Chapter VIII: Introduction (8)

I am, Sir, a Batchelour of some standing, and a Traveller; my
Business, to consult my own Humour, which I gratify without
controuling other People's; I have a Room and a whole Bed to myself;
and I have a Dog, a Fiddle, and a Gun; they please me, and injure no
Creature alive. My chief Meal is a Supper, which I always make at a
Tavern. I am constant to an Hour, and not ill-humour'd; for which
Reasons, tho' I invite no Body, I have no sooner supp'd, than I have a
Crowd about me of that sort of good Company that know not whither else
to go. It is true every Man pays his Share, yet as they are Intruders,
I have an undoubted Right to be the only Speaker, or at least the
loudest; which I maintain, and that to the great Emolument of my
Audience. I sometimes tell them their own in pretty free Language; and
sometimes divert them with merry Tales, according as I am in Humour. I
am one of those who live in Taverns to a great Age, by a sort of
regular Intemperance; I never go to Bed drunk, but always flustered; I
wear away very gently; am apt to be peevish, but never angry. Mr.
SPECTATOR, if you have kept various Company, you know there is in
every Tavern in Town some old Humourist or other, who is Master of the
House as much as he that keeps it. The Drawers are all in Awe of him;
and all the Customers who frequent his Company, yield him a sort of
comical Obedience. I do not know but I may be such a Fellow as this my
self. But I appeal to you, whether this is to be called a Club,
because so many Impertinents will break in upon me, and come without
Appointment? 'Clinch of Barnet' [2] has a nightly Meeting, and shows
to every one that will come in and pay; but then he is the only Actor.
Why should People miscall things?

If his is allowed to be a Consort, why mayn't mine be a Lecture?
However, Sir, I submit it to you, and am,

Sir,

Your most obedient, Etc.

Tho. Kimbow.'

* * *

Good Sir,

'You and I were press'd against each other last Winter in a Crowd, in
which uneasy Posture we suffer'd together for almost Half an Hour. I
thank you for all your Civilities ever since, in being of my
Acquaintance wherever you meet me. But the other Day you pulled off
your Hat to me in the _Park_, when I was walking with my Mistress: She
did not like your Air, and said she wonder'd what strange Fellows I
was acquainted with. Dear Sir, consider it is as much as my Life is
Worth, if she should think we were intimate; therefore I earnestly
intreat you for the Future to take no Manner of Notice of,

Sir,

Your obliged humble Servant,

Will. Fashion.'

[A like [3]] Impertinence is also very troublesome to the superior and more intelligent Part of the fair Sex. It is, it seems, a great Inconvenience, that those of the meanest Capacities will pretend to make Visits, tho' indeed they are qualify'd rather to add to the Furniture of the House (by filling an empty Chair) than to the Conversation they come into when they visit. A Friend of mine hopes for Redress in this Case, by the Publication of her Letter in my Paper; which she thinks those she would be rid of will take to themselves. It seems to be written with an Eye to one of those pert giddy unthinking Girls, who, upon the Recommendation only of an agreeable Person and a fashionable Air, take themselves to be upon a Level with Women of the greatest Merit.

Madam,

'I take this Way to acquaint you with what common Rules and Forms
would never permit me to tell you otherwise; to wit, that you and I,
tho' Equals in Quality and Fortune, are by no Means suitable
Companions. You are, 'tis true, very pretty, can dance, and make a
very good Figure in a publick Assembly; but alass, Madam, you must go
no further; Distance and Silence are your best Recommendations;
therefore let me beg of you never to make me any more Visits. You come
in a literal Sense to see one, for you have nothing to say. I do not
say this that I would by any Means lose your Acquaintance; but I would
keep it up with the Strictest Forms of good Breeding. Let us pay
Visits, but never see one another: If you will be so good as to deny
your self always to me, I shall return the Obligation by giving the
same Orders to my Servants. When Accident makes us meet at a third
Place, we may mutually lament the Misfortune of never finding one
another at home, go in the same Party to a Benefit-Play, and smile at
each other and put down Glasses as we pass in our Coaches. Thus we may
enjoy as much of each others Friendship as we are capable: For there
are some People who are to be known only by Sight, with which sort of
Friendship I hope you will always honour,

Madam,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
Mary Tuesday.

P.S. I subscribe my self by the Name of the Day I keep, that my
supernumerary Friends may know who I am.

[Footnote 1: these People]

[Footnote 2: Clinch of Barnet, whose place of performance was at the corner of Bartholomew Lane, behind the Royal Exchange, imitated, according to his own advertisement,

'the Horses, the Huntsmen and a Pack of Hounds, a Sham Doctor, an old
Woman, the Bells, the Flute, the Double Curtell (or bassoon) and the
Organ,--all with his own Natural Voice, to the greatest perfection.'

The price of admission was a shilling.]

[Footnote 3: This]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

To prevent all Mistakes that may happen
among Gentlemen of the other End of the Town,
who come but once a Week to St. _James's_ Coffee-house,
either by miscalling the Servants,
or requiring such things from them
as are not properly within their respective Provinces;
this is to give Notice,
that _Kidney,_ Keeper of the Book-Debts of the outlying Customers,
and Observer of those who go off without paying,
having resigned that Employment,
is succeeded by _John Sowton_;
to whose Place of Enterer of Messages and first Coffee-Grinder,
_William Bird_ is promoted;
and _Samuel Burdock_ comes as Shooe-Cleaner
in the Room of the said _Bird_.

R.

* * * * *

No. 25. Thursday, March 29, 1711. Addison.

... Ægrescitque medendo.

Vir.

The following Letter will explain it self, and needs no Apology.

SIR,

'I am one of that sickly Tribe who are commonly known by the Name of
_Valetudinarians_, and do confess to you, that I first contracted this
ill Habit of Body, or rather of Mind, by the Study of Physick. I no
sooner began to peruse Books of this Nature, but I found my Pulse was
irregular, and scarce ever read the Account of any Disease that I did
not fancy my self afflicted with. Dr. _Sydenham's_ learned Treatise of
Fevers [1] threw me into a lingring Hectick, which hung upon me all
the while I was reading that excellent Piece. I then applied my self
to the Study of several Authors, who have written upon Phthisical
Distempers, and by that means fell into a Consumption, till at length,
growing very fat, I was in a manner shamed out of that Imagination.
Not long after this I found in my self all the Symptoms of the Gout,
except Pain, but was cured of it by a Treatise upon the Gravel,
written by a very Ingenious Author, who (as it is usual for Physicians
to convert one Distemper into another) eased me of the Gout by giving
me the Stone. I at length studied my self into a Complication of
Distempers; but accidentally taking into my Hand that Ingenious
Discourse written by _Sanctorius_, [2] I was resolved to direct my
self by a Scheme of Rules, which I had collected from his
Observations. The Learned World are very well acquainted with that
Gentleman's Invention; who, for the better carrying on of his
Experiments, contrived a certain Mathematical Chair, which was so
Artifically hung upon Springs, that it would weigh any thing as well
as a Pair of Scales. By this means he discovered how many Ounces of
his Food pass'd by Perspiration, what quantity of it was turned into
Nourishment, and how much went away by the other Channels and
Distributions of Nature.

Having provided myself with this Chair, I used to Study, Eat, Drink,
and Sleep in it; insomuch that I may be said, for these three last
Years, to have lived in a Pair of Scales. I compute my self, when I am
in full Health, to be precisely Two Hundred Weight, falling short of
it about a Pound after a Day's Fast, and exceeding it as much after a
very full Meal; so that it is my continual Employment, to trim the
Ballance between these two Volatile Pounds in my Constitution. In my
ordinary Meals I fetch my self up to two Hundred Weight and [a half
pound [3]]; and if after having dined I find my self fall short of it,
I drink just so much Small Beer, or eat such a quantity of Bread, as
is sufficient to make me weight. In my greatest Excesses I do not
transgress more than the other half Pound; which, for my Healths sake,
I do the first _Monday_ in every Month. As soon as I find my self duly
poised after Dinner, I walk till I have perspired five Ounces and four
Scruples; and when I discover, by my Chair, that I am so far reduced,
I fall to my Books, and Study away three Ounces more. As for the
remaining Parts of the Pound, I keep no account of them. I do not dine
and sup by the Clock, but by my Chair, for when that informs me my
Pound of Food is exhausted I conclude my self to be hungry, and lay in
another with all Diligence. In my Days of Abstinence I lose a Pound
and an half, and on solemn Fasts am two Pound lighter than on other
Days in the Year.

I allow my self, one Night with another, a Quarter of a Pound of Sleep
within a few Grains more or less; and if upon my rising I find that I
have not consumed my whole quantity, I take out the rest in my Chair.
Upon an exact Calculation of what I expended and received the last
Year, which I always register in a Book, I find the Medium to be two
hundred weight, so that I cannot discover that I am impaired one Ounce
in my Health during a whole Twelvemonth. And yet, Sir, notwithstanding
this my great care to ballast my self equally every Day, and to keep
my Body in its proper Poise, so it is that I find my self in a sick
and languishing Condition. My Complexion is grown very sallow, my
Pulse low, and my Body Hydropical. Let me therefore beg you, Sir, to
consider me as your Patient, and to give me more certain Rules to walk
by than those I have already observed, and you will very much oblige

_Your Humble Servant_.'

This Letter puts me in mind of an _Italian_ Epitaph written on the Monument of a Valetudinarian; 'Stavo ben, ma per star Meglio, sto qui': Which it is impossible to translate. [4] The Fear of Death often proves mortal, and sets People on Methods to save their Lives, which infallibly destroy them. This is a Reflection made by some Historians, upon observing that there are many more thousands killed in a Flight than in a Battel, and may be applied to those Multitudes of Imaginary Sick Persons that break their Constitutions by Physick, and throw themselves into the Arms of Death, by endeavouring to escape it. This Method is not only dangerous, but below the Practice of a Reasonable Creature. To consult the Preservation of Life, as the only End of it, To make our Health our Business, To engage in no Action that is not part of a Regimen, or course of Physick, are Purposes so abject, so mean, so unworthy human Nature, that a generous Soul would rather die than submit to them. Besides that a continual Anxiety for Life vitiates all the Relishes of it, and casts a Gloom over the whole Face of Nature; as it is impossible we should take Delight in any thing that we are every Moment afraid of losing.

I do not mean, by what I have here said, that I think any one to blame for taking due Care of their Health. On the contrary, as Cheerfulness of Mind, and Capacity for Business, are in a great measure the Effects of a well-tempered Constitution, a Man cannot be at too much Pains to cultivate and preserve it. But this Care, which we are prompted to, not only by common Sense, but by Duty and Instinct, should never engage us in groundless Fears, melancholly Apprehensions and imaginary Distempers, which are natural to every Man who is more anxious to live than how to live. In short, the Preservation of Life should be only a secondary Concern, and the Direction of it our Principal. If we have this Frame of Mind, we shall take the best Means to preserve Life, without being over-sollicitous about the Event; and shall arrive at that Point of Felicity which _Martial_ has mentioned as the Perfection of Happiness, of neither fearing nor wishing for Death.

In answer to the Gentleman, who tempers his Health by Ounces and by Scruples, and instead of complying with those natural Sollicitations of Hunger and Thirst, Drowsiness or Love of Exercise, governs himself by the Prescriptions of his Chair, I shall tell him a short Fable.

_Jupiter_, says the Mythologist, to reward the Piety of a certain Country-man, promised to give him whatever he would ask. The Country-man desired that he might have the Management of the Weather in his own Estate: He obtained his Request, and immediately distributed Rain, Snow, and Sunshine, among his several Fields, as he thought the Nature of the Soil required. At the end of the Year, when he expected to see a more than ordinary Crop, his Harvest fell infinitely short of that of his Neighbours: Upon which (says the fable) he desired _Jupiter_ to take the Weather again into his own Hands, or that otherwise he should utterly ruin himself.

C.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Thomas Sydenham died in 1689, aged 65. He was the friend of Boyle and Locke, and has sometimes been called the English Hippocrates; though brethren of an older school endeavoured, but in vain, to banish him as a heretic out of the College of Physicians. His 'Methodus Curandi Febres' was first published in 1666.]

[Footnote 2: Sanctorius, a Professor of Medicine at Padua, who died in 1636, aged 75, was the first to discover the insensible perspiration, and he discriminated the amount of loss by it in experiments upon himself by means of his Statical Chair. His observations were published at Venice in 1614, in his 'Ars de Static Medicind', and led to the increased use of Sudorifics. A translation of Sanctorius by Dr. John Quincy appeared in 1712, the year after the publication of this essay. The 'Art of Static Medicine' was also translated into French by M. Le Breton, in 1722. Dr. John Quincy became well known as the author of a 'Complete Dispensatory' (1719, &c.).]

[Footnote 3: an half]

[Footnote 4: The old English reading is:

'I was well; I would be better; and here I am.']

* * * * *

No. 26. Friday, March 30, 1711. Addison.

'Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Regumque turres, O beate Sexti,
Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.
Jam te premet nox, fabulæque manes,
Et domus exilis Plutonia.'

Hor.

When I am in a serious Humour, I very often walk by my self in _Westminster_ Abbey; where the Gloominess of the Place, and the Use to which it is applied, with the Solemnity of the Building, and the Condition of the People who lye in it, are apt to fill the Mind with a kind of Melancholy, or rather Thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I Yesterday pass'd a whole Afternoon in the Church-yard, the Cloysters, and the Church, amusing myself with the Tomb-stones and Inscriptions that I met with in those several Regions of the Dead. Most of them recorded nothing else of the buried Person, but that he was born upon one Day and died upon another: The whole History of his Life, being comprehended in those two Circumstances, that are common to all Mankind. I could not but look upon these Registers of Existence, whether of Brass or Marble, as a kind of Satyr upon the departed Persons; who had left no other Memorial of them, but that they were born and that they died. They put me in mind of several Persons mentioned in the Battles of Heroic Poems, who have sounding Names given them, for no other Reason but that they may be killed, and are celebrated for nothing but being knocked on the Head.

[Greek: Glaukon te, Medónta te, Thersilochón te]--Hom.

_Glaucumque, Medontaque, Thersilochumque_.--Virg.

The Life of these Men is finely described in Holy Writ by _the Path of an Arrow_ which is immediately closed up and lost. Upon my going into the Church, I entertain'd my self with the digging of a Grave; and saw in every Shovel-full of it that was thrown up, the Fragment of a Bone or Skull intermixt with a kind of fresh mouldering Earth that some time or other had a Place in the Composition of an humane Body. Upon this, I began to consider with my self, what innumerable Multitudes of People lay confus'd together under the Pavement of that ancient Cathedral; how Men and Women, Friends and Enemies, Priests and Soldiers, Monks and Prebendaries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common Mass; how Beauty, Strength, and Youth, with Old-age, Weakness, and Deformity, lay undistinguish'd in the same promiscuous Heap of Matter.

After having thus surveyed this great Magazine of Mortality, as it were in the Lump, I examined it more particularly by the Accounts which I found on several of the Monuments [which [1]] are raised in every Quarter of that ancient Fabrick. Some of them were covered with such extravagant Epitaphs, that, if it were possible for the dead Person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the Praises which his Friends [have [2]] bestowed upon him. There are others so excessively modest, that they deliver the Character of the Person departed in Greek or Hebrew, and by that Means are not understood once in a Twelve-month. In the poetical Quarter, I found there were Poets [who [3]] had no Monuments, and Monuments [which [4]] had no Poets. I observed indeed that the present War [5] had filled the Church with many of these uninhabited Monuments, which had been erected to the Memory of Persons whose Bodies were perhaps buried in the Plains of _Blenheim_, or in the Bosom of the Ocean.

I could not but be very much delighted with several modern Epitaphs, which are written with great Elegance of Expression and Justness of Thought, and therefore do Honour to the Living as well as to the Dead. As a Foreigner is very apt to conceive an Idea of the Ignorance or Politeness of a Nation from the Turn of their publick Monuments and Inscriptions, they should be submitted to the Perusal of Men of Learning and Genius before they are put in Execution. Sir _Cloudesly Shovel's_ Monument has very often given me great Offence: Instead of the brave rough English Admiral, which was the distinguishing Character of that plain gallant Man, [6] he is represented on his Tomb by the Figure of a Beau, dress'd in a long Perriwig, and reposing himself upon Velvet Cushions under a Canopy of State, The Inscription is answerable to the Monument; for, instead of celebrating the many remarkable Actions he had performed in the service of his Country, it acquaints us only with the Manner of his Death, in which it was impossible for him to reap any Honour. The _Dutch_, whom we are apt to despise for want of Genius, shew an infinitely greater Taste of Antiquity and Politeness in their Buildings and Works of this Nature, than what we meet with in those of our own Country. The Monuments of their Admirals, which have been erected at the publick Expence, represent them like themselves; and are adorned with rostral Crowns and naval Ornaments, with beautiful Festoons of [Seaweed], Shells, and Coral.

But to return to our Subject. I have left the Repository of our English Kings for the Contemplation of another Day, when I shall find my Mind disposed for so serious an Amusement. I know that Entertainments of this Nature, are apt to raise dark and dismal Thoughts in timorous Minds and gloomy Imaginations; but for my own Part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can, therefore, take a View of Nature in her deep and solemn Scenes, with the same Pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this Means I can improve my self with those Objects, which others consider with Terror. When I look upon the Tombs of the Great, every Emotion of Envy dies in me; when I read the Epitaphs of the Beautiful, every inordinate Desire goes out; when I meet with the Grief of Parents upon a Tombstone, my Heart melts with Compassion; when I see the Tomb of the Parents themselves, I consider the Vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow: When I see Kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival Wits placed Side by Side, or the holy Men that divided the World with their Contests and Disputes, I reflect with Sorrow and Astonishment on the little Competitions, Factions and Debates of Mankind. When I read the several Dates of the Tombs, of some that dy'd Yesterday, and some six hundred Years ago, I consider that great Day when we shall all of us be Contemporaries, and make our Appearance together.

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: had]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: At the close of the reign of William III. the exiled James II died, and France proclaimed his son as King of England. William III thus was enabled to take England with him into the European War of the Spanish Succession. The accession of Queen Anne did not check the movement, and, on the 4th of May, 1702, war was declared against France and Spain by England, the Empire, and Holland. The war then begun had lasted throughout the Queen's reign, and continued, after the writing of the _Spectator_ Essays, until the signing of the Peace of Utrecht on the 11th of April, 1713, which was not a year and a half before the Queen's death, on the 1st of August, 1714. In this war Marlborough had among his victories, Blenheim, 1704, Ramilies, 1706, Oudenarde, 1708, Malplaquet, 1709. At sea Sir George Rooke had defeated the French fleet off Vigo, in October, 1702, and in a bloody battle off Malaga, in August, 1704, after his capture of Gibraltar.]

[Footnote 6: Sir Cloudesly Shovel, a brave man of humble birth, who, from a cabin boy, became, through merit, an admiral, died by the wreck of his fleet on the Scilly Islands as he was returning from an unsuccessful attack on Toulon. His body was cast on the shore, robbed of a ring by some fishermen, and buried in the sand. The ring discovering his quality, he was disinterred, and brought home for burial in Westminster Abbey.]

* * * * *

No. 27. Saturday, March 31, 1711. Steele.

'Ut nox longa, quibus Mentitur arnica, diesque
Longa videtur opus debentibus, ut piger Annus
Pupillis, quos dura premit Custodia matrum,
Sic mihi Tarda fluunt ingrataque Tempora, quæ spem
Consiliumque morantur agendi Gnaviter, id quod
Æquè pauperibus prodest, Locupletibus aquè,
Æquè neglectum pueris senibusque nocebit.'

Hor.

There is scarce a thinking Man in the World, who is involved in the Business of it, but lives under a secret Impatience of the Hurry and Fatigue he suffers, and has formed a Resolution to fix himself, one time or other, in such a State as is suitable to the End of his Being. You hear Men every Day in Conversation profess, that all the Honour, Power, and Riches which they propose to themselves, cannot give Satisfaction enough to reward them for half the Anxiety they undergo in the Pursuit, or Possession of them. While Men are in this Temper (which happens very frequently) how inconsistent are they with themselves? They are wearied with the Toil they bear, but cannot find in their Hearts to relinquish it; Retirement is what they want, but they cannot betake themselves to it; While they pant after Shade and Covert, they still affect to appear in the most glittering Scenes of Life: But sure this is but just as reasonable as if a Man should call for more Lights, when he has a mind to go to Sleep.

Since then it is certain that our own Hearts deceive us in the Love of the World, and that we cannot command our selves enough to resign it, tho' we every Day wish our selves disengaged from its Allurements; let us not stand upon a Formal taking of Leave, but wean our selves from them, while we are in the midst of them.

It is certainly the general Intention of the greater Part of Mankind to accomplish this Work, and live according to their own Approbation, as soon as they possibly can: But since the Duration of Life is so incertain, and that has been a common Topick of Discourse ever since there was such a thing as Life it self, how is it possible that we should defer a Moment the beginning to Live according to the Rules of Reason?

The Man of Business has ever some one Point to carry, and then he tells himself he'll bid adieu to all the Vanity of Ambition: The Man of Pleasure resolves to take his leave at least, and part civilly with his Mistress: But the Ambitious Man is entangled every Moment in a fresh Pursuit, and the Lover sees new Charms in the Object he fancy'd he could abandon. It is, therefore, a fantastical way of thinking, when we promise our selves an Alteration in our Conduct from change of Place, and difference of Circumstances; the same Passions will attend us where-ever we are, till they are Conquered, and we can never live to our Satisfaction in the deepest Retirement, unless we are capable of living so in some measure amidst the Noise and Business of the World.

I have ever thought Men were better known, by what could be observed of them from a Perusal of their private Letters, than any other way. My Friend, the Clergyman, [1] the other Day, upon serious Discourse with him concerning the Danger of Procrastination, gave me the following Letters from Persons with whom he lives in great Friendship and Intimacy, according to the good Breeding and good Sense of his Character. The first is from a Man of Business, who is his Convert; The second from one of whom he conceives good Hopes; The third from one who is in no State at all, but carried one way and another by starts.

SIR,

'I know not with what Words to express to you the Sense I have of the
high Obligation you have laid upon me, in the Penance you enjoined me
of doing some Good or other, to a Person of Worth, every Day I live.
The Station I am in furnishes me with daily Opportunities of this
kind: and the Noble Principle with which you have inspired me, of
Benevolence to all I have to deal with, quickens my Application in
every thing I undertake. When I relieve Merit from Discountenance,
when I assist a Friendless Person, when I produce conceal'd Worth, I
am displeas'd with my self, for having design'd to leave the World in
order to be Virtuous. I am sorry you decline the Occasions which the
Condition I am in might afford me of enlarging your Fortunes; but know
I contribute more to your Satisfaction, when I acknowledge I am the
better Man, from the Influence and Authority you have over,
SIR,
Your most Oblig'd and Most Humble, Servant,
R. O.'

* * *

SIR,

'I am intirely convinced of the Truth of what you were pleas'd to say
to me, when I was last with you alone. You told me then of the silly
way I was in; but you told me so, as I saw you loved me, otherwise I
could not obey your Commands in letting you know my Thoughts so
sincerely as I do at present. I know _the Creature for whom I resign
so much of my Character_ is all that you said of her; but then the
Trifler has something in her so undesigning and harmless, that her
Guilt in one kind disappears by the Comparison of her Innocence in
another. Will you, Virtuous Men, allow no alteration of Offences? Must
Dear [Chloe [2]] be called by the hard Name you pious People give to
common Women? I keep the solemn Promise I made you, in writing to you
the State of my Mind, after your kind Admonition; and will endeavour
to get the better of this Fondness, which makes me so much her humble
Servant, that I am almost asham'd to Subscribe my self
Yours,
T. D.'

* * *

SIR,

'There is no State of Life so Anxious as that of a Man who does not
live according to the Dictates of his own Reason. It will seem odd to
you, when I assure you that my Love of Retirement first of all brought
me to Court; but this will be no Riddle, when I acquaint you that I
placed my self here with a Design of getting so much Mony as might
enable me to Purchase a handsome Retreat in the Country. At present my
Circumstances enable me, and my Duty prompts me, to pass away the
remaining Part of my Life in such a Retirement as I at first proposed
to my self; but to my great Misfortune I have intirely lost the Relish
of it, and shou'd now return to the Country with greater Reluctance
than I at first came to Court. I am so unhappy, as to know that what I
am fond of are Trifles, and that what I neglect is of the greatest
Importance: In short, I find a Contest in my own Mind between Reason
and Fashion. I remember you once told me, that I might live in the
World, and out of it, at the same time. Let me beg of you to explain
this Paradox more at large to me, that I may conform my Life, if
possible, both to my Duty and my Inclination.
I am,
Your most humble Servant,
R.B.'

R.

[Footnote 1: See the close of No. 2.]

[Footnote 2: blank left]

* * * * *

No. 28. Monday, April 2, 1711. Addison.

'... Neque semper arcum
Tendit Apollo.'

Hor.

I shall here present my Reader with a Letter from a Projector, concerning a new Office which he thinks may very much contribute to the Embellishment of the City, and to the driving Barbarity out of our Streets. [I consider it as a Satyr upon Projectors in general, and a lively Picture of the whole Art of Modern Criticism. [1]]

SIR,

'Observing that you have Thoughts of creating certain Officers under
you for the Inspection of several petty Enormities which you your self
cannot attend to; and finding daily Absurdities hung out upon the
Sign-Posts of this City, [2] to the great Scandal of Foreigners, as
well as those of our own Country, who are curious Spectators of the
same: I do humbly propose, that you would be pleased to make me your
Superintendant of all such Figures and Devices, as are or shall be
made use of on this Occasion; with full Powers to rectify or expunge
whatever I shall find irregular or defective. For want of such an
Officer, there is nothing like sound Literature and good Sense to be
met with in those Objects, that are everywhere thrusting themselves
out to the Eye, and endeavouring to become visible. Our streets are
filled with blue Boars, black Swans, and red Lions; not to mention
flying Pigs, and Hogs in Armour, with many other Creatures more
extraordinary than any in the desarts of _Africk._ Strange! that one
who has all the Birds and Beasts in Nature to chuse out of, should
live at the Sign of an _Ens Rationis!_

My first Task, therefore, should be, like that of _Hercules_, to clear
the City from Monsters. In the second Place, I would forbid, that
Creatures of jarring and incongruous Natures should be joined together
in the same Sign; such as the Bell and the Neats-tongue, the Dog and
Gridiron. The Fox and Goose may be supposed to have met, but what has
the Fox and the Seven Stars to do together? and when did the Lamb [3]
and Dolphin ever meet, except upon a Sign-Post? As for the Cat and
Fiddle, there is a Conceit in it, and therefore, I do not intend that
anything I have here said should affect it. I must however observe to
you upon this Subject, that it is usual for a young Tradesman, at his
first setting up, to add to his own Sign that of the Master whom he
serv'd; as the Husband, after Marriage, gives a Place to his
Mistress's Arms in his own Coat. This I take to have given Rise to
many of those Absurdities which are committed over our Heads, and, as
I am inform'd, first occasioned the three Nuns and a Hare, which we
see so frequently joined together. I would, therefore, establish
certain Rules, for the determining how far one Tradesman may _give_
the Sign of another, and in what Cases he may be allowed to quarter it
with his own.

In the third place, I would enjoin every Shop to make use of a Sign
which bears some Affinity to the Wares in which it deals. What can be
more inconsistent, than to see a Bawd at the Sign of the Angel, or a
Taylor at the Lion? A Cook should not live at the Boot, nor a
Shoemaker at the roasted Pig; and yet, for want of this Regulation, I
have seen a Goat set up before the Door of a Perfumer, and the French
King's Head at a Sword-Cutler's.

An ingenious Foreigner observes, that several of those Gentlemen who
value themselves upon their Families, and overlook such as are bred to
Trade, bear the Tools of their Fore-fathers in their Coats of Arms. I
will not examine how true this is in Fact: But though it may not be
necessary for Posterity thus to set up the Sign of their Fore-fathers;
I think it highly proper for those who actually profess the Trade, to
shew some such Marks of it before their Doors.

When the Name gives an Occasion for an ingenious Sign-post, I would
likewise advise the Owner to take that Opportunity of letting the
World know who he is. It would have been ridiculous for the ingenious
Mrs. _Salmon_ [4] to have lived at the Sign of the Trout; for which
Reason she has erected before her House the Figure of the Fish that is
her Namesake. Mr. _Bell_ has likewise distinguished himself by a
Device of the same Nature: And here, Sir, I must beg Leave to observe
to you, that this particular Figure of a Bell has given Occasion to
several Pieces of Wit in this Kind. A Man of your Reading must know,
that _Abel Drugger_ gained great Applause by it in the Time of _Ben
Johnson_ [5]. Our Apocryphal Heathen God [6] is also represented by
this Figure; which, in conjunction with the Dragon, make a very
handsome picture in several of our Streets. As for the Bell-Savage,
which is the Sign of a savage Man standing by a Bell, I was formerly
very much puzzled upon the Conceit of it, till I accidentally fell
into the reading of an old Romance translated out of the French; which
gives an Account of a very beautiful Woman who was found in a
Wilderness, and is called in the French _la_ _belle Sauvage_; and is
everywhere translated by our Countrymen the Bell-Savage. This Piece of
Philology will, I hope, convince you that I have made Sign posts my
Study, and consequently qualified my self for the Employment which I
sollicit at your Hands. But before I conclude my Letter, I must
communicate to you another Remark, which I have made upon the Subject
with which I am now entertaining you, namely, that I can give a shrewd
Guess at the Humour of the Inhabitant by the Sign that hangs before
his Door. A surly cholerick Fellow generally makes Choice of a Bear;
as Men of milder Dispositions, frequently live at the Lamb. Seeing a
Punch-Bowl painted upon a Sign near _Charing Cross_, and very
curiously garnished, with a couple of Angels hovering over it and
squeezing a Lemmon into it, I had the Curiosity to ask after the
Master of the House, and found upon Inquiry, as I had guessed by the
little _Agréemens_ upon his Sign, that he was a Frenchman. I know,
Sir, it is not requisite for me to enlarge upon these Hints to a
Gentleman of your great Abilities; so humbly recommending my self to
your Favour and Patronage,

I remain, &c.

I shall add to the foregoing Letter, another which came to me by the same Penny-Post.

From my own Apartment near Charing-Cross.

Honoured Sir,

'Having heard that this Nation is a great Encourager of Ingenuity, I
have brought with me a Rope-dancer that was caught in one of the Woods
belonging to the Great _Mogul_. He is by Birth a Monkey; but swings
upon a Rope, takes a pipe of Tobacco, and drinks a Glass of Ale, like
any reasonable Creature. He gives great Satisfaction to the Quality;
and if they will make a Subscription for him, I will send for a
Brother of his out of _Holland_, that is a very good Tumbler, and also
for another of the same Family, whom I design for my Merry-Andrew, as
being an excellent mimick, and the greatest Drole in the Country where
he now is. I hope to have this Entertainment in a Readiness for the
next Winter; and doubt not but it will please more than the Opera or
Puppet-Show. I will not say that a Monkey is a better Man than some of
the Opera Heroes; but certainly he is a better Representative of a
Man, than the most artificial Composition of Wood and Wire. If you
will be pleased to give me a good Word in your paper, you shall be
every Night a Spectator at my Show for nothing.

I am, &c.

C.

[Footnote 1: It is as follows.]

[Footnote 2: In the 'Spectator's' time numbering of houses was so rare that in Hatton's 'New View of London', published in 1708, special mention is made of the fact that

'in Prescott Street, Goodman's Fields, instead of signs the houses are
distinguished by numbers, as the staircases in the Inns of Court and
Chancery.']

[Footnote 3: sheep]

[Footnote 4: The sign before her Waxwork Exhibition, in Fleet Street, near Temple Bar, was 'the Golden Salmon.' She had very recently removed to this house from her old establishment in St. Martin's le Grand.]

[Footnote 5: Ben Jonson's Alchemist having taken gold from Abel Drugger, the Tobacco Man, for the device of a sign--'a good lucky one, a thriving sign'--will give him nothing so commonplace as a sign copied from the constellation he was born under, but says:

'Subtle'. He shall have 'a bel', that's 'Abel';
And by it standing one whose name is 'Dee'
In a 'rug' grown, there's 'D' and 'rug', that's 'Drug':
And right anenst him a dog snarling 'er',
There's 'Drugger', Abel Drugger. That's his sign.
And here's now mystery and hieroglyphic.

'Face'. Abel, thou art made.

'Drugger'. Sir, I do thank his worship.]

[Footnote 6: Bel, in the apocryphal addition to the Book of Daniel, called 'the 'History of the Destruction of Bel and the Dragon.']

* * * * *

No. 29. Tuesday, April 3, 1711 Addison

... Sermo linguâ concinnus utrâque
Suavior: ut Chio nota si commista Falerni est.

Hor.

There is nothing that [has] more startled our _English_ Audience, than the _Italian Recitativo_ at its first Entrance upon the Stage. People were wonderfully surprized to hear Generals singing the Word of Command, and Ladies delivering Messages in Musick. Our Country-men could not forbear laughing when they heard a Lover chanting out a Billet-doux, and even the Superscription of a Letter set to a Tune. The Famous Blunder in an old Play of _Enter a King and two Fidlers Solus_, was now no longer an Absurdity, when it was impossible for a Hero in a Desart, or a Princess in her Closet, to speak anything unaccompanied with Musical Instruments.

But however this _Italian_ method of acting in _Recitativo_ might appear at first hearing, I cannot but think it much more just than that which prevailed in our _English_ Opera before this Innovation: The Transition from an Air to Recitative Musick being more natural than the passing from a Song to plain and ordinary Speaking, which was the common Method in _Purcell's_ Operas.

The only Fault I find in our present Practice, is the making use of _Italian Recitative_ with _English_ Words.

To go to the Bottom of this Matter, I must observe, that the Tone, or (as the _French_ call it) the Accent of every Nation in their ordinary Speech is altogether different from that of every other People, as we may see even in the _Welsh_ and _Scotch_, [who [1]] border so near upon us. By the Tone or Accent, I do not mean the Pronunciation of each particular Word, but the Sound of the whole Sentence. Thus it is very common for an _English_ Gentleman, when he hears a _French_ Tragedy, to complain that the Actors all of them speak in a Tone; and therefore he very wisely prefers his own Country-men, not considering that a Foreigner complains of the same Tone in an _English_ Actor.

For this Reason, the Recitative Musick in every Language, should be as different as the Tone or Accent of each Language; for otherwise, what may properly express a Passion in one Language, will not do it in another. Every one who has been long in _Italy_ knows very well, that the Cadences in the _Recitativo_ bear a remote Affinity to the Tone of their Voices in ordinary Conversation, or to speak more properly, are only the Accents of their Language made more Musical and Tuneful.

Thus the Notes of Interrogation, or Admiration, in the _Italian_ Musick (if one may so call them) which resemble their Accents in Discourse on such Occasions, are not unlike the ordinary Tones of an _English_ Voice when we are angry; insomuch that I have often seen our Audiences extreamly mistaken as to what has been doing upon the Stage, and expecting to see the Hero knock down his Messenger, when he has been [asking [2]] him a Question, or fancying that he quarrels with his Friend, when he only bids him Good-morrow.

For this Reason the _Italian_ Artists cannot agree with our _English_ Musicians in admiring _Purcell's_ Compositions, [3] and thinking his Tunes so wonderfully adapted to his Words, because both Nations do not always express the same Passions by the same Sounds.

I am therefore humbly of Opinion, that an _English_ Composer should not follow the _Italian_ Recitative too servilely, but make use of many gentle Deviations from it, in Compliance with his own Native Language. He may Copy out of it all the lulling Softness and _Dying Falls_ (as _Shakespear_ calls them), but should still remember that he ought to accommodate himself to an _English_ Audience, and by humouring the Tone of our Voices in ordinary Conversation, have the same Regard to the Accent of his own Language, as those Persons had to theirs whom he professes to imitate. It is observed, that several of the singing Birds of our own Country learn to sweeten their Voices, and mellow the Harshness of their natural Notes, by practising under those that come from warmer Climates. In the same manner, I would allow the _Italian_ Opera to lend our _English_ Musick as much as may grace and soften it, but never entirely to annihilate and destroy it. Let the Infusion be as strong as you please, but still let the Subject Matter of it be _English_.

A Composer should fit his Musick to the Genius of the People, and consider that the Delicacy of Hearing, and Taste of Harmony, has been formed upon those Sounds which every Country abounds with: In short, that Musick is of a Relative Nature, and what is Harmony to one Ear, may be Dissonance to another.

The same Observations which I have made upon the Recitative part of Musick may be applied to all our Songs and Airs in general.

Signior _Baptist Lully_ [4] acted like a Man of Sense in this Particular. He found the _French_ Musick extreamly defective, and very often barbarous: However, knowing the Genius of the People, the Humour of their Language, and the prejudiced Ears [he [5]] had to deal with he did not pretend to extirpate the _French_ Musick, and plant the _Italian_ in its stead; but only to Cultivate and Civilize it with innumerable Graces and Modulations which he borrow'd from the _Italian_. By this means the _French_ Musick is now perfect in its kind; and when you say it is not so good as the _Italian_, you only mean that it does not please you so well; for there is [scarce [6]] a _Frenchman_ who would not wonder to hear you give the _Italian_ such a Preference. The Musick of the _French_ is indeed very properly adapted to their Pronunciation and Accent, as their whole Opera wonderfully favours the Genius of such a gay airy People. The Chorus in which that Opera abounds, gives the Parterre frequent Opportunities of joining in Consort with the Stage. This Inclination of the Audience to Sing along with the Actors, so prevails with them, that I have sometimes known the Performer on the Stage do no more in a Celebrated Song, than the Clerk of a Parish Church, who serves only to raise the Psalm, and is afterwards drown'd in the Musick of the Congregation. Every Actor that comes on the Stage is a Beau. The Queens and Heroines are so Painted, that they appear as Ruddy and Cherry-cheek'd as Milk-maids. The Shepherds are all Embroider'd, and acquit themselves in a Ball better than our _English_ Dancing Masters. I have seen a couple of Rivers appear in red Stockings; and _Alpheus_, instead of having his Head covered with Sedge and Bull-Rushes, making Love in a fair full-bottomed Perriwig, and a Plume of Feathers; but with a Voice so full of Shakes and Quavers that I should have thought the Murmurs of a Country Brook the much more agreeable Musick.

I remember the last Opera I saw in that merry Nation was the Rape of _Proserpine_, where _Pluto_, to make the more tempting Figure, puts himself in a _French_ Equipage, and brings _Ascalaphus_ along with him as his _Valet de Chambre_. This is what we call Folly and Impertinence; but what the _French_ look upon as Gay and Polite.

I shall add no more to what I have here offer'd, than that Musick, Architecture, and Painting, as well as Poetry, and Oratory, are to deduce their Laws and Rules from the general Sense and Taste of Mankind, and not from the Principles of those Arts themselves; or, in other Words, the Taste is not to conform to the Art, but the Art to the Taste. Music is not design'd to please only Chromatick Ears, but all that are capable ef distinguishing harsh from disagreeable Notes. A Man of an ordinary Ear is a Judge whether a Passion is express'd in proper Sounds, and whether the Melody of those Sounds be more or less pleasing. [7]

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: only asking]

[Footnote 3: Henry Purcell died of consumption in 1695, aged 37.

'He was,' says Mr. Hullah, in his Lectures on the History of Modern
Music, 'the first Englishman to demonstrate the possibility of a
national opera. No Englishman of the last century succeeded in
following Purcell's lead into this domain of art; none, indeed, would
seem to have understood in what his excellence consisted, or how his
success was attained. His dramatic music exhibits the same qualities
which had already made the success of Lulli. ... For some years after
Purcell's death his compositions, of whatever kind, were the chief, if
not the only, music heard in England. His reign might have lasted
longer, but for the advent of a musician who, though not perhaps more
highly gifted, had enjoyed immeasurably greater opportunities of
cultivating his gifts,'

Handel, who had also the advantage of being born thirty years later.]

[Footnote 4: John Baptist Lulli, a Florentine, died in 1687, aged 53. In his youth he was an under-scullion in the kitchen of Madame de Montpensier, niece to Louis XIV. The discovery of his musical genius led to his becoming the King's Superintendent of Music, and one of the most influential composers that has ever lived. He composed the occasional music for Molière's comedies, besides about twenty lyric tragedies; which succeeded beyond all others in France, not only because of his dramatic genius, which enabled him to give to the persons of these operas a musical language fitted to their characters and expressive of the situations in which they were placed; but also, says Mr. Hullah, because

'Lulli being the first modern composer who caught the French ear, was
the means, to a great extent, of forming the modern French taste.'

His operas kept the stage for more than a century.]

[Footnote 5: that he]

[Footnote 6: not]

* * * * *

No. 30. [1] Wednesday, April 4, 1711. Steele.

'Si, Mimnermus uti censet, sine amore Focisque
Nil est Jucundum; vivas in amore Jocisque.'

Hor.

One common Calamity makes Men extremely affect each other, tho' they differ in every other Particular. The Passion of Love is the most general Concern among Men; and I am glad to hear by my last Advices from _Oxford_, that there are a Set of Sighers in that University, who have erected themselves into a Society in honour of that tender Passion. These Gentlemen are of that Sort of Inamoratos, who are not so very much lost to common Sense, but that they understand the Folly they are guilty of; and for that Reason separate themselves from all other Company, because they will enjoy the Pleasure of talking incoherently, without being ridiculous to any but each other. When a Man comes into the Club, he is not obliged to make any Introduction to his Discourse, but at once, as he is seating himself in his Chair, speaks in the Thread of his own Thoughts, 'She gave me a very obliging Glance, She Never look'd so well in her Life as this Evening,' or the like Reflection, without Regard to any other Members of the Society; for in this Assembly they do not meet to talk to each other, but every Man claims the full Liberty of talking to himself. Instead of Snuff-boxes and Canes, which are the usual Helps to Discourse with other young Fellows, these have each some Piece of Ribbon, a broken Fan, or an old Girdle, which they play with while they talk of the fair Person remember'd by each respective Token. According to the Representation of the Matter from my Letters, the Company appear like so many Players rehearsing behind the Scenes; one is sighing and lamenting his Destiny in beseeching Terms, another declaring he will break his Chain, and another in dumb-Show, striving to express his Passion by his Gesture. It is very ordinary in the Assembly for one of a sudden to rise and make a Discourse concerning his Passion in general, and describe the Temper of his Mind in such a Manner, as that the whole Company shall join in the Description, and feel the Force of it. In this Case, if any Man has declared the Violence of his Flame in more pathetick Terms, he is made President for that Night, out of respect to his superior Passion.