Chapter XVII: Introduction (17)

This way of considering the Misfortunes which this Battle would bring upon Posterity, not only on those who were born immediately after the Battle and lost their Fathers in it, but on those also who [perished [3]] in future Battles which [took their rise [4]] from this Quarrel of the two Earls, is wonderfully beautiful, and conformable to the Way of Thinking among the ancient Poets.

'Audiet pugnas vilio parentum

Rara juventus'.

Hor.

What can be more sounding and poetical, resemble more the majestic Simplicity of the Ancients, than the following Stanzas?

_The stout Earl of_ Northumberland
_A Vow to God did make,
His Pleasure in the_ Scotish _Woods
Three Summers Days to take.

With fifteen hundred Bowmen bold,
All chosen Men of Might,
Who knew full well, in time of Need,
To aim their Shafts aright.

The Hounds ran swiftly thro' the Woods
The nimble Deer to take,
And with their Cries the Hills and Dales
An Eccho shrill did make_.

... Vocat ingenti Clamore Cithseron
Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum:
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit.

_Lo, yonder doth Earl_ Dowglas _come,
His Men in Armour bright;
Full twenty Hundred_ Scottish _Spears,
All marching in our Sight_.

_All Men of pleasant Tividale,
Fast by the River Tweed, etc_.

The Country of the _Scotch_ Warriors, described in these two last Verses, has a fine romantick Situation, and affords a couple of smooth Words for Verse. If the Reader compares the forgoing six Lines of the Song with the following Latin Verses, he will see how much they are written in the Spirit of _Virgil_.

_Adversi campo apparent, hastasque reductis
Protendunt longe dextris; et spicula vibrant;
Quique altum Preneste viri, quique arva Gabinæ
Junonis, gelidumque Anienem, et roscida rivis
Hernica saxa colunt: ... qui rosea rura Velini,
Qui Terticæ horrentes rupes, montemque Severum,
Casperiamque colunt, Forulosque et flumen Himellæ:
Qui Tiberim Fabarimque bibunt_ ...

But to proceed.

_Earl_ Dowglas _on a milk-white Steed,
Most like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the Company,
Whose Armour shone like Gold._

Turnus ut antevolans tardum precesserat agmen, &c. Vidisti, quo Turnus equo, quibus ibat in armis Aureus ...

_Our_ English _Archers bent their Bows
Their Hearts were good and true;
At the first Flight of Arrows sent,
Full threescore_ Scots _they slew.

They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side,
No Slackness there was found.
And many a gallant Gentleman
Lay gasping on the Ground.

With that there came an Arrow keen
Out of an_ English _Bow,
Which struck Earl_ Dowglas _to the Heart
A deep and deadly Blow._

Æneas was wounded after the same Manner by an unknown Hand in the midst of a Parly.

_Has inter voces, media inter talia verba,
Ecce viro stridens alis allapsa sagitta est,
Incertum quâ pulsa manu ...

But of all the descriptive Parts of this Song, there are none more beautiful than the four following Stanzas which have a great Force and Spirit in them, and are filled with very natural Circumstances. The Thought in the third Stanza was never touched by any other Poet, and is such an one as would have shined in _Homer_ or in _Virgil_.

So thus did both those Nobles die,
Whose Courage none could stain:
An _English_ Archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain.

He had a Bow bent in his Hand,
Made of a trusty Tree,
An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long
Unto the Head drew he.

Against Sir _Hugh Montgomery_
So right his Shaft he set,
The Gray-goose Wing that was thereon
In his Heart-Blood was wet.

This Fight did last from Break of Day
Till setting of the Sun;
For when they rung the Evening Bell
The Battle scarce was done.

One may observe likewise, that in the Catalogue of the Slain the Author has followed the Example of the greatest ancient Poets, not only in giving a long List of the Dead, but by diversifying it with little Characters of particular Persons.

And with Earl _Dowglas_ there was slain
Sir _Hugh Montgomery_,
Sir _Charles Carrel_, that from the Field
One Foot would never fly:

Sir _Charles Murrel_ of Ratcliff too,
His Sister's Son was he;
Sir _David Lamb_, so well esteem'd,
Yet saved could not be.

The familiar Sound in these Names destroys the Majesty of the Description; for this Reason I do not mention this Part of the Poem but to shew the natural Cast of Thought which appears in it, as the two last Verses look almost like a Translation of _Virgil_.

... Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus
Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus æqui,
Diis aliter visum est ...

In the Catalogue of the _English_ [who [5]] fell, _Witherington's_ Behaviour is in the same manner particularized very artfully, as the Reader is prepared for it by that Account which is given of him in the Beginning of the Battle [; though I am satisfied your little Buffoon Readers (who have seen that Passage ridiculed in _Hudibras_) will not be able to take the Beauty of it: For which Reason I dare not so much as quote it].

Then stept a gallant Squire forth,
_Witherington_ was his Name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To _Henry_ our King for Shame,

That e'er my Captain fought on Foot,
And I stood looking on.

We meet with the same Heroic Sentiments in _Virgil_.

Non pudet, O Rutuli, cunctis pro talibus unam
Objectare animam? numerone an viribus æqui
Non sumus ... ?

What can be more natural or more moving than the Circumstances in which he describes the Behaviour of those Women who had lost their Husbands on this fatal Day?

Next Day did many Widows come
Their Husbands to bewail;
They washed their Wounds in brinish Tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their Bodies bath'd in purple Blood,
They bore with them away;
They kiss'd them dead a thousand Times,
When they were clad in Clay.

Thus we see how the Thoughts of this Poem, which naturally arise from the Subject, are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble; that the Language is often very sounding, and that the whole is written with a true poetical Spirit.

If this Song had been written in the _Gothic_ Manner, which is the Delight of all our little Wits, whether Writers or Readers, it would not have hit the Taste of so many Ages, and have pleased the Readers of all Ranks and Conditions. I shall only beg Pardon for such a Profusion of _Latin_ Quotations; which I should not have made use of, but that I feared my own Judgment would have looked too singular on such a Subject, had not I supported it by the Practice and Authority of _Virgil_.

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: very sonorous;]

[Footnote 3: should perish]

[Footnote 4: should arise]

[Footnote 5: that]

* * * * *

No. 75. Saturday, May 26, 1711. Steele.

'Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res.'

Hor.

It was with some Mortification that I suffered the Raillery of a Fine Lady of my Acquaintance, for calling, in one of my Papers, _Dorimant_ a Clown. She was so unmerciful as to take Advantage of my invincible Taciturnity, and on that occasion, with great Freedom to consider the Air, the Height, the Face, the Gesture of him who could pretend to judge so arrogantly of Gallantry. She is full of Motion, Janty and lively in her Impertinence, and one of those that commonly pass, among the Ignorant, for Persons who have a great deal of Humour. She had the Play of Sir _Fopling_ in her Hand, and after she had said it was happy for her there was not so charming a Creature as _Dorimant_ now living, she began with a Theatrical Air and Tone of Voice to Read, by way of Triumph over me, some of his Speeches. _'Tis she, that lovely Hair, that easy Shape, those wanton Eyes, and all those melting Charms about her Mouth, which_ Medley _spoke of; I'll follow the Lottery, and put in for a Prize with my Friend_ Bellair.

_In Love the Victors from the Vanquish'd fly;
They fly that wound, and they pursue that dye,

Then turning over the Leaves, she reads alternately, and speaks,

_And you and_ Loveit _to her Cost shall find
I fathom all the Depths of Womankind_.

Oh the Fine Gentleman! But here, continues she, is the Passage I admire most, where he begins to Teize _Loveit_, and mimick Sir _Fopling_: Oh the pretty Satyr, in his resolving to be a Coxcomb to please, since Noise and Nonsense have such powerful Charms!

_I, that I may Successful prove,
Transform my self to what you love_.

Then how like a Man of the Town, so Wild and Gay is that

_The Wife will find a Diff'rence in our Fate,
You wed a Woman, I a good Estate_.

It would have been a very wild Endeavour for a Man of my Temper to offer any Opposition to so nimble a Speaker as my Fair Enemy is; but her Discourse gave me very many Reflections, when I had left her Company. Among others, I could not but consider, with some Attention, the false Impressions the generality (the Fair Sex more especially) have of what should be intended, when they say a _Fine Gentleman_; and could not help revolving that Subject in my Thoughts, and settling, as it were, an Idea of that Character in my own Imagination.

No Man ought to have the Esteem of the rest of the World, for any Actions which are disagreeable to those Maxims which prevail, as the Standards of Behaviour, in the Country wherein he lives. What is opposite to the eternal Rules of Reason and good Sense, must be excluded from any Place in the Carriage of a Well-bred Man. I did not, I confess, explain myself enough on this Subject, when I called _Dorimant_ a Clown, and made it an Instance of it, that he called the _Orange Wench_, _Double Tripe_: I should have shewed, that Humanity obliges a Gentleman to give no Part of Humankind Reproach, for what they, whom they Reproach, may possibly have in Common with the most Virtuous and Worthy amongst us. When a Gentleman speaks Coarsly, he has dressed himself Clean to no purpose: The Cloathing of our Minds certainly ought to be regarded before that of our Bodies. To betray in a Man's Talk a corrupted Imagination, is a much greater Offence against the Conversation of Gentlemen, than any Negligence of Dress imaginable. But this Sense of the Matter is so far from being received among People even of Condition, that _Vocifer_ passes for a fine Gentleman. He is Loud, Haughty, Gentle, Soft, Lewd, and Obsequious by turns, just as a little Understanding and great Impudence prompt him at the present Moment. He passes among the silly Part of our Women for a Man of Wit, because he is generally in Doubt. He contradicts with a Shrug, and confutes with a certain Sufficiency, in professing such and such a Thing is above his Capacity. What makes his Character the pleasanter is, that he is a professed Deluder of Women; and because the empty Coxcomb has no Regard to any thing that is of it self Sacred and Inviolable, I have heard an unmarried Lady of Fortune say, It is pity so fine a Gentleman as _Vocifer_ is so great an Atheist. The Crowds of such inconsiderable Creatures that infest all Places of Assembling, every Reader will have in his Eye from his own Observation; but would it not be worth considering what sort of Figure a Man who formed himself upon those Principles among us, which are agreeable to the Dictates of Honour and Religion, would make in the familiar and ordinary Occurrences of Life?

I hardly have observed any one fill his several Duties of Life better than _Ignotus_. All the under Parts of his Behaviour and such as are exposed to common Observation, have their Rise in him from great and noble Motives. A firm and unshaken Expectation of another Life, makes him become this; Humanity and Good-nature, fortified by the Sense of Virtue, has the same Effect upon him, as the Neglect of all Goodness has upon many others. Being firmly established in all Matters of Importance, that certain Inattention which makes Men's Actions look easie appears in him with greater Beauty: By a thorough Contempt of little Excellencies, he is perfectly Master of them. This Temper of Mind leaves him under no Necessity of Studying his Air, and he has this peculiar Distinction, that his Negligence is unaffected.

He that can work himself into a Pleasure in considering this Being as an uncertain one, and think to reap an Advantage by its Discontinuance, is in a fair way of doing all things with a graceful Unconcern, and Gentleman-like Ease. Such a one does not behold his Life as a short, transient, perplexing State, made up of trifling Pleasures, and great Anxieties; but sees it in quite another Light; his Griefs are Momentary, and his Joys Immortal. Reflection upon Death is not a gloomy and sad Thought of Resigning every Thing that he Delights in, but it is a short Night followed by an endless Day. What I would here contend for is, that the more Virtuous the Man is, the nearer he will naturally be to the Character of Genteel and Agreeable. A Man whose Fortune is Plentiful, shews an Ease in his Countenance, and Confidence in his Behaviour, which he that is under Wants and Difficulties cannot assume. It is thus with the State of the Mind; he that governs his Thoughts with the everlasting Rules of Reason and Sense, must have something so inexpressibly Graceful in his Words and Actions, that every Circumstance must become him. The Change of Persons or Things around him do not at all alter his Situation, but he looks disinterested in the Occurrences with which others are distracted, because the greatest Purpose of his Life is to maintain an Indifference both to it and all its Enjoyments. In a word, to be a Fine Gentleman, is to be a Generous and a Brave Man. What can make a Man so much in constant Good-humour and Shine, as we call it, than to be supported by what can never fail him, and to believe that whatever happens to him was the best thing that could possibly befal him, or else he on whom it depends would not have permitted it to have befallen him at all?

R.

* * * * *

No. 76. Monday, May 28, 1711. Steele.

'Ut tu Fortunam, sic nos te, Celse, feremus.'

Hor.

There is nothing so common as to find a Man whom in the general Observations of his Carriage you take to be of an uniform Temper, subject to such unaccountable Starts of Humour and Passion, that he is as much unlike himself and differs as much from the Man you at first thought him, as any two distinct Persons can differ from each other. This proceeds from the Want of forming some Law of Life to our selves, or fixing some Notion of things in general, which may affect us in such Manner as to create proper Habits both in our Minds and Bodies. The Negligence of this, leaves us exposed not only to an unbecoming Levity in our usual Conversation, but also to the same Instability in our Friendships, Interests, and Alliances. A Man who is but a mere Spectator of what passes around him, and not engaged in Commerces of any Consideration, is but an ill Judge of the secret Motions of the Heart of Man, and by what Degrees it is actuated to make such visible Alterations in the same Person: But at the same Time, when a Man is no way concerned in the Effects of such Inconsistences in the Behaviour of Men of the World, the Speculation must be in the utmost Degree both diverting and instructive; yet to enjoy such Observations in the highest Relish, he ought to be placed in a Post of Direction, and have the dealing of their Fortunes to them. I have therefore been wonderfully diverted with some Pieces of secret History, which an Antiquary, my very good Friend, lent me as a Curiosity. They are memoirs of the private Life of _Pharamond of France_. [1]

'_Pharamond_, says my Author, was a Prince of infinite Humanity and Generosity, and at the same time the most pleasant and facetious Companion of his Time. He had a peculiar Taste in him (which would have been unlucky in any Prince but himself,) he thought there could be no exquisite Pleasure in Conversation but among Equals; and would pleasantly bewail himself that he always lived in a Crowd, but was the only man in _France_ that never could get into Company. This Turn of Mind made him delight in Midnight Rambles, attended only with one Person of his Bed-chamber: He would in these Excursions get acquainted with Men (whose Temper he had a Mind to try) and recommend them privately to the particular Observation of his first Minister. He generally found himself neglected by his new Acquaintance as soon as they had Hopes of growing great; and used on such Occasions to remark, That it was a great Injustice to tax Princes of forgetting themselves in their high Fortunes, when there were so few that could with Constancy bear the Favour of their very Creatures.'

My Author in these loose Hints has one Passage that gives us a very lively Idea of the uncommon Genius of _Pharamond_. He met with one Man whom he had put to all the usual Proofs he made of those he had a mind to know thoroughly, and found him for his Purpose: In Discourse with him one Day, he gave him Opportunity of saying how much would satisfy all his Wishes. The Prince immediately revealed himself, doubled the Sum, and spoke to him in this manner.

'Sir, _You have twice what you desired, by the Favour of_ Pharamond; _but look to it, that you are satisfied with it, for 'tis the last you shall ever receive. I from this Moment consider you as mine; and to make you truly so, I give you my Royal Word you shall never be greater or less than you are at present. Answer me not_, (concluded the Prince smiling) _but enjoy the Fortune I have put you in, which is above my own Condition; for you have hereafter nothing to hope or to fear_.'

His Majesty having thus well chosen and bought a Friend and Companion, he enjoyed alternately all the Pleasures of an agreeable private Man and a great and powerful Monarch: He gave himself, with his Companion, the Name of the merry Tyrant; for he punished his Courtiers for their Insolence and Folly, not by any Act of Publick Disfavour, but by humorously practising upon their Imaginations. If he observed a Man untractable to his Inferiors, he would find an Opportunity to take some favourable Notice of him, and render him insupportable. He knew all his own Looks, Words and Actions had their Interpretations; and his Friend Monsieur _Eucrate_ (for so he was called) having a great Soul without Ambition, he could communicate all his Thoughts to him, and fear no artful Use would be made of that Freedom. It was no small Delight when they were in private to reflect upon all which had passed in publick.

_Pharamond_ would often, to satisfy a vain Fool of Power in his Country, talk to him in a full Court, and with one Whisper make him despise all his old Friends and Acquaintance. He was come to that Knowledge of Men by long Observation, that he would profess altering the whole Mass of Blood in some Tempers, by thrice speaking to them. As Fortune was in his Power, he gave himself constant Entertainment in managing the mere Followers of it with the Treatment they deserved. He would, by a skilful Cast of his Eye and half a Smile, make two Fellows who hated, embrace and fall upon each other's Neck with as much Eagerness, as if they followed their real Inclinations, and intended to stifle one another. When he was in high good Humour, he would lay the Scene with _Eucrate_, and on a publick Night exercise tho Passions of his whole Court. He was pleased to see an haughty Beauty watch the Looks of the Man she had long despised, from Observation of his being taken notice of by _Pharamond_; and the Lover conceive higher Hopes, than to follow the Woman he was dying for the Day before. In a Court where Men speak Affection in the strongest Terms, and Dislike in the faintest, it was a comical Mixture of Incidents to see Disguises thrown aside in one Case and encreased on the other, according as Favour or Disgrace attended the respective Objects of Men's Approbation or Disesteem. _Pharamond_ in his Mirth upon the Meanness of Mankind used to say,

'As he could take away a Man's Five Senses, he could give him an Hundred. The Man in Disgrace shall immediately lose all his natural Endowments, and he that finds Favour have the Attributes of an Angel.' He would carry it so far as to say, 'It should not be only so in the Opinion of the lower Part of his Court, but the Men themselves shall think thus meanly or greatly of themselves, as they are out or in the good Graces of a Court.'

A Monarch who had Wit and Humour like _Pharamond_, must have Pleasures which no Man else can ever have Opportunity of enjoying. He gave Fortune to none but those whom he knew could receive it without Transport: He made a noble and generous Use of his Observations; and did not regard his Ministers as they were agreeable to himself, but as they were useful to his Kingdom: By this means the King appeared in every Officer of State; and no Man had a Participation of the Power, who had not a Similitude of the Virtue of _Pharamond_.

R.

[Footnote 1: Pharamond, or _Faramond_, was the subject of one of the romances of M. de Costes de la Calprenède, published at Paris (12 vols.) in 1661. It was translated into English (folio) by J. Phillips in 1677.]

* * * * *

No. 77. Tuesday, May 29, 1711. Budgell.

'Non convivere licet, nec urbe tota
Quisquam est tam propè tam proculque nobis.'

Mart.

My Friend WILL HONEYCOMB is one of those Sort of Men who are very often absent in Conversation, and what the _French_ call _a reveur_ and _a distrait_. A little before our Club-time last Night we were walking together in _Somerset_ Garden, where WILL, had picked up a small Pebble of so odd a Make, that he said he would present it to a Friend of his, an eminent _Virtuoso_. After we had walked some time, I made a full stop with my Face towards the West, which WILL, knowing to be my usual Method of asking what's a Clock, in an Afternoon, immediately pulled out his Watch, and told me we had seven Minutes good. We took a turn or two more, when, to my great Surprize, I saw him squirr away his Watch a considerable way into the _Thames_, and with great Sedateness in his Looks put up the Pebble, he had before found, in his Fob. As I have naturally an Aversion to much Speaking, and do not love to be the Messenger of ill News, especially when it comes too late to be useful, I left him to be convinced of his Mistake in due time, and continued my Walk, reflecting on these little Absences and Distractions in Mankind, and resolving to make them the Subject of a future Speculation.

I was the more confirmed in my Design, when I considered that they were very often Blemishes in the Characters of Men of excellent Sense; and helped to keep up the Reputation of that Latin Proverb, [1] which Mr. _Dryden_ has Translated in the following Lines:

_Great Wit to Madness sure is near ally'd,
And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide._

My Reader does, I hope, perceive, that I distinguish a Man who is _Absent_, because he thinks of something else, from one who is _Absent_, because he thinks of nothing at all: The latter is too innocent a Creature to be taken notice of; but the Distractions of the former may, I believe, be generally accounted for from one of these Reasons.

Either their Minds are wholly fixed on some particular Science, which is often the Case of Mathematicians and other learned Men; or are wholly taken up with some Violent Passion, such as Anger, Fear, or Love, which ties the Mind to some distant Object; or, lastly, these Distractions proceed from a certain Vivacity and Fickleness in a Man's Temper, which while it raises up infinite Numbers of _Ideas_ in the Mind, is continually pushing it on, without allowing it to rest on any particular Image. Nothing therefore is more unnatural than the Thoughts and Conceptions of such a Man, which are seldom occasioned either by the Company he is in, or any of those Objects which are placed before him. While you fancy he is admiring a beautiful Woman, 'tis an even Wager that he is solving a Proposition in _Euclid_; and while you may imagine he is reading the _Paris_ Gazette, it is far from being impossible, that he is pulling down and rebuilding the Front of his Country-house.

At the same time that I am endeavouring to expose this Weakness in others, I shall readily confess that I once laboured under the same Infirmity myself. The Method I took to conquer it was a firm Resolution to learn something from whatever I was obliged to see or hear. There is a way of Thinking if a Man can attain to it, by which he may strike somewhat out of any thing. I can at present observe those Starts of good Sense and Struggles of unimproved Reason in the Conversation of a Clown, with as much Satisfaction as the most shining Periods of the most finished Orator; and can make a shift to command my Attention at a _Puppet-Show_ or an _Opera_, as well as at _Hamlet_ or _Othello_. I always make one of the Company I am in; for though I say little myself, my Attention to others, and those Nods of Approbation which I never bestow unmerited, sufficiently shew that I am among them. Whereas WILL. HONEYCOMB, tho' a Fellow of good Sense, is every Day doing and saying an hundred Things which he afterwards confesses, with a well-bred Frankness, were somewhat _mal a propos_, and undesigned.

I chanced the other Day to go into a Coffee-house, where WILL, was standing in the midst of several Auditors whom he had gathered round him, and was giving them an Account of the Person and Character of _Moll Hinton_. My Appearance before him just put him in mind of me, without making him reflect that I was actually present. So that keeping his Eyes full upon me, to the great Surprize of his Audience, he broke off his first Harangue, and proceeded thus:

'Why now there's my Friend (mentioning me by my Name) he is a Fellow
that thinks a great deal, but never opens his Mouth; I warrant you he
is now thrusting his short Face into some Coffee-house about
_'Change_. I was his Bail in the time of the _Popish-Plot_, when he
was taken up for a Jesuit.'

If he had looked on me a little longer, he had certainly described me so particularly, without ever considering what led him into it, that the whole Company must necessarily have found me out; for which Reason, remembering the old Proverb, _Out of Sight out of Mind_, I left the Room; and upon meeting him an Hour afterwards, was asked by him, with a great deal of Good-humour, in what Part of the World I had lived, that he had not seen me these three Days.

Monsieur _Bruyere_ has given us the Character of _an absent_ Man [2], with a great deal of Humour, which he has pushed to an agreeable Extravagance; with the Heads of it I shall conclude my present Paper.

'_Menalcas_ (says that excellent Author) comes down in a Morning,
opens his Door to go out, but shuts it again, because he perceives
that he has his Night-cap on; and examining himself further finds that
he is but half-shaved, that he has stuck his Sword on his right Side,
that his Stockings are about his Heels, and that his Shirt is over his
Breeches. When he is dressed he goes to Court, comes into the
Drawing-room, and walking bolt-upright under a Branch of Candlesticks
his Wig is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the Air.
All the Courtiers fall a laughing, but _Menalcas_ laughs louder than
any of them, and looks about for the Person that is the Jest of the
Company. Coming down to the Court-gate he finds a Coach, which taking
for his own, he whips into it; and the Coachman drives off, not
doubting but he carries his Master. As soon as he stops, _Menalcas_
throws himself out of the Coach, crosses the Court, ascends the
Staircase, and runs thro' all the Chambers with the greatest
Familiarity, reposes himself on a Couch, and fancies himself at home.
The Master of the House at last comes in, _Menalcas_ rises to receive
him, and desires him to sit down; he talks, muses, and then talks
again. The Gentleman of the House is tired and amazed; _Menalcas_ is
no less so, but is every Moment in Hopes that his impertinent Guest
will at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, when _Menalcas_ is
hardly undeceived.

When he is playing at Backgammon, he calls for a full Glass of Wine
and Water; 'tis his turn to throw, he has the Box in one Hand and his
Glass in the other, and being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose
Time, he swallows down both the Dice, and at the same time throws his
Wine into the Tables. He writes a Letter, and flings the Sand into the
Ink-bottle; he writes a second, and mistakes the Superscription: A
Nobleman receives one of them, and upon opening it reads as follows:
_I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon the Receipt of this,
take in Hay enough to serve me the Winter._ His Farmer receives the
other and is amazed to see in it, _My Lord, I received your Grace's
Commands with an entire Submission to_--If he is at an Entertainment,
you may see the Pieces of Bread continually multiplying round his
Plate: 'Tis true the rest of the Company want it, as well as their
Knives and Forks, which _Menalcas_ does not let them keep long.
Sometimes in a Morning he puts his whole Family in an hurry, and at
last goes out without being able to stay for his Coach or Dinner, and
for that Day you may see him in every Part of the Town, except the
very Place where he had appointed to be upon a Business of Importance.
You would often take him for every thing that he is not; for a Fellow
quite stupid, for he hears nothing; for a Fool, for he talks to
himself, and has an hundred Grimaces and Motions with his Head, which
are altogether involuntary; for a proud Man, for he looks full upon
you, and takes no notice of your saluting him: The Truth on't is, his
Eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and neither sees you, nor
any Man, nor any thing else: He came once from his Country-house, and
his own Footman undertook to rob him, and succeeded: They held a
Flambeau to his Throat, and bid him deliver his Purse; he did so, and
coming home told his Friends he had been robbed; they desired to know
the Particulars, _Ask my Servants, _says_ Menalcas, for they were with
me_.

X.

[Footnote 1: Seneca 'de Tranquill. Anim.' cap. xv.

'Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiæ'

Dryden's lines are in Part I of 'Absalom and Achitophel'.]

[Footnote 2: 'Caractères', Chap. xi. de l'Homme. La Bruyère's Menalque was identified with a M. de Brancas, brother of the Duke de Villars. The adventure of the wig is said really to have happened to him at a reception by the Queen-Mother. He was said also on his wedding-day to have forgotten that he had been married. He went abroad as usual, and only remembered the ceremony of the morning upon finding the changed state of his household when, as usual, he came home in the evening.]

* * * * *

No. 78. Wednesday, May 30, 1711. Steele.

Cum Talis sis, Utinam noster esses!

The following Letters are so pleasant, that I doubt not but the Reader will be as much diverted with them as I was. I have nothing to do in this Day's Entertainment, but taking the Sentence from the End of the _Cambridge_ Letter, and placing it at the Front of my Paper; to shew the Author I wish him my Companion with as much Earnestness as he invites me to be his.

SIR,

'I Send you the inclosed, to be inserted (if you think them worthy of
it) in your SPECTATORS; in which so surprizing a Genius appears, that
it is no Wonder if all Mankind endeavours to get somewhat into a Paper
which will always live.

As to the _Cambridge_ Affair, the Humour was really carried on in the
Way I described it. However, you have a full Commission to put out or
in, and to do whatever you think fit with it. I have already had the
Satisfaction of seeing you take that Liberty with some things I have
before sent you. [1]

'Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes of

_SIR, Your very Affectionate,
and Obliged Humble Servant._'

_Cambridge_.

_Mr, SPECTATOR_,

'You well know it is of great Consequence to clear Titles, and it is
of Importance that it be done in the proper Season; On which Account
this is to assure you, that the CLUB OF UGLY FACES was instituted
originally at _CAMBRIDGE_ in the merry Reign of King _Charles_ II. As
in great Bodies of Men it is not difficult to find Members enough for
such a Club, so (I remember) it was then feared, upon their Intention
of dining together, that the Hall belonging to _CLAREHALL_, (the
ugliest _then_ in the Town, tho' _now_ the neatest) would not be large
enough HANDSOMELY to hold the Company. Invitations were made to great
Numbers, but very few accepted them without much Difficulty. ONE
pleaded that being at _London_ in a Bookseller's Shop, a Lady going by
with a great Belly longed to kiss him. HE had certainly been excused,
but that Evidence appeared, That indeed one in _London_ did pretend
she longed to kiss him, but that it was only a _Pickpocket_, who
during his kissing her stole away all his Money. ANOTHER would have
got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved upon _him_, that he
had, by coming into a Room, made a Woman miscarry, and frightened two
Children into Fits. A THIRD alledged, That he was taken by a Lady for
another Gentleman, who was one of the handsomest in the University;
But upon Enquiry it was found that the Lady had actually lost one Eye,
and the other was very much upon the Decline. A FOURTH produced
Letters out of the Country in his Vindication, in which a Gentleman
offered him his Daughter, who had lately fallen in Love with him, with
a good Fortune: But it was made appear that the young Lady was
amorous, and had like to have run away with her Father's Coachman, so
that it was supposed, that her Pretence of falling in Love with him
was only in order to be well married. It was pleasant to hear the
several Excuses which were made, insomuch that some made as much
Interest to be excused as they would from serving Sheriff; however at
last the Society was formed, and proper Officers were appointed; and
the Day was fix'd for the Entertainment, which was in _Venison
Season_. A pleasant _Fellow of King's College_ (commonly called CRAB
from his sour Look, and the only Man who did not pretend to get off)
was nominated for Chaplain; and nothing was wanting but some one to
sit in the Elbow-Chair, by way of PRESIDENT, at the upper end of the
Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Contention for
Superiority _there_. This Affair made so great a Noise, that the King,
who was then at _Newmarket_, heard of it, and was pleased merrily and
graciously to say, HE COULD NOT BE THERE HIMSELF, BUT HE WOULD SEND
THEM A BRACE OF BUCKS.

I would desire you, Sir, to set this Affair in a true Light, that
Posterity may not be misled in so important a Point: For when _the
wise Man who shall write your true History_ shall acquaint the World,
That you had a DIPLOMA sent from the _Ugly Club at OXFORD_, and that
by vertue of it you were admitted into it, what a learned Work will
there be among _future Criticks_ about the Original of that Club,
which both Universities will contend so warmly for? And perhaps some
hardy _Cantabrigian_ Author may then boldly affirm, that the Word
_OXFORD_ was an interpolation of some _Oxonian_ instead of
_CAMBRIDGE_. This Affair will be best adjusted in your Life-time; but
I hope your Affection to your MOTHER will not make you partial to your
AUNT.

To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho' I cannot find any ancient
Records of any Acts of the SOCIETY OF THE UGLY FACES, considered in a
_publick_ Capacity; yet in a _private_ one they have certainly
Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded they will hardly give Place to
the LOWNGERS, and the LOWNGERS are of the same Standing with the
University itself.

Tho' we well know, Sir, you want no Motives to do Justice, yet I am
commission'd to tell you, that you are invited to be admitted _ad
eundem_ at _CAMBRIDGE_; and I believe I may venture safely to deliver
this as the Wish of our Whole University.'

_To Mr_. SPECTATOR.

_The humble Petition of WHO and WHICH_.

Sheweth,

'THAT your Petitioners being in a forlorn and destitute Condition,
know not to whom we should apply ourselves for Relief, because there
is hardly any Man alive who hath not injured us. Nay, we speak it with
Sorrow, even You your self, whom we should suspect of such a Practice
the last of all Mankind, can hardly acquit your self of having given
us some Cause of Complaint. We are descended of ancient Families, and
kept up our Dignity and Honour many Years, till the Jack-sprat THAT
supplanted us. How often have we found ourselves slighted by the
Clergy in their Pulpits, and the Lawyers at the Bar? Nay, how often
have we heard in one of the most polite and august Assemblies in the
Universe, to our great Mortification, these Words, _That THAT that
noble Lord urged_; which if one of us had had Justice done, would have
sounded nobler thus, _That WHICH that noble Lord urged_. Senates
themselves, the Guardians of _British_ Liberty, have degraded us, and
preferred THAT to us; and yet no Decree was ever given against us. In
the very Acts of Parliament, in which the utmost Right should be done
to every _Body_, _WORD_ and _Thing_, we find our selves often either
not used, or used one instead of another. In the first and best Prayer
Children are taught, they learn to misuse us: _Our_ _Father WHICH art
in Heaven_, should be, _Our Father WHO_ _art in Heaven_; and even a
CONVOCATION after long Debates, refused to consent to an Alteration of
it. In our _general Confession_ we say,--_Spare thou them, O God,
WHICH confess their Faults_, which ought to be, _WHO confess their
Faults_. What Hopes then have we of having Justice done so, when the
Makers of our very Prayers and Laws, and the most learned in all
Faculties, seem to be in a Confederacy against us, and our Enemies
themselves must be our Judges.'

The _Spanish_ Proverb says, _Il sabio muda consejo, il necio no_; i.
e. _A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will_. So that we think
You, Sir, a very proper Person to address to, since we know you to be
capable of being convinced, and changing your Judgment. You are well
able to settle this Affair, and to you we submit our Cause. We desire
you to assign the Butts and Bounds of each of us; and that for the
future we may both enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by our
Counsel, but that we fear in their very Pleadings they would betray
our Cause: Besides, we have been oppressed so many Years, that we can
appear no other way, but _in forma pauperis_. All which considered, we
hope you will be pleased to do that which to Right and Justice shall
appertain.

_And your Petitioners, &c_.

R.

[Footnote 1: This letter is probably by Laurence Eusden, and the preceding letter by the same hand would be the account of the Loungers in No. 54. Laurence Eusden, son of Dr. Eusden, Rector of Spalsworth, in Yorkshire, was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, took orders, and became Chaplain to Lord Willoughby de Broke. He obtained the patronage of Lord Halifax by a Latin version of his Lordship's poem on the Battle of the Boyne, in 1718. By the influence of the Duke of Newcastle, then Lord Chamberlain, he was made Poet-laureate, upon the death of Rowe. Eusden died, rector of Conington, Lincolnshire, in 1730, and his death was hastened by intemperance. Of the laurel left for Cibber Pope wrote in the Dunciad,

_Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise;
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days._]

* * * * *

No. 79. Thursday, May 31, 1711. Steele.

'Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore.'

Hor.

I have received very many Letters of late from my Female Correspondents, most of whom are very angry with me for Abridging their Pleasures, and looking severely upon Things, in themselves, indifferent. But I think they are extremely Unjust to me in this Imputation: All that I contend for is, that those Excellencies, which are to be regarded but in the second Place, should not precede more weighty Considerations. The Heart of Man deceives him in spite of the Lectures of half a Life spent in Discourses on the Subjection of Passion; and I do not know why one may not think the Heart of Woman as Unfaithful to itself. If we grant an Equality in the Faculties of both Sexes, the Minds of Women are less cultivated with Precepts, and consequently may, without Disrespect to them, be accounted more liable to Illusion in Cases wherein natural Inclination is out of the Interests of Virtue. I shall take up my present Time in commenting upon a Billet or two which came from Ladies, and from thence leave the Reader to judge whether I am in the right or not, in thinking it is possible Fine Women may be mistaken.

The following Address seems to have no other Design in it, but to tell me the Writer will do what she pleases for all me.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am Young, and very much inclin'd to follow the Paths of Innocence:
but at the same time, as I have a plentiful Fortune, and of Quality, I
am unwilling to resign the Pleasures of Distinction, some little
Satisfaction in being Admired in general, and much greater in being
beloved by a Gentleman, whom I design to make my Husband. But I have a
mind to put off entering into Matrimony till another Winter is over my
Head, which, (whatever, musty Sir, you may think of the Matter) I
design to pass away in hearing Music, going to Plays, Visiting, and
all other Satisfactions which Fortune and Youth, protected by
Innocence and Virtue, can procure for,'

SIR,

_Your most humble Servant_,

M. T.

'My Lover does not know I like him, therefore having no Engagements
upon me, I think to stay and know whether I may not like any one else
better.'

I have heard WILL. HONEYCOMB say,

_A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript_.

I think this Gentlewoman has sufficiently discovered hers in this. I'll lay what Wager she pleases against her present Favourite, and can tell her that she will Like Ten more before she is fixed, and then will take the worst Man she ever liked in her Life. There is no end of Affection taken in at the Eyes only; and you may as well satisfie those Eyes with seeing, as controul any Passion received by them only. It is from loving by Sight that Coxcombs so frequently succeed with Women, and very often a Young Lady is bestowed by her Parents to a Man who weds her as Innocence itself, tho' she has, in her own Heart, given her Approbation of a different Man in every Assembly she was in the whole Year before. What is wanting among Women, as well as among Men, is the Love of laudable Things, and not to rest only in the Forbearance of such as are Reproachful.

How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination is _Eudosia! Eudosia_ has all the Arts of Life and good Breeding with so much Ease, that the Virtue of her Conduct looks more like an Instinct than Choice. It is as little difficult to her to think justly of Persons and Things, as it is to a Woman of different Accomplishments, to move ill or look awkward. That which was, at first, the Effect of Instruction, is grown into an Habit; and it would be as hard for _Eudosia_ to indulge a wrong Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for _Flavia_ the fine Dancer to come into a Room with an unbecoming Air.

But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their own State of Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the following Letter, which is but an Extract of a kind Epistle from my charming mistress _Hecatissa_, who is above the Vanity of external Beauty, and is the best Judge of the Perfections of the Mind.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

"I Write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well as
myself, spend many Hours more than we used at the Glass, for want of
the Female Library of which you promised us a Catalogue. I hope, Sir,
in the Choice of Authors for us, you will have a particular Regard to
Books of Devotion. What they are, and how many, must be your chief
Care; for upon the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I
have known those among us who think, if they every Morning and Evening
spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many Prayers in six or
seven Books of Devotion, all equally nonsensical, with a sort of
Warmth, (that might as well be raised by a Glass of Wine, or a Drachm
of Citron) they may all the rest of their time go on in whatever their
particular Passion leads them to. The beauteous _Philautia_, who is
(in your Language) an _Idol_, is one of these Votaries; she has a very
pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed Hours:
This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chapel; she has constantly
before her a large Looking-glass, and upon the Table, according to a
very witty Author,

_Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint,
At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint_.

It must be a good Scene, if one could be present at it, to see this
_Idol_ by turns lift up her Eyes to Heaven, and steal Glances at her
own dear Person. It cannot but be a pleasing Conflict between Vanity
and Humiliation. When you are upon this Subject, choose Books which
elevate the Mind above the World, and give a pleasing Indifference to
little things in it. For want of such Instructions, I am apt to
believe so many People take it in their Heads to be sullen, cross and
angry, under pretence of being abstracted from the Affairs of this
Life, when at the same time they betray their Fondness for them by
doing their Duty as a Task, and pouting and reading good Books for a
Week together. Much of this I take to proceed from the Indiscretion of
the Books themselves, whose very Titles of Weekly Preparations, and
such limited Godliness, lead People of ordinary Capacities into great
Errors, and raise in them a Mechanical Religion, entirely distinct
from Morality. I know a Lady so given up to this sort of Devotion,
that tho' she employs six or eight Hours of the twenty-four at Cards,
she never misses one constant Hour of Prayer, for which time another
holds her Cards, to which she returns with no little Anxiousness till
two or three in the Morning. All these Acts are but empty Shows, and,
as it were, Compliments made to Virtue; the Mind is all the while
untouched with any true Pleasure in the Pursuit of it. From hence I
presume it arises that so many People call themselves Virtuous, from
no other Pretence to it but an Absence of Ill. There is _Dulcianara_
is the most insolent of all Creatures to her Friends and Domesticks,
upon no other Pretence in Nature but that (as her silly Phrase is) no
one can say Black is her Eye. She has no Secrets, forsooth, which
should make her afraid to speak her Mind, and therefore she is
impertinently Blunt to all her Acquaintance, and unseasonably
Imperious to all her Family. Dear Sir, be pleased to put such Books in
our Hands, as may make our Virtue more inward, and convince some of us
that in a Mind truly virtuous the Scorn of Vice is always accompanied
with the Pity of it. This and other things are impatiently expected
from you by our whole Sex; among the rest by,

SIR,

_Your most humble Servant_,'

B.

* * * * *

No. 80. Friday, June 1, 1711. Steele.

'Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.'

Hor.

In the Year 1688, and on the same Day of that Year, were born in _Cheapside, London_, two Females of exquisite Feature and Shape; the one we shall call _Brunetta_, the other _Phillis_. A close Intimacy between their Parents made each of them the first Acquaintance the other knew in the World: They played, dressed Babies, acted Visitings, learned to Dance and make Curtesies, together. They were inseparable Companions in all the little Entertainments their tender Years were capable of: Which innocent Happiness continued till the Beginning of their fifteenth Year, when it happened that Mrs. _Phillis_ had an Head-dress on which became her so very well, that instead of being beheld any more with Pleasure for their Amity to each other, the Eyes of the Neighbourhood were turned to remark them with Comparison of their Beauty. They now no longer enjoyed the Ease of Mind and pleasing Indolence in which they were formerly happy, but all their Words and Actions were misinterpreted by each other, and every Excellence in their Speech and Behaviour was looked upon as an Act of Emulation to surpass the other. These Beginnings of Disinclination soon improved into a Formality of Behaviour; a general Coldness, and by natural Steps into an irreconcilable Hatred.

These two Rivals for the Reputation of Beauty, were in their Stature, Countenance and Mien so very much alike, that if you were speaking of them in their Absence, the Words in which you described the one must give you an Idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you would think, when they were apart, tho' extremely different when together. What made their Enmity the more entertaining to all the rest of their Sex was, that in Detraction from each other neither could fall upon Terms which did not hit herself as much as her Adversary. Their Nights grew restless with Meditation of new Dresses to outvie each other, and inventing new Devices to recal Admirers, who observed the Charms of the one rather than those of the other on the last Meeting. Their Colours failed at each other's Appearance, flushed with Pleasure at the Report of a Disadvantage, and their Countenances withered upon Instances of Applause. The Decencies to which Women are obliged, made these Virgins stifle their Resentment so far as not to break into open Violences, while they equally suffered the Torments of a regulated Anger. Their Mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the Quarrel, and supported the several Pretensions of the Daughters with all that ill-chosen Sort of Expence which is common with People of plentiful Fortunes and mean Taste. The Girls preceded their Parents like Queens of _May_, in all the gaudy Colours imaginable, on every _Sunday_ to Church, and were exposed to the Examination of the Audience for Superiority of Beauty.