousand times, have I seen whipped till it
was covered with Blood: perhaps for smiling, or for going a Yard and
half out of a Gate, or for writing an O for an A, or an A for an O:
These were our great Faults! Many a brave and noble Spirit has been
there broken; others have run from thence and were never heard of
afterwards.
It is a worthy Attempt to undertake the Cause of distrest Youth; and
it is a noble Piece of
Knight-Errantry to enter the Lists
against so many armed Pedagogues. 'Tis pity but we had a Set of Men,
polite in their Behaviour and Method of Teaching, who should be put
into a Condition of being above flattering or fearing the Parents of
those they instruct. We might then possibly see Learning become a
Pleasure, and Children delighting themselves in that which now they
abhor for coming upon such hard Terms to them: What would be a still
greater Happiness arising from the Care of such Instructors, would be,
that we should have no more Pedants, nor any bred to Learning who had
not Genius for it. I am, with the utmost Sincerity,
Sir,
Your most
affectionate humble Servant.
Richmond, Sept. 5
th, 1711.
Mr.
Spectator,
I am a Boy of fourteen Years of Age, and have for this last Year been
under the Tuition of a Doctor of Divinity, who has taken the School of
this Place under his Care
3. From the Gentleman's great Tenderness
to me and Friendship to my Father, I am very happy in learning my Book
with Pleasure. We never leave off our Diversions any farther than to
salute him at Hours of Play when he pleases to look on. It is
impossible for any of us to love our own Parents better than we do
him. He never gives any of us an harsh Word, and we think it the
greatest Punishment in the World when he will not speak to any of us.
My Brother and I are both together inditing this Letter: He is a Year
older than I am, but is now ready to break his Heart that the Doctor
has not taken any Notice of him these three Days. If you please to
print this he will see it, and, we hope, taking it for my Brother's
earnest Desire to be restored to his Favour, he will again smile upon
him.
Your most obedient Servant,
T. S.
Mr.
Spectator,
You have represented several sorts of
Impertinents singly, I
wish you would now proceed, and describe some of them in Sets. It
often happens in publick Assemblies, that a Party who came thither
together, or whose Impertinencies are of an equal Pitch, act in
Concert, and are so full of themselves as to give Disturbance to all
that are about them. Sometimes you have a Set of Whisperers, who lay
their Heads together in order to sacrifice every Body within their
Observation; sometimes a Set of Laughers, that keep up an insipid
Mirth in their own Corner, and by their Noise and Gestures shew they
have no Respect for the rest of the Company.
You frequently meet with
these Sets at the Opera, the Play, the Water-works
4, and other
publick Meetings, where their whole Business is to draw off the
Attention of the Spectators from the Entertainment, and to fix it upon
themselves; and it is to be observed that the Impertinence is ever
loudest, when the Set happens to be made up of three or four Females
who have got what you call a Woman's Man among them.
I am at a loss to know from whom People of Fortune should learn this
Behaviour, unless it be from the Footmen who keep their Places at a
new Play, and are often seen passing away their Time in Sets at
All-fours in the Face of a full House, and with a perfect
Disregard to People of Quality sitting on each Side of them.
For preserving therefore the Decency of publick Assemblies, methinks
it would be but reasonable that those who Disturb others should pay at
least a double Price for their Places; or rather Women of Birth and
Distinction should be informed that a Levity of Behaviour in the Eyes
of People of Understanding degrades them below their meanest
Attendants; and Gentlemen should know that a fine Coat is a Livery,
when the Person who wears it discovers no higher Sense than that of a
Footman.
I am
Sir,
Your most humble Servant.
Bedfordshire, Sept.. 1, 1711
Mr.
Spectator,
I am one of those whom every Body calls a Pocher, and sometimes go out
to course with a Brace of Greyhounds, a Mastiff, and a Spaniel or two;
and when I am weary with Coursing, and have killed Hares enough, go to
an Ale-house to refresh my self. I beg the Favour of you (as you set
up for a Reformer) to send us Word how many Dogs you will allow us to
go with, how many Full-Pots of Ale to drink, and how many Hares to
kill in a Day, and you will do a great Piece of Service to all the
Sportsmen: Be quick then, for the Time of Coursing is come on.
Yours in Haste,
T. Isaac Hedgeditch.
Instit. Orat.
Bk. I. ch. 3.
Dr. Charles Roderick, Head Master of Eton.
Dr. Nicholas Brady, Tate's colleague in versification of
the Psalms. He was Rector of Clapham and Minister of Richmond, where he
had the school. He died in 1726, aged 67.
The Water Theatre, invented by Mr. Winstanley, and
exhibited by his widow at the lower end of Piccadilly.
Contents
Contents p.6
|
Thursday,
September 13, 1711 |
Addison |
Sic vita erat: facile omnes perferre ac pati:
Cum quibus erat cunque una, his sese dedere,
Eorum obsequi studiis: advorsus nemini;
Nunquam præponens se aliis: Ita facillime
Sine invidia invenias laudem.
Ter. And.
Man is subject to innumerable Pains and Sorrows by the very Condition of
Humanity, and yet, as if Nature had not sown Evils enough in Life, we
are continually adding Grief to Grief, and aggravating the common
Calamity by our cruel Treatment of one another. Every Man's natural
Weight of Afflictions is still made more heavy by the Envy, Malice,
Treachery, or Injustice of his Neighbour. At the same time that the
Storm beats upon the whole Species, we are falling foul upon one
another.
Half the Misery of Human Life might be extinguished, would Men alleviate
the general Curse they lie under, by mutual Offices of Compassion,
Benevolence, and Humanity. There is nothing therefore which we ought
more to encourage in our selves and others, than that Disposition of
Mind which in our Language goes under the Title of Good-nature, and
which I shall chuse for the Subject of this Day's Speculation.
Good-nature is more agreeable in Conversation than Wit, and gives a
certain Air to the Countenance which is more amiable than Beauty. It
shows Virtue in the fairest Light, takes off in some measure from the
Deformity of Vice, and makes even Folly and Impertinence supportable.
There is no Society or Conversation to be kept up in the World without
Good-nature, or something which must bear its Appearance, and supply its
Place. For this Reason Mankind have been forced to invent a kind of
Artificial Humanity, which is what we express by the Word
Good-Breeding
. For if we examine thoroughly the Idea of what we
call so, we shall find it to be nothing else but an Imitation and
Mimickry of Good-nature, or in other Terms, Affability, Complaisance and
Easiness of Temper reduced into an Art.
These exterior Shows and Appearances of Humanity render a Man
wonderfully popular and beloved when they are founded upon a real
Good-nature; but without it are like Hypocrisy in Religion, or a bare
Form of Holiness, which, when it is discovered, makes a Man more
detestable than professed Impiety.
Good-nature is generally born with us: Health, Prosperity and kind
Treatment from the World are great Cherishers of it where they find it;
but nothing is capable of forcing it up, where it does not grow of it
self. It is one of the Blessings of a happy Constitution, which
Education may improve but not produce.
Xenophon
in
Life
of his Imaginary Prince, whom he describes as a
Pattern for Real ones, is always celebrating the
Philanthropy
or
Good-nature of his Hero, which he tells us he brought into the World
with him, and gives many remarkable Instances of it in his Childhood, as
well as in all the several Parts of his Life.
, on his Death-bed, he
describes him as being pleased, that while his Soul returned to him
who
made it, his Body should incorporate with the great Mother of all
things, and by that means become beneficial to Mankind. For which
Reason, he gives his Sons a positive Order not to enshrine it in Gold or
Silver, but to lay it in the Earth as soon as the Life was gone out of
it.
An Instance of such an Overflowing of Humanity, such an exuberant Love
to Mankind, could not have entered into the Imagination of a Writer, who
had not a Soul filled with great Ideas, and a general Benevolence to
Mankind.
that celebrated Passage of
Salust
, where
Cæsar
and
Cato
are
placed in such beautiful, but opposite Lights;
Cæsar's
Character is
chiefly made up of Good-nature, as it shewed itself in all its Forms
towards his Friends or his Enemies, his Servants or Dependants, the
Guilty or the Distressed. As for
Cato's
Character, it is rather awful
than amiable. Justice seems most agreeable to the Nature of God, and
Mercy to that of Man. A Being who has nothing to Pardon in himself, may
reward every Man according to his Works; but he whose very best Actions
must be seen with Grains of Allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate, and
forgiving. For this reason, among all the monstrous Characters in Human
Nature, there is none so odious, nor indeed so exquisitely Ridiculous,
as that of a rigid severe Temper in a Worthless Man.
This Part of Good-nature, however, which consists in the pardoning and
overlooking of Faults, is to be exercised only in doing our selves
Justice, and that too in the ordinary Commerce and Occurrences of Life;
for in the publick Administrations of Justice, Mercy to one may be
Cruelty to others.
It is grown almost into a Maxim, that Good-natured Men are not always
Men of the most Wit. This Observation, in my Opinion, has no Foundation
in Nature. The greatest Wits I have conversed with are Men eminent for
their Humanity. I take therefore this Remark to have been occasioned by
two Reasons. First, Because Ill-nature among ordinary Observers passes
for Wit. A spiteful Saying gratifies so many little Passions in those
who hear it, that it generally meets with a good Reception. The Laugh
rises upon it, and the Man who utters it is looked upon as a shrewd
Satyrist. This may be one Reason, why a great many pleasant Companions
appear so surprisingly dull, when they have endeavoured to be Merry in
Print; the Publick being more just than Private Clubs or Assemblies, in
distinguishing between what is Wit and what is Ill-nature.
Another Reason why the Good-natured Man may sometimes bring his Wit in
Question, is, perhaps, because he is apt to be moved with Compassion for
those Misfortunes or Infirmities, which another would turn into
Ridicule, and by that means gain the Reputation of a Wit. The
Ill-natured Man, though but of equal Parts, gives himself a larger Field
to expatiate in; he exposes those Failings in Human Nature which the
other would cast a Veil over, laughs at Vices which the other either
excuses or conceals, gives utterance to Reflections which the other
stifles, falls indifferently upon Friends or Enemies,
the Person
who
has obliged him, and, in short, sticks at nothing that may
establish his Character of a Wit. It is no Wonder therefore he succeeds
in it better than the Man of Humanity, as a Person who makes use of
indirect Methods, is more likely to grow Rich than the Fair Trader.
L.
Cyropædia
, Bk. viii. ch. 6.
that
Catiline
, c. 54.
that
Contents
Contents p.6
To The Right Honourable
Henry Boyle, Esq.1
Sir,
As the profest Design of this Work is to entertain its Readers in
general, without giving Offence to any particular Person, it would be
difficult to find out so proper a Patron for it as Your Self, there
being none whose Merit is more universally acknowledged by all Parties,
and who has made himself more Friends and fewer Enemies. Your great
Abilities, and unquestioned Integrity, in those high Employments which
You have passed through, would not have been able to have raised You
this general Approbation, had they not been accompanied with that
Moderation in an high Fortune, and that Affability of Manners, which are
so conspicuous through all Parts of your Life. Your Aversion to any
Ostentatious Arts of setting to Show those great Services which you have
done the Publick, has not likewise a little contributed to that
Universal Acknowledgment which is paid You by your Country.
The Consideration of this Part of Your Character, is that which hinders
me from enlarging on those Extraordinary Talents, which have given You
so great a Figure in the
British
Senate, as well as on that Elegance
and Politeness which appear in Your more retired Conversation. I should
be unpardonable, if, after what I have said, I should longer detain You
with an Address of this Nature: I cannot, however, conclude it without
owning those great Obligations which You have laid upon,
Sir,
Your most obedient,
humble Servant,
The Spectator
.
Henry Boyle, to whom the third volume of the
Spectator
is
dedicated, was the youngest son of Charles, Lord Clifford; one of the
family founded by the Richard, Earl of Cork, who bought Raleigh's
property in Ireland.
From March, 1701, to February, 1707-8, Henry Boyle was King William's
Chancellor of the Exchequer. He was then, till September, 1710, one of
the principal Secretaries of State. He had materially helped Addison by
negotiating between him and Lord Godolphin respecting the celebration of
the Battle of Blenheim. On the accession of George I. Henry Boyle became
Lord Carleton and President of the Council. He died in 1724, and had his
Life
written by Addison's cousin Budgell.
Contents
Contents p.6
|
Friday,
September 14, 1711 |
Addison |
In amore hæc omnia insunt vitía: injuriæ,
Suspiciones, inimicitiæ, induciæ,
Bellum, pax rursum ...
Ter. Eun.
Upon looking over the Letters of my female Correspondents, I find
several from Women complaining of jealous Husbands, and at the same time
protesting their own Innocence; and desiring my Advice on this Occasion.
shall therefore take this Subject into my Consideration, and the more
willingly, because I find that the Marquis of
Hallifax
, who in his
Advice to a Daughter
has instructed a Wife how to behave her
self towards a false, an intemperate, a cholerick, a sullen, a covetous,
or a silly Husband, has not spoken one Word of a Jealous Husband.
Jealousy is that Pain which a Man feels from the Apprehension that he
is not equally beloved by the Person whom he entirely loves.
Now,
because our inward Passions and Inclinations can never make themselves
visible, it is impossible for a jealous Man to be thoroughly cured of
his Suspicions. His Thoughts hang at best in a State of Doubtfulness and
Uncertainty; and are never capable of receiving any Satisfaction on the
advantageous Side; so that his Enquiries are most successful when they
discover nothing: His Pleasure arises from his Disappointments, and his
Life is spent in Pursuit of a Secret that destroys his Happiness if he
chance to find it.
An ardent Love is always a strong Ingredient in this Passion; for the
same Affection which stirs up the jealous Man's Desires, and gives the
Party beloved so beautiful a Figure in his Imagination, makes him
believe she kindles the same Passion in others, and appears as amiable
to all Beholders. And as Jealousy thus arises from an extraordinary
Love, it is of so delicate a Nature, that it scorns to take up with any
thing less than an equal Return of Love. Not the warmest Expressions of
Affection, the softest and most tender Hypocrisy, are able to give any
Satisfaction, where we are not persuaded that the Affection is real and
the Satisfaction mutual. For the jealous Man wishes himself a kind of
Deity to the Person he loves: He would be the only Pleasure of her
Senses, the Employment of her Thoughts; and is angry at every thing she
admires, or takes Delight in, besides himself.
Request to his Mistress, upon his leaving her for three Days,
is inimitably beautiful and natural.
Cum milite isto præsens, absens ut sies:
Dies, noctesque me ames: me desideres:
Me somnies: me exspectes: de me cogites:
Me speres: me te oblectes: mecum tola sis:
Meus fac sis postremo animus, quando ego sum tuus.
Ter. Eun
2.
The Jealous Man's Disease is of so malignant a Nature, that it converts
all he takes into its own Nourishment. A cool Behaviour sets him on the
Rack, and is interpreted as an instance of Aversion or Indifference; a
fond one raises his Suspicions, and looks too much like Dissimulation
and Artifice. If the Person he loves be cheerful, her Thoughts must be
employed on another; and if sad, she is certainly thinking on himself.
In short, there is no Word or Gesture so insignificant, but it gives him
new Hints, feeds his Suspicions, and furnishes him with fresh Matters of
Discovery: So that if we consider the effects of this Passion, one would
rather think it proceeded from an inveterate Hatred than an excessive
Love; for certainly none can meet with more Disquietude and Uneasiness
than a suspected Wife, if we except the jealous Husband.
But the great Unhappiness of this Passion is, that it naturally tends to
alienate the Affection which it is so solicitous to engross; and that
for these two Reasons, because it lays too great a Constraint on the
Words and Actions of the suspected Person, and at the same time shews
you have no honourable Opinion of her; both of which are strong Motives
to Aversion.
Nor is this the worst Effect of Jealousy; for it often draws after it a
more fatal Train of Consequences, and makes the Person you suspect
guilty of the very Crimes you are so much afraid of. It is very natural
for such who are treated ill and upbraided falsely, to find out an
intimate Friend that will hear their Complaints, condole their
Sufferings, and endeavour to sooth and asswage their secret Resentments.
Besides, Jealousy puts a Woman often in Mind of an ill Thing that she
would not otherwise perhaps have thought of, and fills her Imagination
with such an unlucky Idea, as in Time grows familiar, excites Desire,
and loses all the Shame and Horror which might at first attend it. Nor
is it a Wonder if she who suffers wrongfully in a Man's Opinion of her,
and has therefore nothing to forfeit in his Esteem, resolves to give him
reason for his Suspicions, and to enjoy the Pleasure of the Crime, since
she must undergo the Ignominy.
probably were the Considerations
that directed the wise Man in his Advice to Husbands;
Be not jealous
over the Wife of thy Bosom, and teach her not an evil Lesson against thy
self.
Ecclus
.
here, among the other Torments which this Passion produces, we may
usually observe that none are greater Mourners than jealous Men, when
the Person
who
provoked their Jealousy is taken from them.
it
is that their Love breaks out furiously, and throws off all the Mixtures
of Suspicion
which
choaked and smothered it before.
beautiful
Parts of the Character rise uppermost in the jealous Husband's Memory,
and upbraid him with the ill Usage of so divine a Creature as was once
in his Possession; whilst all the little Imperfections, that were
before
so uneasie to him, wear off from his Remembrance, and shew
themselves no more.
We may see by what has been said, that Jealousy takes the deepest Root
in Men of amorous Dispositions; and of these we may find three Kinds who
are most over-run with it.
The First are those who are conscious to themselves of an Infirmity,
whether it be Weakness, Old Age, Deformity, Ignorance, or the like.
These Men are so well acquainted with the unamiable Part of themselves,
that they have not the Confidence to think they are really beloved; and
are so distrustful of their own Merits, that all Fondness towards them
puts them out of Countenance, and looks like a Jest upon their Persons.
They grow suspicious on their first looking in a Glass, and are stung
with Jealousy at the sight of a Wrinkle. A handsome Fellow immediately
alarms them, and every thing that looks young or gay turns their
thoughts upon their Wives.
A Second Sort of Men, who are most liable to this Passion, are those of
cunning, wary, and distrustful Tempers. It is a Fault very justly found
in Histories composed by Politicians, that they leave nothing to Chance
or Humour, but are still for deriving every Action from some Plot and
Contrivance, for drawing up a perpetual Scheme of Causes and Events, and
preserving a constant Correspondence between the Camp and the
Council-Table. And thus it happens in the Affairs of Love with Men of
too refined a Thought. They put a Construction on a Look, and find out a
Design in a Smile; they give new Senses and Significations to Words and
Actions; and are ever tormenting themselves with Fancies of their own
raising: They generally act in a Disguise themselves, and therefore
mistake all outward Shows and Appearances for Hypocrisy in others;
that I believe no Men see less of the Truth and Reality of Things, than
these great Refiners upon Incidents,
who