Chapter XXXVI: Introduction (36)

However that is, I humbly conceive the Business of a Levée is to receive the Acknowledgments of a Multitude, that a Man is Wise, [Bounteous, [4]] Valiant and Powerful. When the first Shot of Eyes [is [5]] made, it is wonderful to observe how much Submission the Patron's Modesty can bear, and how much Servitude the Client's Spirit can descend to. In the vast Multiplicity of Business, and the Crowd about him, my Lord's Parts are usually so great, that, to the Astonishment of the whole Assembly, he has something to say to every Man there, and that so suitable to his Capacity, as any Man may judge that it is not without Talents that Men can arrive at great Employments. I have known a great Man ask a Flag-Officer, which way was the Wind, a Commander of Horse the present Price of Oats, and a Stock-jobber at what Discount such a Fund was, with as much Ease as if he had been bred to each of those several Ways of Life. Now this is extreamly obliging; for at the same time that the Patron informs himself of Matters, he gives the Person of whom he enquires an Opportunity to exert himself. What adds to the Pomp of those Interviews is, that it is performed with the greatest Silence and Order Imaginable. The Patron is usually in the midst of the Room, and some humble Person gives him a Whisper, which his Lordship answers aloud, It is well. Yes, I am of your Opinion. Pray inform yourself further, you may be sure of my Part in it. This happy Man is dismissed, and my Lord can turn himself to a Business of a quite different Nature, and offhand give as good an Answer as any great Man is obliged to. For the chief Point is to keep in Generals, and if there be any thing offered that's Particular, to be in haste.

But we are now in the Height of the Affair, and my Lord's Creatures have all had their Whispers round to keep up the Farce of the thing, and the Dumb Show is become more general. He casts his Eye to that Corner, and there to Mr. such-a-one; to the other, and when did you come to Town? And perhaps just before he nods to another, and enters with him, but, Sir, I am glad to see you, now I think of it. Each of those are happy for the next four and twenty Hours; and those who bow in Ranks undistinguished, and by Dozens at a Time, think they have very good Prospects if they hope to arrive at such Notices half a Year hence.

The Satyrist says, [6] there is seldom common Sense in high Fortune; and one would think, to behold a Levée, that the Great were not only infatuated with their Station, but also that they believed all below were seized too; else how is it possible that they could think of imposing upon themselves and others in such a degree, as to set up a Levée for any thing but a direct Farce? But such is the Weakness of our Nature, that when Men are a little exalted in their Condition, they immediately conceive they have additional Senses, and their Capacities enlarged not only above other Men, but above human Comprehension it self. Thus it is ordinary to see a great Man attend one listning, bow to one at a distance, and call to a third at the same instant. A Girl in new Ribbands is not more taken with her self, nor does she betray more apparent Coquetries, than even a wise Man in such a Circumstance of Courtship. I do not know any thing that I ever thought so very distasteful as the Affectation which is recorded of Cæsar, to wit, that he would dictate to three several Writers at the same time. This was an Ambition below the Greatness and Candour of his Mind. He indeed (if any Man had Pretensions to greater Faculties than any other Mortal) was the Person; but such a Way of acting is Childish, and inconsistent with the Manner of our Being. And it appears from the very Nature of Things, that there cannot be any thing effectually dispatched in the Distraction of a Publick Levée: but the whole seems to be a Conspiracy of a Set of Servile Slaves, to give up their own Liberty to take away their Patron's Understanding.

T.

[Footnote 1: Rope]

[Footnote 2: a skilful servant]

[Footnote 3: I have]

[Footnote 4: Beauteous, and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 5: are]

[Footnote 6: Juvenal, viii, 73.]

* * * * *

No. 194. Friday, October 12, 1711. Steele.

'... Difficili Bile Tumet Jecur.'

Hor.

The present Paper shall consist of two Letters, which observe upon Faults that are easily cured both in Love and Friendship. In the latter, as far as it meerly regards Conversation, the Person who neglects visiting an agreeable Friend is punished in the very Transgression; for a good Companion is not found in every Room we go into. But the Case of Love is of a more delicate Nature, and the Anxiety is inexpressible if every little Instance of Kindness is not reciprocal. There are Things in this Sort of Commerce which there are not Words to express, and a Man may not possibly know how to represent, what yet may tear his Heart into ten thousand Tortures. To be grave to a Man's Mirth, unattentive to his Discourse, or to interrupt either with something that argues a Disinclination to be entertained by him, has in it something so disagreeable, that the utmost Steps which may be made in further Enmity cannot give greater Torment. The gay _Corinna_, who sets up for an Indifference and becoming Heedlessness, gives her Husband all the Torment imaginable out of meer Insolence, with this peculiar Vanity, that she is to look as gay as a Maid in the Character of a Wife. It is no Matter what is the Reason of a Man's Grief, if it be heavy as it is. Her unhappy Man is convinced that she means him no Dishonour, but pines to Death because she will not have so much Deference to him as to avoid the Appearances of it. The Author of the following Letter is perplexed with an Injury that is in a Degree yet less criminal, and yet the Source of the utmost Unhappiness.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

I have read your Papers which relate to Jealousy, and desire your
Advice in my Case, which you will say is not common. I have a Wife, of
whose Virtue I am not in the least doubtful; yet I cannot be satisfied
she loves me, which gives me as great Uneasiness as being faulty the
other Way would do. I know not whether I am not yet more miserable
than in that Case, for she keeps Possession of my Heart, without the
Return of hers. I would desire your Observations upon that Temper in
some Women, who will not condescend to convince their Husbands of
their Innocence or their Love, but are wholly negligent of what
Reflections the poor Men make upon their Conduct (so they cannot call
it Criminal,) when at the same time a little Tenderness of Behaviour,
or Regard to shew an Inclination to please them, would make them
Entirely at Ease. Do not such Women deserve all the Misinterpretation
which they neglect to avoid? Or are they not in the actual Practice of
Guilt, who care not whether they are thought guilty or not? If my Wife
does the most ordinary thing, as visiting her Sister, or taking the
Air with her Mother, it is always carried with the Air of a Secret:
Then she will sometimes tell a thing of no Consequence, as if it was
only Want of Memory made her conceal it before; and this only to dally
with my Anxiety. I have complained to her of this Behaviour in the
gentlest Terms imaginable, and beseeched her not to use him, who
desired only to live with her like an indulgent Friend, as the most
morose and unsociable Husband in the World. It is no easy Matter to
describe our Circumstance, but it is miserable with this Aggravation,
That it might be easily mended, and yet no Remedy endeavoured. She
reads you, and there is a Phrase or two in this Letter which she will
know came from me. If we enter into an Explanation which may tend to
our future Quiet by your Means, you shall have our joint Thanks: In
the mean time I am (as much as I can in this ambiguous Condition be
any thing) _SIR_,

_Your humble Servant_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Give me Leave to make you a Present of a Character not yet described
in your Papers, which is that of a Man who treats his Friend with the
same odd Variety which a Fantastical Female Tyrant practises towards
her Lover. I have for some time had a Friendship with one of these
Mercurial Persons: The Rogue I know loves me, yet takes Advantage of
my Fondness for him to use me as he pleases. We are by Turns the best
Friends and the greatest Strangers imaginable; Sometimes you would
think us inseparable; at other Times he avoids me for a long Time, yet
neither he nor I know why. When we meet next by Chance, he is amazed
he has not seen me, is impatient for an Appointment the same Evening:
and when I expect he should have kept it, I have known him slip away
to another Place; where he has sat reading the News, when there is no
Post; smoaking his Pipe, which he seldom cares for; and staring about
him in Company with whom he has had nothing to do, as if he wondered
how he came there.

That I may state my Case to you the more fully, I shall transcribe
some short Minutes I have taken of him in my Almanack since last
Spring; for you must know there are certain Seasons of the Year,
according to which, I will not say our Friendship, but the Enjoyment
of it rises or falls. In _March_ and _April_ he was as various as the
Weather; In _May_ and part of _June_ I found him the sprightliest
best-humoured Fellow in the World; In the Dog-Days he was much upon
the Indolent; In _September_ very agreeable but very busy; and since
the Glass fell last to changeable, he has made three Appointments with
me, and broke them every one. However I have good Hopes of him this
Winter, especially if you will lend me your Assistance to reform him,
which will be a great Ease and Pleasure to,

_SIR_,
_Your most humble Servant_.
_October_ 9, 1711.

T.

* * * * *

No. 195. Saturday, October 13, 1711. Addison.

[Greek: Náepioi oud' isasin hos_o pléon haemisu pantós, Oud' hoson en maláchaete dè asphodél_o meg honeiar.].--Hes.

There is a Story in the 'Arabian Nights Tales' [1] of a King who had long languished under an ill Habit of Body, and had taken abundance of Remedies to no purpose. At length, says the Fable, a Physician cured him by the following Method: He took an hollow Ball of Wood, and filled it with several Drugs; after which he clos'd it up so artificially that nothing appeared. He likewise took a Mall, and after having hollowed the Handle, and that part which strikes the Ball, he enclosed in them several Drugs after the same Manner as in the Ball it self. He then ordered the Sultan, who was his Patient, to exercise himself early in the Morning with these _rightly prepared_ Instruments, till such time as he should Sweat: When, as the Story goes, the Vertue of the Medicaments perspiring through the Wood, had so good an Influence on the Sultan's Constitution, that they cured him of an Indisposition which all the Compositions he had taken inwardly had not been able to remove. This Eastern Allegory is finely contrived to shew us how beneficial bodily Labour is to Health, and that Exercise is the most effectual Physick. I have described in my Hundred and Fifteenth Paper, from the general Structure and Mechanism of an Human Body, how absolutely necessary Exercise is for its Preservation. I shall in this Place recommend another great Preservative of Health, which in many Cases produces the same Effects as Exercise, and may, in some measure, supply its Place, where Opportunities of Exercise are wanting. The Preservative I am speaking of is Temperance, which has those particular Advantages above all other Means of Health, that it may be practised by all Ranks and Conditions, at any Season or in any Place. It is a kind of Regimen into which every Man may put himself, without Interruption to Business, Expence of Mony, or Loss of Time. If Exercise throws off all Superfluities, Temperance prevents them; if Exercise clears the Vessels, Temperance neither satiates nor overstrains them; if Exercise raises proper Ferments in the Humours, and promotes the Circulation of the Blood, Temperance gives Nature her full Play, and enables her to exert her self in all her Force and Vigour; if Exercise dissipates a growing Distemper, Temperance starves it.

Physick, for the most part, is nothing else but the Substitute of Exercise or Temperance. Medicines are indeed absolutely necessary in acute Distempers, that cannot wait the slow Operations of these two great Instruments of Health; but did Men live in an habitual Course of Exercise and Temperance, there would be but little Occasion for them. Accordingly we find that those Parts of the World are the most healthy, where they subsist by the Chace; and that Men lived longest when their Lives were employed in hunting, and when they had little Food besides what they caught. Blistering, Cupping, Bleeding, are seldom of use but to the Idle and Intemperate; as all those inward Applications which are so much in practice among us, are for the most part nothing else but Expedients to make Luxury consistent with Health. The Apothecary is perpetually employed in countermining the Cook and the Vintner. It is said of Diogenes, [2] that meeting a young Man who was going to a Feast, he took him up in the Street and carried him home to his Friends, as one who was running into imminent Danger, had not he prevented him. What would that Philosopher have said, had he been present at the Gluttony of a modern Meal? Would not he have thought the Master of a Family mad, and have begged his Servants to tie down his Hands, had he seen him devour Fowl, Fish, and Flesh; swallow Oyl and Vinegar, Wines and Spices; throw down Sallads of twenty different Herbs, Sauces of an hundred Ingredients, Confections and Fruits of numberless Sweets and Flavours? What unnatural Motions and Counterferments must such a Medley of Intemperance produce in the Body? For my Part, when I behold a fashionable Table set out in all its Magnificence, I fancy that I see Gouts and Dropsies, Feavers and Lethargies, with other innumerable Distempers lying in Ambuscade among the Dishes.

Nature delights in the most plain and simple Diet. Every Animal, but Man, keeps to one Dish. Herbs are the Food of this Species, Fish of that, and Flesh of a Third. Man falls upon every thing that comes in his Way, not the smallest Fruit or Excrescence of the Earth, scarce a Berry or a Mushroom, can escape him.

It is impossible to lay down any determinate Rule for Temperance, because what is Luxury in one may be Temperance in another; but there are few that have lived any time in the World, who are not Judges of their own Constitutions, so far as to know what Kinds and what Proportions of Food do best agree with them. Were I to consider my Readers as my Patients, and to prescribe such a Kind of Temperance as is accommodated to all Persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our Climate and Way of Living, I would copy the following Rules of a very eminent Physician. Make your whole Repast out of one Dish. If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking any thing Strong, till you have finished your Meal; [at [3]] the same time abstain from all Sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and simple. A Man could not be well guilty of Gluttony, if he stuck to these few obvious and easy Rules. In the first Case there would be no Variety of Tastes to sollicit his Palate, and occasion Excess; nor in the second any artificial Provocatives to relieve Satiety, and create a false Appetite. Were I to prescribe a Rule for Drinking, it should be form'd upon a Saying quoted by Sir William Temple; [4] The first Glass for my self, the second for my Friends, the third for good Humour, and the fourth for mine Enemies. But because it is impossible for one who lives in the World to diet himself always in so Philosophical a manner, I think every Man should have his Days of Abstinence, according as his Constitution will permit. These are great Reliefs to Nature, as they qualifie her for struggling with Hunger and Thirst, whenever any Distemper or Duty of Life may put her upon such Difficulties; and at the same time give her an Opportunity of extricating her self from her Oppressions, and recovering the several Tones and Springs of her distended Vessels. Besides that Abstinence well timed often kills a Sickness in Embryo, and destroys the first Seeds of an Indisposition. It is observed by two or three Ancient Authors, [5] that Socrates, notwithstanding he lived in Athens during that great Plague, which has made so much Noise through all Ages, and has been celebrated at different Times by such eminent Hands; I say, notwithstanding that he lived in the time of this devouring Pestilence, he never caught the least Infection, which those Writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted Temperance which he always observed.

And here I cannot but mention an Observation which I have often made, upon reading the Lives of the Philosophers, and comparing them with any Series of Kings or great Men of the same number. If we consider these Ancient Sages, a great Part of whose Philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious Course of Life, one would think the Life of a Philosopher and the Life of a Man were of two different Dates. For we find that the Generality of these wise Men were nearer an hundred than sixty Years of Age at the Time of their respective Deaths. But the most remarkable Instance of the Efficacy of Temperance towards the procuring of long Life, is what we meet with in a little Book published by Lewis Cornare the Venetian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted Credit, as the late Venetian Ambassador, who was of the same Family, attested more than once in Conversation, when he resided in England. Cornaro, who was the Author of the little Treatise I am mentioning, was of an Infirm Constitution, till about forty, when by obstinately persisting in an exact Course of Temperance, he recovered a perfect State of Health; insomuch that at fourscore he published his Book, which has been translated into English upon the Title of [Sure and certain Methods [6]] of attaining a long and healthy Life. He lived to give a 3rd or 4th Edition of it, and after having passed his hundredth Year, died without Pain or Agony, and like one who falls asleep. The Treatise I mention has been taken notice of by several Eminent Authors, and is written with such a Spirit of Chearfulness, Religion, and good Sense, as are the natural Concomitants of Temperance and Sobriety. The Mixture of the old Man in it is rather a Recommendation than a Discredit to it.

Having designed this Paper as the Sequel to that upon Exercise, I have not here considered Temperance as it is a Moral Virtue, which I shall make the Subject of a future Speculation, but only as it is the Means of Health.

L.

[Footnote 1: 'The History of the Greek King and Douban the Physician' told by the Fisherman to the Genie in the story of 'the Fisherman.']

[Footnote 2: Diog. Laert., 'Lives of the Philosophers', Bk. vi. ch. 2.]

[Footnote 3: and at]

[Footnote 4: Sir William Temple does not quote as a saying, but says himself, near the end of his 'Essay upon Health and Long Life of Government of Diet and Exercise',

'In both which, all excess is to be avoided, especially in the common
use of wine: Whereof the first Glass may pass for Health, the second
for good Humour, the third for our Friends; but the fourth is for our
Enemies.']

[Footnote 5: Diogenes Laertius in 'Life of Socrates'; Ælian in 'Var. Hist.' Bk. xiii.]

[Footnote 6: The Sure Way]

* * * * *

No. 196. Monday, October 15, 1711. Steele.

Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit oequus.

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'There is a particular Fault which I have observed in most of the
Moralists in all Ages, and that is, that they are always professing
themselves, and teaching others to be happy. This State is not to be
arrived at in this Life, therefore I would recommend to you to talk in
an humbler Strain than your Predecessors have done, and instead of
presuming to be happy, instruct us only to be easy. The Thoughts of
him who would be discreet, and aim at practicable things, should turn
upon allaying our Pain rather than promoting our Joy. Great Inquietude
is to be avoided, but great Felicity is not to be attained. The great
Lesson is Æquanimity, a Regularity of Spirit, which is a little above
Chearfulness and below Mirth. Chearfulness is always to be supported
if a Man is out of Pain, but Mirth to a prudent Man should always be
accidental: It should naturally arise out of the Occasion, and the
Occasion seldom be laid for it; for those Tempers who want Mirth to be
pleased, are like the Constitutions which flag without the use of
Brandy. Therefore, I say, let your Precept be, Be easy. That Mind is
dissolute and ungoverned, which must be hurried out of it self by loud
Laughter or sensual Pleasure, or else [be [1]] wholly unactive.

There are a Couple of old Fellows of my Acquaintance who meet every
Day and smoak a Pipe, and by their mutual Love to each other, tho'
they have been Men of Business and Bustle in the World, enjoy a
greater Tranquility than either could have worked himself into by any
Chapter of Seneca. Indolence of Body and Mind, when we aim at no more,
is very frequently enjoyed; but the very Enquiry after Happiness has
something restless in it, which a Man who lives in a Series of
temperate Meals, friendly Conversations, and easy Slumbers, gives
himself no Trouble about. While Men of Refinement are talking of
Tranquility, he possesses it.

What I would by these broken Expressions recommend to you, Mr.
SPECTATOR, is, that you would speak of the Way of Life, which plain
Men may pursue, to fill up the Spaces of Time with Satisfaction. It is
a lamentable Circumstance, that Wisdom, or, as you call it,
Philosophy, should furnish Ideas only for the Learned; and that a Man
must be a Philosopher to know how to pass away his Time agreeably. It
would therefore be worth your Pains to place in an handsome Light the
Relations and Affinities among Men, which render their Conversation
with each other so grateful, that the highest Talents give but an
impotent Pleasure in Comparison with them. You may find Descriptions
and Discourses which will render the Fire-side of an honest Artificer
as entertaining as your own Club is to you. Good-nature has an endless
Source of Pleasure in it; and the Representation of domestick Life,
filled with its natural Gratifications, (instead of the necessary
Vexations which are generally insisted upon in the Writings of the
Witty) will be a very good Office to Society.

The Vicissitudes of Labour and Rest in the lower Part of Mankind, make
their Being pass away with that Sort of Relish which we express by the
Word Comfort; and should be treated of by you, who are a SPECTATOR, as
well as such Subjects which appear indeed more speculative, but are
less instructive. In a word, Sir, I would have you turn your Thoughts
to the Advantage of such as want you most; and shew that Simplicity,
Innocence, Industry and Temperance, are Arts which lead to
Tranquility, as much as Learning, Wisdom, Knowledge, and
Contemplation.

I am, Sir,

Your most Humble Servant,

'T. B.'

Hackney, [October 12. [2]]

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am the young Woman whom you did so much Justice to some time ago,
in acknowledging that I am perfect Mistress of the Fan, and use it
with the utmost Knowledge and Dexterity. Indeed the World, as
malicious as it is, will allow, that from an Hurry of Laughter I
recollect my self the most suddenly, make a Curtesie, and let fall my
Hands before me, closing my Fan at the same instant, the best of any
Woman in England. I am not a little delighted that I have had your
Notice and Approbation; and however other young Women may rally me out
of Envy, I triumph in it, and demand a Place in your Friendship. You
must therefore permit me to lay before you the present State of my
Mind. I was reading your Spectator of the 9th Instant, and thought the
Circumstance of the Ass divided between two Bundles of Hay which
equally affected his Senses, was a lively Representation of my present
Condition: For you are to now that I am extremely enamoured with two
young Gentlemen who at this time pretend to me. One must hide nothing
when one is asking Advice, therefore I will own to you, that I am very
amorous and very covetous. My Lover _Will_ is very rich, and my
Lover _Tom_ very handsome. I can have either of them when I
please; but when I debate the Question in my own Mind, I cannot take
_Tom_ for fear of losing _Will_'s Estate, nor enter upon
_Will's_ Estate, and bid adieu to _Tom_'s Person. I am very
young, and yet no one in the World, dear Sir, has the main Chance more
in her Head than myself. _Tom_ is the gayest, the blithest
Creature! He dances well, is very civil, and diverting at all Hours
and Seasons. Oh, he is the Joy of my Eyes! But then again _Will_
is so very rich and careful of the Main. How many pretty Dresses does
_Tom_ appear in to charm me! But then it immediately occurs to
me, that a Man of his Circumstances is so much the poorer. Upon the
whole I have at last examined both these Desires of Loves and Avarice,
and upon strictly weighing the Matter I begin to think I shall be
covetous longer than fond; therefore if you have nothing to say to the
contrary, I shall take _Will_. Alas, poor _Tom_!

_Your Humble Servant_,
BIDDY LOVELESS.

T.

[Footnote 1: is]

[Footnote 2: the 12th of October.]

* * * * *

No. 197. Saturday, October 16, 1711. Budgell

'Alter rixatur de lanâ sæpe caprinâ,
Propugnat nugis armatus: scilicet, ut non
Sit mihi prima fides; et vere quod placet, ut non
Acriter elatrem, pretium ætas altera sordet.
Ambigitur quid enim? Castor sciat an Docilis plus,
Brundusium Numici melius via ducat an Appî.'

Hor.

Every Age a Man passes through, and Way of Life he engages in, has some particular Vice or Imperfection naturally cleaving to it, which it wil require his nicest Care to avoid. The several Weaknesses, to which Youth, Old Age and Manhood are exposed, have long since been set down by many both of the Poets and Philosophers; but I do not remember to have met with any Author who has treated of those ill Habits Men are subject to, not so much by reason of their different Ages and Tempers, as the particular Profession or Business in which they were educated and brought up.

I am the more surprised to find this Subject so little touched on, since what I am here speaking of is so apparent as not to escape the most vulgar Observation. The Business Men are chiefly conversant in, does not only give a certain Cast or Turn to their Minds, but is very often apparent in their outward Behaviour, and some of the most indifferent Actions of their Lives. It is this Air diffusing itself over the whole Man, which helps us to find out a Person at his first Appearance; so that the most careless Observer fancies he can scarce be mistaken in the Carriage of a Seaman or the Gaite of a Taylor.

The liberal Arts, though they may possibly have less Effect on our external Mein and Behaviour, make so deep an Impression on the Mind, as is very apt to bend it wholly one Way.

The Mathematician will take little less than Demonstration in the most common Discourse, and the Schoolman is as great a Friend to Definitions and Syllogisms. The Physician and Divine are often heard to dictate in private Companies with the same Authority which they exercise over their Patients and Disciples; while the Lawyer is putting Cases and raising Matter for Disputation out of every thing that occurs.

I may possibly some time or other animadvert more at large on the particular Fault each Profession is most infected with; but shall at present wholly apply my self to the Cure of what I last mentioned, namely, That Spirit of Strife and Contention in the Conversations of Gentlemen of the Long Robe.

This is the more ordinary, because these Gentlemen regarding Argument as their own proper Province, and very often making ready Money of it, think it unsafe to yield before Company. They are shewing in common Talk how zealously they could defend a Cause in Court, and therefore frequently forget to keep that Temper which is absolutely requisite to render Conversation pleasant and instructive.

CAPTAIN SENTRY pushes this Matter so far, that I have heard him say, _He has known but few Pleaders that were tolerable Company_.

The Captain, who is a Man of good Sense, but dry Conversation, was last Night giving me an Account of a Discourse, in which he had lately been engaged with a young Wrangler in the Law. I was giving my Opinion, says the Captain, without apprehending any Debate that might arise from it, of a General's Behaviour in a Battle that was fought some Years before either the Templer or my self were born. The young Lawyer immediately took me up, and by reasoning above a Quarter of an Hour upon a Subject which I saw he understood nothing of, endeavoured to shew me that my Opinions were ill grounded. Upon which, says the Captain, to avoid any farther Contests, I told him, That truly I had not consider'd those several Arguments which he had brought against me; and that there might be a great deal in them. Ay, but says my Antagonist, who would not let me escape so, there are several Things to be urged in favour of your Opinion which you have omitted, and thereupon begun to shine on the other Side of the Question. Upon this, says the Captain, I came over to my first Sentiments, and entirely acquiesced in his Reasons for my so doing. Upon which the Templer again recovered his former Posture, and confuted both himself and me a third Time. In short, says my Friend, I found he was resolved to keep me at Sword's Length, and never let me close with him, so that I had nothing left but to hold my tongue, and give my Antagonist free leave to smile at his Victory, who I found, like _Hudibras, could still change Sides, and still confute_. [1]

For my own part, I have ever regarded our Inns of Courts as Nurseries of Statesmen and Law-givers, which makes me often frequent that Part of the Town with great Pleasure.

Upon my calling in lately at one of the most noted _Temple_ Coffee-houses, I found the whole Room, which was full of young Students, divided into several Parties, each of which was deeply engaged in some Controversie. The Management of the late Ministry was attacked and defended with great Vigour; and several Preliminaries to the Peace were proposed by some, and rejected by others; the demolishing of _Dunkirk_ was so eagerly insisted on, and so warmly controverted, as had like to have produced a Challenge. In short, I observed that the Desire of Victory, whetted with the little Prejudices of Party and Interest, generally carried the Argument to such an Height, as made the Disputants insensibly conceive an Aversion towards each other, and part with the highest Dissatisfaction on both Sides.

The managing an Argument handsomely being so nice a Point, and what I have seen so very few excel in, I shall here set down a few Rules on that Head, which, among other things, I gave in writing to a young Kinsman of mine who had made so great a Proficiency in the Law, that he began to plead in Company upon every Subject that was started.

Having the entire Manuscript by me, I may, perhaps, from time to time, publish such Parts of it as I shall think requisite for the Instruction of the _British_ Youth. What regards my present Purpose is as follows:

Avoid Disputes as much as possible. In order to appear easie and well-bred in Conversation, you may assure your self that it requires more Wit, as well as more good Humour, to improve than to contradict the Notions of another: But if you are at any time obliged to enter on an Argument, give your Reasons with the utmost Coolness and Modesty, two Things which scarce ever fail of making an Impression on the Hearers. Besides, if you are neither Dogmatical, nor shew either by your Actions or Words, that you are full of your self, all will the more heartily rejoice at your Victory. Nay, should you be pinched in your Argument, you may make your Retreat with a very good Grace: You were never positive, and are now glad to be better informed. This has made some approve the Socratical Way of Reasoning, where while you scarce affirm any thing, you can hardly be caught in an Absurdity; and tho' possibly you are endeavouring to bring over another to your Opinion, which is firmly fix'd, you seem only to desire Information from him.

In order to keep that Temper, which [is [2]] so difficult, and yet so necessary to preserve, you may please to consider, that nothing can be more unjust or ridiculous, than to be angry with another because he is not of your Opinion. The Interests, Education, and Means by which Men attain their Knowledge, are so very different, that it is impossible they should all think alike; and he has at least as much Reason to be angry with you, as you with him. Sometimes to keep your self cool, it may be of Service to ask your self fairly, What might have been your Opinion, had you all the Biasses of Education and Interest your Adversary may possibly have? but if you contend for the Honour of Victory alone, you may lay down this as an Infallible Maxim. That you cannot make a more false Step, or give your Antagonists a greater Advantage over you, than by falling into a Passion.

When an Argument is over, how many weighty Reasons does a Man recollect, which his Heat and Violence made him utterly forget?

It is yet more absurd to be angry with a Man because he does not apprehend the Force of your Reasons, or gives weak ones of his own. If you argue for Reputation, this makes your Victory the easier; he is certainly in all respects an Object of your Pity, rather than Anger; and if he cannot comprehend what you do, you ought to thank Nature for her Favours, who has given you so much the clearer Understanding.

You may please to add this Consideration, That among your Equals no one values your Anger, which only preys upon its Master; and perhaps you may find it not very consistent either with Prudence or your Ease, to punish your self whenever you meet with a Fool or a Knave.

Lastly, If you propose to your self the true End of Argument, which is Information, it may be a seasonable Check to your Passion; for if you search purely after Truth,'twill be almost indifferent to you where you find it. I cannot in this Place omit an Observation which I have often made, namely, That nothing procures a Man more Esteem and less Envy from the whole Company, than if he chooses the Part of Moderator, without engaging directly on either Side in a Dispute. This gives him the Character of Impartial, furnishes him with an Opportunity of sifting Things to the Bottom, shewing his Judgment, and of sometimes making handsome Compliments to each of the contending Parties.

I shall close this Subject with giving you one Caution: When you have gained a Victory, do not push it too far; 'tis sufficient to let the Company and your Adversary see 'tis in your Power, but that you are too generous to make use of it.

X.

[Footnote 1: Part I., canto i., v. 69, 70.]

[Footnote 2: "it is", and in first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 198. Wednesday, October 17, 1711. Addison.

'Cervæ luporum præda rapacium
Sectamur ultro, quos opimus
Fallere et effugere est triumphus.'

Hor.

There is a Species of Women, whom I shall distinguish by the Name of Salamanders. Now a Salamander is a kind of Heroine in Chastity, that treads upon Fire, and lives in the Midst of Flames without being hurt. A Salamander knows no Distinction of Sex in those she converses with, grows familiar with a Stranger at first Sight, and is not so narrow-spirited as to observe whether the Person she talks to be in Breeches or Petticoats. She admits a Male Visitant to her Bed-side, plays with him a whole Afternoon at Pickette, walks with him two or three Hours by Moon-light; and is extreamly Scandalized at the unreasonableness of an Husband, or the severity of a Parent, that would debar the Sex from such innocent Liberties. Your Salamander is therefore a perpetual Declaimer against Jealousie, and Admirer of the _French_ Good-breeding, and a great Stickler for Freedom in Conversation. In short, the Salamander lives in an invincible State of Simplicity and Innocence: Her Constitution is _preserv'd_ in a kind of natural Frost; she wonders what People mean by Temptation; and defies Mankind to do their worst. Her Chastity is engaged in a constant _Ordeal_, or fiery Tryal: (Like good Queen _Emma_, [1]) the pretty Innocent walks blindfold among burning Ploughshares, without being scorched or singed by them.

It is not therefore for the Use of the Salamander, whether in a married or single State of Life, that I design the following Paper; but for such Females only as are made of Flesh and Blood, and find themselves subject to Human Frailties.

As for this Part of the fair Sex who are not of the Salamander Kind, I would most earnestly advise them to observe a quite different Conduct in their Behaviour; and to avoid as much as possible what Religion calls _Temptations_, and the World _Opportunities_. Did they but know how many Thousands of their Sex have been gradually betrayed from innocent Freedoms to Ruin and Infamy; and how many Millions of ours have begun with Flatteries, Protestations and Endearments, but ended with Reproaches, Perjury, and Perfidiousness; they would shun like Death the very first Approaches of one that might lead them into inextricable Labyrinths of Guilt and Misery. I must so far give up the Cause of the Male World, as to exhort the Female Sex in the Language of _Chamont_ in the _Orphan_; [2]

'Trust not a Man, we are by Nature False,
Dissembling, Subtle, Cruel, and Unconstant:
When a Man talks of Love, with Caution trust him:
But if he Swears, he'll certainly deceive thee.'

I might very much enlarge upon this Subject, but shall conclude it with a Story which I lately heard from one of our _Spanish_ Officers, [3] and which may shew the Danger a Woman incurs by too great Familiarities with a Male Companion.

An Inhabitant of the Kingdom of _Castile_, being a Man of more than ordinary Prudence, and of a grave composed Behaviour, determined about the fiftieth Year of his Age to enter upon Wedlock. In order to make himself easy in it, he cast his Eye upon a young Woman who had nothing to recommend her but her Beauty and her Education, her Parents having been reduced to great Poverty by the Wars, [which [4]] for some Years have laid that whole Country waste. The _Castilian_ having made his Addresses to her and married her, they lived together in perfect Happiness for some time; when at length the Husband's Affairs made it necessary for him to take a Voyage to the Kingdom of _Naples_, where a great Part of his Estate lay. The Wife loved him too tenderly to be left behind him. They had not been a Shipboard above a Day, when they unluckily fell into the Hands of an _Algerine_ Pirate, who carried the whole Company on Shore, and made them Slaves. The _Castilian_ and his Wife had the Comfort to be under the same Master; who seeing how dearly they loved one another, and gasped after their Liberty, demanded a most exorbitant Price for their Ransom. The _Castilian_, though he would rather have died in Slavery himself, than have paid such a Sum as he found would go near to ruin him, was so moved with Compassion towards his Wife, that he sent repeated Orders to his Friend in _Spain_, (who happened to be his next Relation) to sell his Estate, and transmit the Money to him. His Friend hoping that the Terms of his Ransom might be made more reasonable, and unwilling to sell an Estate which he himself had some Prospect of inheriting, formed so many delays, that three whole Years passed away without any thing being done for the setting of them at Liberty.

There happened to live a _French_ Renegado in the same Place where the _Castilian_ and his Wife were kept Prisoners. As this Fellow had in him all the Vivacity of his Nation, he often entertained the Captives with Accounts of his own Adventures; to which he sometimes added a Song or a Dance, or some other Piece of Mirth, to divert them [during [5]] their Confinement. His Acquaintance with the Manners of the _Algerines_, enabled him likewise to do them several good Offices. The _Castilian_, as he was one Day in Conversation with this Renegado, discovered to him the Negligence and Treachery of his Correspondent in _Castile_, and at the same time asked his Advice how he should behave himself in that Exigency: He further told the Renegado, that he found it would be impossible for him to raise the Money, unless he himself might go over to dispose of his Estate. The Renegado, after having represented to him that his _Algerine Master_ would never consent to his Release upon such a Pretence, at length contrived a Method for the _Castlian_ to make his Escape in the Habit of a Seaman. The _Castilian_ succeeded in his Attempt; and having sold his Estate, being afraid lest the Money should miscarry by the Way, and determining to perish with it rather than lose one who was much dearer to him than his Life, he returned himself in a little Vessel that was going to _Algiers_. It is impossible to describe the Joy he felt on this Occasion, when he considered that he should soon see the Wife whom he so much loved, and endear himself more to her by this uncommon Piece of Generosity.

The Renegado, during the Husband's Absence, so insinuated himself into the good Graces of his young Wife, and so turned her Head with Stories of Gallantry, that she quickly thought him the finest Gentleman she had ever conversed with. To be brief, her Mind was quite alienated from the honest _Castilian_, whom she was taught to look upon as a formal old Fellow unworthy the Possession of so charming a Creature. She had been instructed by the Renegado how to manage herself upon his Arrival; so that she received him with an Appearance of the utmost Love and Gratitude, and at length perswaded him to trust their common Friend the Renegado with the Money he had brought over for their Ransom; as not questioning but he would beat down the Terms of it, and negotiate the Affair more to their Advantage than they themselves could do. The good Man admired her Prudence, and followed her Advice. I wish I could conceal the Sequel of this Story, but since I cannot I shall dispatch it in as few Words as possible. The _Castilian_ having slept longer than ordinary the next Morning, upon his awaking found his Wife had left him: He immediately arose and enquired after her, but was told that she was seen with the Renegado about Break of Day. In a Word, her Lover having got all things ready for their Departure, they soon made their Escape out of the Territories of _Algiers_, carried away the Money, and left the _Castilian_ in Captivity; who partly through the cruel Treatment of the incensed _Algerine_ his Master, and partly through the unkind Usage of his unfaithful Wife, died some few Months after.

L.

[Footnote 1: The story of Queen Emma, mother of Edward the Confessor, and her walking unhurt, blindfold and barefoot, over nine red-hot ploughshares, is told in Bayle's Dictionary, a frequent suggester of allusions in the _Spectator_. Tonson reported that he usually found Bayle's Dictionary open on Addison's table whenever he called on him.]

[Footnote 2: Act 2.]

[Footnote 3: That is, English officers who had served in Spain.]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: in]

* * * * *

No. 199. Thursday, October 18, 1711. Steele.

'Scribere jussit amor.'

Ovid.

The following Letters are written with such an Air of Sincerity, that I cannot deny the inserting of them.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Tho' you are every where in your Writings a Friend to Women, I do not
remember that you have directly considered the mercenary Practice of
Men in the Choice of Wives. If you would please to employ your
Thoughts upon that Subject, you would easily conceive the miserable
Condition many of us are in, who not only from the Laws of Custom and
Modesty are restrained from making any Advances towards our Wishes,
but are also, from the Circumstance of Fortune, out of all Hope of
being addressed to by those whom we love. Under all these
Disadvantages I am obliged to apply my self to you, and hope I shall
prevail with you to Print in your very next Paper the following
Letter, which is a Declaration of Passion to one who has made some
feint Addresses to me for some time. I believe he ardently loves me,
but the Inequality of my Fortune makes him think he cannot answer it
to the World, if he pursues his Designs by way of Marriage; and I
believe, as he does not want Discerning, he discovered me looking at
him the other Day unawares in such a Manner as has raised his Hopes of
gaining me on Terms the Men call easier. But my Heart was very full on
this Occasion, and if you know what Love and Honour are, you will
pardon me that I use no further Arguments with you, but hasten to my
Letter to him, whom I call _Oroondates_, [1] because if I do not
succeed it shall look like Romance; and if I am regarded, you shall
receive a pair of Gloves at my Wedding, sent you under the Name of

_Statira_.

_To_ OROONDATES.

_SIR_,

'After very much Perplexity in my self, and revolving how to acquaint
you with my own Sentiments, and expostulate with you concerning yours,
I have chosen this Way, by which means I can be at once revealed to
you, or, if you please, lie concealed. If I do not within few Days
find the Effect which I hope from this, the whole Affair shall be
buried in Oblivion. But, alas! what am I going to do, when I am about
to tell you that I love you? But after I have done so, I am to assure
you, that with all the Passion which ever entered a tender Heart, I
know I can banish you from my Sight for ever, when I am convinced that
you have no Inclinations towards me but to my Dishonour. But, alas!
Sir, why should you sacrifice the real and essential Happiness of
Life, to the Opinion of a World, that moves upon no other Foundation
but profess'd Error and Prejudice? You all can observe that Riches
alone do not make you happy, and yet give up every Thing else when it
stands in Competition with Riches. Since the World is so bad, that
Religion is left to us silly Women, and you Men act generally upon
Principles of Profit and Pleasure, I will talk to you without arguing
from any Thing but what may be most to your Advantage, as a Man of the
World. And I will lay before you the State of the Case, supposing that
you had it in your Power to make me your Mistress, or your Wife, and
hope to convince you that the latter is more for your Interest, and
will contribute more to your Pleasure.

'We will suppose then the Scene was laid, and you were now in
Expectation of the approaching Evening wherein I was to meet you, and
be carried to what convenient Corner of the Town you thought fit, to
consummate all which your wanton Imagination has promised you in the
Possession of one who is in the Bloom of Youth, and in the Reputation
of Innocence: you would soon have enough of me, as I am Sprightly,
Young, Gay, and Airy. When Fancy is sated, and finds all the Promises
it [made [2]] it self false, where is now the Innocence which charmed
you? The first Hour you are alone you will find that the Pleasure of a
Debauchee is only that of a Destroyer; He blasts all the Fruit he
tastes, and where the Brute has been devouring, there is nothing left
worthy the Relish of the Man. Reason resumes her Place after
Imagination is cloyed; and I am, with the utmost Distress and
Confusion, to behold my self the Cause of uneasie Reflections to you,
to be visited by Stealth, and dwell for the future with the two
Companions (the most unfit for each other in the World) Solitude and
Guilt. I will not insist upon the shameful Obscurity we should pass
our Time in, nor run over the little short Snatches of fresh Air and
free Commerce which all People must be satisfied with, whose Actions
will not bear Examination, but leave them to your Reflections, who
have seen of that Life of which I have but a meer Idea.

On the other hand, If you can be so good and generous as to make me
your Wife, you may promise your self all the Obedience and Tenderness
with which Gratitude can inspire a virtuous Woman. Whatever
Gratifications you may promise your self from an agreeable Person,
whatever Compliances from an easie Temper, whatever Consolations from
a sincere Friendship, you may expect as the Due of your Generosity.
What at present in your ill View you promise your self from me, will
be followed by Distaste and Satiety; but the Transports of a virtuous
Love are the least Part of its Happiness. The Raptures of innocent
Passion are but like Lightning to the Day, they rather interrupt than
advance the Pleasure of it. How happy then is that Life to be, where
the highest Pleasures of Sense are but the lower Parts of its
Felicity?