Chapter XLII: Introduction (42)

There is another Kind of vicious Modesty which makes a Man ashamed of his Person, his Birth, his Profession, his Poverty, or the like Misfortunes, which it was not in his Choice to prevent, and is not in his Power to rectify. If a Man appears ridiculous by any of the afore-mentioned Circumstances, he becomes much more so by being out of Countenance for them. They should rather give him Occasion to exert a noble Spirit, and to palliate those Imperfections which are not in his Power, by those Perfections which are; or to use a very witty Allusion of an eminent Author, he should imitate _Cæsar_, who, because his Head was bald, cover'd that Defect with Laurels.

C.

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

[Footnote 2: Mrs. Barbier]

[Footnote 3: Iliad, i. 225.]

* * * * *

No. 232. Monday, November 26, 1711. Hughes [1].

Nihil largiundo gloriam adeptus est.

Sallust.

My wise and good Friend, Sir _Andrew Freeport_, divides himself almost equally between the Town and the Country: His Time in Town is given up to the Publick, and the Management of his private Fortune; and after every three or four Days spent in this Manner, he retires for as many to his Seat within a few Miles of the Town, to the Enjoyment of himself, his Family, and his Friend. Thus Business and Pleasure, or rather, in Sir _Andrew_, Labour and Rest, recommend each other. They take their Turns with so quick a Vicissitude, that neither becomes a Habit, or takes Possession of the whole Man; nor is it possible he should be surfeited with either. I often see him at our Club in good Humour, and yet sometimes too with an Air of Care in his Looks: But in his Country Retreat he is always unbent, and such a Companion as I could desire; and therefore I seldom fail to make one with him when he is pleased to invite me.

The other Day, as soon as we were got into his Chariot, two or three Beggars on each Side hung upon the Doors, and solicited our Charity with the usual Rhetorick of a sick Wife or Husband at home, three or four helpless little Children all starving with Cold and Hunger. We were forced to part with some Money to get rid of their Importunity; and then we proceeded on our Journey with the Blessings and Acclamations of these People.

Well then, says _Sir Andrew_, we go off with the Prayers and good
Wishes of the Beggars, and perhaps too our Healths will be drunk at
the next Ale-house: So all we shall be able to value ourselves upon,
is, that we have promoted the Trade of the Victualler and the Excises
of the Government. But how few Ounces of Wooll do we see upon the
Backs of those poor Creatures? And when they shall next fall in our
Way, they will hardly be better dress'd; they must always live in Rags
to look like Objects of Compassion. If their Families too are such as
they are represented, tis certain they cannot be better clothed, and
must be a great deal worse fed: One would think Potatoes should be all
their Bread, and their Drink the pure Element; and then what goodly
Customers are the Farmers like to have for their Wooll, Corn and
Cattle? Such Customers, and such a Consumption, cannot choose but
advance the landed Interest, and hold up the Rents of the Gentlemen.

But of all Men living, we Merchants, who live by Buying and Selling,
ought never to encourage Beggars. The Goods which we export are indeed
the Product of the lands, but much the greatest Part of their Value is
the Labour of the People: but how much of these Peoples Labour shall
we export whilst we hire them to sit still? The very Alms they receive
from us, are the Wages of Idleness. I have often thought that no Man
should be permitted to take Relief from the Parish, or to ask it in
the Street, till he has first purchased as much as possible of his own
Livelihood by the Labour of his own Hands; and then the Publick ought
only to be taxed to make good the Deficiency. If this Rule was
strictly observed, we should see every where such a Multitude of new
Labourers, as would in all probability reduce the Prices of all our
Manufactures. It is the very Life of Merchandise to buy cheap and sell
dear. The Merchant ought to make his Outset as cheap as possible, that
he may find the greater Profit upon his Returns; and nothing will
enable him to do this like the Reduction of the Price of Labour upon
all our Manufactures. This too would be the ready Way to increase the
Number of our Foreign Markets: The Abatement of the Price of the
Manufacture would pay for the Carriage of it to more distant
Countries; and this Consequence would be equally beneficial both to
the Landed and Trading Interests. As so great an Addition of labouring
Hands would produce this happy Consequence both to the Merchant and
the Gentle man; our Liberality to common Beggars, and every other
Obstruction to the Increase of Labourers, must be equally pernicious
to both.

Sir _Andrew_ then went on to affirm, That the Reduction of the Prices of our Manufactures by the Addition of so many new Hands, would be no Inconvenience to any Man: But observing I was something startled at the Assertion, he made a short Pause, and then resumed the Discourse.

It may seem, says he, a Paradox, that the Price of Labour should be
reduced without an Abatement of Wages, or that Wages can be abated
without any Inconvenience to the Labourer, and yet nothing is more
certain than that both those Things may happen. The Wages of the
Labourers make the greatest Part of the Price of every Thing that is
useful; and if in Proportion with the Wages the Prices of all other
Things should be abated, every Labourer with less Wages would be still
able to purchase as many Necessaries of Life; where then would be the
Inconvenience? But the Price of Labour may be reduced by the Addition
of more Hands to a Manufacture, and yet the Wages of Persons remain as
high as ever. The admirable Sir William Petty [2] has given Examples
of this in some of his Writings: One of them, as I remember, is that
of a Watch, which I shall endeavour to explain so as shall suit my
present Purpose. It is certain that a single Watch could not be made
so cheap in Proportion by one only Man, as a hundred Watches by a
hundred; for as there is vast Variety in the Work, no one Person could
equally suit himself to all the Parts of it; the Manufacture would be
tedious, and at last but clumsily performed: But if an hundred Watches
were to be made by a hundred Men, the Cases may be assigned to one,
the Dials to another, the Wheels to another, the Springs to another,
and every other Part to a proper Artist; as there would be no need of
perplexing any one Person with too much Variety, every one would be
able to perform his single Part with greater Skill and Expedition; and
the hundred Watches would be finished in one fourth Part of the Time
of the first one, and every one of them at one fourth Part of the
Cost, tho the Wages of every Man were equal. The Reduction of the
Price of the Manufacture would increase the Demand of it, all the same
Hands would be still employed and as well paid. The same Rule will
hold in the Clothing, the Shipping, and all the other Trades
whatsoever. And thus an Addition of Hands to our Manufactures will
only reduce the Price of them; the Labourer will still have as much
Wages, and will consequently be enabled to purchase more Conveniencies
of Life; so that every Interest in the Nation would receive a Benefit
from the Increase of our Working People.

Besides, I see no Occasion for this Charity to common Beggars, since
every Beggar is an Inhabitant of a Parish, and every Parish is taxed
to the Maintenance of their own Poor. [3]

For my own part, I cannot be mightily pleased with the Laws which have
done this, which have provided better to feed than employ the Poor. We
have a Tradition from our Forefathers, that after the first of those
Laws was made, they were insulted with that famous Song;

Hang Sorrow, and cast away Care,
The Parish is bound to find us, &c.

And if we will be so good-natured as to maintain them without Work,
they can do no less in Return than sing us _The Merry Beggars_.

What then? Am I against all Acts of Charity? God forbid! I know of no
Virtue in the Gospel that is in more pathetical Expressions
recommended to our Practice. _I was hungry and [ye] [4] gave me no
Meat, thirsty and ye gave me no Drink, naked and ye clothed me not, a
Stranger and ye took me not in, sick and in prison and ye visited me
not_. Our Blessed Saviour treats the Exercise or Neglect of Charity
towards a poor Man, as the Performance or Breach of this Duty towards
himself. I shall endeavour to obey the Will of my Lord and Master: And
therefore if an industrious Man shall submit to the hardest Labour and
coarsest Fare, rather than endure the Shame of taking Relief from the
Parish, or asking it in the Street, this is the Hungry, the Thirsty,
the Naked; and I ought to believe, if any Man is come hither for
Shelter against Persecution or Oppression, this is the Stranger, and I
ought to take him in. If any Countryman of our own is fallen into the
Hands of Infidels, and lives in a State of miserable Captivity, this
is the Man in Prison, and I should contribute to his Ransom. I ought
to give to an Hospital of Invalids, to recover as many useful Subjects
as I can; but I shall bestow none of my Bounties upon an Alms-house of
idle People; and for the same Reason I should not think it a Reproach
to me if I had withheld my Charity from those common Beggars. But we
prescribe better Rules than we are able to practise; we are ashamed
not to give into the mistaken Customs of our Country: But at the same
time, I cannot but think it a Reproach worse than that of common
Swearing, that the Idle and the Abandoned are suffered in the Name of
Heaven and all that is sacred, to extort from Christian and tender
Minds a Supply to a profligate Way of Life, that is always to be
supported, but never relieved.

[Z.] [5]

[Footnote 1: Or Henry Martyn?]

[Footnote 2: Surveyor-general of Ireland to Charles II. See his Discourse of Taxes (1689).]

[Footnote 3: Our idle poor till the time of Henry VIII. lived upon alms. After the dissolution of the monasteries experiments were made for their care, and by a statute 43 Eliz. overseers were appointed and Parishes charged to maintain their helpless poor and find work for the sturdy. In Queen Annes time the Poor Law had been made more intricate and troublesome by the legislation on the subject that had been attempted after the Restoration.]

[Footnote 4: [_you_] throughout, and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 5: X.]

* * * * *

No. 233. Tuesday, Nov. 27, 1711. Addison.

--Tanquam hec sint nostri medicina furoris,
Aut Deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat.

Virg.

I shall, in this Paper, discharge myself of the Promise I have made to the Publick, by obliging them with a Translation of the little _Greek_ Manuscript, which is said to have been a Piece of those Records that were preserved in the Temple of _Apollo_, upon the Promontory of _Leucate_: It is a short History of the Lovers Leap, and is inscribed, _An Account of Persons Male and Female, who offered up their Vows in the Temple of the_ Pythian Apollo, _in the Forty sixth Olympiad, and leaped from the Promontory of_ Leucate _into the_ Ionian Sea, _in order to cure themselves of the Passion of Love_.

This Account is very dry in many Parts, as only mentioning the Name of the Lover who leaped, the Person he leaped for, and relating, in short, that he was either cured, or killed, or maimed by the Fall. It indeed gives the Names of so many who died by it, that it would have looked like a Bill of Mortality, had I translated it at full length; I have therefore made an Abridgment of it, and only extracted such particular Passages as have something extraordinary, either in the Case, or in the Cure, or in the Fate of the Person who is mentioned in it. After this short Preface take the Account as follows.

_Battus_, the Son of _Menalcas_ the _Sicilian_, leaped for _Bombyca_
the Musician: Got rid of his Passion with the Loss of his Right Leg
and Arm, which were broken in the Fall.

_Melissa_, in Love with _Daphnis_, very much bruised, but escaped with
Life.

_Cynisca_, the Wife of _Æschines_, being in Love with _Lycus_; and
_Æschines_ her Husband being in Love with _Eurilla_; (which had made
this married Couple very uneasy to one another for several Years) both
the Husband and the Wife took the Leap by Consent; they both of them
escaped, and have lived very happily together ever since.

_Larissa_, a Virgin of _Thessaly_, deserted by _Plexippus_, after a
Courtship of three Years; she stood upon the Brow of the Promontory
for some time, and after having thrown down a Ring, a Bracelet, and a
little Picture, with other Presents which she had received from
_Plexippus_, she threw her self into the Sea, and was taken up alive.

_N. B. Larissa_, before she leaped, made an Offering of a Silver
_Cupid_ in the Temple of _Apollo_.

_Simaetha_, in Love with _Daphnis_ the _Myndian_, perished in the
Fall.

_Charixus_, the Brother of _Sappho_, in Love with _Rhodope_ the
Courtesan, having spent his whole Estate upon her, was advised by his
Sister to leap in the Beginning of his Amour, but would not hearken to
her till he was reduced to his last Talent; being forsaken by
_Rhodope_, at length resolved to take the Leap. Perished in it.

_Aridaeus_, a beautiful Youth of _Epirus_, in Love with _Praxinoe_,
the Wife of _Thespis_, escaped without Damage, saving only that two of
his Fore-Teeth were struck out and his Nose a little flatted.

_Cleora_, a Widow of _Ephesus_, being inconsolable for the Death of
her Husband, was resolved to take this Leap in order to get rid of her
Passion for his Memory; but being arrived at the Promontory, she there
met with _Dimmachus_ the _Miletian_, and after a short Conversation
with him, laid aside the Thoughts of her Leap, and married him in the
Temple of _Apollo_.

_N. B._ Her Widows Weeds are still to be seen hanging up in the
Western Corner of the Temple.

_Olphis_, the Fisherman, having received a Box on the Ear from
_Thestylis_ the Day before, and being determined to have no more to do
with her, leaped, and escaped with Life.

_Atalanta_, an old Maid, whose Cruelty had several Years before driven
two or three despairing Lovers to this Leap; being now in the fifty
fifth Year of her Age, and in Love with an Officer of _Sparta_, broke
her Neck in the Fall.

_Hipparchus_ being passionately fond of his own Wife who was enamoured
of _Bathyllus_, leaped, and died of his Fall; upon which his Wife
married her Gallant.

_Tettyx_, the Dancing-Master, in Love with _Olympia_ an Athenian
Matron, threw himself from the Rock with great Agility, but was
crippled in the Fall.

_Diagoras_, the Usurer, in Love with his Cook-Maid; he peeped several
times over the Precipice, but his Heart misgiving him, he went back,
and married her that Evening.

_Cinaedus_, after having entered his own Name in the Pythian Records,
being asked the Name of the Person whom he leaped for, and being
ashamed to discover it, he was set aside, and not suffered to leap.

_Eunica_, a Maid of _Paphos_, aged Nineteen, in Love with _Eurybates_.
Hurt in the Fall, but recovered.

_N. B._ This was her second Time of Leaping.

_Hesperus_, a young Man of _Tarentum_, in Love with his Masters
Daughter. Drowned, the Boats not coming in soon enough to his Relief.

_Sappho_, the _Lesbian_, in Love with _Phaon_, arrived at the Temple
of _Apollo_, habited like a Bride in Garments as white as Snow. She
wore a Garland of Myrtle on her Head, and carried in her Hand the
little Musical Instrument of her own Invention. After having sung an
Hymn to _Apollo_, she hung up her Garland on one Side of his Altar,
and her Harp on the other. She then tuck'd up her Vestments, like a
_Spartan_ Virgin, and amidst thousands of Spectators, who were anxious
for her Safety, and offered up Vows for her Deliverance, [marched[1]]
directly forwards to the utmost Summit of the Promontory, where after
having repeated a Stanza of her own Verses, which we could not hear,
she threw herself off the Rock with such an Intrepidity as was never
before observed in any who had attempted that dangerous Leap. Many who
were present related, that they saw her fall into the Sea, from whence
she never rose again; tho there were others who affirmed, that she
never came to the Bottom of her Leap, but that she was changed into a
Swan as she fell, and that they saw her hovering in the Air under that
Shape. But whether or no the Whiteness and Fluttering of her Garments
might not deceive those who looked upon her, or whether she might not
really be metamorphosed into that musical and melancholy Bird, is
still a Doubt among the _Lesbians_.

_Alcæus_, the famous _Lyrick_ Poet, who had for some time been
passionately in Love with _Sappho_, arrived at the Promontory of
_Leucate_ that very Evening, in order to take the Leap upon her
Account; but hearing that _Sappho_ had been there before him, and that
her Body could be no where found, he very generously lamented her
Fall, and is said to have written his hundred and twenty fifth Ode
upon that Occasion.

_Leaped in this Olympiad_ [250 [2]]

Males 124
Females 126

_Cured_ [120[3]]

Males 51
Females 69

C.

[Footnote 1: [she marched]]

[Footnote 2: [350], and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: [150], corrected by an Erratum.]

* * * * *

No. 234. Wednesday, Nov. 28, 1711. Steele.

[_Vellum in amicitia erraremus_.

Hor.] [1]

You very often hear People, after a Story has been told with some entertaining Circumstances, tell it over again with Particulars that destroy the Jest, but give Light into the Truth of the Narration. This sort of Veracity, though it is impertinent, has something amiable in it, because it proceeds from the Love of Truth, even in frivolous Occasions. If such honest Amendments do not promise an agreeable Companion, they do a sincere Friend; for which Reason one should allow them so much of our Time, if we fall into their Company, as to set us right in Matters that can do us no manner of Harm, whether the Facts be one Way or the other. Lies which are told out of Arrogance and Ostentation a Man should detect in his own Defence, because he should not be triumphed over; Lies which are told out of Malice he should expose, both for his own sake and that of the rest of Mankind, because every Man should rise against a common Enemy: But the officious Liar many have argued is to be excused, because it does some Man good, and no Man hurt. The Man who made more than ordinary speed from a Fight in which the _Athenians_ were beaten, and told them they had obtained a complete Victory, and put the whole City into the utmost Joy and Exultation, was check'd by the Magistrates for his Falshood; but excused himself by saying, _O Athenians!_ am I your Enemy because I gave you two happy Days? This Fellow did to a whole People what an Acquaintance of mine does every Day he lives in some eminent Degree to particular Persons. He is ever lying People into good Humour, and, as _Plato_ said, it was allowable in Physicians to lie to their Patients to keep up their Spirits, I am half doubtful whether my Friends Behaviour is not as excusable. His Manner is to express himself surprised at the Chearful Countenance of a Man whom he observes diffident of himself; and generally by that means makes his Lie a Truth. He will, as if he did not know any [thing] [2] of the Circumstance, ask one whom he knows at Variance with another, what is the meaning that Mr. such a one, naming his Adversary, does not applaud him with that Heartiness which formerly he has heard him? He said indeed, (continues he) I would rather have that Man for my Friend than any Man in _England_; but for an Enemy--This melts the Person he talks to, who expected nothing but downright Raillery from that Side. According as he sees his Practices succeeded, he goes to the opposite Party, and tells him, he cannot imagine how it happens that some People know one another so little; you spoke with so much Coldness of a Gentleman who said more Good of you, than, let me tell you, any Man living deserves. The Success of one of these Incidents was, that the next time that one of the Adversaries spied the other, he hems after him in the publick Street, and they must crack a Bottle at the next Tavern, that used to turn out of the others Way to avoid one anothers Eyeshot. He will tell one Beauty she was commended by another, nay, he will say she gave the Woman he speaks to, the Preference in a Particular for which she her self is admired. The pleasantest Confusion imaginable is made through the whole Town by my Friends indirect Offices; you shall have a Visit returned after half a Years Absence, and mutual Railing at each other every Day of that Time. They meet with a thousand Lamentations for so long a Separation, each Party naming herself for the greater Delinquent, if the other can possibly be so good as to forgive her, which she has no Reason in the World, but from the Knowledge of her Goodness, to hope for. Very often a whole Train of Railers of each Side tire their Horses in setting Matters right which they have said during the War between the Parties; and a whole Circle of Acquaintance are put into a thousand pleasing Passions and Sentiments, instead of the Pangs of Anger, Envy, Detraction, and Malice.

The worst Evil I ever observed this Man's Falsehood occasion, has been that he turned Detraction into Flattery. He is well skilled in the Manners of the World, and by over-looking what Men really are, he grounds his Artifices upon what they have a Mind to be. Upon this Foundation, if two distant Friends are brought together, and the Cement seems to be weak, he never rests till he finds new Appearances to take off all Remains of Ill-will, and that by new Misunderstandings they are thoroughly reconciled.

To the SPECTATOR.

_Devonshire, Nov._ 14, 1711.

SIR,

There arrived in this Neighbourhood two Days ago one of your gay
Gentlemen of the Town, who being attended at his Entry with a Servant
of his own, besides a Countryman he had taken up for a Guide, excited
the Curiosity of the Village to learn whence and what he might be. The
Countryman (to whom they applied as most easy of Access) knew little
more than that the Gentleman came from _London_ to travel and see
Fashions, and was, as he heard say, a Free-thinker: What Religion that
might be, he could not tell; and for his own Part, if they had not
told him the Man was a Free-thinker, he should have guessed, by his
way of talking, he was little better than a Heathen; excepting only
that he had been a good Gentleman to him, and made him drunk twice in
one Day, over and above what they had bargained for.

I do not look upon the Simplicity of this, and several odd Inquiries
with which I shall not trouble you to be wondered at, much less can I
think that our Youths of fine Wit, and enlarged Understandings, have
any Reason to laugh. There is no Necessity that every Squire in _Great
Britain_ should know what the Word Free-thinker stands for; but it
were much to be wished, that they who value themselves upon that
conceited Title were a little better instructed in what it ought to
stand for; and that they would not perswade themselves a Man is really
and truly a Free-thinker in any tolerable Sense, meerly by virtue of
his being an Atheist, or an Infidel of any other Distinction. It may
be doubted, with good Reason, whether there ever was in Nature a more
abject, slavish, and bigotted Generation than the Tribe of _Beaux
Esprits_, at present so prevailing in this Island. Their Pretension to
be Free-thinkers, is no other than Rakes have to be Free-livers, and
Savages to be Free-men, that is, they can think whatever they have a
Mind to, and give themselves up to whatever Conceit the Extravagancy
of their Inclination, or their Fancy, shall suggest; they can think as
wildly as they talk and act, and will not endure that their Wit should
be controuled by such formal Things as Decency and common Sense:
Deduction, Coherence, Consistency, and all the Rules of Reason they
accordingly disdain, as too precise and mechanical for Men of a
liberal Education.

This, as far as I could ever learn from their Writings, or my own
Observation, is a true Account of the _British_ Free-thinker. Our
Visitant here, who gave occasion to this Paper, has brought with him a
new System of common Sense, the Particulars of which I am not yet
acquainted with, but will lose no Opportunity of informing my self
whether it contain any [thing] [3] worth Mr. SPECTATORS Notice. In
the mean time, Sir, I cannot but think it would be for the good of
Mankind, if you would take this Subject into your own Consideration,
and convince the hopeful Youth of our Nation, that Licentiousness is
not Freedom; or, if such a Paradox will not be understood, that a
Prejudice towards Atheism is not Impartiality.

_I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,_

PHILONOUS.

[Footnote 1:

Splendide mendax.

Hor.]

[Footnote 2: think]

[Footnote 3: think]

* * * * *

No. 235. Thursday, November 29, 1711. Addison.

--Populares
Vincentum strepitus

Hor.

There is nothing which lies more within the Province of a Spectator than publick Shows and Diversions; and as among these there are none which can pretend to vie with those elegant Entertainments that are exhibited in our Theatres, I think it particularly incumbent on me to take Notice of every thing that is remarkable in such numerous and refined Assemblies.

It is observed, that of late Years there has been a certain Person in the upper Gallery of the Playhouse, who when he is pleased with any Thing that is acted upon the Stage, expresses his Approbation by a loud Knock upon the Benches or the Wainscot, which may be heard over the whole Theatre. This Person is commonly known by the Name of the _Trunk-maker in the upper Gallery_. Whether it be, that the Blow he gives on these Occasions resembles that which is often heard in the Shops of such Artizans, or that he was supposed to have been a real Trunk-maker, who after the finishing of his Days Work used to unbend his Mind at these publick Diversions with his Hammer in his Hand, I cannot certainly tell. There are some, I know, who have been foolish enough to imagine it is a Spirit which haunts the upper Gallery, and from Time to Time makes those strange Noises; and the rather, because he is observed to be louder than ordinary every Time the Ghost of _Hamlet_ appears. Others have reported, that it is a dumb Man, who has chosen this Way of uttering himself when he is transported with any Thing he sees or hears. Others will have it to be the Playhouse Thunderer, that exerts himself after this Manner in the upper Gallery, when he has nothing to do upon the Roof.

But having made it my Business to get the best Information I could in a Matter of this Moment, I find that the Trunk-maker, as he is commonly called, is a large black Man, whom no body knows. He generally leans forward on a huge Oaken Plant with great Attention to every thing that passes upon the Stage. He is never seen to smile; but upon hearing any thing that pleases him, he takes up his Staff with both Hands, and lays it upon the next Piece of Timber that stands in his Way with exceeding Vehemence: After which, he composes himself in his former Posture, till such Time as something new sets him again at Work.

It has been observed, his Blow is so well timed, that the most judicious Critick could never except against it. As soon as any shining Thought is expressed in the Poet, or any uncommon Grace appears in the Actor, he smites the Bench or Wainscot. If the Audience does not concur with him, he smites a second Time, and if the Audience is not yet awaked, looks round him with great Wrath, and repeats the Blow a third Time, which never fails to produce the Clap. He sometimes lets the Audience begin the Clap of themselves, and at the Conclusion of their Applause ratifies it with a single Thwack.

He is of so great Use to the Play-house, that it is said a former Director of it, upon his not being able to pay his Attendance by reason of Sickness, kept one in Pay to officiate for him till such time as he recovered; but the Person so employed, tho he laid about him with incredible Violence, did it in such wrong Places, that the Audience soon found out that it was not their old Friend the Trunk-maker.

It has been remarked, that he has not yet exerted himself with Vigour this Season. He sometimes plies at the Opera; and upon _Nicolini's_ first Appearance, was said to have demolished three Benches in the Fury of his Applause. He has broken half a dozen Oaken Plants upon _Dogget_ [1] and seldom goes away from a Tragedy of _Shakespear_, without leaving the Wainscot extremely shattered.

The Players do not only connive at his obstreperous Approbation, but very cheerfully repair at their own Cost whatever Damages he makes. They had once a Thought of erecting a kind of Wooden Anvil for his Use that should be made of a very sounding Plank, in order to render his Stroaks more deep and mellow; but as this might not have been distinguished from the Musick of a Kettle-Drum, the Project was laid aside.

In the mean while, I cannot but take notice of the great Use it is to an Audience, that a Person should thus preside over their Heads like the Director of a Consort, in order to awaken their Attention, and beat time to their Applauses; or, to raise my Simile, I have sometimes fancied the Trunk-maker in the upper Gallery to be like _Virgil's_ Ruler of the Wind, seated upon the Top of a Mountain, who, when he struck his Sceptre upon the Side of it, roused an Hurricane, and set the whole Cavern in an Uproar. [2]

It is certain, the Trunk-maker has saved many a good Play, and brought many a graceful Actor into Reputation, who would not otherwise have been taken notice of. It is very visible, as the Audience is not a little abashed, if they find themselves betrayed into a Clap, when their Friend in the upper Gallery does not come into it; so the Actors do not value themselves upon the Clap, but regard it as a meer _Brutum fulmen_, or empty Noise, when it has not the Sound of the Oaken Plant in it. I know it has been given out by those who are Enemies to the Trunk-maker, that he has sometimes been bribed to be in the Interest of a bad Poet, or a vicious Player; but this is a Surmise which has no Foundation: his Stroaks are always just, and his Admonitions seasonable; he does not deal about his Blows at Random, but always hits the right Nail upon the Head. [The [3]] inexpressible Force wherewith he lays them on, sufficiently shows the Evidence and Strength of his Conviction. His Zeal for a good Author is indeed outrageous, and breaks down every Fence and Partition, every Board and Plank, that stands within the Expression of his Applause.

As I do not care for terminating my Thoughts in barren Speculations, or in Reports of pure Matter of Fact, without drawing something from them for the Advantage of my Countrymen, I shall take the Liberty to make an humble Proposal, that whenever the Trunk-maker shall depart this Life, or whenever he shall have lost the Spring of his Arm by Sickness, old Age, Infirmity, or the like, some able-bodied Critick should be advanced to this Post, and have a competent Salary settled on him for Life, to be furnished with Bamboos for Operas, Crabtree-Cudgels for Comedies, and Oaken Plants for Tragedy, at the publick Expence. And to the End that this Place should be always disposed of according to Merit, I would have none preferred to it, who has not given convincing Proofs both of a sound Judgment and a strong Arm, and who could not, upon Occasion, either knock down an Ox, or write a Comment upon _Horace's_ Art of Poetry. In short, I would have him a due Composition of _Hercules_ and _Apollo_, and so rightly qualified for this important Office, that the Trunk-maker may not be missed by our Posterity.

C.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Doggett, an excellent comic actor, who was for many years joint-manager with Wilkes and Cibber, died in 1721, and bequeathed the Coat and Badge that are rowed for by Thames Watermen every first of August, from London Bridge to Chelsea.]

[Footnote 2: Æneid I. 85.]

[Footnote 3: That.]

* * * * *

No. 236. Friday, November 30, 1711. Steele

--Dare Jura maritis.

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

You have not spoken in so direct a manner upon the Subject of
Marriage as that important Case deserves. It would not be improper to
observe upon the Peculiarity in the Youth of _Great Britain_, of
railing and laughing at that Institution; and when they fall into it,
from a profligate Habit of Mind, being insensible of the [Satisfaction
[1]] in that Way of Life, and treating their Wives with the most
barbarous Disrespect.

Particular Circumstances and Cast of Temper, must teach a Man the
Probability of mighty Uneasinesses in that State, (for unquestionably
some there are whose very Dispositions are strangely averse to
conjugal Friendship;) but no one, I believe, is by his own natural
Complexion prompted to teaze and torment another for no Reason but
being nearly allied to him: And can there be any thing more base, or
serve to sink a Man so much below his own distinguishing
Characteristick, (I mean Reason) than returning Evil for Good in so
open a Manner, as that of treating an helpless Creature with
Unkindness, who has had so good an Opinion of him as to believe what
he said relating to one of the greatest Concerns of Life, by
delivering her Happiness in this World to his Care and Protection?
Must not that Man be abandoned even to all manner of Humanity, who can
deceive a Woman with Appearances of Affection and Kindness, for no
other End but to torment her with more Ease and Authority? Is any
Thing more unlike a Gentleman, than when his Honour is engaged for the
performing his Promises, because nothing but that can oblige him to
it, to become afterwards false to his Word, and be alone the Occasion
of Misery to one whose Happiness he but lately pretended was dearer to
him than his own? Ought such a one to be trusted in his common
Affairs? or treated but as one whose Honesty consisted only in his
Incapacity of being otherwise?

There is one Cause of this Usage no less absurd than common, which
takes place among the more unthinking Men: and that is the Desire to
appear to their Friends free and at Liberty, and without those
Trammels they have so much ridiculed. [To avoid [2]] this they fly
into the other Extream, and grow Tyrants that they may seem Masters.
Because an uncontroulable Command of their own Actions is a certain
Sign of entire Dominion, they wont so much as recede from the
Government even in one Muscle, of their Faces. A kind Look they
believe would be fawning, and a civil Answer yielding the Superiority.
To this must we attribute an Austerity they betray in every Action:
What but this can put a Man out of Humour in his Wife's Company, tho
he is so distinguishingly pleasant every where else? The Bitterness of
his Replies, and the Severity of his Frowns to the tenderest of Wives,
clearly demonstrate, that an ill-grounded Fear of being thought too
submissive, is at the Bottom of this, as I am willing to call it,
affected Moroseness; but if it be such only, put on to convince his
Acquaintance of his entire Dominion, let him take Care of the
Consequence, which will be certain, and worse than the present Evil;
his seeming Indifference will by Degrees grow into real Contempt, and
if it doth not wholly alienate the Affections of his Wife for ever
from him, make both him and her more miserable than if it really did
so.

However inconsistent it may appear, to be thought a well-bred Person
has no small Share in this clownish Behaviour: A Discourse therefore
relating to good Breeding towards a loving and a tender Wife, would be
of great Use to this Sort of Gentlemen. Could you but once convince
them, that to be civil at least is not beneath the Character of a
Gentleman, nor even tender Affection towards one who would make it
reciprocal, betrays any Softness or Effeminacy that the most masculine
Disposition need be ashamed of; could you satisfy them of the
Generosity of voluntary Civility, and the Greatness of Soul that is
conspicuous in Benevolence without immediate Obligations; could you
recommend to Peoples Practice the Saying of the Gentleman quoted in
one of your Speculations, _That he thought it incumbent upon him to
make the Inclinations of a Woman of Merit go along with her Duty_:
Could you, I say, perswade these Men of the Beauty and Reasonableness
of this Sort of Behaviour, I have so much Charity for some of them at
least, to believe you would convince them of a Thing they are only
ashamed to allow: Besides, you would recommend that State in its
truest, and consequently its most agreeable Colours; and the Gentlemen
who have for any Time been such professed Enemies to it, when Occasion
should serve, would return you their Thanks for assisting their
Interest in prevailing over their Prejudices. Marriage in general
would by this Means be a more easy and comfortable Condition; the
Husband would be no where so well satisfied as in his own Parlour, nor
the Wife so pleasant as in the Company of her Husband: A Desire of
being agreeable in the Lover would be increased in the Husband, and
the Mistress be more amiable by becoming the Wife. Besides all which,
I am apt to believe we should find the Race of Men grow wiser as their
Progenitors grew kinder, and the Affection of the Parents would be
conspicuous in the Wisdom of their Children; in short, Men would in
general be much better humoured than they are, did not they so
frequently exercise the worst Turns of their Temper where they ought
to exert the best.

MR. SPECTATOR,

I am a Woman who left the Admiration of this whole Town, to throw
myself ([for [3]] Love of Wealth) into the Arms of a Fool. When I
married him, I could have had any one of several Men of Sense who
languished for me; but my Case is just. I believed my superior
Understanding would form him into a tractable Creature. But, alas, my
Spouse has Cunning and Suspicion, the inseparable Companions of little
Minds; and every Attempt I make to divert, by putting on an agreeable
Air, a sudden Chearfulness, or kind Behaviour, he looks upon as the
first Act towards an Insurrection against his undeserved Dominion over
me. Let every one who is still to chuse, and hopes to govern a Fool,
remember

TRISTISSA.

_St. Martins, November_ 25.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

This is to complain of an evil Practice which I think very well
deserves a Redress, though you have not as yet taken any Notice of it:
If you mention it in your Paper, it may perhaps have a very good
Effect. What I mean is the Disturbance some People give to others at
Church, by their Repetition of the Prayers after the Minister, and
that not only in the Prayers, but also the Absolution and the
Commandments fare no better, winch are in a particular Manner the
Priests Office: This I have known done in so audible a manner, that
sometimes their Voices have been as loud as his. As little as you
would think it, this is frequently done by People seemingly devout.
This irreligious Inadvertency is a Thing extremely offensive: But I do
not recommend it as a Thing I give you Liberty to ridicule, but hope
it may be amended by the bare Mention.

_SIR,
Your very humble Servant,
T.S._

T.

[Footnote 1: Satisfactions]

[Footnote 2: [For this Reason should they appear the least like what they were so much used to laugh at, they would become the Jest of themselves, and the Object of that Raillery they formerly bestowed on others. To avoid &c.]

[Footnote 3: [by], and in first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 237. Saturday, December 1, 1711. Addison.

Visu carentem magna pars veri latet.

Senec. in OEdip.

It is very reasonable to believe, that Part of the Pleasure which happy Minds shall enjoy in a future State, will arise from an enlarged Contemplation of the Divine Wisdom in the Government of the World, and a Discovery of the secret and amazing Steps of Providence, from the Beginning to the End of Time. Nothing seems to be an Entertainment more adapted to the Nature of Man, if we consider that Curiosity is one of the strongest and most lasting Appetites implanted in us, and that Admiration is one of our most pleasing Passions; and what a perpetual Succession of Enjoyments will be afforded to both these, in a Scene so large and various as shall then be laid open to our View in the Society of superior Spirits, who perhaps will join with us in so delightful a Prospect!

It is not impossible, on the contrary, that Part of the Punishment of such as are excluded from Bliss, may consist not only in their being denied this Privilege, but in having their Appetites at the same time vastly encreased, without any Satisfaction afforded to them. In these, the vain Pursuit of Knowledge shall, perhaps, add to their Infelicity, and bewilder them into Labyrinths of Error, Darkness, Distraction and Uncertainty of every thing but their own evil State. _Milton_ has thus represented the fallen Angels reasoning together in a kind of Respite from their Torments, and creating to themselves a new Disquiet amidst their very Amusements; he could not properly have described the Sports of condemned Spirits, without that Cast of Horror and Melancholy he has so judiciously mingled with them.

Others apart sate on a Hill retired,
In Thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate,
First Fate, Freewill, Foreknowledge absolute,
And found no End in wandring Mazes lost. [1]

In our present Condition, which is a middle State, our Minds are, as it were, chequered with Truth and Falshood; and as our Faculties are narrow, and our Views imperfect, it is impossible but our Curiosity must meet with many Repulses. The Business of Mankind in this Life being rather to act than to know, their Portion of Knowledge is dealt to them accordingly.

From hence it is, that the Reason of the Inquisitive has so long been exercised with Difficulties, in accounting for the promiscuous Distribution of Good and Evil to the Virtuous and the Wicked in this World. From hence come all those pathetical Complaints of so many tragical Events, which happen to the Wise and the Good; and of such surprising Prosperity, which is often the Lot[2] of the Guilty and the Foolish; that Reason is sometimes puzzled, and at a loss what to pronounce upon so mysterious a Dispensation.

_Plato_ expresses his Abhorrence of some Fables of the Poets, which seem to reflect on the Gods as the Authors of Injustice; and lays it down as a Principle, That whatever is permitted to befal a just Man, whether Poverty, Sickness, or any of those Things which seem to be Evils, shall either in Life or Death conduce to his Good. My Reader will observe how agreeable this Maxim is to what we find delivered by a greater Authority. _Seneca_ has written a Discourse purposely on this Subject[3], in which he takes Pains, after the Doctrine of the _Stoicks_, to shew that Adversity is not in itself an Evil; and mentions a noble Saying of _Demetrius_, That _nothing would be more unhappy than a Man who had never known Affliction_. He compares Prosperity to the Indulgence of a fond Mother to a Child, which often proves his Ruin; but the Affection of the Divine Being to that of a wise Father who would have his Sons exercised with Labour, Disappointment, and Pain, that they may gather Strength, and improve their Fortitude. On this Occasion the Philosopher rises into the celebrated Sentiment, That there is not on Earth a Spectator more worthy the Regard of a Creator intent on his Works than a brave Man superior to his Sufferings; to which he adds, That it must be a Pleasure to _Jupiter_ himself to look down from Heaven, and see _Cato_ amidst the Ruins of his Country preserving his Integrity.

This Thought will appear yet more reasonable, if we consider human Life as a State of Probation, and Adversity as the Post of Honour in it, assigned often to the best and most select Spirits.

But what I would chiefly insist on here, is, that we are not at present in a proper Situation to judge of the Counsels by which Providence acts, since but little arrives at our Knowledge, and even that little we discern imperfectly; or according to the elegant Figure in Holy Writ, _We see but in part, and as in a Glass darkly_. [It is to be considered, that Providence[4]] in its Oeconomy regards the whole System of Time and Things together, [so that] we cannot discover the beautiful Connection between Incidents which lie widely separated in Time, and by losing so many Links of the Chain, our Reasonings become broken and imperfect. Thus those Parts in the moral World which have not an absolute, may yet have a relative Beauty, in respect of some other Parts concealed from us, but open to his Eye before whom _Past, Present_, and _To come_, are set together in one Point of View: and those Events, the Permission of which seems now to accuse his Goodness, may in the Consummation of Things both magnify his Goodness, and exalt his Wisdom. And this is enough to check our Presumption, since it is in vain to apply our Measures of Regularity to Matters of which we know neither the Antecedents nor the Consequents, the Beginning nor the End.

I shall relieve my Reader from this abstracted Thought, by relating here a _Jewish_ Tradition concerning _Moses_ [5] which seems to be a kind of Parable, illustrating what I have last mentioned. That great Prophet, it is said, was called up by a Voice from Heaven to the top of a Mountain; where, in a Conference with the Supreme Being, he was permitted to propose to him some Questions concerning his Administration of the Universe. In the midst of this Divine [Colloquy [6]] he was commanded to look down on the Plain below. At the Foot of the Mountain there issued out a clear Spring of Water, at which a Soldier alighted from his Horse to drink. He was no sooner gone than a little Boy came to the same Place, and finding a Purse of Gold which the Soldier had dropped, took it up and went away with it. Immediately after this came an infirm old Man, weary with Age and Travelling, and having quenched his Thirst, sat down to rest himself by the Side of the Spring. The Soldier missing his Purse returns to search for it, and demands it of the old Man, who affirms he had not seen it, and appeals to Heaven in witness of his Innocence. The Soldier not believing his Protestations, kills him. _Moses_ fell on his Face with Horror and Amazement, when the Divine Voice thus prevented his Expostulation: Be not surprised, _Moses_, nor ask why the Judge of the whole Earth has suffer'd this Thing to come to pass: The Child is the Occasion that the Blood of the old Man is spilt; but know, that the old Man whom thou sawst, was the Murderer of that Child's Father [7].

[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, B. II. v. 557-561.]

[Footnote 2: In Saturdays Spectator, _for_ reward _read_ lot. Erratum in No. 238.]

[Footnote 3: De Constantia Sapientis.]

[Footnote 4: [Since Providence, therefore], and in 1st rep.]

[Footnote 5: Henry Mores Divine Dialogues.]

[Footnote 6: [Conference]]

[Footnote 7: No letter appended to original issue or reissue. Printed in Addison's Works, 1720. The paper has been claimed for John Hughes in the Preface to his Poems (1735).]

* * * * *

No. 238. Monday, December 3, 1711. Steele.

Nequicquam populo bibulas donaveris Aures;
Respue quod non es.

Persius, Sat. 4.

Among all the Diseases of the Mind, there is not one more epidemical or more pernicious than the Love of Flattery. For as where the Juices of the Body are prepared to receive a malignant Influence, there the Disease rages with most Violence; so in this Distemper of the Mind, where there is ever a Propensity and Inclination to suck in the Poison, it cannot be but that the whole Order of reasonable Action must be overturn'd, for, like Musick, it

--So softens and disarms the Mind,
That not one Arrow can Resistance find.

First we flatter ourselves, and then the Flattery of others is sure of Success. It awakens our Self-Love within, a Party which is ever ready to revolt from our better Judgment, and join the Enemy without. Hence it is, that the Profusion of Favours we so often see poured upon the Parasite, are represented to us, by our Self-Love, as Justice done to Man, who so agreeably reconciles us to our selves. When we are overcome by such soft Insinuations and ensnaring Compliances, we gladly recompense the Artifices that are made use of to blind our Reason, and which triumph over the Weaknesses of our Temper and Inclinations.

But were every Man perswaded from how mean and low a Principle this Passion is derived, there can be no doubt but the Person who should attempt to gratify it, would then be as contemptible as he is now successful. Tis the Desire of some Quality we are not possessed of, or Inclination to be something we are not, which are the Causes of our giving ourselves up to that Man, who bestows upon us the Characters and Qualities of others; which perhaps suit us as ill and were as little design'd for our wearing, as their Cloaths. Instead of going out of our own complectional Nature into that of others, twere a better and more laudable Industry to improve our own, and instead of a miserable Copy become a good Original; for there is no Temper, no Disposition so rude and untractable, but may in its own peculiar Cast and Turn be brought to some agreeable Use in Conversation, or in the Affairs of Life. A Person of a rougher Deportment, and less tied up to the usual Ceremonies of Behaviour, will, like _Manly_ in the Play,[1] please by the Grace which Nature gives to every Action wherein she is complied with; the Brisk and Lively will not want their Admirers, and even a more reserved and melancholy Temper may at some times be agreeable.