Chapter LXXIX: Introduction (79)

The Day of People of Fashion began now to Break, and Carts and Hacks were mingled with Equipages of Show and Vanity; when I resolved to walk it out of Cheapness; but my unhappy Curiosity is such, that I find it always my Interest to take Coach, for some odd Adventure among Beggars, Ballad-Singers, or the like, detains and throws me into Expence. It happened so immediately; for at the Corner of _Warwick Street_, as I was listening to a new Ballad, a ragged Rascal, a Beggar who knew me, came up to me, and began to turn the Eyes of the good Company upon me, by telling me he was extream Poor, and should die in the Street for want of Drink, except I immediately would have the Charity to give him Six-pence to go into the next Ale-house and save his Life. He urged, with a melancholy Face, that all his Family had died of Thirst. All the Mob have Humour, and two or three began to take the Jest; by which Mr. _Sturdy_ carried his Point, and let me sneak off to a Coach. As I drove along, it was a pleasing Reflection to see the World so prettily chequered since I left _Richmond_, and the Scene still filling with Children of a new Hour. This Satisfaction encreased as I moved towards the City; and gay Signs, well disposed Streets, magnificent publick Structures, and wealthy Shops, adorned with contented Faces, made the Joy still rising till we came into the Centre of the City, and Centre of the World of Trade, the _Exchange_ of _London_. As other men in the Crowds about me were pleased with their Hopes and Bargains, I found my Account in observing them, in Attention to their several Interests. I, indeed, looked upon my self as the richest Man that walked the _Exchange_ that Day; for my Benevolence made me share the Gains of every Bargain that was made. It was not the least of my Satisfactions in my Survey, to go up Stairs, and pass the Shops of agreeable Females; to observe so many pretty Hands busie in the Foldings of Ribbands, and the utmost Eagerness of agreeable Faces in the sale of Patches, Pins, and Wires, on each Side the Counters, was an Amusement, in which I should longer have indulged my self, had not the dear Creatures called to me to ask what I wanted, when I could not answer, only _To look at you_. I went to one of the Windows which opened to the Area below, where all the several Voices lost their Distinction, and rose up in a confused Humming; which created in me a Reflection that could not come into the Mind of any but of one a little too studious; for I said to my self, with a kind of Pun in Thought, _What Nonsense is all the Hurry of this World to those who are above it?_ In these, or not much wiser Thoughts, I had like to have lost my Place at the Chop-House, where every Man according to the natural Bashfulness or Sullenness of our Nation, eats in a publick Room a Mess of Broth, or Chop of Meat, in dumb Silence, as if they had no pretence to speak to each other on the Foot of being Men, except they were of each other's Acquaintance.

I went afterwards to _Robin's_, and saw People who had dined with me at the Five-penny Ordinary just before, give Bills for the Value of large Estates; and could not but behold with great Pleasure, Property lodged in, and transferred in a Moment from such as would never be Masters of half as much as is seemingly in them, and given from them every Day they live. But before Five in the Afternoon I left the City, came to my common Scene of _Covent-Garden_, and passed the Evening at _Will's_ in attending the Discourses of several Sets of People, who relieved each other within my Hearing on the Subjects of Cards, Dice, Love, Learning, and Politicks. The last Subject kept me till I heard the Streets in the Possession of the Bellman, who had now the World to himself, and cry'd, _Past Two of Clock_. This rous'd me from my Seat, and I went to my Lodging, led by a Light, whom I put into the Discourse of his private Oeconomy, and made him give me an Account of the Charge, Hazard, Profit and Loss of a Family that depended upon a Link, with a Design to end my trivial Day with the Generosity of Six-pence, instead of a third Part of that Sum. When I came to my Chambers I writ down these Minutes; but was at a Loss what Instruction I should propose to my Reader from the Enumeration of so many Insignificant Matters and Occurrences; and I thought it of great Use, if they could learn with me to keep their Minds open to Gratification, and ready to receive it from any thing it meets with. This one Circumstance will make every Face you see give you the Satisfaction you now take in beholding that of a Friend; will make every Object a pleasing one; will make all the Good which arrives to any Man, an Encrease of Happiness to your self.

T.

* * * * *

No. 455. Tuesday, August 12, 1712. Steele.

'--Ergo Apis Matinæ
More modoque
Grata Carpentis thyma per laborem
Plurimum--'

The following Letters have in them Reflections which will seem of Importance both to the Learned World and to Domestick Life. There is in the first an Allegory so well carry'd on, that it cannot but be very pleasing to those who have a Taste of good Writing; and the other Billets may have their Use in common Life.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

As I walked t'other Day in a fine Garden, and observed the great
Variety of Improvements in Plants and Flowers beyond what they
otherwise would have been, I was naturally led into a Reflection upon
the Advantages of Education, or Moral Culture; how many good Qualities
in the Mind are lost, for want of the like due Care in nursing and
skilfully managing them, how many Virtues are choaked, by the
Multitude of Weeds which are suffered to grow among them; how
excellent Parts are often starved and useless, by being planted in a
wrong Soil; and how very seldom do these Moral Seeds produce the noble
Fruits which might be expected from them, by a Neglect of proper
Manuring, necessary Pruning, and an artful Management of our tender
Inclinations and first Spring of Life: These obvious Speculations made
me at length conclude, that there is a sort of vegetable Principle in
the Mind of every Man when he comes into the World. In Infants the
Seeds lie buried and undiscovered, till after a while they sprout
forth in a kind of rational _Leaves_, which are _Words_; and in due
Season the _Flowers_ begin to appear in Variety of beautiful Colours,
and all the gay Pictures of youthful Fancy and Imagination; at last
the Fruit knits and is formed, which is green, perhaps, first, and
soure, unpleasant to the Taste, and not fit to be gathered; till
ripened by due Care and Application, it discovers itself in all the
noble Productions of Philosophy, Mathematicks, close Reasoning, and
handsome Argumentation: And these Fruits, when they arrive at a just
Maturity, and are of a good Kind, afford the most vigorous Nourishment
to the Minds of Men. I reflected further on the intellectual Leaves
beforementioned, and found almost as great a Variety among them as in
the vegetable World. I could easily observe the smooth shining
_Italian_ Leaves; the nimble _French_ Aspen always in Motion; the
_Greek_ and _Latin_ Evergreens, the _Spanish_ Myrtle, the _English_
Oak, the _Scotch_ Thistle, the _Irish_ Shambrogue, the prickly
_German_ and _Dutch_ Holly, the _Polish_ and _Russian_ Nettle, besides
a vast Number of Exoticks imported from _Asia_, _Africk_, and
_America_. I saw several barren Plants, which bore only Leaves,
without any Hopes of Flower or Fruit: The Leaves of some were fragrant
and well-shaped, of others ill-scented and irregular. I wonder'd at a
Set of old whimsical Botanists, who spent their whole Lives in the
Contemplation of some withered _Ægyptian_, _Coptick_, _Armenian_, or
_Chinese_ Leaves, while others made it their Business to collect in
voluminous Herbals all the several Leaves of some one Tree. The
Flowers afforded a most diverting Entertainment, in a wonderful
Variety of Figures, Colours and Scents; however, most of them withered
soon, or at best are but _Annuals_. Some professed Florists make them
their constant Study and Employment, and despise all Fruit; and now
and then a few fanciful People spend all their Time in the Cultivation
of a single Tulip, or a Carnation: But the most agreeable Amusement
seems to be the well chusing, mixing, and binding together these
Flowers, in pleasing Nosegays to present to Ladies. The Scent of
_Italian_ Flowers is observed, like their other Perfume, to be too
strong, and to hurt the Brain; that of the _French_ with glaring,
gaudy Colours, yet faint and languid; _German_ and _Northern_ Flowers
have little or no Smell, or sometimes an unpleasant one. The Antients
had a Secret to give a lasting Beauty, Colour, and Sweetness to some
of their choice Flowers, which flourish to this Day, and which few of
the Moderns can effect. These are becoming enough and agreeable in
their Season, and do often handsomely adorn an Entertainment, but an
Over-fondness of them seems to be a Disease. It rarely happens to find
a Plant vigorous enough, to have (like an Orange-Tree) at once
beautiful shining Leaves, fragrant Flowers, and delicious nourishing
Fruit.

_SIR, Yours_, &c.

_August 6_, 1712.

_Dear_ SPEC,

You have given us in your _Spectator_ of _Saturday_ last, a very
excellent Discourse upon the Force of Custom, and its wonderful
Efficacy in making every thing pleasant to us. I cannot deny but that
I received above Two penny-worth of Instruction from your Paper, and
in the general was very well pleased with it; but I am, without a
Compliment, sincerely troubled that I cannot exactly be of your
Opinion, That it makes every thing pleasing to us. In short, I have
the Honour to be yoked to a young Lady, who is, in plain English, for
her Standing, a very eminent Scold. She began to break her Mind very
freely both to me and to her Servants about two Months after our
Nuptials; and tho' I have been accustomed to this Humour of hers this
three Years, yet, I do not know what's the Matter with me, but I am no
more delighted with it than I was at the very first. I have advised
with her Relations about her, and they all tell me that her Mother and
her Grandmother before her were both taken much after the same Manner;
so that since it runs in the Blood, I have but small Hopes of her
Recovery. I should be glad to have a little of your Advice in this
Matter: I would not willingly trouble you to contrive how it may be a
Pleasure to me; if you will but put me in a Way that I may bear it
with Indifference, I shall rest satisfied.

_Dear_ SPEC,

_Your very humble Servant_.

P. S. I must do the poor Girl the Justice to let you know, that this
Match was none of her own chusing, (or indeed of mine either;) in
Consideration of which I avoid giving her the least Provocation; and
indeed we live better together than usually Folks do who hated one
another when they were first joined: To evade the Sin against Parents,
or at least to extenuate it, my Dear rails at my Father and Mother,
and I curse hers for making the Match.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I like the Theme you lately gave out extremely, and should be as glad
to handle it as any Man living: But I find myself no better qualified
to write about Money, than about my Wife; for, to tell you a Secret
which I desire may go no further, I am Master of neither of those
Subjects.

_Yours_,

Pill Garlick.

_Aug_. 8, 1712.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I desire you would print this in _Italick_, so as it may be generally
taken Notice of. It is designed only to admonish all Persons, who
speak either at the Bar, Pulpit, or any publick Assembly whatsoever,
how they discover their Ignorance in the Use of Similes. There are in
the Pulpit it self, as well as other Places, such gross Abuses in this
Kind, that I give this Warning to all I know, I shall bring them for
the Future before your Spectatorial Authority. On _Sunday_ last, one,
who shall be nameless, reproving several of his Congregation for
standing at Prayers, was pleased to say, _One would think_, like the
Elephant, _you had no Knees_. Now I my self saw an Elephant in
_Bartholomew-Fair_ kneel down to take on his Back the ingenious Mr.
_William Penkethman_.

_Your most humble Servant_.

T.

* * * * *

No. 456. Wednesday, August 13, 1712. Steele.

'De quo libelli in celeberrimis locis proponuntur
Huic ne perire quidem tacite conceditur.'

Tull.

OTWAY, in his Tragedy of _Venice Preserv'd_, has described the Misery of a Man, whose Effects are in the Hands of the Law, with great Spirit. The Bitterness of being the Scorn and Laughter of base Minds, the Anguish of being insulted by Men hardened beyond the Sense of Shame or Pity, and the Injury of a Man's Fortune being wasted, under Pretence of Justice, are excellently aggravated in the following Speech of _Pierre_ to _Faffeir:_ [1]

'I pass'd this very Moment by thy Doors,
And found them guarded by a Troop of Villains:
The Sons of publick Rapine were destroying.
They told me, by the Sentence of the Law,
They had Commission to seize all thy Fortune:
Nay more, _Priuli's_ cruel Hand had sign'd it.
Here stood a Ruffian with a horrid Face,
Lording it o'er a Pile of massy Plate,
Tumbled into a Heap for publick Sale.
There was another making villanous Jests
At thy Undoing: He had ta'en Possession
Of all thy ancient most domestick Ornaments:
Rich Hangings intermix'd and wrought with Gold;
The very Bed, which on thy Wedding Night
Received thee to the Arms of _Belvedira_,
The Scene of all thy Joys, was violated
By the coarse Hands of filthy Dungeon Villains,
And thrown amongst the common Lumber.'

Nothing indeed can be more unhappy than the Condition of Bankrupcy. The Calamity which happens to us by ill Fortune, or by the Injury of others, has in it some Consolation; but what arises from our own Misbehaviour or Error, is the State of the most exquisite Sorrow. When a Man considers not only an ample Fortune, but even the very Necessaries of Life, his Pretence to Food it self at the Mercy of his Creditors, he cannot but look upon himself in the State of the Dead, with his Case thus much worse, that the last Office is performed by his Adversaries, instead of his Friends. From this Hour the cruel World does not only take Possession of his whole Fortune, but even of every thing else, which had no Relation to it. All his indifferent Actions have new Interpretations put upon them; and those whom he has favoured in his former Life, discharge themselves of their Obligations to him, by joining in the Reproaches of his Enemies. It is almost incredible that it should be so; but it is too often seen that there is a Pride mixed with the Impatience of the Creditor, and there are who would rather recover their own by the Downfal of a prosperous Man, than be discharged to the common Satisfaction of themselves and their Creditors. The wretched Man, who was lately Master of Abundance, is now under the Direction of others; and the Wisdom, Oeconomy, good Sense and Skill in human Life before, by reason of his present Misfortune, are of no Use to him in the Disposition of any thing. The Incapacity of an Infant or a Lunatick, is designed for his Provision and Accommodation; but that of a Bankrupt, without any Mitigation in respect of the Accidents by which it arrived, is calculated for his utter Ruin, except there be a Remainder ample enough after the Discharge of his Creditors to bear also the Expence of rewarding those by whose Means the Effect of all his Labours was transferred from him. This Man is to look on and see others giving Directions upon what Terms and Conditions his Goods are to be purchased, and all this usually done not with an Air of Trustees to dispose of his Effects, but Destroyers to divide and tear them to Pieces.

There is something sacred in Misery to great and good Minds; for this Reason all wise Lawgivers have been extremely tender how they let loose even the Man who has Right on his Side, to act with any Mixture of Resentment against the Defendant. Virtuous and modest Men, though they be used with some Artifice, and have it in their Power to avenge themselves, are slow in the Application of that Power, and are ever constrained to go into rigorous Measures. They are careful to demonstrate themselves not only Persons injured, but also that to bear it longer, would be a Means to make the Offender injure others, before they proceed. Such Men clap their Hands upon their Hearts, and consider what it is to have at their Mercy the Life of a Citizen. Such would have it to say to their own Souls, if possible, That they were merciful when they could have destroyed, rather than when it was in their Power to have spared a Man, they destroyed. This is a Due to the common Calamity of Human Life, due in some measure to our very Enemies. They who scruple doing the least Injury, are cautious of exacting the utmost Justice.

Let any one who is conversant in the Variety of Human Life reflect upon it, and he will find the Man who wants Mercy has a Taste of no Enjoyment of any Kind. There is a natural Disrelish of every thing which is good in his very Nature, and he is born an Enemy to the World. He is ever extremely partial to himself in all his Actions, and has no Sense of Iniquity but from the Punishment which shall attend it. The Law of the Land is his Gospel, and all his Cases of Conscience are determined by his Attorney. Such Men know not what it is to gladden the Heart of a miserable Man, that Riches are the Instruments of serving the Purposes of Heaven or Hell, according to the Disposition of the Possessor. The wealthy can torment or gratifie all who are in their Power, and chuse to do one or other as they are affected with Love or Hatred to Mankind. As for such who are insensible of the Concerns of others, but merely as they affect themselves, these Men are to be valued only for their Mortality, and as we hope better Things from their Heirs. I could not but read with great Delight a Letter from an eminent Citizen, who has failed, to one who was intimate with him in his better Fortune, and able by his Countenance to retrieve his lost Condition.

SIR,

It is in vain to multiply Words and make Apologies for what is never
to be defended by the best Advocate in the World, the Guilt of being
Unfortunate. All that a Man in my Condition can do or say, will be
received with Prejudice by the Generality of Mankind, but I hope not
with you: You have been a great Instrument in helping me to get what I
have lost, and I know (for that Reason, as well as Kindness to me) you
cannot but be in pain to see me undone. To shew you I am not a Man
incapable of bearing Calamity, I will, though a poor Man, lay aside
the Distinction between us, and talk with the Frankness we did when we
were nearer to an Equality: As all I do will be received with
Prejudice, all you do will be looked upon with Partiality. What I
desire of you, is, that you, who are courted by all, would smile upon
me who am shunned by all. Let that Grace and Favour which your Fortune
throws upon you, be turned to make up the Coldness and Indifference
that is used towards me. All good and generous Men will have an Eye of
Kindness for me for my own Sake, and the rest of the World will regard
me for yours. There is an happy Contagion in Riches, as well as a
destructive one in Poverty; the Rich can make rich without parting
with any of their Store, and the Conversation of the Poor makes Men
poor, though they borrow nothing of them. How this is to be accounted
for I know not? but Men's Estimation follows us according to the
Company we keep. If you are what you were to me, you can go a great
Way towards my Recovery; if you are not, my good Fortune, if ever it
returns, will return by slower Approaches.

I am SIR,
Your Affectionate Friend,
and Humble Servant.

This was answered with a Condescension that did not, by long impertinent Professions of Kindness, insult his Distress, but was as follows.

_Dear Tom_,

I am very glad to hear that you have Heart enough to begin the World a
second Time. I assure you, I do not think your numerous Family at all
diminished (in the Gifts of Nature for which I have ever so much
admired them) by what has so lately happened to you. I shall not only
countenance your Affairs with my Appearance for you, but shall
accommodate you with a considerable Sum at common Interest for three
Years. You know I could make more of it; but I have so great a Love
for you that I can wave Opportunities of Gain to help you: For I do
not care whether they say of me after I am dead, that I had an hundred
or fifty thousand Pounds more than I wanted when I was living.

_Your obliged humble Servant_.

T.

[Footnote 1: Act I., sc. 2.]

* * * * *

No. 457. Thursday, August 14, 1712. Addison.

'--Multa et præclara minantis.'

Hor.

I shall this Day lay before my Reader a Letter, written by the same Hand with that of last Friday, which contained Proposals for a Printed News-paper, that should take in the whole Circle of the Penny-Post.

SIR,

The kind Reception you gave my last Friday's Letter, in which I
broached my Project of a News-Paper, encourages me to lay before you
two or three more; for, you must know, Sir, that we look upon you to
be the _Lowndes_ of the learned World, and cannot think any Scheme
practicable or rational before you have approved of it, tho' all the
Money we raise by it is on our own Funds, and for our private Use.

I have often thought that a _News-Letter of Whispers_, written every
Post, and sent about the Kingdom, after the same Manner as that of Mr.
_Dyer_, Mr. _Dawkes_, or any other Epistolary Historian, might be
highly gratifying to the Publick, as well as beneficial to the Author.
By Whispers I mean those Pieces of News which are communicated as
Secrets, and which bring a double Pleasure to the Hearer; first, as
they are private History, and in the next place as they have always in
them a Dash of Scandal. These are the two chief Qualifications in an
Article of News, [which [1]] recommend it, in a more than ordinary
Manner, to the Ears of the Curious. Sickness of Persons in high Posts,
Twilight Visits paid and received by Ministers of State, Clandestine
Courtships and Marriages, Secret Amours, Losses at Play, Applications
for Places, with their respective Successes or Repulses, are the
Materials in which I chiefly intend to deal. I have two Persons, that
are each of them the Representative of a Species, who are to furnish
me with those Whispers which I intend to convey to my Correspondents.
The first of these is _Peter Hush_, descended from the ancient Family
of the _Hushes_. The other is the old Lady _Blast_, who has a very
numerous Tribe of Daughters in the two great Cities of _London_ and
_Westminster_. _Peter Hush_ has a whispering Hole in most of the great
Coffee-houses about Town. If you are alone with him in a wide Room, he
carries you up into a Corner of it, and speaks in your Ear. I have
seen _Peter_ seat himself in a Company of seven or eight Persons, whom
he never saw before in his Life; and after having looked about to see
there was no one that overheard him, has communicated to them in a low
Voice, and under the Seal of Secrecy, the Death of a great Man in the
Country, who was perhaps a Fox-hunting the very Moment this Account
was [given [2]] of him. If upon your entring into a Coffee-house you
see a Circle of Heads bending over the Table, and lying close by one
another, it is ten to one but my Friend _Peter_ is among them. I have
known _Peter_ publishing the Whisper of the Day by eight a-Clock in
the Morning at _Garraway's_, by twelve at _Will's_, and before two at
the _Smyrna_. When _Peter_ has thus effectually launched a Secret, I
have been very well pleased to hear People whispering it to one
another at second Hand, and spreading it about as their own; for you
must know, Sir, the great Incentive to Whispering is the Ambition
which every one has of being thought in the Secret, and being look'd
upon as a Man who has Access to greater People than one would imagine.
After having given you this Account of _Peter Hush_, I proceed to that
virtuous Lady, the old Lady _Blast_, who is to communicate to me the
private Transactions of the Crimp Table, with all the _Arcana_ of the
Fair Sex. The Lady _Blast_, you must understand, has such a particular
Malignity in her Whisper, that it blights like an Easterly Wind, and
withers every Reputation that it breathes upon. She has a particular
Knack at making private Weddings, and last Winter married above five
Women of Quality to their Footmen. Her Whisper can make an innocent
young Woman big with Child, or fill an healthful young Fellow with
Distempers that are not to be named. She can turn a Visit into an
Intrigue, and a distant Salute into an Assignation. She can beggar the
Wealthy, and degrade the Noble. In short, she can whisper Men Base or
Foolish, Jealous or Ill-natured, or, if Occasion requires, can tell
you the Slips of their Great Grandmothers, and traduce the Memory of
honest Coachmen that have been in their Graves above these hundred
Years. By these and the like Helps, I question not but I shall furnish
out a very handsome News-Letter. If you approve my Project, I shall
begin to whisper by the very next Post, and question not but every one
of my Customers will be very well pleased with me, when he considers
that every Piece of News I send him is a Word in his Ear, and lets him
into a Secret.

Having given you a Sketch of this Project, I shall, in the next Place,
suggest to you another for a Monthly Pamphlet, which I shall likewise
submit to your Spectatorial Wisdom. I need not tell you, Sir, that
there are several Authors in _France_, _Germany_, and _Holland_, as
well as in our own Country, who publish every Month, what they call
_An Account of the Works of the Learned_, in which they give us an
Abstract of all such Books as are printed in any Part of _Europe_.
Now, Sir, it is my Design to publish every Month, _An Account of the
Works of the Unlearned_. Several late Productions of my own
Countrymen, who many of them make a very eminent Figure in the
Illiterate World, Encourage me in this Undertaking. I may, in this
Work, possibly make a Review of several Pieces which have appeared in
the Foreign _Accounts_ above-mentioned, tho' they ought not to have
been taken Notice of in Works which bear such a Title. I may,
likewise, take into Consideration, such Pieces as appear, from time to
time, under the Names of those Gentlemen who Compliment one another,
in Publick Assemblies, by the Title of the _Learned Gentlemen_. Our
Party-Authors will also afford me a great Variety of Subjects, not to
mention Editors, Commentators, and others, who are often Men of no
Learning, or, what is as bad, of no Knowledge. I shall not enlarge
upon this Hint; but if you think any thing can be made of it, I shall
set about it with all the Pains and Application that so useful a Work
deserves.

_I am ever_,

_Most Worthy SIR_, &c.

C.

[Footnote 1: [that]]

[Footnote 2: [giving]]

* * * * *

No. 458. Friday, August 15, 1712. Addison.

[Greek: 'Lidôs ouk agáthae--Hes.]

--Pudor malus--

Hor.

I could not Smile at the Account that was Yesterday given me of a modest young Gentleman, who being invited to an Entertainment, though he was not used to drink, had not the Confidence to refuse his Glass in his Turn, when on a sudden he grew so flustered that he took all the Talk of the Table into his own Hands, abused every one of the Company, and flung a Bottle at the Gentleman's Head who treated him. This has given me Occasion to reflect upon the ill Effects of a vicious Modesty, and to remember the Saying of _Brutus_, as it is quoted by _Plutarch_, that _the Person has had but an ill Education, who has not been taught to deny any thing_. This false kind of Modesty has, perhaps, betrayed both Sexes into as many Vices as the most abandoned Impudence, and is the more inexcusable to Reason, because it acts to gratify others rather than it self, and is punished with a kind of Remorse, not only like other vicious Habits when the Crime is over, but even at the very time that it is committed.

Nothing is more amiable than true Modesty, and nothing is more contemptible than the false. The one guards Virtue, the other betrays it. True Modesty is ashamed to do any thing that is repugnant to the Rules of right Reason: False Modesty is ashamed to do any thing that is opposite to the Humour of the Company. True Modesty avoids every thing that is criminal, false Modesty every thing that is unfashionable. The latter is only a general undetermined Instinct; the former is that Instinct, limited and circumscribed by the Rules of Prudence and Religion.

We may conclude that Modesty to be false and vicious, which engages a Man to do any thing that is ill or indiscreet, or which restrains him from doing any thing that is of a contrary Nature. How many Men, in the common Concerns of Life, lend Sums of Money which they are not able to spare, are bound for Persons whom they have but little Friendship for, give Recommendatory Characters of Men whom they are not acquainted with, bestow Places on those whom they do not esteem, live in such a Manner as they themselves do not approve, and all this meerly because they have not the Confidence to resist Solicitation, Importunity or Example?

Nor does this false Modesty expose us only to such Actions as are indiscreet, but very often to such as are highly criminal. When _Xenophanes_ [1] was called timorous, because he would not venture his Money in a Game at Dice: _I confess_, said he, _that I am exceeding timorous, for I dare not do any ill thing_. On the contrary, a Man of vicious Modesty complies with every thing, and is only fearful of doing what may look singular in the Company where he is engaged. He falls in with the Torrent, and lets himself go to every Action or Discourse, however unjustifiable in it self, so it be in Vogue among the present Party. This, tho' one of the most common, is one of the most ridiculous Dispositions in Human Nature, that Men should not be ashamed of speaking or acting in a dissolute or irrational Manner, but that one who is in their Company should be ashamed of governing himself by the Principles of Reason and Virtue.

This little Appearance of a Religious Deportment in our Nation, may proceed in some measure from that Modesty which is natural to us, but the great occasion of it is certainly this. Those Swarms of Sectaries that overran the Nation in the time of the great Rebellion, carried their Hypocrisie so high, that they had converted our whole Language into a Jargon of Enthusiasm; insomuch that upon the Restoration Men thought they could not recede too far from the Behaviour and Practice of those Persons, who had made Religion a Cloak to so many Villanies. This led them into the other Extream, every Appearance of Devotion was looked upon as Puritannical, and falling into the Hands of the Ridiculers who flourished in that Reign, and attacked every thing that was Serious, it has ever since been out of Countenance among us. By this means we are gradually fallen into that Vicious Modesty which has in some measure worn out from among us the Appearance of Christianity in Ordinary Life and Conversation, and which distinguishes us from all [our Neighbours. [2]]

Hypocrisie cannot indeed be too much detested, but at the same time is to be preferred to open Impiety. They are both equally destructive to the Person who is possessed with them; but in regard to others, Hypocrisie is not so pernicious as bare-faced Irreligion. The due Mean to be observed is to be sincerely Virtuous, and at the same time to let the World see we are so. I do not know a more dreadful Menace in the Holy Writings, than that which is pronounced against those who have this perverted Modesty, to be ashamed before Men in a Particular of such unspeakable Importance.

C. [3]

[Footnote 1: Xenophon]

[Footnote 2: the Nations that lie about us.]

[Footnote 3: No letter affixed in the first issue.]

* * * * *

No. 459. Saturday, August 16, 1712. Addison.

'--quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est.'

Hor.

Religion may be considered under two General Heads. The first comprehends what we are to believe, the other what we are to practise. By those things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us in the Holy Writings, and which we could not have obtained the Knowledge of by the Light of Nature; by the things which we are to practise, I mean all those Duties to which we are directed by Reason or Natural Religion. The first of these I shall distinguish by the Name of Faith, the Second by that of Morality.

If we look into the more Serious Part of Mankind, we find many who lay so great a Stress upon Faith, that they neglect Morality; and many who build so much upon Morality, that they do not pay a due Regard to Faith. The perfect Man should be defective in neither of these Particulars, as will be very evident to those who consider the Benefits which arise from each of them, and which I shall make the Subject of this Day's Paper.

Notwithstanding this general Division of Christian Duty into Morality and Faith, and that they have both their peculiar Excellencies, the first has the Pre-eminence in several Respects.

_First_, Because the greatest Part of Morality (as I have stated
the Notion of it,) is of a fixt Eternal Nature, and will
endure when Faith shall fail, and be lost in Conviction.

_Secondly_, Because a Person may be qualified to do greater Good to
Mankind, and become more beneficial to the World, by
Morality, without Faith, than by Faith without Morality.

_Thirdly_, Because Morality gives a greater Perfection to human
Nature, by quieting the Mind, moderating the Passions, and
advancing the Happiness of every Man in his private
Capacity.

_Fourthly_, Because the Rule of Morality is much more certain than
that of Faith, all the Civilized Nations of the World
agreeing in the great Points of Morality, as much as they
differ in those of Faith.

_Fifthly_, Because Infidelity is not of so malignant a Nature as
Immorality; or to put the same Reason in another Light,
because it is generally owned, there may be Salvation for
a virtuous Infidel, (particularly in the Case of
Invincible Ignorance) but none for a vicious Believer.

_Sixthly_, Because Faith seems to draw its principal, if not all its
Excellency, from the Influence it has upon Morality; as we
shall see more at large, if we consider wherein consists
the Excellency of Faith, or the Belief of Revealed
Religion; and this I think is,

_First_, In explaining and carrying to greater Heights, several
Points of Morality.

_Secondly_, In furnishing new and stronger Motives to enforce the
Practice of Morality.

_Thirdly_, In giving us more amiable Ideas of the Supreme Being,
more endearing Notions of one another, and a truer State
of our selves, both in regard to the Grandeur and
Vileness of our Natures.

_Fourthly_, By shewing us the Blackness and Deformity of Vice, which
in the Christian System is so very great, that he who is
possessed of all Perfection and the Sovereign Judge of
it, is represented by several of our Divines as hating
Sin to the same Degree that he loves the Sacred Person
who was made the Propitiation of it.

_Fifthly_, In being the ordinary and prescribed Method of making
Morality effectual to Salvation.

I have only touched on these several Heads, which every one who is conversant in Discourses of this Nature will easily enlarge upon in his own Thoughts, and draw Conclusions from them which may be useful to him in the Conduct of his Life. One I am sure is so obvious, that he cannot miss it, namely that a Man cannot be perfect in his Scheme of Morality, who does not strengthen and support it with that of the Christian Faith.

Besides this, I shall lay down two or three other Maxims which I think we may deduce from what has been said.

_First_, That we should be particularly cautious of making any
thing an Article of Faith, which does not contribute to
the Confirmation or Improvement of Morality.

_Secondly_, That no Article of Faith can be true and authentick, which
weakens or subverts the practical part of Religion, or
what I have hitherto called Morality.

_Thirdly,_ That the greatest Friend of Morality, or Natural Religion,
cannot possibly apprehend any Danger from embracing Christianity, as
it is preserved pure and uncorrupt in the Doctrines of our National
Church.

There is likewise another Maxim which I think may be drawn from the foregoing Considerations, which is this, that we should, in all dubious Points, consider any ill Consequences that may arise from them, supposing they should be Erroneous, before we give up our Assent to them.

For example, In that disputable Point of Prosecuting Men for Conscience Sake, besides the imbittering their Minds with Hatred, Indignation, and all the Vehemence of Resentment, and ensnaring them to profess what they do not believe; we cut them off from the Pleasures and Advantages of Society, afflict their Bodies, distress their Fortunes, hurt their Reputations, ruin their Families, make their Lives painful, or put an End to them. Sure when I see such dreadful Consequences rising from a Principle, I would be as fully convinced of the Truth of it, as of a Mathematical Demonstration, before I would venture to act upon it, or make it a part of my Religion.

In this Case the Injury done our Neighbour is plain and evident, the Principle that puts us upon doing it, of a dubious and disputable Nature. Morality seems highly violated by the one, and whether or no a Zeal for what a Man thinks the true System of Faith may justifie it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our Religion produce Charity as well as Zeal, it will not be for shewing it self by such cruel Instances. But, to conclude with the Words of an excellent Author, [1] _We have just enough Religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love, one another._

C.

[Footnote 1: Probably Tillotson. The thought is expanded in part of his sermon on the Example of Jesus in doing good. It appears in another form in his sermon for the 5th of November, 1678, where he applies to our religious hatreds the saying that 'the richest and noblest wines make the sharpest vinegar;' again in another form in his sermon at the Yorkshire Feast.]

* * * * *

No. 460. Monday, August 18, 1712. [Parnell [1]]

'--Decipimur Specie Recti--'

Hor.

Our defects and Follies are too often unknown to us; nay, they are so far from being known to us, that they pass for Demonstrations of our Worth. This makes us easy in the midst of them, fond to shew them, fond to improve in them, and to be esteemed for them. Then it is that a thousand unaccountable Conceits, gay Inventions, and extravagant Actions must afford us Pleasures, and display us to others in the Colours which we ourselves take a Fancy to glory in: And indeed there is something so amusing for the time in this State of Vanity and ill-grounded Satisfaction, that even the wiser World has chosen an exalted Word to describe its Enchantments, and called it the _Paradise of Fools_.

Perhaps the latter part of this Reflection may seem a false Thought to some, and bear another Turn than what I have given: but it is at present none of my Business to look after it, who am going to confess that I have been lately amongst them in a Vision.

Methought I was transported to a Hill, green, flowery, and of an easie Ascent. Upon the broad Top of it resided squinteyed _Error_, and popular _Opinion_ with many Heads; two that dealt in Sorcery, and were famous for bewitching People with the Love of themselves. To these repaired a Multitude from every Side, by two different Paths which lead towards each of them. Some who had the most assuming Air, went directly of themselves to _Errour_, without expecting a Conductor; others of a softer Nature went first to popular _Opinion_, from whence as she influenced and engaged them with their own Praises, she delivered them over to his Government.

When we had ascended to an open Part of the Summit where _Opinion_ abode, we found her entertaining several who had arrived before us. Her Voice was pleasing; she breathed Odours as she spoke: She seemed to have a Tongue for every one; every one thought he heard of something that was valuable in himself, and expected a Paradise, which she promised as the Reward of his Merit. Thus were we drawn to follow her, till she should bring us where it was to be bestowed: And it was observable, that all the Way we went, the Company was either praising themselves for their Qualifications, or one another for those Qualifications which they took to be conspicuous in their own Characters, or dispraising others for wanting theirs, or vying in the Degrees of them.

At last we approached a Bower, at the Entrance of which _Errour_ was seated. The Trees were thick-woven, and the Place where he sat artfully contrived to darken him a little. He was disguised in a whitish Robe, which he had put on, that he might appear to us with a nearer Resemblance to _Truth:_ And as she has a Light whereby she manifests the Beauties of Nature to the Eyes of her Adorers, so he had provided himself with a magical Wand, that he might do something in Imitation of it, and please with Delusions. This he lifted solemnly, and muttering to himself, bid the Glories which he kept under Enchantment to appear before us. Immediately we cast our Eyes on that part of the Sky to which he pointed, and observed a thin blue Prospect, which cleared as Mountains in a Summer Morning when the Mists go off, and the Palace of _Vanity_ appeared to Sight.

The Foundation hardly seemed a Foundation, but a Set of curling Clouds, which it stood upon by magical Contrivance. The Way by which we ascended was painted like a Rainbow; and as we went the Breeze that played about us bewitched the Senses. The Walls were gilded all for Show; the lowest Set of Pillars were of the slight fine _Corinthian_ Order, and the Top of the Building being rounded, bore so far the Resemblance of a Bubble.

At the Gate the Travellers neither met with a Porter, nor waited till one should appear; every one thought his Merits a sufficient Passport, and pressed forward. In the Hall we met with several Phantoms, that rov'd amongst us, and rang'd the Company according to their Sentiments. There was decreasing _Honour_, that had nothing to shew in but an old Coat of his Ancestors Atchievements: There was _Ostentation_, that made himself his own constant Subject, and _Gallantry_ strutting upon his Tiptoes. At the upper End of the Hall stood a Throne, whose Canopy glitter'd with all the Riches that Gayety could contrive to lavish on it; and between the gilded Arms sat _Vanity_, deck'd in the Peacock's Feathers, and acknowledged for another _Venus_ by her Votaries. The Boy who stood beside her for a _Cupid_, and who made the World to bow before her, was called _Self-Conceit_. His Eyes had every now and then a Cast inwards to the Neglect of all Objects about him; and the Arms which he made use of for Conquest, were borrowed from those against whom he had a Design. The Arrow which he shot at the Soldier, was fledged from his own Plume of Feathers; the Dart he directed against the Man of Wit, was winged from the Quills he writ with; and that which he sent against those who presumed upon their Riches, was headed with Gold out of their Treasuries: He made Nets for Statesmen from their own Contrivances; he took Fire from the Eyes of Ladies, with which he melted their Hearts; and Lightning from the Tongues of the Eloquent, to enflame them with their own Glories. At the Foot of the Throne sat three false Graces. _Flattery_ with a Shell of Paint, _Affectation_ with a Mirrour to practise at, and _Fashion_ ever changing the Posture of her Cloaths. These applied themselves to secure the Conquests which _Self-Conceit_ had gotten, and had each of them their particular Polities. _Flattery_ gave new Colours and Complections to all Things. _Affectation_ new Airs and Appearances, which, as she said, were not vulgar, and _Fashion_ both concealed some home Defects, and added some foreign external Beauties.

As I was reflecting upon what I saw, I heard a Voice in the Crowd, bemoaning the Condition of Mankind, which is thus managed by the Breath of _Opinion_, deluded by _Errour_, fired by _Self-Conceit_, and given up to be trained in all the Courses of _Vanity_, till _Scorn_ or _Poverty_ come upon us. These Expressions were no sooner handed about, but I immediately saw a general Disorder, till at last there was a Parting in one Place, and a grave old Man, decent and resolute, was led forward to be punished for the Words he had uttered. He appeared inclined to have spoken in his own Defence, but I could not observe that any one was willing to hear him. _Vanity_ cast a scornful Smile at him; _Self-Conceit_ was angry; _Flattery_, who knew him for _Plain-dealing_, put on a Vizard, and turned away; _Affectation_ tossed her Fan, made Mouths, and called him _Envy_ or _Slander_; and _Fashion_ would have it, that at least he must be _Ill-Manners_. Thus slighted and despised by all, he was driven out for abusing People of Merit and Figure; and I heard it firmly resolved, that he should be used no better wherever they met with him hereafter.

I had already seen the Meaning of most part of that Warning which he had given, and was considering how the latter Words should be fulfilled, when a mighty Noise was heard without, and the Door was blackned by a numerous Train of Harpies crowding in upon us. _Folly_ and _Broken Credit_ were seen in the House before they entered. _Trouble, Shame, Infamy, Scorn_ and _Poverty_ brought up the Rear. _Vanity_, with her _Cupid_ and _Graces_, disappeared; her Subjects ran into Holes and Corners; but many of them were found and carried off (as I was told by one who stood near me) either to Prisons or Cellars, Solitude, or little Company, the meaner Arts or the viler Crafts of Life. But these, added he with a disdainful Air, are such who would fondly live here, when their Merits neither matched the Lustre of the Place, nor their Riches its Expences. We have seen such Scenes as these before now; the Glory you saw will all return when the Hurry is over. I thanked him for his Information, and believing him so incorrigible as that he would stay till it was his Turn to be taken, I made off to the Door, and overtook some few, who, though they would not hearken to _Plain-dealing_, were now terrified to good purpose by the Example of others: But when they had touched the Threshold, it was a strange Shock to them to find that the Delusion of _Errour_ was gone, and they plainly discerned the Building to hang a little up in the Air without any real Foundation. At first we saw nothing but a desperate Leap remained for us, and I a thousand times blamed my unmeaning Curiosity that had brought me into so much Danger. But as they began to sink lower in their own Minds, methought the Palace sunk along with us, till they were arrived at the due Point of _Esteem_ which they ought to have for themselves; then the Part of the Building in which they stood touched the Earth, and we departing out, it retired from our Eyes. Now, whether they who stayed in the Palace were sensible of this Descent, I cannot tell; it was then my Opinion that they were not. However it be, my Dream broke up at it, and has given me Occasion all my Life to reflect upon the fatal Consequences of following the Suggestions of _Vanity_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I write to you to desire, that you would again touch upon a certain
Enormity, which is chiefly in Use among the Politer and better-bred
Part of Mankind; I mean the Ceremonies, Bows, Courtsies, Whisperings,
Smiles, Winks, Nods, with other familiar Arts of Salutation, which
take up in our Churches so much Time, that might be better employed,
and which seem so utterly inconsistent with the Duty and true Intent
of our entering into those Religious Assemblies. The Resemblance which
this bears to our indeed proper Behaviour in Theatres, may be some
Instance of its Incongruity in the above-mentioned Places. In _Roman_
Catholick Churches and Chappels abroad, I my self have observed, more
than once, Persons of the first Quality, of the nearest Relation, and
intimatest Acquaintance passing by one another unknowing as it were
and unknown, and with so little Notices of each other, that it looked
like having their Minds more suitably and more solemnly engaged; at
least it was an Acknowledgment that they ought to have been so. I have
been told the same even of the _Mahometans_, with relation to the
Propriety of their Demeanour in the Conventions of their erroneous
Worship: And I cannot but think either of them sufficient and laudable
Patterns for our Imitation in this Particular.

'I cannot help upon this Occasion remarking on the excellent Memories
of those Devotionists, who upon returning from Church shall give a
particular Account how two or three hundred People were dressed; a
Thing, by reason of its Variety, so difficult to be digested and fixed
in the Head, that 'tis a Miracle to me how two poor Hours of Divine
Service can be Time sufficient for so elaborate an undertaking, the
Duty of the Place too being jointly and, no doubt, oft pathetically
performed along with it. Where it is said in Sacred Wit, that _the
Woman ought to have a Covering on her Head, because of the Angels_ [2]
that last Word is by some thought to be metaphorically used, and to
signify young Men. Allowing this Interpretation to be right, the Text
may not appear to be wholly foreign to our present Purpose.

'When you are in a Disposition proper for writing on such a Subject, I
earnestly recommend this to you, and am,

_SIR,_

_Your very humble Servant._

T.