Chapter II (5)

As it has been the endeavour of these our labours to extirpate from among the polite or busy part of mankind, all such as are either prejudicial or insignificant to society; so it ought to be no less our study to supply the havoc we have made by an exact care of the growing generation. But when we begin to inculcate proper precepts to the children of this island, except we could take them out of their nurses' arms, we see an amendment is almost impracticable; for we find the whole species of our youth and grown men is incorrigibly prepossessed with vanity, pride, or ambition, according to the respective pursuits to which they turn themselves: by which means the world is infatuated with the love of appearances instead of things. Thus the vain man takes praise for honour, the proud man ceremony for respect, the ambitious man power for glory. These three characters are, indeed, of very near resemblance, but differently received by mankind. Vanity makes men ridiculous; pride, odious; and ambition, terrible. The foundation of all which is, that they are grounded upon falsehood: for if men, instead of studying to appear considerable, were in their own hearts possessors of the requisites for esteem, the acceptance they otherwise unfortunately aim at would be as inseparable from them, as approbation is from truth itself. By this means they would have some rule to walk by; and they may ever be assured, that a good cause of action will certainly receive a suitable effect. It may be a useful hint in such cases for a man to ask of himself, whether he really is what he has a mind to be thought?[309] If he is, he need not give himself much further anxiety. "What will the world say?" is the common question in matters of difficulty; as if the terror lay wholly in the sense which others, and not we ourselves, shall have of our actions. From this one source arise all the impostors in every art and profession, in all places, among all persons in conversation, as well as in business. Hence it is, that a vain fellow takes twice as much pains to be ridiculous, as would make him sincerely agreeable.

Can any one be better fashioned, better bred, or has any one more good nature, than Damasippus? But the whole scope of his looks and actions tends so immediately to gain the good opinion of all he converses with, that he loses it for that only reason. As it is the nature of vanity to impose false shows for truths, so does it also turn real possessions into imaginary ones. Damasippus, by assuming to himself what he has not, robs himself of what he has.

There is nothing more necessary to establish reputation, than to suspend the enjoyment of it. He that cannot bear the sense of merit with silence, must of necessity destroy it: for fame being the general mistress of mankind, whoever gives it to himself, insults all to whom he relates any circumstances to his own advantage. He is considered as an open ravisher of that beauty, for whom all others pine in silence. But some minds are so incapable of any temperance in this particular, that on every second in their discourse you may observe an earnestness in their eyes, which shows they wait for your approbation, and perhaps the next instant cast an eye on a glass to see how they like themselves. Walking the other day in a neighbouring Inn of Court, I saw a more happy and more graceful orator than I ever before had heard or read of. A youth, of about nineteen years of age, was in an Indian nightgown and laced cap pleading a cause before a glass: the young fellow had a very good air, and seemed to hold his brief in his hand rather to help his action, than that he wanted notes for his further information. When I first began to observe him, I feared he would soon be alarmed; but he was so zealous for his client, and so favourably received by the court, that he went on with great fluency to inform the bench, that he humbly hoped they would not let the merit of the cause suffer by the youth and inexperience of the pleader; that in all things he submitted to their candour; and modestly desired they would not conclude, but that strength of argument and force of reason may be consistent with grace of action and comeliness of person.

To me, who see people every day in the midst of crowds (whomsoever they seem to address to) talk only to themselves and of themselves, this orator was not so extravagant a man as perhaps another would have thought him; but I took part in his success, and was very glad to find he had in his favour judgment and costs without any manner of opposition.

The effects of pride and vanity are of consequence only to the proud and the vain, and tend to no further ill than what is personal to themselves, in preventing their progress in anything that is worthy and laudable, and creating envy instead of emulation of superior virtue. These ill qualities are to be found only in such as have so little minds, as to circumscribe their thoughts and designs within what properly relates to the value which they think due to their dear and amiable selves: but ambition, which is the third great impediment to honour and virtue, is a fault of such as think themselves born for moving in a higher orb, and prefer being powerful and mischievous to being virtuous and obscure. The parent of this mischief in life, so far as to regulate it into schemes, and make it possess a man's whole heart, without his believing himself a demon, was Machiavelli. He first taught, that a man must necessarily appear weak to be honest. Hence it gains upon the imagination, that a great is not so despicable as a little villain; and men are insensibly led to a belief, that the aggravation of crimes is the diminution of them. Hence the impiety of thinking one thing and speaking another. In pursuance of this empty and unsatisfying dream, to betray, to undermine, to kill in themselves all natural sentiments of love to friends or country, is the willing practice of such as are thirsty of power, for any other reason than that of being useful and acceptable to mankind.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Whereas Mr. Bickerstaff has lately received a letter out of Ireland, dated June 9, importing that he is grown very dull, for the postage of which Mr. Morphew charges one shilling; and another without date of place or time, for which he the said Morphew charges twopence: it is desired, that for the future his courteous and uncourteous readers will go a little further in expressing their good and ill-will, and pay for the carriage of their letters, otherwise the intended pleasure or pain which is designed for Mr. Bickerstaff will be wholly disappointed.

[Footnote 309: See Nos. 30, 39, 138.]

No. 187. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, June 17_, to _Tuesday, June 20, 1710_.

----Pudet haec opprobria nobis
Et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli.
OVID, Met. i. 758.

* * * * *

_From my own Apartment, June 19._

_Pasquin of Rome to Isaac Bickerstaff of London._[310]

"His Holiness is gone to Castel Gandolpho, much discomposed at some
late accounts from the missionaries in your island: for a committee
of cardinals, which lately sat for the reviving the force of some
obsolete doctrines, and drawing up amendments to certain points of
faith, have represented the Church of Rome to be in great danger,
from a treatise written by a learned Englishman, which carries
spiritual power much higher than we could have dared to have
attempted even here. His book is called, 'An Epistolary Discourse,
proving from the Scriptures and the First Fathers, that the Soul is
a Principle naturally Mortal: wherein is proved, that none have the
Power of giving this Divine immortalising Spirit since the
Apostles, but the Bishops.' By Henry Dodwell, A.M.[311] The
assertion appeared to our _literati_ so short and effectual method
of subjecting the laity, that it is feared auricular confession and
absolution will not be capable of keeping the clergy of Rome in any
degree of greatness, in competition with such teachers whose flocks
shall receive this opinion. What gives the greater jealousy here
is, that in the catalogue of treatises which have been lately burnt
within the British territories, there is no mention made of this
learned work; which circumstance is a sort of implication, that the
tenet is not held erroneous, but that the doctrine is received
amongst you as orthodox. The youth of this place are very much
divided in opinion, whether a very memorable quotation which the
author repeats out of Tertullian, be not rather of the style and
manner of Meursius? _In illo ipso voluptatis aestu quo genitale
virus expellitur, nonne aliquid de anima quoque, sentimus exire,
atque, adeo marcessimus et devigescimus cum lucis detrimento?_ This
piece of Latin goes no further than to tell us how our fathers got
us, so that we are still at a loss how we afterwards commence
eternal; for _creando infunditur, et infundendo creatur_, which is
mentioned soon after, may allude only to flesh and blood as well as
the former. Your readers in this city, some of whom have very much
approved the warmth with which you have attacked free-thinkers,
atheists, and other enemies to religion and virtue, are very much
disturbed that you have given them no account of this remarkable
dissertation: and I am employed by them to desire you would with
all possible expedition send me over the ceremony of the creation
of souls, as well as a list of all the mortal and immortal men
within the dominions of Great Britain. When you have done me this
favour, I must trouble you for other tokens of your kindness, and
particularly I desire you would let me have the religious
handkerchief,[312] which is of late so much worn in England, for I
have promised to make a present of it to a courtesan of a French
Minister.

"Letters from the frontiers of France inform us, that a young
gentleman[313] who was to have been created a cardinal on the next
promotion, has put off his design of coming to Rome so soon as was
intended, having, as it is said, received letters from Great
Britain, wherein several virtuosi of that island have desired him
to suspend his resolutions towards a monastic life, till the
British grammarians shall publish their explication of the words
'indefeasible' and 'revolution.' According as these two hard terms
are made to fit the mouths of the people, this gentleman takes his
measures for his journey hither.

"Your 'New Bedlam' has been read and considered by some of your
countrymen among us; and one gentleman, who is now here as a
traveller, says your design is impracticable, for that there can be
no place large enough to contain the number of your lunatics. He
advises you therefore to name the ambient sea for the boundary of
your hospital. If what he says be true, I do not see how you can
think of any other enclosure; for according to his discourse, the
whole people are taken with a vertigo; great and popular actions
are received with coldness and discontent; ill news hoped for with
impatience; heroes in your service are treated with calumny, while
criminals pass through your towns with acclamations.[314]

"This Englishman went on to say, you seemed at present to flag
under a satiety of success, as if you wanted misfortune as a
necessary vicissitude. Yet, alas! though men have but a cold relish
of prosperity, quick is the anguish of the contrary fortune. He
proceeded to make comparisons of times, seasons, and great
incidents. After which he grew too learned for my understanding,
and talked of Hanno the Carthaginian, and his irreconcilable hatred
to the glorious commander Hannibal. Hannibal, said he, was able to
march to Rome itself, and brought that ambitious people, which
designed no less than the empire of the world, to sue for peace in
the most abject and servile manner; when faction at home detracted
from the glory of his actions, and after many artifices, at last
prevailed with the Senate to recall him from the midst of his
victories, and in the very instant when he was to reap the benefit
of all his toils, by reducing the then common enemy of all nations
which had liberty to reason. When Hannibal heard the message of the
Carthaginian senators who were sent to recall him, he was moved
with a generous and disdainful sorrow, and is reported to have
said, 'Hannibal then must be conquered not by the arms of the
Romans, whom he has often put to flight, but by the envy and
detraction of his countrymen. Nor shall Scipio triumph so much in
his fall as Hanno, who will smile to have purchased the ruin of
Hannibal, though attended with the fall of Carthage.'[315]

"I am, Sir, &c.
"PASQUIN."

_Will's Coffee-house, June 19._

There is a sensible satisfaction in observing the countenance and action of the people on some occasions. To gratify myself in this pleasure, I came hither with all speed this evening with an account of the surrender of Douay. As soon as the battle-critics[316] heard it, they immediately drew some comfort, in that it must have cost us a great deal of men. Others were so negligent of the glory of their country, that they went on in their discourse on the full house which is to be at "Othello" on Thursday, and the curiosity they should go with to see Wilks play a part so very different from what he had ever before appeared in, together with the expectation that was raised in the gay part of the town on that occasion.

This universal indolence and inattention among us to things that concern the public, made me look back with the highest reverence on the glorious instances in antiquity, of a contrary behaviour in the like circumstances. Harry English, upon observing the room so little roused on the news, fell into the same way of thinking. "How unlike," said he, "Mr. Bickerstaff, are we to the old Romans! There was not a subject of their State but thought himself as much concerned in the honour of his country, as the first officer of the commonwealth. How do I admire the messenger, who ran with a thorn in his foot to tell the news of a victory to the Senate! He had not leisure for his private pain, till he had expressed his public joy; nor could he suffer as a man, till he had triumphed as a Roman."

[Footnote 310: See No. 129. In Lillie's "Letters sent to the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_" (i. 56) there is a letter from "Orontes" to Mr. Bickerstaff, dated July 6, 1710, referring to this and to No. 190, in which the writer says: "You would do yourself a grand favour, if you would break off acquaintance with the Italian Pasquin, and not disturb yourself with principles which are as far above your thoughts as the probability of your discovering the philosopher's stone." A censor should not be among the factions.]

[Footnote 311: See No. 118.]

[Footnote 312: Handkerchiefs printed with pictures of Dr. Sacheverell.]

[Footnote 313: The Pretender.]

[Footnote 314: Dr. Sacheverell received many popular ovations while he was suspended from preaching: "Lest these brethren in iniquity [the _Observator_ and the _Review_] should not prove sufficient to poison the nation, sow sedition plentifully, and ripen rebellion to a fruitful harvest of blood and rapine, a third person [the _Tatler_] who for a considerable time hath diverted the Town with the most useful and pleasing amusements our age ever produced, hath joined in the cry with them, in hopes, no doubt, that by his additional strength they shall become such a formidable Triumvirate that all opposition must fall before them, and the Church irresistibly submit to that fate which the other two have so long endeavoured to procure by their seditious popular harangues.... Our third gentleman is pleased to tell us, '_That great and popular actions_,' &c. This is a subtle way to create jealousies and divisions amongst us, noways becoming the character of a gentleman, or an ingenuous education. Pray, sir, speak plain, and don't instil your poison secretly, and stab in the dark. What heroes in our service are treated with calumny? Who do you mean by your Hanno and Hannibal? All the nation owns and glories in the noble actions of our great Duke of Marlborough" (_Moderator_, No. 13, June 30 to July 3, 1710). The next number of the _Moderator_, No. 14, is upon the same subject, and is largely occupied with a discussion of the legal question mentioned in the _Tatler_, No. 190. The writer speaks of the brains of the common people, who are too apt to censure the actions of their superiors, as "set on work by a person who has gained their esteem by his learned Lucubrations." "They are assured that a gentleman of his bright parts and learning must be intimately acquainted with persons of the first rank and quality, from whom he learns these high and important secrets which he thus generously communicates to the world." If any one, therefore, pretends that the author's meaning is that the "Duke of Marlborough is likely to be ruined by the Lord Treasurer's converting to other uses that money which our Senate voted for our General's service, who is to be blamed for the vile aspersion?" Ministers should take care that the spreaders of such false reports shall know to their cost that the Act respecting false and slanderous news is still in force.]

[Footnote 315: The conclusion of Pasquin's letter alludes to the following allegorical piece, the publication of which was just then recent: "The History of Hannibal and Hanno, &c., collected from the best authors, by A. M., Esq." It is reprinted in "The Life and Posthumous Writings" of Arthur Maynwaring, 1715. See No. 190.]

[Footnote 316: See No. 65.]

No. 188. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, June 20_, to _Thursday, June 22, 1710_.

Quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?
VIRG., AEn. i. 460.

* * * * *

_From my own Apartment. June 21._

I was this morning looking over my letters that I have lately received from my several correspondents; some of which referring to my late papers, I have laid aside, with an intent to give my reader a sight of them. The first criticises upon my greenhouse, and is as follows:

"MR. BICKERSTAFF, "South Wales, _June 7_.

"This letter comes to you from my orangery, which I intend to
reform as much as I can, according to your ingenious model, and
shall only beg of you to communicate to me your secret of
preserving grass-plots in a covered room;[317] for in the climate
where my country-seat lies, they require rain and dews as well as
sun and fresh air, and cannot live upon such fine food as your
'sifted weather.' I must likewise desire you to write over your
greenhouse the following motto:

"_Hic ver perpetuum, atque alienis mensibus aestas._

instead of your

"_O! qui me gelidis sub montibus Haemi
Sistat, et ingenti ramorum protegat umbra!_[318]

which, under favour, is the panting of one in summer after cool
shades, and not of one in winter after a summer-house. The rest of
your plan is very beautiful; and that your friend who has so well
described it may enjoy it many winters, is the hearty wish of

"His and your Unknown," &c.

This oversight of a grass-plot in my friend's greenhouse, puts me in mind of a like inconsistency in a celebrated picture, where Moses is represented as striking a rock, and the Children of Israel quenching their thirst at the waters that flow from it, and run through a beautiful landscape of groves and meadows, which could not flourish in a place where water was to have been found only by a miracle.

The next letter comes to me from a Kentish yeoman, who is very angry with me for my advice to parents, occasioned by the amours of Sylvia and Philander, as related in my paper, No. 185:

"SQUIRE BICKERSTAFF,

"I don't know by what chance one of your _Tatlers_ is got into my
family, and has almost turned the brains of my eldest daughter
Winifred, who has been so undutiful as to fall in love of her own
head, and tells me a foolish heathen story that she has read in
your paper to persuade me to give my consent. I am too wise to let
children have their own wills in a business like marriage. It is a
matter in which neither I myself, nor any of my kindred, were ever
humoured. My wife and I never pretended to love one another like
your Sylvias and Philanders; and yet if you saw our fireside, you
would be satisfied we are not always a-squabbling. For my part, I
think that where man and woman come together by their own good
liking, there is so much fondling and fooling, that it hinders
young people from minding their business. I must therefore desire
you to change your note, and instead of advising us old folks, who
perhaps have more wit than yourself, to let Sylvia know, that she
ought to act like a dutiful daughter, and marry the man that she
does not care for. Our great-grandmothers were all bid to marry
first, and love would come afterwards; and I don't see why their
daughters should follow their own inventions. I am resolved
Winifred shan't.

"Yours," &c.

This letter is a natural picture of ordinary contracts, and of the sentiments of those minds that lie under a kind of intellectual rusticity. This trifling occasion made me run over in my imagination the many scenes I have observed of the married condition, wherein the quintessence of pleasure and pain are represented as they accompany that state, and no other. It is certain, there are a thousand thousand like the above-mentioned yeoman and his wife, who are never highly pleased or distasted in their whole lives: but when we consider the more informed part of mankind, and look upon their behaviour, it then appears that very little of their time is indifferent, but generally spent in the most anxious vexation, or the highest satisfaction. Shakespeare has admirably represented both the aspects of this state in the most excellent tragedy of "Othello." In the character of Desdemona, he runs through all the sentiments of a virtuous maid and a tender wife. She is captivated by his virtue, and faithful to him, as well from that motive, as regard to her own honour. Othello is a great and noble spirit, misled by the villany of a false friend to suspect her innocence, and resents it accordingly. When after the many instances of passion the wife is told her husband is jealous, her simplicity makes her incapable of believing it, and say, after such circumstances as would drive another woman into distraction,

"_I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humours from him._"[319]

This opinion of him is so just, that his noble and tender heart beats itself to pieces before he can affront her with the mention of his jealousy; and owns, this suspicion has blotted out all the sense of glory and happiness which before it was possessed with, when he laments himself in the warm allusions of a mind accustomed to entertainments so very different from the pangs of jealousy and revenge. How moving is his sorrow, when he cries out as follows:

"_I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh now! for ever
Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content,
Farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! Oh farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And oh ye mortal engines! whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone._[320]"

I believe I may venture to say, there is not in any other part of Shakespeare's works more strong and lively pictures of nature than in this. I shall therefore steal incog. to see it, out of curiosity to observe how Wilks and Cibber touch those places where Betterton[321] and Sandford[322] so very highly excelled. But now I am got into a discourse of acting, with which I am so professedly pleased, I shall conclude this paper with a note I have just received from the two ingenious friends, Mr. Penkethman[323] and Mr. Bullock:[324]

"SIR,

"Finding by your paper, No. 182, that you are drawing parallels
between the greatest actors of the age; as you have already begun
with Mr. Wilks and Mr. Cibber, we desire you would do the same
justice to your humble Servants,

"WILLIAM BULLOCK, and
"WILLIAM PENKETHMAN."

For the information of posterity, I shall comply with this letter, and set these two great men in such a light as Sallust has placed his Cato and Caesar.

Mr. William Bullock and Mr. William Penkethman are of the same age, profession, and sex. They both distinguish themselves in a very particular manner under the discipline of the crabtree, with this only difference, that Mr. Bullock has the most agreeable squawl, and Mr. Penkethman the more graceful shrug. Penkethman devours a cold chicken with great applause; Bullock's talent lies chiefly in asparagus. Penkethman is very dexterous at conveying himself under a table; Bullock is no less active at jumping over a stick. Mr. Penkethman has a great deal of money, but Mr. Bullock is the taller man.

[Footnote 317: See No. 179.]

[Footnote 318: Virgil, "Georg." ii. 488 ("In vallibus Haemi").]

[Footnote 319: "Othello," act iii. sc. 4.]

[Footnote 320: "Othello," act iii. sc. 3.]

[Footnote 321: See Nos. 1, 71, 157, 167.]

[Footnote 322: See No. 134.]

[Footnote 323: See No. 4.]

[Footnote 324: See No. 7.]

No. 189. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, June 22_, to _Saturday, June 24, 1710_.

Est in juvencis, est in equis patrum
Virtus; neque imbellem feroces
Progenerant aquilae columbam.
HOR., 4 Od. iv. 30.

* * * * *

_From my own Apartment, June 23._

Having lately turned my thoughts upon the consideration of the behaviour of parents to children in the great affair of marriage,[325] I took much delight in turning over a bundle of letters which a gentleman's steward in the country had sent me some time ago. This parcel is a collection of letters written by the children of the family to which he belongs to their father, and contain all the little passages of their lives, and the new ideas they received as their years advanced. There is in them an account of their diversions as well as their exercises; and what I thought very remarkable, is, that two sons of the family, who now make considerable figures in the world, gave omens of that sort of character which they now bear, in the first rudiments of thought which they show in their letters. Were one to point out a method of education, one could not, methinks, frame one more pleasing or improving than this; where the children get a habit of communicating their thoughts and inclinations to their best friend with so much freedom, that he can form schemes for their future life and conduct from an observation of their tempers, and by that means be early enough in choosing their way of life, to make them forward in some art or science at an age when others have not determined what profession to follow. As to the persons concerned in this packet I am speaking of, they have given great proofs of the force of this conduct of their father in the effect it has had upon their lives and manners. The elder, who is a scholar, showed from his infancy a propensity to polite studies, and has made a suitable progress in literature; but his learning is so well woven into his mind, that from the impressions of it, he seems rather to have contracted a habit of life, than manner of discourse. To his books he seems to owe a good economy in his affairs, and a complacency in his manners, though in others that way of education has commonly a quite different effect. The epistles of the other son are full of accounts of what he thought most remarkable in his reading. He sends his father for news the last noble story he had read. I observe, he is particularly touched with the conduct of Codrus, who plotted his own death, because the oracle had said, if he were not killed, the enemy should prevail over his country. Many other incidents in his little letters give omens of a soul capable of generous undertakings; and what makes it the more particular is, that this gentleman had, in the present war, the honour and happiness of doing an action for which only it was worth coming into the world. Their father is the most intimate friend they have, and they always consult him rather than any other, when any error has happened in their conduct through youth and inadvertency. The behaviour of this gentleman to his sons has made his life pass away with the pleasures of a second youth; for as the vexations which men receive from their children hasten the approach of age and double the force of years; so the comforts which they reap from them are balm to all other sorrows, and disappoint the injuries of time. Parents of children repeat their lives in their offspring, and their concern for them is so near, that they feel all their sufferings and enjoyments as much as if they regarded their own proper persons. But it is generally so far otherwise, that the common race of squires in this kingdom use their sons as persons that are waiting only for their funerals, and spies upon their health and happiness; as indeed they are by their own making them such. In cases where a man takes the liberty after this manner to reprehend others, it is commonly said, "Let him look at home." I am sorry to own it; but there is one branch of the house of the Bickerstaffs, who have been as erroneous in their conduct this way as any other family whatsoever. The head of this branch is now in town, and has brought up with him his son and daughter (who are all the children he has) in order to be put some way into the world, and see fashions. They are both very ill-bred cubs, and having lived together from their infancy without knowledge of the distinctions and decencies that are proper to be paid to each other's sex, they squabble like two brothers. The father is one of those who knows no better than that all pleasure is debauchery, and imagines, when he sees a man become his estate, that he will certainly spend it. This branch are a people who never had among them one man eminent either for good or ill; however, have all along kept their heads just above water, not by a prudent and regular economy, but by expedients in the matches they have made into their house. When one of the family has, in the pursuit of foxes, and in the entertainment of clowns, run out the third part of the value of his estate, such a spendthrift has dressed up his eldest son, and married what they call a good fortune, who has supported the father as a tyrant over them, during his life, in the same house or neighbourhood. The son in succession has just taken the same method to keep up his dignity, till the mortgages he has ate and drank himself into, have reduced him to the necessity of sacrificing his son also, in imitation of his progenitor. This had been for many generations the whole that had happened in the family of Sam. Bickerstaff, till the time of my present cousin Samuel, the father of the young people we have just now spoken of.

Samuel Bickerstaff, Esq., is so happy, as that by several legacies from distant relations, deaths of maiden sisters, and other instances of good fortune, he has, besides his real estate, a great sum of ready money. His son at the same time knows he has a good fortune, which the father cannot alienate, though he strives to make him believe he depends only on his will for maintenance. Tom is now in his nineteenth year, Mrs. Mary in her fifteenth. Cousin Samuel, who understands no one point of good behaviour as it regards all the rest of the world, is an exact critic in the dress, the motion, the looks and gestures of his children. What adds to their misery is, that he is excessively fond of them, and the greatest part of their time is spent in the presence of this nice observer. Their life is one continued constraint. The girl never turns her head, but she is warned not to follow the proud minxes of the town. The boy is not to turn fop, or be quarrelsome; at the same time not to take an affront. I had the good fortune to dine with him to-day, and heard his fatherly table-talk as we sat at dinner, which, if my memory does not fail me, for the benefit of the world, I shall set down as he spoke it, which was much as follows, and may be of great use to those parents who seem to make it a rule, that their children's turn to enjoy the world is not to commence till they themselves have left it.

"Now, Tom, I have bought you chambers in the Inns of Court. I allow
you to take a walk once or twice a day round the garden. If you
mind your business, you need not study to be as great a lawyer as
Coke upon Littleton. I have that that will keep you; but be sure
you keep an exact account of your linen. Write down what you give
out to your laundress, and what she brings home again. Go as little
as possible to the other end of the town; but if you do, come home
early. I believe I was as sharp as you for your years, and I had my
hat snatched off my head coming home late at a shop by St.
Clement's Church, and I don't know from that day to this who took
it. I do not care if you learn to fence a little, for I would not
have you be made a fool of. Let me have an account of everything
every post; I am willing to be at that charge, and I think you need
not spare your pains. As for you, daughter Molly, don't mind one
word that is said to you in London, for it is only for your
money."[326]

[Footnote 325: See No. 185.]

[Footnote 326: It has been suggested that the latter part of this paper may refer to Dr. Gilbert Budgell and his son Eustace, Addison's cousin. (See "Grand Magazine," i. 391, _seq._; and Cibber's "Lives of the Poets," vol. v.) On the death of his father in 1711, Eustace Budgell came into possession of an estate of L950 a year.]

No. 190. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, June 24_, to _Tuesday, June 27, 1710_.

----Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.--VIRG., AEn. ii. 49.

* * * * *

_Sheer Lane, June 26._

There are some occasions in life, wherein regards to a man's self is the most pitiful and contemptible of all passions; and such a time certainly is when the true public spirit of a nation is run into a faction against their friends and benefactors. I have hinted heretofore some things which discover the real sorrow I am in at the observation, that it is now very much so in Great Britain, and have had the honour to be pelted with several epistles to expostulate with me on that subject;[327] among others, one from a person of the number of those they call Quakers, who seems to admonish me out of pure zeal and goodwill. But as there is no character so unjust as that of talking in party upon all occasions, without respect to merit or worth on the contrary side, so there is no part we can act so justifiable as to speak our mind when we see things urged to extremity, against all that is praiseworthy or valuable in life, upon general and groundless suggestions. But if I have talked too frankly upon such reflections, my correspondent has laid before me, after his way, the error of it in a manner that makes me indeed thankful for his kindness, but the more inclinable to repeat the imprudence from the necessity of the circumstance:

"The 23rd of the 6th month,
which is the month _June_.
"FRIEND ISAAC,

"Forasmuch as I love thee, I cannot any longer refrain declaring my
mind unto thee concerning some things. Thou didst thyself indite
the epistle inserted in one of thy late Lucubrations, as thou
wouldst have us call them: for verily thy friend of stone,[328] and
I speak according to knowledge, hath no fingers; and though he hath
a mouth, yet speaketh he not therewith; nor yet did that epistle at
all come unto thee from the mansion-house of the Scarlet Whore. It
is plain therefore, that the truth is not in thee: but since thou
wouldst lie, couldst thou not lie with more discretion? Wherefore
shouldst thou insult over the afflicted, or add sorrow unto the
heavy of heart? Truly this gall proceedeth not from the spirit of
meekness. I tell thee moreover, the people of this land be
marvellously given to change; insomuch that it may likely come to
pass, that before thou art many years nearer to thy dissolution,
thou mayest behold him sitting on a high place whom thou now
laughest to scorn: and then how wilt thou be glad to humble thyself
to the ground, and lick the dust of his feet, that thou mayest find
favour in his sight? If thou didst meditate as much upon the Word
as thou dost upon the profane scribblings of the wise ones of this
generation, thou wouldst have remembered what happened unto Shimei,
the son of Gera the Benjamite, who cursed the good man David in his
distress.[329] David pardoned his transgression, yet was he
afterwards taken as in a snare by the words of his own mouth, and
fell by the sword of Solomon the chief ruler.[330]Furthermore, I do
not remember to have heard in the days of my youth and vanity, when,
like thine, my conversation was with the Gentiles, that the men of
Rome, which is Babylon, ever sued unto the men of Carthage for
tranquillity, as thou dost aver: neither was Hannibal, the son of
Hamilcar, called home by his countrymen, till these saw the sword
of their enemies at their gates; and then was it not time for him,
thinkest thou, to return? It appeareth therefore that thou dost
prophecy backwards; thou dost row one way, and look another; and
indeed in all things art thou too much a time-server; yet seemest
thou not to consider what a day may bring forth. Think of this, and
take tobacco.

"Thy Friend,
"AMINADAB."

If the zealous writer of the above letter has any meaning, it is of too high a nature to be the subject of my Lucubrations. I shall therefore waive such high points, and be as useful as I can to persons of less moment than any he hints at. When a man runs into a little fame in the world, as he meets with a great deal of reproach which he does not deserve, so does he also a great deal of esteem to which he has in himself no pretensions. Were it otherwise, I am sure no one would offer to put a law case to me: but because I am an adept in physic and astrology, they will needs persuade me that I am no less a proficient in all other sciences. However, the point mentioned in the following letter is so plain a one, that I think I need not trouble myself to cast a figure to be able to discuss it.

"MR. BICKERSTAFF,

"It is some years ago since the entail of the estate of our family
was altered, by passing a fine in favour of me (who now am in
possession of it) after some others deceased. The heirs-general,
who live beyond sea, were excluded by this settlement, and the
whole estate is to pass in a new channel after me and my heirs. But
several tenants of the lordship persuade me to let them hereafter
hold their lands of me according to the old customs of the barony,
and not oblige them to act by the limitations of the last
settlement. This, they say, will make me more popular among my
dependants, and the ancient vassals of the estate, to whom any
deviation from the line of succession is always invidious.

"Yours," &c.

"SIR, "Sheer Lane, _June 24._

"You have by the fine a plain right, in which none else of your
family can be your competitor; for which reason, by all means
demand vassalage upon that title. The contrary advice can be given
for no other purpose in nature but to betray you, and favour other
pretenders, by making you place a right which is in you only, upon
a level with a right which you have in common with others. I am,

"Sir,
"Your most faithful
"Servant till death,
"I. B."

There is nothing so dangerous or so pleasing, as compliments made to us by our enemies: and my correspondent tells me, that though he knows several of those who give him this counsel were at first against passing the fine in favour of him; yet is he so touched with their homage to him, that he can hardly believe they have a mind to set it aside, in order to introduce the heirs-general into his estate.

These are great evils; but since there is no proceeding with success in this world, without complying with the arts of it, I shall use the same method as my correspondent's tenants did with him, in relation to one whom I never had a kindness for; but shall, notwithstanding, presume to give him my advice.

"_Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., of Great Britain, to Lewis XIV. of
France._

"SIR,

"Your Majesty will pardon me while I take the liberty to acquaint
you, that some passages written from your side of the water do very
much obstruct your interests. We take it very unkindly that the
prints of Paris are so very partial in favour of one set of men
among us, and treat the others as irreconcilable to your interests.
Your writers are very large in recounting anything which relates to
the figure and power of one party, but are dumb when they should
represent the actions of the other. This is a trifling circumstance
many here are apt to lay some stress upon; therefore I thought fit
to offer it to your consideration before you despatch the next
courier.

"I. B."[331]

[Footnote 327: Swift may have been among those who protested at the introduction of politics into the _Tatler_ (see No. 187), and Nichols thought that he was the writer of the letter signed "Aminadab" in this number. In June 1710, the fall of the Whigs was rapidly approaching.]

[Footnote 328: Pasquin. See Nos. 129, 130, 187.]

[Footnote 329: 2 Sam. xvi. 13.]

[Footnote 330: 1 Kings ii. 36.]

[Footnote 331: "The Tories happen now to have other work upon their hands, and are not at leisure to return the civilities that are paid them; however, having had the honour of a letter from the King of France ... they have sent in their answer to me, and desire me to forward it; but I am at a loss how to do this, unless my brother the _Tatler_ will convey it under his cover, for I protest I know no man in England but him that holds a correspondence with his Christian Majesty" (_Examiner_, No. 2, August 10, 1710).]

No. 191. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, June 27_, to _Thursday, June 29, 1710_.

----Propter vitam vivendi perdere causas.--JUV., Sat. viii. 84.

* * * * *

_From my own Apartment, June 28._

Of all the evils under the sun, that of making vice commendable is the greatest: for it seems to be the basis of society, that applause and contempt should be always given to proper objects. But in this age we behold things for which we ought to have an abhorrence, not only received without disdain, but even valued as motives of emulation. This is naturally the destruction of simplicity of manners, openness of heart, and generosity of temper. When one gives oneself the liberty to range, and run over in one's thoughts the different geniuses of men which one meets in the world, one cannot but observe, that most of the indirection and artifice which is used among men, does not proceed so much from a degeneracy in Nature, as an affectation of appearing men of consequence by such practices. By this means it is, that a cunning man is so far from being ashamed of being esteemed such, that he secretly rejoices in it. It has been a sort of maxim, that the greatest art is to conceal art; but I know not how, among some people we meet with, their greatest cunning is to appear cunning. There is Polypragmon[332] makes it the whole business of his life to be thought a cunning fellow, and thinks it a much greater character to be terrible than agreeable. When it has once entered into a man's head to have an ambition to be thought crafty, all other evils are necessary consequences. To deceive is the immediate endeavour of him who is proud of the capacity of doing it. It is certain, Polypragmon does all the ill he possibly can, but pretends to much more than he performs. He is contented in his own thoughts, and hugs himself in his closet, that though he is locked up there and doing nothing, the world does not know but that he is doing mischief. To favour this suspicion, he gives half-looks and shrugs in his general behaviour, to give you to understand that you don't know what he means. He is also wonderfully adverbial in his expressions, and breaks off with a "perhaps" and a nod of the head, upon matters of the most indifferent nature. It is a mighty practice with men of this genius to avoid frequent appearance in public, and to be as mysterious as possible when they do come into company. There is nothing to be done, according to them, the common way; and let the matter in hand be what it will, it must be carried with an air of importance, and transacted, if we may so speak, with an ostentatious secrecy. These are your persons of long heads, who would fain make the world believe their thoughts and ideas are very much superior to their neighbours', and do not value what these their neighbours think of them, provided they do not reckon them fools. These have such a romantic touch in business, that they hate to perform anything like other men. Were it in their choice, they had rather bring their purposes to bear by overreaching the persons they deal with, than by a plain and simple manner. They make difficulties for the honour of surmounting them. Polypragmon is eternally busied after this manner, with no other prospect, than that he is in hopes to be thought the most cunning of all men, and fears the imputation of want of understanding much more than that of the abuse of it. But alas! how contemptible is such an ambition, which is the very reverse of all that is truly laudable, and the very contradiction to the only means to a just reputation, simplicity of manners? Cunning can in no circumstance imaginable be a quality worthy a man except in his own defence, and merely to conceal himself from such as are so; and in such cases it is no longer craft, but wisdom. The monstrous affectation of being thought artful immediately kills all thoughts of humanity and goodness, and gives men a sense of the soft affections and impulses of the mind (which are imprinted in us for our mutual advantage and succour) as of mere weaknesses and follies. According to the men of cunning, you are to put off the nature of a man as fast as you can, and acquire that of a demon, as if it were a more eligible character to be a powerful enemy than an able friend. But it ought to be a mortification to men affected this way, that there wants but little more than instinct to be considerable in it; for when a man has arrived at being very bad in his inclination, he has not much more to do, but to conceal himself, and he may revenge, cheat, and deceive, without much employment for understanding, and go on with great cheerfulness with the high applause of being a prodigious cunning fellow. But indeed, when we arrive at that pitch of false taste, as not to think cunning a contemptible quality, it is, methinks, a very great injustice that pick-pockets are had in so little veneration, who must be admirably well turned, not only for the theoretic, but also the practical behaviour of cunning fellows. After all the endeavour of this family of men whom we call cunning, their whole work falls to pieces, if others will lay down all esteem for such artifices, and treat it as an unmanly quality, which they forbear to practise only because they abhor it. When the spider is ranging in the different apartments of his web, it is true that he only can weave so fine a thread; but it is in the power of the merest drone that has wings to fly through and destroy it.

_Will's Coffee-house, June 28._