Chapter XXVII: Introduction (27)

Dear Mr. SPECTER, I am the next thing to a Lady's Woman, and am under
both my Lady and her Woman. I am so used by them both, that I should
be very glad to see them in the SPECTER. My Lady her self is of no
Mind in the World, and for that Reason her Woman is of twenty Minds in
a Moment. My Lady is one that never knows what to do with her self;
she pulls on and puts off every thing she wears twenty times before
she resolves upon it for that Day. I stand at one end of the Room, and
reach things to her Woman. When my Lady asks for a thing, I hear and
have half brought it, when the Woman meets me in the middle of the
Room to receive it, and at that Instant she says No she will not have
it. Then I go back, and her Woman comes up to her, and by this time
she will have that and two or three things more in an Instant: The
Woman and I run to each other; I am loaded and delivering the things
to her, when my Lady says she wants none of all these things, and we
are the dullest Creatures in the World, and she the unhappiest Woman
living, for she shan't be dress'd in any time. Thus we stand not
knowing what to do, when our good Lady with all the Patience in the
World tells us as plain as she can speak, that she will have Temper
because we have no manner of Understanding; and begins again to dress,
and see if we can find out of our selves what we are to do. When she
is Dressed she goes to Dinner, and after she has disliked every thing
there, she calls for the Coach, then commands it in again, and then
she will not go out at all, and then will go too, and orders the
Chariot. Now, good Mr. SPECTER, I desire you would in the Behalf of
all who serve froward Ladies, give out in your Paper, that nothing can
be done without allowing Time for it, and that one cannot be back
again with what one was sent for, if one is called back before one can
go a Step for that they want. And if you please let them know that all
Mistresses are as like as all Servants.

_I am
Your Loving Friend_,
PATIENCE GIDDY.

These are great Calamities; but I met the other Day in the five Fields towards _Chelsea_, a pleasanter Tyrant than either of the above represented. A fat Fellow was puffing on in his open Waistcoat; a Boy of fourteen in a Livery, carrying after him his Cloak, upper Coat, Hat, Wig, and Sword. The poor Lad was ready to sink with the Weight, and could not keep up with his Master, who turned back every half Furlong, and wondered what made the lazy Young Dog lag behind.

There is something very unaccountable, that People cannot put themselves in the Condition of the Persons below them, when they consider the Commands they give. But there is nothing more common, than to see a Fellow (who if he were reduced to it, would not be hired by any Man living) lament that he is troubled with the most worthless Dogs in Nature.

It would, perhaps, be running too far out of common Life to urge, that he who is not Master of himself and his own Passions, cannot be a proper Master of another. Æquanimity in a Man's own Words and Actions, will easily diffuse it self through his whole Family. _Pamphilio_ has the happiest Household of any Man I know, and that proceeds from the humane regard he has to them in their private Persons, as well as in respect that they are his Servants. If there be any Occasion, wherein they may in themselves be supposed to be unfit to attend their Master's Concerns, by reason of an Attention to their own, he is so good as to place himself in their Condition. I thought it very becoming in him, when at Dinner the other Day he made an Apology for want of more Attendants. He said, _One of my Footmen is gone to the Wedding of his Sister, and the other I don't expect to Wait, because his Father died but two Days ago_.

T.

* * * * *

No. 138. Wednesday, August 8, 1711. Steele.

'Utitur in re non Dubia testibus non necessariis.'

Tull.

One meets now and then with Persons who are extreamly learned and knotty in Expounding clear Cases. _Tully_ [1] tells us of an Author that spent some Pages to prove that Generals could not perform the great Enterprizes which have made them so illustrious, if they had not had Men. He asserted also, it seems, that a Minister at home, no more than a Commander abroad, could do any thing without other Men were his Instruments and Assistants. On this Occasion he produces the Example of _Themistodes, Pericles, Cyrus_, and _Alexander_ himself, whom he denies to have been capable of effecting what they did, except they had been followed by others. It is pleasant enough to see such Persons contend without Opponents, and triumph without Victory.

The Author above-mentioned by the Orator, is placed for ever in a very ridiculous Light, and we meet every Day in Conversation such as deserve the same kind of Renown, for troubling those with whom they converse with the like Certainties. The Persons that I have always thought to deserve the highest Admiration in this kind are your ordinary Story-tellers, who are most religiously careful of keeping to the Truth in every particular Circumstance of a Narration, whether it concern the main End or not. A Gentleman whom I had the Honour to be in Company with the other Day, upon some Occasion that he was pleased to take, said, He remembered a very pretty Repartee made by a very witty Man in King _Charles's_ time upon the like Occasion. I remember (said he, upon entring into the Tale) much about the time of _Oates's_ Plot, that a Cousin-German of mine and I were at the _Bear_ in _Holborn:_ No, I am out, it was at the _Cross_ Keys, but _Jack Thompson_ was there, for he was very great with the Gentleman who made the Answer. But I am sure it was spoken some where thereabouts, for we drank a Bottle in that Neighbourhood every Evening: But no matter for all that, the thing is the same; but ...

He was going on to settle the Geography of the Jest when I left the Room, wondering at this odd turn of Head which can play away its Words, with uttering nothing to the Purpose, still observing its own Impertinencies, and yet proceeding in them. I do not question but he informed the rest of his Audience, who had more Patience than I, of the Birth and Parentage, as well as the Collateral Alliances of his Family who made the Repartee, and of him who provoked him to it.

It is no small Misfortune to any who have a just Value for their Time, when this Quality of being so very Circumstantial, and careful to be exact, happens to shew it self in a Man whose Quality obliges them to attend his Proofs, that it is now Day, and the like. But this is augmented when the same Genius gets into Authority, as it often does. Nay I have known it more than once ascend the very Pulpit. One of this sort taking it in his Head to be a great Admirer of Dr. _Tillotson_ and Dr. _Beveridge_, never failed of proving out of these great Authors Things which no Man living would have denied him upon his [own] single Authority. One Day resolving to come to the Point in hand, he said, According to that excellent Divine, I will enter upon the Matter, or in his Words, in the fifteenth Sermon of the Folio Edition, Page 160.

_I shall briefly explain the Words, and then consider the Matter contained in them_.

This honest Gentleman needed not, one would think, strain his Modesty so far as to alter his Design of _Entring into the Matter_, to that of _Briefly explaining_. But so it was, that he would not even be contented with that Authority, but added also the other Divine to strengthen his Method, and told us, With the Pious and Learned Dr. _Beveridge_, Page 4th of his 9th Volume, I _shall endeavour to make it as plain as I can from the Words which I have now read, wherein for that Purpose we shall consider_ ... This Wiseacre was reckoned by the Parish, who did not understand him, a most excellent Preacher; but that he read too much, and was so Humble that he did not trust enough to his own Parts.

Next to these ingenious Gentlemen, who argue for what no body can deny them, are to be ranked a sort of People who do not indeed attempt to prove insignificant things, but are ever labouring to raise Arguments with you about Matters you will give up to them without the least Controversy. One of these People told a Gentleman who said he saw Mr. such a one go this Morning at nine a Clock towards the _Gravel-Pits_, Sir, I must beg your pardon for that, for tho' I am very loath to have any Dispute with you, yet I must take the liberty to tell you it was nine when I saw him at _St. James's_. When Men of this Genius are pretty far gone in Learning they will put you to prove that Snow is white, and when you are upon that Topick can say that there is really no such thing as Colour in Nature; in a Word, they can turn what little Knowledge they have into a ready Capacity of raising Doubts; into a Capacity of being always frivolous and always unanswerable. It was of two Disputants of this impertinent and laborious kind that the Cynick said, _One of these Fellows is Milking a Ram, and the other holds the Pail_.

[Footnote 1: On Rhetorical Invention.]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

_The Exercise of the Snuff-Box,
according to the most fashionable Airs and Motions,
in opposition to the Exercise of the Fan,
will be Taught with the best plain or perfumed Snuff,
at_ Charles Lillie's _Perfumer
at the Corner of Beaufort-Buildings in the_ Strand,
_and Attendance given
for the Benefit of the young Merchants about the Exchange
for two Hours every Day at Noon, except_ Saturdays,
_at a Toy-shop near_ Garraway's _Coffee-House.

There will be likewise Taught
The Ceremony of the Snuff-box,
or Rules for offering Snuff to a Stranger, a Friend, or a Mistress,
according to the Degrees of Familiarity or Distance;
with an Explanation of
the Careless, the Scornful, the Politick, and the Surly Pinch,
and the Gestures proper to each of them_.

N. B._The Undertaker does not question
but in a short time to have formed
a Body of Regular Snuff-Boxes
ready to meet and make head against
[all] the Regiment of Fans which have been
lately Disciplined, and are now in Motion_.

T.

* * * * *

No. 139. Thursday, August 9, 1711. Steele.

Vera Gloria radices agit, atque etiam propagatur: Ficta omnia
celeriter, tanquam flosculi, decidunt, nec simulatum potest
quidquam esse diuturnum.

Tull.

Of all the Affections which attend Human Life, the Love of Glory is the most Ardent. According as this is Cultivated in Princes, it produces the greatest Good or the greatest Evil. Where Sovereigns have it by Impressions received from Education only, it creates an Ambitious rather than a Noble Mind; where it is the natural Bent of the Prince's Inclination, it prompts him to the Pursuit of Things truly Glorious. The two greatest Men now in _Europe_ (according to the common Acceptation of the Word _Great_) are _Lewis_ King of _France_, and _Peter_ Emperor of _Russia_. As it is certain that all Fame does not arise from the Practice of Virtue, it is, methinks, no unpleasing Amusement to examine the Glory of these Potentates, and distinguish that which is empty, perishing, and frivolous, from what is solid, lasting, and important. _Lewis_ of _France_ had his Infancy attended by Crafty and Worldly Men, who made Extent of Territory the most glorious [Instance [1]] of Power, and mistook the spreading of Fame for the Acquisition of Honour. The young Monarch's Heart was by such Conversation easily deluded into a Fondness for Vain-glory, and upon these unjust Principles to form or fall in with suitable Projects of Invasion, Rapine, Murder, and all the Guilts that attend War when it is unjust. At the same time this Tyranny was laid, Sciences and Arts were encouraged in the most generous Manner, as if Men of higher Faculties were to be bribed to permit the Massacre of the rest of the World. Every Superstructure which the Court of _France_ built upon their first Designs, which were in themselves vicious, was suitable to its false Foundation. The Ostentation of Riches, the Vanity of Equipage, Shame of Poverty, and Ignorance of Modesty, were the common Arts of Life: The generous Love of one Woman was changed into Gallantry for all the Sex, and Friendships among Men turned into Commerces of Interest, or mere Professions. _While these were the Rules of Life, Perjuries in the Prince, and a general Corruption of Manners in the Subject, were the Snares in which_ France _has Entangled all her Neighbours._ With such false Colours have the Eyes of _Lewis_ been enchanted, from the Debauchery of his early Youth, to the Superstition of his present old Age. Hence it is, that he has the Patience to have Statues erected to his Prowess, his Valour, his Fortitude; and in the Softnesses and Luxury of a Court, to be applauded for Magnanimity and Enterprize in Military Atchievements.

_Peter Alexiwitz_ of _Russia_, when he came to Years of Manhood, though he found himself Emperor of a vast and numerous People, Master of an endless Territory, absolute Commander of the Lives and Fortunes of his Subjects, in the midst of this unbounded Power and Greatness turned his Thoughts upon Himself and People with Sorrow. Sordid Ignorance and a Brute Manner of Life this Generous Prince beheld and contemned from the Light of his own _Genius_. His Judgment suggested this to him, and his Courage prompted him to amend it. In order to this he did not send to the Nation from whence the rest of the World has borrowed its Politeness, but himself left his Diadem to learn the true Way to Glory and Honour, and Application to useful Arts, wherein to employ the Laborious, the Simple, the Honest part of his People. Mechanick Employments and Operations were very justly the first Objects of his Favour and Observation. With this glorious Intention he travelled into Foreign Nations in an obscure Manner, above receiving little Honours where he sojourned, but prying into what was of more Consequence, their Arts of Peace and of War. By this means has this great Prince laid the Foundation of a great and lasting Fame, by personal Labour, personal Knowledge, personal Valour. It would be Injury to any of Antiquity to name them with him. Who, but himself, ever left a Throne to learn to sit in it with more Grace? Who ever thought himself mean in Absolute Power, 'till he had learned to use it?

If we consider this wonderful Person, it is Perplexity to know where to begin his Encomium. Others may in a Metaphorical or Philosophick Sense be said to command themselves, but this Emperor is also literally under his own Command. How generous and how good was his entring his own Name as a private Man in the Army he raised, that none in it might expect to out-run the Steps with which he himself advanced! By such Measures this god-like Prince learned to Conquer, learned to use his Conquests. How terrible has he appeared in Battel, how gentle in Victory? Shall then the base Arts of the _Frenchman_ be held Polite, and the honest Labours of the _Russian_ Barbarous? No: Barbarity is the Ignorance of true Honour, or placing any thing instead of it. The unjust Prince is Ignoble and Barbarous, the good Prince only Renowned and Glorious.

Tho' Men may impose upon themselves what they please by their corrupt Imaginations, Truth will ever keep its Station; and as Glory is nothing else but the Shadow of Virtue, it will certainly disappear at the Departure of Virtue. But how carefully ought the true Notions of it to be preserved, and how industrious should we be to encourage any Impulses towards it? The _Westminster_ School-boy that said the other Day he could not sleep or play for the Colours in the Hall, [2] ought to be free from receiving a Blow for ever.

But let us consider what is truly Glorious according to the Author I have to day quoted in the Front of my Paper.

The Perfection of Glory, says _Tully_, [3] consists in these three Particulars: _That the People love us; that they have Confidence in us; that being affected with a certain Admiration towards us, they think we deserve Honour_.

This was spoken of Greatness in a Commonwealth: But if one were to form a Notion of Consummate Glory under our Constitution, one must add to the above-mentioned Felicities a certain necessary Inexistence, and Disrelish of all the rest, without the Prince's Favour.

He should, methinks, have Riches, Power, Honour, Command, Glory; but Riches, Power, Honour, Command and Glory should have no Charms, but as accompanied with the Affection of his Prince. He should, methinks, be Popular because a Favourite, and a Favourite because Popular.

Were it not to make the Character too imaginary, I would give him Sovereignty over some Foreign Territory, and make him esteem that an empty Addition without the kind Regards of his own Prince.

One may merely have an _Idea_ of a Man thus composed and circumstantiated, and if he were so made for Power without an Incapacity of giving Jealousy, he would be also Glorious, without Possibility of receiving Disgrace. This Humility and this Importance must make his Glory immortal.

These Thoughts are apt to draw me beyond the usual Length of this Paper, but if I could suppose such Rhapsodies cou'd outlive the common Fate of ordinary things, I would say these Sketches and Faint Images of Glory were drawn in _August, 1711,_ when _John__ Duke of _Marlborough_ made that memorable March wherein he took the French Lines without Bloodshed.

T.

[Footnote 1: Instances]

[Footnote 2: The Colours taken at Blenheim hung in Westminster Hall.]

[Footnote 3: Towards the close of the first Philippic.]

* * * * *

No. 140. Friday, August 10, 1711. Steele.

'Animum curis nunc huc nunc dividit illuc.'

Virg.

When I acquaint my Reader, that I have many other Letters not yet acknowledged, I believe he will own, what I have a mind he should believe, that I have no small Charge upon me, but am a Person of some Consequence in this World. I shall therefore employ the present Hour only in reading Petitions, in the Order as follows.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I have lost so much Time already, that I desire, upon the Receipt
hereof, you would sit down immediately and give me your Answer. And I
would know of you whether a Pretender of mine really loves me.

As well as I can I will describe his Manners. When he sees me he is
always talking of Constancy, but vouchsafes to visit me but once a
Fortnight, and then is always in haste to be gone.

When I am sick, I hear, he says he is mightily concerned, but neither
comes nor sends, because, as he tells his Acquaintance with a Sigh, he
does not care to let me know all the Power I have over him, and how
impossible it is for him to live without me.

When he leaves the Town he writes once in six Weeks, desires to hear
from me, complains of the Torment of Absence, speaks of Flames,
Tortures, Languishings and Ecstasies. He has the Cant of an impatient
Lover, but keeps the Pace of a Lukewarm one.

You know I must not go faster than he does, and to move at this rate
is as tedious as counting a great Clock. But you are to know he is
rich, and my Mother says, As he is slow he is sure; He will love me
long, if he loves me little: But I appeal to you whether he loves at
all

_Your Neglected, Humble Servant,_
Lydia Novell.

_All these Fellows who have Mony are extreamly sawcy and cold; Pray,
Sir, tell them of it_.

_Mr._SPECTATOR,

'I have been delighted with nothing more through the whole Course of
your Writings than the Substantial Account you lately gave of Wit, and
I could wish you would take some other Opportunity to express further
the Corrupt Taste the Age is run into; which I am chiefly apt to
attribute to the Prevalency of a few popular Authors, whose Merit in
some respects has given a Sanction to their Faults in others.

Thus the Imitators of _Milton_ seem to place all the Excellency of
that sort of Writing either in the uncouth or antique Words, or
something else which was highly vicious, tho' pardonable, in that
Great Man.

The Admirers of what we call Point, or Turn, look upon it as the
particular Happiness to which _Cowley, Ovid_ and others owe their
Reputation, and therefore imitate them only in such Instances; what is
Just, Proper and Natural does not seem to be the Question with them,
but by what means a quaint Antithesis may be brought about, how one
Word may be made to look two Ways, and what will be the Consequence of
a forced Allusion.

Now tho' such Authors appear to me to resemble those who make
themselves fine, instead of being well dressed or graceful; yet the
Mischief is, that these Beauties in them, which I call Blemishes, are
thought to proceed from Luxuriance of Fancy and Overflowing of good
Sense: In one word, they have the Character of being too Witty; but if
you would acquaint the World they are not Witty at all, you would,
among many others, oblige,

_SIR_,

_Your Most Benevolent Reader_,

R. D.

_SIR_,

'I am a young Woman, and reckoned Pretty, therefore you'll pardon me
that I trouble you to decide a Wager between me and a Cousin of mine,
who is always contradicting one because he understands _Latin_. Pray,
Sir. is _Dimpple_ spelt with a single or a double _P_?'

_I am, Sir_,

_Your very Humble Servant_,

Betty Saunter.

_Pray_, Sir, _direct thus_, To the kind Querist, _and leave it at_
Mr. Lillie's, _for I don't care to be known in the thing at all_. I
am, Sir, again Your Humble Servant.'

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I must needs tell you there are several of your Papers I do not much
like. You are often so Nice there is no enduring you, and so Learned
there is no understanding you. What have you to do with our
Petticoats?'

_Your Humble Servant_,

Parthenope.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Last Night as I was walking in the Park, I met a couple of Friends;
Prithee _Jack_, says one of them, let us go drink a Glass of Wine, for
I am fit for nothing else. This put me upon reflecting on the many
Miscarriages which happen in Conversations over Wine, when Men go to
the Bottle to remove such Humours as it only stirs up and awakens.
This I could not attribute more to any thing than to the Humour of
putting Company upon others which Men do not like themselves. Pray,
Sir, declare in your Papers, that he who is a troublesome Companion to
himself, will not be an agreeable one to others. Let People reason
themselves into good-Humour, before they impose themselves upon their
Friends. Pray, Sir, be as Eloquent as you can upon this Subject, and
do Human Life so much Good, as to argue powerfully, that it is not
every one that can swallow who is fit to drink a Glass of Wine.'

_Your most Humble Servant_.

_SIR_,

'I this Morning cast my Eye upon your Paper concerning the Expence of
Time. You are very obliging to the Women, especially those who are not
Young and past Gallantry, by touching so gently upon Gaming: Therefore
I hope you do not think it wrong to employ a little leisure Time in
that Diversion; but I should be glad to hear you say something upon
the Behaviour of some of the Female Gamesters.

I have observed Ladies, who in all other respects are Gentle,
Good-humoured, and the very Pinks of good Breeding; who as soon as the
Ombre Table is called for, and set down to their Business, are
immediately Transmigrated into the veriest Wasps in Nature.

You must know I keep my Temper, and win their Mony; but am out of
Countenance to take it, it makes them so very uneasie. Be pleased,
dear Sir, to instruct them to lose with a better Grace, and you will
oblige'

_Yours_,

Rachel Basto.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR, [1]

'Your Kindness to _Eleonora_, in one of your Papers, has given me
Encouragement to do my self the Honour of writing to you. The great
Regard you have so often expressed for the Instruction and Improvement
of our Sex, will, I hope, in your own Opinion, sufficiently excuse me
from making any Apology for the Impertinence of this Letter. The great
Desire I have to embellish my Mind with some of those Graces which you
say are so becoming, and which you assert Reading helps us to, has
made me uneasie 'till I am put in a Capacity of attaining them: This,
Sir, I shall never think my self in, 'till you shall be pleased to
recommend some Author or Authors to my Perusal.

I thought indeed, when I first cast my Eye on _Eleonora's_ Letter,
that I should have had no occasion for requesting it of you; but to my
very great Concern, I found, on the Perusal of that _Spectator_, I was
entirely disappointed, and am as much at a loss how to make use of my
Time for that end as ever. Pray, Sir, oblige me at least with one
Scene, as you were pleased to entertain _Eleonora_ with your Prologue.
I write to you not only my own Sentiments, but also those of several
others of my Acquaintance, who are as little pleased with the ordinary
manner of spending one's Time as my self: And if a fervent Desire
after Knowledge, and a great Sense of our present Ignorance, may be
thought a good Presage and Earnest of Improvement, you may look upon
your Time you shall bestow in answering this Request not thrown away
to no purpose. And I can't but add, that unless you have a particular
and more than ordinary Regard for _Eleonora_, I have a better Title to
your Favour than she; since I do not content myself with Tea-table
Reading of your Papers, but it is my Entertainment very often when
alone in my Closet. To shew you I am capable of Improvement, and hate
Flattery, I acknowledge I do not like some of your Papers; but even
there I am readier to call in question my own shallow Understanding
than Mr. SPECTOR'S profound Judgment.

_I am, Sir,
your already (and in hopes of being more) your obliged Servant,_

PARTHENIA.

This last Letter is written with so urgent and serious an Air, that I cannot but think it incumbent upon me to comply with her Commands, which I shall do very suddenly.

T.

[Footnote 1: This letter, signed Parthenia, was by Miss Shepheard, sister of Mrs. Perry, who wrote the Letter in No, 92, signed 'Leonora.']

* * * * *

No. 141. Saturday, August 11, 1711. Steele.

'... Migravit ab Aure voluptas
Omnis ...'

Hor.

In the present Emptiness of the Town, I have several Applications from the lower Part of the Players, to admit Suffering to pass for Acting. They in very obliging Terms desire me to let a Fall on the Ground, a Stumble, or a good Slap on the Back, be reckoned a Jest. These Gambols I shall tolerate for a Season, because I hope the Evil cannot continue longer than till the People of Condition and Taste return to Town. The Method, some time ago, was to entertain that Part of the Audience, who have no Faculty above Eyesight, with Rope-dancers and Tumblers; which was a way discreet enough, because it prevented Confusion, and distinguished such as could show all the Postures which the Body is capable of, from those who were to represent all the Passions to which the Mind is subject. But tho' this was prudently settled, Corporeal and Intellectual Actors ought to be kept at a still wider Distance than to appear on the same Stage at all: For which Reason I must propose some Methods for the Improvement of the Bear-Garden, by dismissing all Bodily Actors to that Quarter.

In Cases of greater moment, where Men appear in Publick, the Consequence and Importance of the thing can bear them out. And tho' a Pleader or Preacher is Hoarse or Awkward, the Weight of the Matter commands Respect and Attention; but in Theatrical Speaking, if the Performer is not exactly proper and graceful, he is utterly ridiculous. In Cases where there is little else expected, but the Pleasure of the Ears and Eyes, the least Diminution of that Pleasure is the highest Offence. In Acting, barely to perform the Part is not commendable, but to be the least out is contemptible. To avoid these Difficulties and Delicacies, I am informed, that while I was out of Town, the Actors have flown in the Air, and played such Pranks, and run such Hazards, that none but the Servants of the Fire-office, Tilers and Masons, could have been able to perform the like. The Author of the following Letter, it seems, has been of the Audience at one of these Entertainments, and has accordingly complained to me upon it; but I think he has been to the utmost degree Severe against what is exceptionable in the Play he mentions, without dwelling so much as he might have done on the Author's most excellent Talent of Humour. The pleasant Pictures he has drawn of Life, should have been more kindly mentioned, at the same time that he banishes his Witches, who are too dull Devils to be attacked with so much Warmth.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR, [1]

'Upon a Report that _Moll White_ had followed you to Town, and was to
act a Part in the _Lancashire-Witches_, I went last Week to see that
Play. [2] It was my Fortune to sit next to a Country Justice of the
Peace, a Neighbour (as he said) of Sir ROGER'S, who pretended to shew
her to us in one of the Dances. There was Witchcraft enough in the
Entertainment almost to incline me to believe him; _Ben Johnson_ was
almost lamed; young _Bullock_ narrowly saved his Neck; the Audience
was astonished, and an old Acquaintance of mine, a Person of Worth,
whom I would have bowed to in the Pit, at two Yards distance did not
know me.

If you were what the Country People reported you, a white Witch, I
could have wished you had been there to have exorcised that Rabble of
Broomsticks, with which we were haunted for above three Hours. I could
have allowed them to set _Clod_ in the Tree, to have scared the
Sportsmen, plagued the Justice, and employed honest _Teague_ with his
holy Water. This was the proper Use of them in Comedy, if the Author
had stopped here; but I cannot conceive what Relation the Sacrifice of
the Black Lamb, and the Ceremonies of their Worship to the Devil, have
to the Business of Mirth and Humour.

The Gentleman who writ this Play, and has drawn some Characters in it
very justly, appears to have been misled in his Witchcraft by an
unwary following the inimitable _Shakespear_. The Incantations in
_Mackbeth_ have a Solemnity admirably adapted to the Occasion of that
Tragedy, and fill the Mind with a suitable Horror; besides, that the
Witches are a Part of the Story it self, as we find it very
particularly related in _Hector Boetius_, from whom he seems to have
taken it. This therefore is a proper Machine where the Business is
dark, horrid, and bloody; but is extremely foreign from the Affair of
Comedy. Subjects of this kind, which are in themselves disagreeable,
can at no time become entertaining, but by passing through an
Imagination like _Shakespear's_ to form them; for which Reason Mr.
_Dryden_ would not allow even _Beaumont_ and _Fletcher_ capable of
imitating him.

_But_ Shakespear's _Magick cou'd not copy'd be,
Within that Circle none durst walk but He_. [3]

I should not, however, have troubled you with these Remarks, if there
were not something else in this Comedy, which wants to be exorcised
more than the Witches. I mean the Freedom of some Passages, which I
should have overlook'd, if I had not observed that those Jests can
raise the loudest Mirth, though they are painful to right Sense, and
an Outrage upon Modesty.

We must attribute such Liberties to the Taste of that Age, but indeed
by such Representations a Poet sacrifices the best Part of his
Audience to the worst; and, as one would think, neglects the Boxes, to
write to the Orange-Wenches.

I must not conclude till I have taken notice of the Moral with which
this Comedy ends. The two young Ladies having given a notable Example
of outwitting those who had a Right in the Disposal of them, and
marrying without Consent of Parents, one of the injur'd Parties, who
is easily reconciled, winds up all with this Remark,

... _Design whate'er we will,
There is a Fate which over-rules us still_.

We are to suppose that the Gallants are Men of Merit, but if they had
been Rakes the Excuse might have serv'd as well. _Hans Carvel's_ Wife
[4] was of the same Principle, but has express'd it with a Delicacy
which shews she is not serious in her Excuse, but in a sort of
humorous Philosophy turns off the Thought of her Guilt, and says,

_That if weak Women go astray,
Their Stars are more in fault than they_.

This, no doubt, is a full Reparation, and dismisses the Audience with
very edifying Impressions.

These things fall under a Province you have partly pursued already,
and therefore demand your Animadversion, for the regulating so Noble
an Entertainment as that of the Stage. It were to be wished, that all
who write for it hereafter would raise their Genius, by the Ambition
of pleasing People of the best Understanding; and leave others who
shew nothing of the Human Species but Risibility, to seek their
Diversion at the Bear-Garden, or some other Privileg'd Place, where
Reason and Good-manners have no Right to disturb them.'

_August_ 8, 1711.

_I am_, &c.

T.

[Footnote 1: This letter is by John Hughes.]

[Footnote 2: Shadwell's Play of the 'Lancashire Witches' was in the bill of the Theatre advertised at the end of this number of the 'Spectator'.

'By her Majesty's Company of Comedians.

At the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, on Tuesday next, being the 14th
Day of August, will be presented, A comedy call'd the Lancashire
Witches, Written by the Ingenious Mr. Shadwell, late Poet Laureat.
Carefully Revis'd. With all the Original Decorations of Scenes,
Witche's Songs and Dances, proper to the Dramma. The Principal Parts
to be perform'd by Mr. Mills, Mr. Booth, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Bullock,
Sen., Mr. Norris, Mr. Pack, Mr. Bullock, Jun., Mrs. Elrington, Mrs.
Powel, Mrs. Bradshaw, Mrs. Cox. And the Witches by Mr. Burkhead, Mr.
Ryan, Mrs. Mills, and Mrs. Willis. It being the last time of Acting in
this Season.']

[Footnote 3: Prologue to Davenant and Dryden's version of the 'Tempest'.]

[Footnote 4: In Prior's Poem of 'Hans Carvel'.]

* * * * *

No. 142. Monday, August 13, 1711. Steele.

'... Irrupta tenet Copula ...'

Hor.

The following Letters being Genuine, [1] and the Images of a Worthy Passion, I am willing to give the old Lady's Admonition to my self, and the Representation of her own Happiness, a Place in my Writings.

_August 9_, 1711.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I am now in the sixty seventh Year of my Age, and read you with
Approbation; but methinks you do not strike at the Root of the
greatest Evil in Life, which is the false Notion of Gallantry in Love.
It is, and has long been, upon a very ill Foot; but I, who have been a
Wife Forty Years, and was bred in a way that has made me ever since
very happy, see through the Folly of it. In a Word, Sir, when I was a
young Woman, all who avoided the Vices of the Age were very carefully
educated, and all fantastical Objects were turned out of our Sight.
The Tapestry Hangings, with the great and venerable Simplicity of the
Scripture Stories, had better Effects than now the Loves of _Venus_
and _Adonis_ or _Bacchus_ and _Ariadne_ in your fine present Prints.
The Gentleman I am married to made Love to me in Rapture, but it was
the Rapture of a Christian and a Man of Honour, not a Romantick Hero
or a Whining Coxcomb: This put our Life upon a right Basis. To give
you an Idea of our Regard one to another, I inclose to you several of
his Letters, writ Forty Years ago, when my Lover; and one writ t'other
Day, after so many Years Cohabitation.'

_Your Servant_,

Andromache.

_August_ 7, 1671.

_Madam_,

'If my Vigilance and ten thousand Wishes for your Welfare and Repose
could have any force, you last Night slept in Security, and had
every good Angel in your Attendance. To have my Thoughts ever fixed
on you, to live in constant Fear of every Accident to which Human
Life is liable, and to send up my hourly Prayers to avert 'em from
you; I say, Madam, thus to think, and thus to suffer, is what I do
for Her who is in Pain at my Approach, and calls all my tender
Sorrow Impertinence. You are now before my Eyes, my Eyes that are
ready to flow with Tenderness, but cannot give relief to my gushing
Heart, that dictates what I am now Saying, and yearns to tell you
all its Achings. How art thou, oh my Soul, stoln from thy self! How
is all thy Attention broken! My Books are blank Paper, and my
Friends Intruders. I have no hope of Quiet but from your Pity; To
grant it, would make more for your Triumph. To give Pain is the
Tyranny, to make Happy the true Empire of Beauty. If you would
consider aright, you'd find an agreeable Change in dismissing the
Attendance of a Slave, to receive the Complaisance of a Companion. I
bear the former in hopes of the latter Condition: As I live in
Chains without murmuring at the Power which inflicts 'em, so I could
enjoy Freedom without forgetting the Mercy that gave it.'

_MADAM, I am

Your most devoted, most obedient Servant_.

_Tho' I made him no Declarations in his Favour, you see he had Hopes
of Me when he writ this in the Month following_.

_Madam, September 3, 1671_.

'Before the Light this Morning dawned upon the Earth I awaked, and
lay in Expectation of its return, not that it cou'd give any new
Sense of Joy to me, but as I hoped it would bless you with its
chearful Face, after a Quiet which I wish'd you last Night. If my
Prayers are heard, the Day appeared with all the Influence of a
Merciful Creator upon your Person and Actions. Let others, my lovely
Charmer, talk of a blind Being that disposes their Hearts, I contemn
their low Images of Love. I have not a Thought which relates to you,
that I cannot with Confidence beseech the All-seeing Power to bless
me in. May he direct you in all your Steps, and reward your
Innocence, your Sanctity of Manners, your Prudent Youth, and
becoming Piety, with the Continuance of his Grace and Protection.
This is an unusual Language to Ladies; but you have a Mind elevated
above the giddy Motions of a Sex insnared by Flattery, and misled by
a false and short Adoration into a solid and long Contempt. Beauty,
my fairest Creature, palls in the Possession, but I love also your
Mind; your Soul is as dear to me as my own; and if the Advantages of
a liberal Education, some Knowledge, and as much Contempt of the
World, join'd with the Endeavours towards a Life of strict Virtue
and Religion, can qualify me to raise new Ideas in a Breast so well
disposed as yours is, our Days will pass away with Joy; and old Age,
instead of introducing melancholy Prospects of Decay, give us hope
of Eternal Youth in a better Life. I have but few Minutes from the
Duty of my Employment to write in, and without time to read over
what I have writ, therefore beseech you to pardon the first Hints of
my Mind, which I have expressed in so little Order.

_I am, dearest Creature,

Your most Obedient,

most Devoted Servant_.'

_The two next were written after the Day of our Marriage was fixed_.

_September 25, 1671

Madam,_

'It is the hardest thing in the World to be in Love, and yet attend
Business. As for me, all that speak to me find me out, and I must
lock myself up, or other People will do it for me. A Gentleman asked
me this Morning what News from _Holland_, and I answered, She's
Exquisitely handsome. Another desir'd to know when I had been last
at _Windsor_, I reply'd, 'She designs to go with me. Prethee, allow
me at least to kiss your Hand before the appointed Day, that my Mind
may be in some Composure. Methinks I could write a Volume to you,
but all the Language on Earth would fail in saying how much, and
with what dis-interested Passion, _I am ever Yours_.

_September 30, 1671_.

_Seven in the Morning_.

_Dear Creature_,

Next to the Influence of Heav'n, I am to thank you that I see the
returning Day with Pleasure. To pass my Evenings in so sweet a
Conversation, and have the Esteem of a Woman of your Merit, has in
it a Particularity of Happiness no more to be express'd than
return'd. But I am, my Lovely Creature, contented to be on the
obliged Side, and to employ all my Days in new Endeavours to
convince you and all the World of the Sense I have of your
Condescension in Chusing,
_MADAM, Your Most Faithful,
Most Obedient Humble Servant._

_He was, when he writ the following Letter, as agreeable and pleasant
a Man as any in England_.

_October 20, 1671_.

_Madam_,

I Beg Pardon that my Paper is not Finer, but I am forced to write
from a Coffee-house where I am attending about Business. There is a
dirty Crowd of Busie Faces all around me talking of Mony, while all
my Ambition, all my Wealth is Love: Love which animates my Heart,
sweetens my Humour, enlarges my Soul, and affects every Action of my
Life. 'Tis to my lovely Charmer I owe that many noble Ideas are
continually affix'd to my Words and Actions: 'Tis the natural Effect
of that generous Passion to create in the Admirer some Similitude of
the Object admired; thus, my Dear, am I every Day to improve from so
sweet a Companion. Look up, my Fair One, to that Heaven which made
thee such, and join with me to implore its Influence on our tender
innocent Hours, and beseech the Author of Love to bless the Rites he
has ordained, and mingle with our Happiness a just Sense of our
transient Condition, and a Resignation to his Will, which only can
regulate our Minds to a steady Endeavour to please him and each
other.
_I am, for Ever,
your Faithful Servant_.

_I will not trouble you with more Letters at this time, but if you
saw the poor withered Hand which sends you these Minutes, I am sure
you will smile to think that there is one who is so gallant as to
speak of it still as so welcome a Present, after forty Years
Possession of the Woman whom he writes to_.

June 23, 1711.

_Madam,_

I Heartily beg your Pardon for my Omission to write Yesterday. It
was of no Failure of my tender Regard for you; but having been very
much perplexed in my Thoughts on the Subject of my last, made me
determine to suspend speaking of it 'till I came to myself. But, my
Lovely Creature, know it is not in the Power of Age, or Misfortune,
or any other Accident which hangs over Human Life, to take from me
the pleasing Esteem I have for you, or the Memory of the bright
Figure you appeared in when you gave your Hand and Heart to,

_MADAM_,
_Your most Grateful Husband_,
_and Obedient Servant_.

[Footnote 1: 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.]

* * * * *

No. 143. 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. It is not here pretended, that we should be always [sitting [1]] 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. A 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_, [2] in the following manner.