Chapter LXXVIII: Introduction (78)

I remember a Falshood of the trivial Sort, tho' not in relation to Assignations, that exposed a Man to a very uneasie Adventure. _Will. Trap_ and _Jack Stint_ were Chamber-fellows in the _Inner-Temple_ about 25 Years ago. They one Night sate in the Pit together at a Comedy, where they both observed and liked the same young Woman in the Boxes. Their Kindness for her entered both Hearts deeper than they imagined. _Stint_ had a good Faculty at writing Letters of Love, and made his Address privately that way; while _Trap_ proceeded in the ordinary Course, by Money and her Waiting-Maid. The Lady gave them both Encouragement, receiving _Trap_ into the utmost Favour, and answering at the same time _Stint's_ Letters, and giving him appointments at third Places. _Trap_ began to suspect the Epistolary Correspondence of his Friend, and discovered also that _Stint_ opened all his Letters which came to their common Lodgings, in order to form his own Assignations. After much Anxiety and Restlessness, _Trap_ came to a Resolution, which he thought would break off their Commerce with one another without any hazardous Explanation. He therefore writ a Letter in a feigned Hand to Mr. _Trap_ at his Chambers in the _Temple_. _Stint_, according to Custom, seized and opened it, and was not a little surpriz'd to find the Inside directed to himself, when, with great Perturbation of Spirit, he read as follows.

Mr. _Stint_,

You have gained a slight Satisfaction at the Expence of doing a very
heinous Crime. At the Price of a faithful Friend you have obtained an
inconstant Mistress. I rejoice in this Expedient I have thought of to
break my Mind to you, and tell you, You are a base Fellow, by a Means
which does not expose you to the Affront except you deserve it. I
know, Sir, as criminal as you are, you have still Shame enough to
avenge yourself against the Hardiness of any one that should publickly
tell you of it. I therefore, who have received so many secret Hurts
from you, shall take Satisfaction with Safety to my self. I call you
Base, and you must bear it, or acknowledge it; I triumph over you that
you cannot come at me; nor do I think it dishonourable to come in
Armour to assault him, who was in Ambuscade when he wounded me.

What need more be said to convince you of being guilty of the basest
Practice imaginable, than that it is such as has made you liable to be
treated after this Manner, while you your self cannot in your own
Conscience but allow the Justice of the Upbraidings of _Your Injured
Friend_,

Ralph Trap.

T.

* * * * *

No. 449. Tuesday, August 5, 1712. Steele

'--Tibi scriptus, Matrona, libellus--'

Mart.

When I reflect upon my Labours for the Publick, I cannot but observe, that Part of the Species, of which I profess my self a Friend and Guardian, is sometimes treated with Severity; that is, there are in my Writings many Descriptions given of ill Persons, and not yet any direct Encomium made of those who are good. When I was convinced of this Error, I could not but immediately call to Mind several of the Fair Sex of my Acquaintance, whose Characters deserve to be transmitted to Posterity in Writings which will long outlive mine. But I do not think that a Reason why I should not give them their Place in my Diurnal as long as it will last. For the Service therefore of my Female Readers, I shall single out some Characters of Maids, Wives and Widows, which deserve the Imitation of the Sex. She who shall lead this small illustrious Number of Heroines shall be the amiable _Fidelia_.

Before I enter upon the particular Parts of her Character, it is necessary to Preface, that she is the only Child of a decrepid Father, whose Life is bound up in hers. This Gentleman has used _Fidelia_ from her Cradle with all the Tenderness imaginable, and has view'd her growing Perfections with the Partiality of a Parent, that soon thought her accomplished above the Children of all other Men, but never thought she was come to the utmost Improvement of which she her self was capable. This Fondness has had very happy Effects upon his own Happiness, for she reads, she dances, she sings, uses her Spinet and Lute to the utmost Perfection: And the Lady's Use of all these Excellencies, is to divert the old Man in his easie Chair, when he is out of the Pangs of a Chronical Distemper. _Fidelia_ is now in the twenty third Year of her Age; but the Application of many Lovers, her vigorous time of Life, her quick Sense of all that is truly gallant and elegant in the Enjoyment of a plentiful Fortune, are not able to draw her from the Side of her good old Father. Certain it is, that there is no kind of Affection so pure and angelick as that of a Father to a Daughter. He beholds her both with, and without Regard to her Sex. In Love to our Wives there is Desire, to our Sons there is Ambition; but in that to our Daughters, there is something which there are no Words to express. Her Life is designed wholly Domestick, and she is so ready a Friend and Companion, that every thing that passes about a Man, is accompanied with the Idea of her Presence. Her Sex also is naturally so much exposed to Hazard, both as to Fortune and Innocence, that there is, perhaps, a new Cause of Fondness arising from that Consideration also. None but Fathers can have a true Sense of these sort of Pleasures and Sensations; but my Familiarity with the Father of _Fidelia_, makes me let drop the Words which I have heard him speak, and observe upon his Tenderness towards her.

_Fidelia_ on her Part, as I was going to say, as accomplished as she is, with all her Beauty, Wit, Air, and Mien, employs her whole Time in Care and Attendance upon her Father. How have I been charmed to see one of the most beauteous Women the Age has produced on her Knees helping on an old Man's Slipper! Her filial Regard to him is what she makes her Diversion, her Business, and her Glory. When she was asked by a Friend of her deceased Mother to admit of the Courtship of her Son, she answer'd, That she had a great Respect and Gratitude to her for the Overture in Behalf of one so near to her, but that during her Father's Life, she would admit into her Heart no Value for any thing that should interfere with her Endeavour to make his Remains of Life as happy and easie as could be expected in his Circumstances. The Lady admonished her of the Prime of Life with a Smile; which _Fidelia_ answered with a Frankness that always attends unfeigned Virtue. _It is true, Madam, there is to be sure very great Satisfactions to be expected in the Commerce of a Man of Honour, whom one tenderly loves; but I find so much Satisfaction in the Reflection, how much I mitigate a good Man's Pains, whose Welfare depends upon my Assiduity about him, that I wittingly exclude the loose Gratifications of Passion for the solid Reflections of Duty. I know not whether any Man's Wife would be allow'd, and (what I still more fear) I know not whether I, a Wife, should be willing to be as officious as I am at present about my Parent_. The happy Father has her Declaration that she will not marry during his Life, and the Pleasure of seeing that Resolution not uneasie to her. Were one to paint filial Affection in its utmost Beauty, he could not have a more lively Idea of it than in beholding _Fidelia_ serving her Father at his Hours of Rising, Meals, and Rest.

When the general Crowd of Female Youth are consulting their Glasses, preparing for Balls, Assemblies, or Plays; for a young Lady, who could be regarded among the foremost in those Places, either for her Person, Wit, Fortune, or Conversation, and yet contemn all these Entertainments, to sweeten the heavy Hours of a decrepid Parent, is a Resignation truly heroick. _Fidelia_ performs the Duty of a Nurse with all the Beauty of a Bride; nor does she neglect her Person, because of her Attendance on him, when he is too ill to receive Company, to whom she may make an Appearance.

_Fidelia_, who gives him up her Youth, does not think it any great Sacrifice to add to it the Spoiling of her Dress. Her Care and Exactness in her Habit, convince her Father of the Alacrity of her Mind; and she has of all Women the best Foundation for affecting the Praise of a seeming Negligence. What adds to the Entertainment of the good old Man is, that _Fidelia_, where Merit and Fortune cannot be overlook'd by Epistolary Lovers, reads over the Accounts of her Conquests, plays on her Spinet the gayest Airs, (and while she is doing so, you would think her formed only for Gallantry) to intimate to him the Pleasures she despises for his Sake.

Those who think themselves the Patterns of good Breeding and Gallantry, would be astonished to hear that in those Intervals when the old Gentleman is at Ease, and can bear Company, there are at his House in the most regular Order, Assemblies of People of the highest Merit; where there is Conversation without Mention of the Faults of the Absent, Benevolence between Men and Women without Passion, and the highest Subjects of Morality treated of as natural and accidental Discourse; All which is owing to the Genius of _Fidelia_, who at once makes her Father's Way to another World easie, and her self capable of being an Honour to his Name in this.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I was the other Day at the _Bear-Garden_, in hopes to have seen your
short Face; but not being so fortunate, I must tell you by way of
Letter, That there is a Mystery among the Gladiators which has escaped
your Spectatorial Penetration. For being in a Box at an Ale-house,
near that renowned Seat of Honour above-mentioned, I over-heard two
Masters of the Science agreeing to quarrel on the next Opportunity.
This was to happen in the Company of a Set of the Fraternity of
Basket-Hilts, who were to meet that Evening. When this was settled,
one asked the other, Will you give Cuts or receive? the other
answered, Receive. It was replied, Are you a passionate Man? No,
provided you cut no more nor no deeper than we agree. I thought it my
Duty to acquaint you with this, that the People may not pay their
Money for Fighting, and be cheated.

_Your Humble Servant_,

Scabbard Rusty.

T.

* * * * *

No. 450. Wednesday, August 6, 1712. Steele.

'--Quærenda pecunia primum
Virtus post nummos.'

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

All Men, through different Paths, make at the same common thing,
_Money;_ and it is to her we owe the Politician, the Merchant, and the
Lawyer; nay, to be free with you, I believe to that also we are
beholden for our _Spectator_. I am apt to think, that could we look
into our own Hearts, we should see Money ingraved in them in more
lively and moving Characters than Self-Preservation; for who can
reflect upon the Merchant hoisting Sail in a doubtful Pursuit of her,
and all Mankind sacrificing their Quiet to her, but must perceive that
the Characters of Self-Preservation (which were doubtless originally
the brightest) are sullied, if not wholly defaced; and that those of
Money (which at first was only valuable as a Mean to Security) are of
late so brightened, that the Characters of Self-Preservation, like a
less Light set by a greater, are become almost imperceptible? Thus has
Money got the upper Hand of what all Mankind formerly thought most
dear, _viz_. Security; and I wish I could say she had here put a Stop
to her Victories; but, alas! common Honesty fell a Sacrifice to her.
This is the Way Scholastick Men talk of the greatest Good in the
World; but I, a Tradesman, shall give you another Account of this
Matter in the plain Narrative of my own Life. I think it proper, in
the first Place, to acquaint my Readers, that since my setting out in
the World, which was in the Year 1660, I never wanted Money; having
begun with an indifferent good Stock in the Tobacco-Trade, to which I
was bred; and by the continual Successes, it has pleased Providence to
bless my Endeavours with, am at last arrived at what they call a
_Plumb_ [1]. To uphold my Discourse in the Manner of your Wits or
Philosophers, by speaking fine things, or drawing Inferences, as they
pretend, from the Nature of the Subject, I account it vain; having
never found any thing in the Writings of such Men, that did not favour
more of the Invention of the Brain, or what is styled Speculation,
than of sound Judgment or profitable Observation. I will readily grant
indeed, that there is what the Wits call Natural in their Talk; which
is the utmost those curious Authors can assume to themselves, and is
indeed all they endeavour at, for they are but lamentable Teachers.
And, what, I pray, is Natural? That which is pleasing and easie: And
what are Pleasing and Easie? Forsooth, a new Thought or Conceit
dressed up in smooth quaint Language, to make you smile and wag your
Head, as being what you never imagined before, and yet wonder why you
had not; meer frothy Amusements! fit only for Boys or silly Women to
be caught with.

'It is not my present Intention to instruct my Readers in the Methods
of acquiring Riches; that may be the Work of another Essay; but to
exhibit the real and solid Advantages I have found by them in my long
and manifold Experience; nor yet all the Advantages of so worthy and
valuable a Blessing, (for who does not know or imagine the Comforts of
being warm or living at Ease? And that Power and Preheminence are
their inseperable Attendants?) But only to instance the great Supports
they afford us under the severest Calamities and Misfortunes; to shew
that the Love of them is a special Antidote against Immorality and
Vice, and that the same does likewise naturally dispose Men to Actions
of Piety and Devotion: All which I can make out by my own Experience,
who think my self no ways particular from the rest of Mankind, nor
better nor worse by Nature than generally other Men are.

'In the Year 1665, when the Sickness was, I lost by it my Wife and two
Children, which were all my Stock. Probably I might have had more,
considering I was married between 4 and 5 Years; but finding her to be
a teeming Woman, I was careful, as having then little above a Brace of
thousand Pounds, to carry on my Trade and maintain a Family with. I
loved them as usually Men do their Wives and Children, and therefore
could not resist the first Impulses of Nature on so wounding a Loss;
but I quickly roused my self, and found Means to alleviate, and at
last conquer my Affliction, by reflecting how that she and her
Children having been no great Expence to me, the best Part of her
Fortune was still left; that my Charge being reduced to my self, a
Journeyman, and a Maid, I might live far cheaper than before; and that
being now a childless Widower, I might perhaps marry a no less
deserving Woman, and with a much better Fortune than she brought,
which was but £800. And to convince my Readers that such
Considerations as these were proper and apt to produce such an Effect,
I remember it was the constant Observation at that deplorable Time,
when so many Hundreds were swept away daily, that the Rich ever bore
the Loss of their Families and Relations far better than the Poor; the
latter having little or nothing before-hand, and living from Hand to
Mouth, placed the whole Comfort and Satisfaction of their Lives in
their Wives and Children, and were therefore inconsolable.

'The following Year happened the Fire; at which Time, by good
Providence, it was my Fortune to have converted the greatest Part of
my Effects into ready Money, on the Prospect of an extraordinary
Advantage which I was preparing to lay Hold on. This Calamity was very
terrible and astonishing, the Fury of the Flames being such, that
whole Streets, at several distant Places, were destroyed at one and
the same Time, so that (as it is well known) almost all our Citizens
were burnt out of what they had. But what did I then do? I did not
stand gazing on the Ruins of our noble Metropolis; I did not shake my
Head, wring my Hands, sigh, and shed Tears; I consider'd with my self
what could this avail; I fell a plodding what Advantages might be made
of the ready Cash I had, and immediately bethought my self what
wonderful Pennyworths might be bought of the Goods, that were saved
out of the Fire. In short, with about £2000 and a little Credit, I
bought as much Tobacco as rais'd my Estate to the Value of £10000 I
then _looked on the Ashes of our City, and, the Misery of its late
Inhabitants, as an Effect of the just Wrath and Indignation of Heaven
towards a sinful and perverse People_.

'After this I married again, and that Wife dying, I took another; but
both proved to be idle Baggages: the first gave me a great deal of
Plague and Vexation by her Extravagancies, and I became one of the
Bywords of the City. I knew it would be to no manner of Purpose to go
about to curb the Fancies and Inclinations of Women, which fly out the
more for being restrained; but what I could I did. I watched her
narrowly, and by good Luck found her in the Embraces (for which I had
two Witnesses with me) of a wealthy Spark of the Court-end of the
Town; of whom I recovered 15000 Pounds, which made me Amends for what
she had idly squanderd, and put a Silence to all my Neighbours, taking
off my Reproach by the Gain they saw I had by it. The last died about
two Years after I married her, in Labour of three Children. I
conjecture they were begotten by a Country Kinsman of hers, whom, at
her Recommendation, I took into my Family, and gave Wages to as a
Journeyman. What this Creature expended in Delicacies and high Diet
with her Kinsman (as well as I could compute by the Poulterers,
Fishmongers, and Grocers Bills) amounted in the said two Years to one
hundred eighty six Pounds, four Shillings, and five Pence Half-penny.
The fine Apparel, Bracelets, Lockets, and Treats, &c. of the other,
according to the best Calculation, came in three Years and about three
Quarters to Seven hundred forty four Pounds, seven Shillings and nine
Pence. After this I resolv'd never to marry more, and found I had been
a Gainer by my Marriages, and the Damages granted me for the Abuses of
my Bed, (all Charges deducted) eight thousand three hundred Pounds
within a Trifle.

'I come now to shew the good Effects of the Love of Money on the Lives
of Men towards rendring them honest, sober, and religious. When I was
a young Man, I had a Mind to make the best of my Wits, and
over-reached a Country Chap in a Parcel of unsound Goods; to whom,
upon his upbraiding, and threatning to expose me for it, I returned
the Equivalent of his Loss; and upon his good Advice, wherein he
clearly demonstrated the Folly of such Artifices, which can never end
but in Shame, and the Ruin of all Correspondence, I never after
transgressed. Can your Courtiers, who take Bribes, or your Lawyers or
Physicians in their Practice, or even the Divines who intermeddle in
worldly Affairs, boast of making but one Slip in their Lives, and of
such a thorough and lasting Reformation? Since my coming into the
World I do not remember I was ever overtaken in Drink, save nine
times, one at the Christening of my first Child, thrice at our City
Feasts, and five times at driving of Bargains. My Reformation I can
attribute to nothing so much as the Love and Esteem of Money, for I
found my self to be extravagant in my Drink, and apt to turn
Projector, and make rash Bargains. As for Women, I never knew any,
except my Wives: For my Reader must know, and it is what he may
confide in as an excellent Recipe, That the Love of Business and Money
is the greatest Mortifier of inordinate Desires imaginable, as
employing the Mind continually in the careful Oversight of what one
has, in the eager Quest after more, in looking after the Negligences
and Deceits of Servants, in the due Entring and Stating of Accounts,
in hunting after Chaps, and in the exact Knowledge of the State of
Markets; which Things whoever thoroughly attends, will find enough and
enough to employ his Thoughts on every Moment of the Day; So that I
cannot call to Mind, that in all the Time I was a Husband, which, off
and on, was about twelve Years, I ever once thought of my Wives but in
Bed. And, lastly, for Religion, I have ever been a constant Churchman,
both Forenoons and Afternoons on Sundays, never forgetting to be
thankful for any Gain or Advantage I had had that Day; and on
_Saturday_ Nights, upon casting up my Accounts, I always was grateful
for the Sum of my Week's Profits, and at _Christmas_ for that of the
whole Year. It is true, perhaps, that my Devotion has not been the
most fervent; which, I think, ought to be imputed to the Evenness and
Sedateness of my Temper, which never would admit of any Impetuosities
of any Sort: And I can remember that in my Youth and Prime of Manhood,
when my Blood ran brisker, I took greater Pleasure in Religious
Exercises than at present, or many Years past, and that my Devotion
sensibly declined as Age, which is dull and unwieldly, came upon me.

'I have, I hope, here proved, that the Love of Money prevents all
Immorality and Vice; which if you will not allow, you must, that the
Pursuit of it obliges Men to the same Kind of Life as they would
follow if they were really virtuous: Which is all I have to say at
present, only recommending to you, that you would think of it, and
turn ready Wit into ready Money as fast as you can. I conclude,

_Your Servant_,
Ephraim Weed.'

T.

[Footnote 1: £100,000.]

* * * * *

No. 451. Thursday, August 7, 1712. Addison.

'--Jam sævus apertam In rabiem cæpit verti jocus, et per honestas Ire minax impunè domos--'

There is nothing so scandalous to a Government, and detestable in the Eyes of all good Men, as defamatory Papers and Pamphlets; but at the same time there is nothing so difficult to tame, as a Satyrical Author. An angry Writer, who cannot appear in Print, naturally vents his Spleen in Libels and Lampoons. A gay old Woman, says the Fable, seeing all her Wrinkles represented in a large Looking-glass, threw it upon the Ground in a Passion, and broke it into a thousand Pieces, but as she was afterwards surveying the Fragments with a spiteful kind of Pleasure, she could not forbear uttering her self in the following Soliloquy. What have I got by this revengeful Blow of mine, I have only multiplied my Deformity, and see an hundred ugly Faces, where before I saw but one.

It has been proposed, _to oblige every Person that writes a Book, or a Paper, to swear himself the Author of it, and enter down in a publick Register his Name and Place of Abode_.

This, indeed, would have effectually suppressed all printed Scandal, which generally appears under borrowed Names, or under none at all. But it is to be feared, that such an Expedient would not only destroy Scandal, but Learning. It would operate promiscuously, and root up the Corn and Tares together. Not to mention some of the most celebrated Works of Piety, which have proceeded from Anonymous Authors, who have made it their Merit to convey to us so great a Charity in secret: There are few Works of Genius that come out at first with the Author's Name. The Writer generally makes a Tryal of them in the World before he owns them; and, I believe, very few, who are capable of Writing, would set Pen to Paper, if they knew, before-hand, that they must not publish their Productions but on such Conditions. For my own part, I must declare, the Papers I present the Publick are like Fairy Favours, which shall last no longer than while the Author is concealed.

That which makes it particularly difficult to restrain these Sons of Calumny and Defamation is, that all Sides are equally guilty of it, and that every dirty Scribler is countenanced by great Names, whose Interests he propagates by such vile and infamous Methods. I have never yet heard of a Ministry, who have inflicted an exemplary Punishment on an Author that has supported their Cause with Falsehood and Scandal, and treated, in a most cruel manner, the names of those who have been looked upon as their Rivals and Antagonists. Would a Government set an everlasting Mark of their Displeasure upon one of those infamous Writers, who makes his Court to them by tearing to Pieces the Reputation of a Competitor, we should quickly see an End put to this Race of Vermin, that are a Scandal to Government, and a Reproach to Human Nature. Such a Proceeding would make a Minister of State shine in History, and would fill all Mankind with a just Abhorrence of Persons who should treat him unworthily, and employ against him those Arms which he scorned to make use of against his Enemies.

I cannot think that any one will be so unjust as to imagine, what I have here said is spoken with a Respect to any Party or Faction. Every one who has in him the Sentiments either of a Christian or a Gentleman, cannot but be highly offended at this wicked and ungenerous Practice, which is so much in use among us at present, that it is become a kind of National Crime, and distinguishes us from all the Governments that lie about us. I cannot but look upon the finest Strokes of Satyr which are aimed at particular Persons, and which are supported even with the Appearances of Truth, to be the Marks of an evil Mind, and highly Criminal in themselves. Infamy, like other Punishments, is under the Direction and Distribution of the Magistrate, and not of any private Person. Accordingly we learn from a Fragment of _Cicero_, that tho' there were very few Capital Punishments in the twelve Tables, a Libel or Lampoon which took away the good Name of another, was to be punished by Death. But this is far from being our Case. Our Satyr is nothing but Ribaldry, and _Billingsgate_. Scurrility passes for Wit; and he who can call Names in the greatest Variety of Phrases, is looked upon to have the shrewdest Pen. By this Means the Honour of Families is ruined, the highest Posts and greatest Titles are render'd cheap and vile in the Sight of the People; the noblest Virtues, and most exalted Parts, exposed to the Contempt of the Vicious and the Ignorant. Should a Foreigner, who knows nothing of our private Factions, or one who is to act his Part in the World when our present Heats and Animosities are forgot, should, I say, such an one form to himself a Notion of the greatest Men of all Sides in the _British_ Nation, who are now living, from the Characters which are given them in some or other of those abominable Writings which are daily Published among us, what a Nation of Monsters must we appear!

As this cruel Practice tends to the utter Subversion of all Truth and Humanity among us, it deserves the utmost Detestation and Discouragement of all who have either the Love of their Country, or the Honour of their Religion at Heart. I would therefore earnestly recommend it to the Consideration of those who deal in these pernicious Arts of Writing; and of those who take Pleasure in the Reading of them. As for the first, I have spoken of them in former Papers, and have not stuck to rank them with the Murderer and Assassin. Every honest Man sets as high a Value upon a good Name, as upon Life it self; and I cannot but think that those who privily assault the one, would destroy the other, might they do it with the same Secrecy and Impunity.

As for Persons who take Pleasure in the reading and dispersing of such detestable Libels, I am afraid they fall very little short of the Guilt of the first Composers. By a Law of the Emperors _Valentinian_ and _Valens_, it was made Death for any Person not only to write a Libel, but if he met with one by chance, not to tear or burn it. But because I would not be thought singular in my Opinion of this Matter, I shall conclude my Paper with the Words of Monsieur _Bayle_, who was a Man of great Freedom of Thought, as well as of exquisite Learning and Judgment.

I cannot imagine, that a Man who disperses a Libel is less desirous of
doing Mischief than the Author himself. But what shall we say of the
Pleasure which a Man takes in the reading of a Defamatory Libel? Is it
not an heinous Sin in the Sight of God? We must distinguish in this
Point. This Pleasure is either an agreeable Sensation we are afflicted
with, when we meet with a witty Thought which is well expressed, or it
is a Joy which we conceive from the Dishonour of the Person who is
defamed. I will say nothing to the first of these Cases; for perhaps
some would think that my Morality is not severe enough, if I should
affirm that a Man is not Master of those agreeable Sensations, any
more than of those occasioned by Sugar or Honey, when they touch his
Tongue; but as to the second, every one will own that Pleasure to be a
heinous Sin. The Pleasure in the first Case is of no Continuance; it
prevents our Reason and Reflection, and may be immediately followed by
a secret Grief, to see our Neighbour's Honour blasted. If it does not
cease immediately, it is a Sign that we are not displeased with the
Ill-nature of the Satyrist, but are glad to see him defame his Enemy
by all kinds of Stories; and then we deserve the Punishment to which
the Writer of the Libel is subject. I shall here add the Words of a
Modern Author. _St._ Gregory _upon excommunicating those Writers who
had dishonoured Castorius, does not except those who read their Works;
because_, says he, _if Calumnies have always been the delight of the
Hearers, and a gratification of those Persons who have no other
Advantage over honest Men, is not he who takes Pleasure in reading
them as guilty as he who composed them?_ It is an uncontested Maxim,
that they who approve an Action would certainly do it if they could;
that is, if some Reason of Self-love did not hinder them. There is no
difference, says _Cicero_, between advising a Crime, and approving it
when committed. The _Roman_ Law confirmed this Maxim, having subjected
the Approvers and Authors of this Evil to the same Penalty. We may
therefore conclude, that those who are pleased with reading Defamatory
Libels, so far as to approve the Authors and Dispersers of them, are
as guilty as if they had composed them: for if they do not write such
Libels themselves, it is because they have not the Talent of Writing,
or because they will run no hazard [1].

The Author produces other Authorities to confirm his Judgment in this particular.

C.

[Footnote 1: Dissertation upon Defamatory Libels. §17.]

* * * * *

No. 452. Friday, August 8, 1712. Addison.

'Est natura Hominum Novitatis avida.'

Plin. apud Lill.

There is no Humour in my Countrymen, which I am more enclined to wonder at, than their general Thirst after News. There are about half a Dozen Ingenious Men, who live very plentifully upon this Curiosity of their Fellow-Subjects. They all of them receive the same Advices from abroad, and very often in the same Words; but their Way of Cooking it is so different, that there is no Citizen, who has an Eye to the publick Good, that can leave the Coffee-house with Peace of Mind before he has given every one of them a Reading. These several Dishes of News are so very agreeable to the Palate of my Countrymen, that they are not only pleased with them when they are served up hot, but when they are again set cold before them, by those penetrating Politicians, who oblige the Publick with their Reflections and Observations upon every piece of Intelligence that is sent us from abroad. The Text is given us by one set of Writers, and the Comment by another.

But notwithstanding we have the same Tale told us in so many different papers, and if occasion requires in so many Articles of the same Paper; notwithstanding a Scarcity of Foreign Posts we hear the same Story repeated, by different Advices from _Paris_, _Brussels_, the _Hague_, and from every great Town in _Europe;_ notwithstanding the Multitude of Annotations, Explanations, Reflections, and various Readings which it passes through, our Time lies heavy on our Hands till the Arrival of a fresh Mail: We long to receive further particulars, to hear what will be the next Step, or what will be the Consequences of that which has been already taken. A Westerly Wind keeps the whole Town in Suspence, and puts a Stop to Conversation.

This general Curiosity has been raised and inflamed by our late Wars, and, if rightly directed, might be of good Use to a Person who has such a Thirst awakened in him. Why should not a Man, who takes Delight in reading every thing that is new, apply himself to History, Travels, and other Writings of the same kind, where he will find perpetual Fuel for his Curiosity, and meet with much more Pleasure and Improvement, than in these Papers of the Week? An honest Tradesman, who languishes a whole Summer in Expectation of a Battel, and perhaps is balked at last, may here meet with half a dozen in a Day. He may read the News of a whole Campaign, in less time than he now bestows upon the Products of any single Post. Fights, Conquests and Revolutions lye thick together. The Reader's Curiosity is raised and satisfied every Moment, and his Passions disappointed or gratified, without being detained in a State of uncertainty from Day to Day, or lying at the Mercy of Sea [and [1]] Wind. In short, the Mind is not here kept in a perpetual Gape after Knowledge, nor punished with that Eternal Thirst, which is the Portion of all our modern News-mongers and Coffee-house Politicians.

All Matters of Fact, which a Man did not know before, are News to him; and I do not see how any Haberdasher in _Cheapside_ is more concerned in the present Quarrel of the Cantons, than he was in that of the League. At least, I believe every one will allow me, it is of more Importance to an _Englishman_ to know the History of his Ancestors, than that of his Contemporaries who live upon the Banks of the _Danube_ or the _Borysthenes_. As for those who are of another Mind, I shall recommend to them the following Letter, from a Projector, who is willing to turn a Penny by this remarkable Curiosity of his Countrymen.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'You must have observed, that Men who frequent Coffee-houses, and
delight in News, are pleased with every thing that is Matter of Fact,
so it be what they have not heard before. A Victory, or a Defeat, are
equally agreeable to them. The shutting of a Cardinal's Mouth pleases
them one Post, and the opening of it another. They are glad to hear
the _French_ Court is removed to _Marli_, and are afterwards as much
delighted with its Return to _Versailles_. They read the
Advertisements with the same Curiosity as the Articles of publick
News; and are as pleased to hear of a Pye-bald Horse that is stray'd
out of a Field near _Islington_, as of a whole Troop that has been
engaged in any Foreign Adventure. In short, they have a Relish for
every thing that is News, let the matter of it be what it will; or to
speak more properly, they are Men of a Voracious Appetite, but no
Taste. Now, Sir, since the great Fountain of News, I mean the War, is
very near being dried up; and since these Gentlemen have contracted
such an inextinguishable Thirst after it; I have taken their Case and
my own into Consideration, and have thought of a Project which may
turn to the Advantage of us both. I have Thoughts of publishing a
daily Paper, which shall comprehend in it all the most remarkable
Occurences in every little Town, Village and Hamlet, that lye within
ten Miles of _London_, or in other Words, within the Verge of the
Penny-Post. I have pitched upon this Scene of Intelligence for two
Reasons; first, because the Carriage of Letters will be very cheap;
and secondly, because I may receive them every Day. By this means my
Readers will have their News fresh and fresh, and many worthy Citizens
who cannot Sleep with any Satisfaction at present, for want of being
informed how the World goes, may go to Bed contentedly, it being my
Design to put out my Paper every Night at nine-a-Clock precisely. I
have already established Correspondences in these several Places, and
received very good Intelligence.

By my last Advices from _Knights-bridge_ I hear that a Horse was
clapped into the Pound on the third Instant, and that he was not
released when the Letters came away.

We are informed from _Pankridge_ [1] that a dozen Weddings were lately
celebrated in the Mother Church of that Place, but are referred to
their next Letters for the Names of the Parties concerned.

Letters from _Brompton_ advise. That the Widow _Bligh_ had received
several Visits from _John Milldew_, which affords great matter of
Speculation in those Parts.

By a Fisherman which lately touched at _Hammersmith_, there is Advice
from _Putney_, that a certain Person well known in that Place, is like
to lose his Election for Church-warden; but this being Boat-news, we
cannot give entire Credit to it.

Letters from _Paddington_ bring little more, than that _William
Squeak_, the Sow-gelder, passed through that Place the 5th Instant.

They advise from _Fulham_, that things remained there in the same
State they were. They had Intelligence, just as the Letters came away,
of a Tub of excellent Ale just set abroach at _Parson's Green_; but
this wanted Confirmation.

I have here, Sir, given you a Specimen of the News with which I intend
to entertain the Town, and which, when drawn up regularly in the Form
of a News Paper, will, I doubt not, be very acceptable to many of
those Publick-spirited Readers, who take more delight in acquainting
themselves with other People's Business than their own. I hope a Paper
of this kind, which lets us know what is done near home, may be more
useful to us, than those which are filled with Advices from _Zug_ and
_Bender_, and make some amends for that Dearth of Intelligence, which
we may justly apprehend from times of Peace. If I find that you
receive this Project favourably, I will shortly trouble you with one
or two more; and in the mean time am, most worthy Sir, with all due
Respect,

_Your most Obedient,
and most Humble Servant._

[Footnote 1: [or]]

[Footnote 2: Pancras.]

* * * * *

No. 453. Saturday, August 9, 1712. Addison.

'Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar
Pennâ--'

Hor.

There is not a more pleasing Exercise of the Mind than Gratitude. It is accompanied with such an inward Satisfaction, that the Duty is sufficiently rewarded by the Performance. It is not like the Practice of many other Virtues, difficult and painful, but attended with so much Pleasure, that were there no positive Command which enjoin'd it, nor any Recompence laid up for it hereafter, a generous Mind would indulge in it, for the natural Gratification that accompanies it.

If Gratitude is due from Man to Man, how much more from Man to his Maker? The Supream Being does not only confer upon us those Bounties which proceed more immediately from his Hand, but even those Benefits which are conveyed to us by others. Every Blessing we enjoy, by what Means soever it may be derived upon us, is the Gift of him who is the great Author of Good, and Father of Mercies.

If Gratitude, when exerted towards one another, naturally produces a very pleasing Sensation in the Mind of a Grateful Man; it exalts the Soul into Rapture, when it is employed on this great Object of Gratitude; on this Beneficent Being who has given us every thing we already possess, and from whom we expect every thing we yet hope for.

Most of the Works of the Pagan Poets were either direct Hymns to their Deities, or tended indirectly to the Celebration of their respective Attributes and Perfections. Those who are acquainted with the Works of the Greek and Latin Poets which are still extant, will upon Reflection find this Observation so true, that I shall not enlarge upon it. One would wonder that more of our Christian Poets have not turned their Thoughts this way, especially if we consider, that our Idea of the Supream Being is not only infinitely more Great and Noble than what could possibly enter into the Heart of an Heathen, but filled with every thing that can raise the Imagination, and give an Opportunity for the sublimest Thoughts and Conceptions.

_Plutarch_ tells of a Heathen who was singing an Hymn to _Diana_, in which he celebrated her for her Delight in Human Sacrifices, and other Instances of Cruelty and Revenge; upon which a Poet who was present at this piece of Devotion, and seems to have had a truer Idea of the Divine Nature, told the Votary, by way of Reproof, that in recompence for his Hymn, he heartily wished he might have a Daughter of the same Temper with the Goddess he celebrated. It was indeed impossible to write the Praises of one of those false Deities, according to the Pagan Creed, without a mixture of Impertinence and Absurdity.

The _Jews_, who before the Times of Christianity were the only People that had the Knowledge of the True God, have set the Christian World an Example how they ought to employ this Divine Talent of which I am speaking. As that Nation produced Men of great Genius, without considering them as inspired Writers, they have transmitted to us many Hymns and Divine Odes, which excel those that are delivered down to us by the Ancient _Greeks_ and _Romans_, in the Poetry, as much as in the Subject to which it was consecrated. This I think might easily be shewn, if there were occasion for it.

I have already communicated to the Publick some Pieces of Divine Poetry, and as they have met with a very favourable Reception, I shall from time to time publish any Work of the same nature which has not yet appeared in Print, [1] and may be acceptable to my Readers.

I. When all thy Mercies, O my God,
My rising Soul surveys;
Transported with the View, I'm lost
In Wonder, Love, and Praise:

II. O how shall Words with equal Warmth
The Gratitude declare
That glows within my ravish'd Heart?
But thou canst read it there.

III. Thy Providence my Life sustain'd,
And all my Wants redrest,
When in the silent Womb I lay,
And hung upon the Breast.

IV. To all my weak Complaints and Cries,
Thy Mercy lent an Ear,
Ere yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in Pray'r.

V. Unnumbered Comforts to my Soul
Thy tender Care bestow'd,
Before my infant Heart conceiv'd
From whom those Comforts flow'd.

VI. When in the slippery Paths of Youth
With heedless Steps I ran,
Thine Arm unseen convey'd me safe
And led me up to Man.

VII. Through hidden Dangers, Toils, and Deaths,
It gently clear'd my Way,
And through the pleasing Snares of Vice,
More to be fear'd than they.

VIII. When worn with Sickness oft hast thou
With Health renew'd my Face,
And when in Sins and Sorrows sunk
Revived my Soul with Grace.

IX. Thy bounteous Hand with worldly Bliss
Has made my Cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful Friend
Has doubled all my Store.

X. Ten thousand thousand precious Gifts
My Daily Thanks employ,
Nor is the least a chearful Heart,
That tastes those Gifts with Joy.

XI. Through every Period of my Life
Thy Goodness I'll pursue;
And after Death in distant Worlds
The Glorious Theme renew.

XII. When Nature fails, and Day and Night
Divide thy Works no more,
My Ever-grateful Heart, O Lord,
Thy Mercy shall adore.

XIII. Through all Eternity to Thee
A joyful Song I'll raise,
For oh! Eternity's too short
To utter all thy Praise.

C.

[Footnote 1: By himself.]

* * * * *

No. 454. Monday, August 11, 1712. Steele.

'Sine me, Vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris.'

Ter. Heau.

It is an inexpressible Pleasure to know a little of the World, and be of no Character or Significancy in it. To be ever unconcerned, and ever looking on new Objects with an endless Curiosity, is a Delight known only to those who are turned for Speculation: Nay, they who enjoy it, must value Things only as they are the Objects of Speculation, without drawing any worldly Advantage to themselves from them, but just as they are what contribute to their Amusement, or the Improvement of the Mind. I lay one Night last Week at _Richmond_; and being restless, not out of Dissatisfaction, but a certain busie Inclination one sometimes has, I rose at Four in the Morning, and took Boat for _London_, with a Resolution to rove by Boat and Coach for the next Four and twenty Hours, till the many different Objects I must needs meet with should tire my Imagination, and give me an Inclination to a Repose more profound than I was at that Time capable of. I beg People's Pardon for an odd Humour I am guilty of, and was often that Day, which is saluting any Person whom I like, whether I know him or not. This is a Particularity would be tolerated in me, if they considered that the greatest Pleasure I know I receive at my Eyes, and that I am obliged to an agreeable Person for coming abroad into my View, as another is for a Visit of Conversation at their own Houses.

The Hours of the Day and Night are taken up in the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_ by People as different from each other as those who are born in different Centuries. Men of Six a Clock give way to those of Nine, they of Nine to the Generation of Twelve, and they of Twelve disappear, and make Room for the fashionable World, who have made Two a Clock the Noon of the Day.

When we first put off from Shore, we soon fell in with a Fleet of Gardeners bound for the several Market-Ports of _London_; and it was the most pleasing Scene imaginable to see the Chearfulness with which those industrious People ply'd their Way to a certain Sale of their Goods. The Banks on each Side are as well peopled, and beautified with as agreeable Plantations, as any Spot on the Earth; but the _Thames_ it self, loaded with the Product of each Shore, added very much to the Landskip. It was very easie to observe by their Sailing, and the Countenances of the ruddy Virgins, who were Super-Cargoes, the Parts of the Town to which they were bound. There was an Air in the Purveyors for _Covent-Garden_, who frequently converse with Morning Rakes, very unlike the seemly Sobriety of those bound for _Stocks Market_.

Nothing remarkable happened in our Voyage; but I landed with Ten Sail of Apricock Boats at _Strand-Bridge_, after having put in at _Nine-Elms_, and taken in Melons, consigned by Mr. _Cuffe_ of that Place, to _Sarah Sewell_ and Company, at their Stall in _Covent-Garden_. We arrived at _Strand-Bridge_ at Six of the Clock, and were unloading: when the Hackney Coachmen of the foregoing Night took their leave of each other at the _Dark-House_, to go to Bed before the Day was too far spent, Chimney-Sweepers pass'd by us as we made up to the Market, and some Raillery happened between one of the Fruit Wenches and those black Men, about the Devil and _Eve_, with Allusion to their several Professions. I could not believe any Place more entertaining than _Covent-Garden_; where I strolled from one Fruit-Shop to another, with Crowds of agreeable young Women around me, who were purchasing Fruit for their respective Families. It was almost eight of the Clock before I could leave that Variety of Objects. I took Coach and followed a Young Lady, who tripped into another just before me, attended by her Maid. I saw immediately she was of the Family of the _Vainloves_. There are a set of these who of all Things affect the Play of _Blindman's-Buff_, and leading Men into Love for they know not whom, who are fled they know not where. This sort of Woman is usually a janty Slattern; she hangs on her Cloaths, plays her Head, varies her Posture, and changes Place incessantly, and all with an Appearance of striving at the same time to hide her self, and yet give you to understand she is in Humour to laugh at you. You must have often seen the Coachmen make Signs with their Fingers as they drive by each other, to intimate how much they have got that Day. They can carry on that Language to give Intelligence where they are driving. In an Instant my Coachman took the Wink to pursue, and the Lady's Driver gave the Hint that he was going through _Long-Acre_ towards St. _James's_: While he whipped up _James-Street_, we drove for _King-Street_, to save the Pass at St. _Martin's-Lane_. The Coachmen took care to meet, jostle, and threaten each other for Way, and be entangled at the End of _Newport-Street_ and _Long-Acre_. The Fright, you must believe, brought down the Lady's Coach Door, and obliged her, with her Mask off, to enquire into the Bustle, when she sees the Man she would avoid. The Tackle of the Coach-Window is so bad she cannot draw it up again, and she drives on sometimes wholly discovered, and sometimes half escaped, according to the Accident of Carriages in her Way. One of these Ladies keeps her Seat in a Hackney-Coach, as well as the best Rider does on a managed Horse. The laced Shooe of her left Foot, with a careless Gesture, just appearing on the opposite Cushion, held her both firm, and in a proper Attitude to receive the next Jolt.

As she was an excellent Coach Woman, many were the Glances at each other which we had for an Hour and an Half in all Parts of the Town by the Skill of our Drivers; till at last my Lady was conveniently lost with Notice from her Coachman to ours to make off, and he should hear where she went. This Chase was now at an End, and the Fellow who drove her came to us, and discovered that he was ordered to come again in an Hour, for that she was a Silk-Worm. I was surprized with this Phrase, but found it was a Cant among the Hackney Fraternity for their best Customers, Women who ramble twice or thrice a Week from Shop to Shop, to turn over all the Goods in Town without buying any thing. The Silk-worms are, it seems, indulged by the Tradesmen; for tho' they never buy, they are ever talking of new Silks, Laces and Ribbands, and serve the Owners in getting them Customers as their common Dunners do in making them pay.