Chapter LXXXII: Introduction (82)

I am now in the Country, and employ most of my Time in reading, or
thinking upon what I have read. Your paper comes constantly down to
me, and it affects me so much, that I find my Thoughts run into your
Way; and I recommend to you a Subject upon which you have not yet
touched, and that is the Satisfaction some Men seem to take in their
Imperfections, I think one may call it glorying in their
Insufficiency; a certain great Author is of Opinion it is the contrary
to Envy, tho perhaps it may proceed from it. Nothing is so common, as
to hear Men of this Sort, speaking of themselves, add to their own
Merit (as they think) by impairing it, in praising themselves for
their Defects, freely allowing they commit some few frivolous Errors,
in order to be esteemed persons of uncommon Talents and great
Qualifications. They are generally professing an injudicious Neglect
of Dancing, Fencing and Riding, as also an unjust Contempt for
Travelling and the Modern Languages; as for their Part (say they) they
never valued or troubled their Head about them. This panegyrical Satyr
on themselves certainly is worthy of your Animadversion. I have known
one of these Gentlemen think himself obliged to forget the Day of an
Appointment, and sometimes even that you spoke to him; and when you
see em, they hope youll pardon 'em, for they have the worst Memory in
the World. One of em started up tother Day in some Confusion, and
said, Now I think on't, I'm to meet Mr. _Mortmain_ the Attorney about
some Business, but whether it is to Day or to Morrow, faith, I can't
tell. Now to my certain Knowledge he knew his Time to a Moment, and
was there accordingly. These forgetful Persons have, to heighten their
Crime, generally the best Memories of any People, as I have found out
by their remembring sometimes through Inadvertency. Two or three of em
that I know can say most of our modern Tragedies by Heart. I asked a
Gentleman the other Day that is famous for a Good Carver, (at which
Acquisition he is out of Countenance, imagining it may detract from
some of his more essential Qualifications) to help me to something
that was near him; but he excused himself, and blushing told me, Of
all things he could never carve in his Life; though it can be proved
upon him, that he cuts up, disjoints, and uncases with incomparable
Dexterity. I would not be understood as if I thought it laudable for a
Man of Quality and Fortune to rival the Aquisitions of Artificers, and
endeavour to excel in little handy Qualities; No, I argue only against
being ashamed at what is really Praiseworthy. As these Pretences to
Ingenuity shew themselves several Ways, you'll often see a Man of this
Temper ashamed to be clean, and setting up for Wit only from
Negligence in his Habit. Now I am upon this Head, I can't help
observing also upon a very different Folly proceeding from the same
Cause. As these above-mentioned arise from affecting an Equality with
Men of greater Talents from having the same Faults, there are others
who would come at a Parallel with those above them, by possessing
little Advantages which they want. I heard a young Man not long ago,
who has sense, comfort himself in his Ignorance of Greek, Hebrew, and
the Orientals: At the same Time that he published his Aversion to
those Languages, he said that the Knowledge of 'em was rather a
Diminution than an Advancement of a Man's Character: tho' at the same
Time I know he languishes and repines he is not Master of them
himself. Whenever I take any of these fine Persons, thus detracting
from what they don't understand, I tell them I will complain to you,
and say I am sure you will not allow it an Exception against a thing,
that he who contemns it is an Ignorant in it.

I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
S. P.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am a Man of a very good Estate, and am honourably in Love. I hope
you will allow, when the ultimate Purpose is honest, there may be,
without Trespass against Innocence, some Toying by the Way. People of
Condition are perhaps too distant and formal on those Occasions; but,
however that is, I am to confess to you, that I have writ some Verses
to atone for my Offence. You profess'd Authors are a little severe
upon us, who write like Gentlemen: But if you are a Friend to Love,
you will insert my Poem. You cannot imagine how much Service it will
do me with my Fair one, as well as Reputation with all my Friends, to
have something of mine in the _Spectator_. My Crime was, that I
snatch'd a Kiss, and my Poetical Excuse as follows:

I. _Belinda_, see from yonder Flowers
The Bee flies loaded to its Cell;
Can you perceive what it devours?
Are they impar'd in Show or Smell?

II. So, tho' I robb'd you of a Kiss,
Sweeter than their Ambrosial Dew;
Why are you angry at my Bliss?
Has it at all impoverish'd you?

III. 'Tis by this Cunning I contrive,
In spight of your unkind Reserve,
To keep my famish'd Love alive,
Which you inhumanly would starve.

I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
_Timothy Stanza_.

_Aug_. 23, 1712.

_SIR_,

Having a little Time upon my Hands, I could not think of bestowing it
better, than in writing an Epistle to the SPECTATOR, which I now do,
and am,

_SIR_, _Your humble Servant_,
BOB SHORT.

P. S. If you approve of my Style, I am likely enough to become your
Correspondent. I desire your Opinion of it. I design it for that Way
of Writing called by the Judicious the _Familiar_.

* * * * *

TO MR. _METHUEN_. [1]

SIR,

It is with very great Pleasure I take an Opportunity of publishing the Gratitude I owe You, for the Place You allow me in your Friendship and Familiarity. I will not acknowledge to You that I have often had You in my Thoughts, when I have endeavoured to Draw, in some Parts of these Discourses, the Character of a Good-natured, Honest, and Accomplished Gentleman. But such Representations give my Reader an Idea of a Person blameless only, or only laudable for such Perfections as extend no farther than to his own private Advantage and Reputation.

But when I speak of You, I Celebrate One who has had the Happiness of Possessing also those Qualities which make a Man useful to Society, and of having had Opportunities of Exerting them in the most Conspicuous Manner.

The Great Part You had, as _British_ Embassador, in Procuring and Cultivating the Advantageous Commerce between the Courts of _England_ and _Portugal_, has purchased you the lasting Esteem of all who understand the Interest of either Nation.

Those Personal Excellencies which are overrated by the ordinary World, and too much neglected by Wise Men, You have applied with the justest Skill and Judgment. The most graceful Address in Horsemanship, in the Use of the Sword, and in Dancing, has been employed by You as lower Arts, and as they have occasionally served to recover, or introduce the Talents of a skilful Minister.

But your Abilities have not appear'd only in one Nation. When it was your Province to Act as Her Majesty's Minister at the Court of _Savoy_, at that time encamped, You accompanied that Gallant Prince thro' all the Vicissitudes of his Fortune, and shared, by His Side, the Dangers of that Glorious Day in which He recovered His Capital. As far as it regards Personal Qualities, You attained, in that one Hour, the highest Military Reputation. The Behaviour of our Minister in the Action, and the good Offices done the Vanquished in the Name of the Queen of _England_, gave both the Conqueror and the Captive the most lively Examples of the Courage and Generosity of the Nation He represented.

Your Friends and Companions in your Absence frequently talk these things of You, and You cannot hide from us, (by the most discreet Silence in any Thing which regards Your self) that the frank Entertainment we have at your Table, your easie Condescension in little Incidents of Mirth and Diversion, and general Complacency of Manners, are far from being the greatest Obligations we have to You. I do assure You there is not one of your Friends has a Greater Sense of your Merit in general, and of the Favours You every Day do us, than,

SIR, Your most Obedient, and most Humble Servant, RICHARD Steele.

[Footnote 1: Paul Methuen, at the date of this Dedication M.P. for Brackley, and forty-two years old, was a lawyer who had distinguished himself as a diplomatist at the Court of Lisbon in 1703, and arranged the very short commercial treaty between Great Britain and Portugal which bears his name. Methuen then represented England at the Court of the Duke of Savory, who deserted the French cause at the end of 1602, and the ambassador proved his courage also as a combatant when he took part in the defence and rescue of Turin from the French in 1706. After his return to England Paul Methuen was made (in 1709) a Commissioner of the Admirality. In the year 1713 he first sat in Parliament as member of Brackley. He held afterwards various offices in the States, as those of Commissioner of the Treasury, Comptroller of the Household, Treasurer of the Household, Commissioner for inspecting the Law, was made Sir Paul Methuen, Knight of the Bath, and attained his highest dignity as Lord Chancellor of Ireland before his death in 1757, at the age of 86. The seventh volume, to which this Dedication is prefixed, is the last of the original Spectator. With the eighth volume, representing an unsuccessful attempt made to revive it, some time after its demise, Steele had nothing to do, and that volume is not inscribed to any living person.]

* * * * *

No. 474. Wednesday, September 3, 1712. Steele.

'Asperitas agrestis et inconcinna.'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

Being of the Number of those that have lately retired from the Center
of Business and Pleasure, my Uneasiness in the Country where I am,
arises rather from the Society than the Solitude of it. To be obliged
to receive and return Visits from and to a Circle of Neighbours, who
through Diversity of Age or Inclinations, can neither be entertaining
or serviceable to us, is a vile Loss of Time, and a Slavery from which
a Man should deliver himself, if possible: For why must I lose the
remaining part of my Life, because they have thrown away the former
Part of theirs? It is to me an insupportable Affliction, to be
tormented with the Narrations of a Set of People, who are warm in
their Expressions of the quick Relish of that Pleasure which their
Dogs and Horses have a more delicate Taste of. I do also in my Heart
detest and abhor that damnable Doctrine and Position of the Necessity
of a Bumper, though to one's own Toast; for though 'tis pretended that
these deep Politicians are used only to inspire Gaiety, they certainly
drown that Chearfulness which would survive a moderate Circulation. If
at these Meetings it were left to every Stranger either to fill his
Glass according to his own Inclination, or to make his Retreat when he
finds he has been sufficiently obedient to that of others, these
Entertainments would be governed with more good Sense, and
consequently with more good Breeding, than at present they are. Indeed
where any of the Guests are known to measure their Fame or Pleasure by
their Glass, proper Exhortations might be used to these to push their
Fortunes in this sort of Reputation; but where 'tis unseasonably
insisted on to a modest Stranger, this Drench may be said to be
swallowed with the same Necessity, as if it had been tendered in the
Horn [1] for that purpose, with this aggravating Circumstance, that it
distresses the Entertainer's Guest in the same degree as it relieves
his Horses.

To attend without Impatience an Account of five-barr'd Gates, double
Ditches, and Precipices, and to survey the Orator with desiring Eyes,
is to me extremely difficult, but absolutely necessary, to be upon
tolerable Terms with him: but then the occasional Burstings out into
Laughter, is of all other Accomplishments the most requisite. I
confess at present I have not that command of these Convulsions, as is
necessary to be good Company; therefore I beg you would publish this
Letter, and let me be known all at once for a queer Fellow, and
avoided. It is monstrous to me, that we, who are given to Reading and
calm Conversation, should ever be visited by these Roarers: But they
think they themselves, as Neighbours, may come into our Rooms with the
same Right, that they and their Dogs hunt in our Grounds.

Your Institution of Clubs I have always admir'd, in which you
constantly endeavoured the Union of the metaphorically Defunct, that
is such as are neither serviceable to the Busy and Enterprizing part
of Mankind, nor entertaining to the Retir'd and Speculative. There
should certainly therefore in each County be established a Club of the
Persons whose Conversations I have described, who for their own
private, as also the publick Emolument, should exclude, and be
excluded all other Society. Their Attire should be the same with their
Huntsmen's, and none should be admitted into this green
Conversation-Piece, except he had broke his Collar-bone thrice. A
broken Rib or two might also admit a Man without the least Opposition.
The President must necessarily have broken his Neck, and have been
taken up dead once or twice: For the more Maims this Brotherhood shall
have met with, the easier will their Conversation flow and keep up;
and when any one of these vigorous Invalids had finished his Narration
of the Collar-bone, this naturally would introduce the History of the
Ribs. Besides, the different Circumstances of their Falls and
Fractures would help to prolong and diversify their Relations. There
should also be another Club of such Men, who have not succeeded so
well in maiming themselves, but are however in the constant Pursuit of
these Accomplishments. I would by no means be suspected by what I have
said to traduce in general the Body of Fox-hunters; for whilst I look
upon a reasonable Creature full-speed after a Pack of Dogs, by way of
Pleasure, and not of Business, I shall always make honourable mention
of it.

But the most irksome Conversation of all others I have met with in the
Neighbourhood, has been among two or three of your Travellers, who
have overlooked Men and Manners, and have passed through _France_ and
_Italy_ with the same Observation that the Carriers and Stage-Coachmen
do through _Great-Britain;_ that is, their Stops and Stages have been
regulated according to the Liquor they have met with in their Passage.
They indeed remember the Names of abundance of Places, with the
particular Fineries of certain Churches: But their distinguishing Mark
is certain Prettinesses of Foreign Languages, the Meaning of which
they could have better express'd in their own. The Entertainment of
these fine Observers, _Shakespear_ has described to consist

'In talking of the Alps and Appennines,
The Pyrenean, and the River Po.' [2]

and then concludes with a Sigh,

'Now this is worshipful Society!'

I would not be thought in all this to hate such honest Creatures as
Dogs; I am only unhappy that I cannot partake in their Diversions. But
I love them so well, as Dogs, that I often go with my Pockets stuffed
with Bread to dispense my Favours, or make my way through them at
Neighbours' Houses. There is in particular a young Hound of great
Expectation, Vivacity, and Enterprize, that attends my Flights
where-ever he spies me. This Creature observes my Countenance, and
behaves himself accordingly. His Mirth, his Frolick, and Joy upon the
Sight of me has been observed, and I have been gravely desired not to
encourage him so much, for it spoils his Parts; but I think he shews
them sufficiently in the several Boundings, Friskings, and Scourings,
when he makes his Court to me: But I foresee in a little time he and I
must keep Company with one another only, for we are fit for no other
in these Parts. Having informd you how I do pass my time in the
Country where I am, I must proceed to tell you how I would pass it,
had I such a Fortune as would put me above the Observance of Ceremony
and Custom.

My Scheme of a Country Life then should be as follows. As I am happy
in three or four very agreeable Friends, these I would constantly have
with me; and the Freedom we took with one another at School and the
University, we would maintain and exert upon all Occasions with great
Courage. There should be certain Hours of the Day to be employ'd in
Reading, during which time it should be impossible for any one of us
to enter the other's Chamber, unless by Storm. After this we would
communicate the Trash or Treasure we had met with, with our own
Reflections upon the Matter; the Justness of which we would controvert
with good-humour'd Warmth, and never spare one another out of the
complaisant Spirit of Conversation, which makes others affirm and deny
the same matter in a quarter of an Hour. If any of the Neighbouring
Gentlemen, not of our Turn, should take it in their heads to visit me,
I should look upon these Persons in the same degree Enemies to my
particular state of Happiness, as ever the French were to that of the
Publick, and I would be at an annual Expence in Spies to observe their
Motions. Whenever I should be surprized with a Visit, as I hate
Drinking. I would be brisk in swilling Bumpers, upon this Maxim, That
it is better to trouble others with my Impertinence, than to be
troubled my self with theirs. The Necessity of an Infirmary makes me
resolve to fall into that Project; and as we should be but Five, the
Terrors of an involuntary Separation, which our Number cannot so well
admit of, would make us exert our selves, in opposition to all the
particulars mentioned in your Institution of that equitable
Confinement. This my way of Life I know would subject me to the
Imputation of a morose, covetous and singular Fellow. These and all
other hard words, with all manner of insipid Jests, and all other
Reproach, would be matter of Mirth to me and my Friends: Besides, I
would destroy the Application of the Epithets Morose and Covetous, by
a yearly Relief of my undeservedly necessitous Neighbours, and by
treating my Friends and Domesticks with an Humanity that should
express the Obligation to lie rather on my side; and for the word
Singular, I was always of opinion every Man must be so, to be what one
would desire him.

Your very humble Servant,
J. R. [3]

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

About two Years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a Country
Family, by my Mother's side related to me, to visit Mr. _Campbell_,
the dumb Man; [4] for they told me that that was chiefly what brought
them to Town, having heard Wonders of him in _Essex_. I, who always
wanted Faith in Matters of that kind, was not easily prevailed on to
go; but lest they should take it ill, I went with them; when to my
surprize, Mr. _Campbell_ related all their past Life, (in short, had
he not been prevented, such a Discovery would have come out, as would
have ruined the next design of their coming to Town, _viz_. buying
Wedding-Cloaths.) Our Names--though he never heard of us before--and
we endeavoured to conceal--were as familiar to him as to our selves.
To be sure, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, he is a very learned and wise Man. Being
impatient to know my Fortune, having paid my respects in a
Family-_Jacobus_, he told me (after his manner) among several other
things, that in a Year and nine Months I should fall ill of a new
Fever, be given over by my Physicians, but should with much difficulty
recover: That the first time I took the Air afterwards, I should be
address'd to by a young Gentleman of a plentiful Fortune, good Sense,
and a generous Spirit. _Mr_. SPECTATOR, he is the purest Man in the
World, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest She in
_Kent_. I have been in quest of Mr. _Campbell_ these three Months, and
cannot find him out. Now hearing you are a dumb Man too, I thought you
might correspond, and be able to tell me something; for I think my
self highly oblig'd to make his Fortune, as he has mine. 'Tis very
possible your Worship, who has Spies all over this Town, can inform me
how to send to him: If you can, I Beseech you be as speedy as
possible, and you will highly oblige

_Your constant Reader and Admirer_,
Dulcibella Thankley.

_Ordered_, That the Inspector I employ about Wonders, enquire at the _Golden-Lion_, opposite to the _Half-Moon_ Tavern in _Drury-Lane_, into the Merit of this Silent Sage, and report accordingly.

T.

[Footnote 1: Used for giving a drench to horses.]

[Footnote 2: Falconbridge in King John Act. I sc. i.]

[Footnote 3: This letter was by Steele's old college friend, Richard Parker, who took his degree of M.A. in 1697, became fellow of Merton, and died Vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland. This is the friend whose condemnation of the comedy written by him in student days Steele had accepted without question.]

[Footnote 4: See note p. 421, vol. ii. [Footnote 4 of No. 323.]]

* * * * *

No. 475. Thursday, September 4, 1712. Addison.

'--Quæ res in se neque Consilium neque modum
Habet ullum, eam consilio regere non potes.'

Ter.

It is an old Observation, which has been made of Politicians who would rather ingratiate themselves with their Sovereign, than promote his real Service, that they accommodate their Counsels to his Inclinations, and advise him to such Actions only as his Heart is naturally set upon. The Privy-Counsellor of one in Love must observe the same Conduct, unless he would forfeit the Friendship of the Person who desires his Advice. I have known several odd Cases of this Nature. _Hipparchus_ was going to marry a common Woman, but being resolved to do nothing without the Advice of his Friend _Philander_, he consulted him upon the Occasion. _Philander_ told him his Mind freely, and represented his Mistress to him in such strong Colours, that the next Morning he received a Challenge for his Pains, and before Twelve a Clock was run through the Body by the Man who had asked his Advice. _Celia_ was more prudent on the like occasion; she desired _Leonilla_ to give her Opinion freely upon a young Fellow who made his Addresses to her. _Leonilla_, to oblige her, told her with great Frankness, that, she looked upon him as one of the most worthless--_Celia_, foreseeing what a Character she was to expect, begged her not to go on, for that she had been privately married to him above a Fortnight. The truth of it is, a Woman seldom asks Advice before she has bought her Wedding-Cloaths. When she has made her own Choice, for Form's sake she sends a _Congé d'elire_ to her Friends.

If we look into the secret Springs and Motives that set People at work in these Occasions, and put them upon asking Advice, which they never intend to take; I look upon it to be none of the least, that they are incapable of keeping a Secret which is so very pleasing to them. A Girl longs to tell her Confident, that she hopes to be married in a little time, and, in order to talk of the pretty Fellow that dwells so much in her Thoughts, asks her very gravely, what she would advise her to do in a case of so much Difficulty. Why else should _Melissa_, who had not a Thousand Pound in the World, go into every Quarter of the Town to ask her Acquaintance whether they would advise her to take _Tom Townly_, that made his Addresses to her with an Estate of Five Thousand a Year? 'Tis very pleasant on this occasion, to hear the Lady propose her Doubts, and to see the Pains she is at to get over them.

I must not here omit a Practice that is in use among the vainer Part of our own Sex, who will often ask a Friend's Advice, in relation to a Fortune whom they are never likely to come at. WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is now on the Verge of Threescore, took me aside not long since, and asked me in his most serious Look, whether I would advise him to marry my Lady _Betty Single_, who, by the way, is one of the greatest Fortunes about Town. I star'd him full in the Face upon so strange a Question; upon which he immediately gave me an Inventory of her Jewels and Estate, adding, that he was resolved to do nothing in a matter of such Consequence without my Approbation. Finding he would have an Answer, I told him, if he could get the Lady's Consent, he had mine. This is about the Tenth Match which, to my knowledge, WILL, has consulted his Friends upon, without ever opening his Mind to the Party herself.

I have been engaged in this Subject by the following Letter, which comes to me from some notable young Female Scribe, who, by the Contents of it, seems to have carried Matters so far, that she is ripe for asking Advice; but as I would not lose her Good-Will, nor forfeit the Reputation which I have with her for Wisdom, I shall only communicate the Letter to the Publick, without returning any Answer to it.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

Now, Sir, the thing is this: Mr. _Shapely_ is the prettiest Gentleman
about Town. He is very tall, but not too tall neither. He dances like
a Angel. His Mouth is made I don't know how, but 'tis the prettiest
that I ever saw in my Life. He is always laughing, for he has an
infinite deal of Wit. If you did but see how he rolls his Stockins! He
has a thousand pretty Fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, you
would like him. He is a very good Scholar, and can talk _Latin_ as
fast as _English_. I wish you could but see him dance. Now you must
understand poor Mr. _Shapely_ has no Estate; but how can he help that,
you know? And yet my Friends are so unreasonable as to be always
teazing me about him, because he has no Estate: but I am sure he has
that that is better than an Estate; for he is a Good-natured,
Ingenious, Modest, Civil, Tall, Well-bred, Handsome Man, and I am
obliged to him for his Civilities ever since I saw him. I forgot to
tell you that he has black Eyes, and looks upon me now and then as if
he had tears in them. And yet my Friends are so unreasonable, that
they would have me be uncivil to him. I have a good Portion which they
cannot hinder me of, and I shall be fourteen on the 29th Day of
_August_ next, and am therefore willing to settle in the World as soon
as I can, and so is Mr. _Shapely_. But every body I advise with here
is poor Mr. _Shapely's_ Enemy. I desire therefore you will give me
your Advice, for I know you are a wise Man; and if you advise me well,
I am resolved to follow it. I heartily wish you could see him dance,
and am,

SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
B. D.

He loves your _Spectators_ mightily.

C.

* * * * *

No. 476. Friday, September 5, 1712. Addison.

'--lucidus Ordo--'

Hor.

Among my Daily-Papers which I bestow on the Publick, there are some which are written with Regularity and Method, and others that run out into the Wildness of those Compositions which go by the Names of _Essays_. As for the first, I have the whole Scheme of the Discourse in my Mind before I set Pen to Paper. In the other kind of Writing, it is sufficient that I have several Thoughts on a Subject, without troubling my self to range them in such order, that they may seem to grow out of one another, and be disposed under the proper Heads. _Seneca_ and _Montaigne_ are Patterns for Writing in this last kind, as _Tully_ and _Aristotle_ excel in the other. When I read an Author of Genius who writes without Method, I fancy myself in a Wood that abounds with a great many noble Objects, rising among one another in the greatest Confusion and Disorder. When I read a methodical Discourse, I am in a regular Plantation, and can place my self in its several Centres, so as to take a view of all the Lines and Walks that are struck from them. You may ramble in the one a whole Day together, and every Moment discover something or other that is new to you; but when you have done, you will have but a confused imperfect Notion of the Place: In the other, your Eye commands the whole Prospect, and gives you such an Idea of it, as is not easily worn out of the Memory.

Irregularity and want of Method are only supportable in Men of great Learning or Genius, who are often too full to be exact, and therefore chuse to throw down their Pearls in Heaps before the Reader, rather than be at the Pains of stringing them.

Method is of advantage to a Work, both in respect to the Writer and the Reader. In regard to the first, it is a great help to his Invention. When a Man has plann'd his Discourse, he finds a great many Thoughts rising out of every Head, that do not offer themselves upon the general Survey of a Subject. His Thoughts are at the same time more intelligible, and better discover their Drift and Meaning, when they are placed in their proper Lights, and follow one another in a regular Series, than when they are thrown together without Order and Connexion. There is always an Obscurity in Confusion, and the same Sentence that would have enlightened the Reader in one part of a Discourse, perplexes him in another. For the same reason likewise every Thought in a methodical Discourse shews [it [1]] self in its greatest Beauty, as the several Figures in a piece of Painting receive new Grace from their Disposition in the Picture. The Advantages of a Reader from a methodical Discourse, are correspondent with those of the Writer. He comprehends every thing easily, takes it in with Pleasure, and retains it long.

Method is not less requisite in ordinary Conversation than in Writing, provided a Man would talk to make himself understood. I, who hear a thousand Coffee-house Debates every Day, am very sensible of this want of Method in the Thoughts of my honest Countrymen. There is not one Dispute in ten which is managed in those Schools of Politicks, where, after the three first Sentences, the Question is not entirely lost. Our Disputants put me in mind of the Cuttle-Fish, that when he is unable to extricate himself, blackens all the Water about him till he becomes invisible. The Man who does not know how to methodize his Thoughts, has always, to borrow a Phrase from the Dispensary, _a barren Superfluity of Words;_ [2] the Fruit is lost amidst the Exuberance of Leaves.

_Tom Puzzle_ is one of the most Eminent Immethodical Disputants of any that has fallen under my Observation. _Tom_ has read enough to make him very Impertinent; his Knowledge is sufficient to raise Doubts, but not to clear them. It is pity that he has so much Learning, or that he has not a great deal more. With these Qualifications _Tom_ sets up for a Free-thinker, finds a great many things to blame in the Constitution of his Country, and gives shrewd Intimations that he does not believe another World. In short, _Puzzle_ is an Atheist as much as his Parts will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen common-place Topicks, into which he never fails to turn the Conversation, whatever was the Occasion of it: Tho' the matter in debate be about _Doway_ or _Denain_, it is ten to one but half his Discourse runs upon the Unreasonableness of Bigottry and Priest-craft. This makes Mr. _Puzzle_ the Admiration of all those who have less Sense than himself, and the Contempt of those who have more. There is none in Town whom _Tom_ dreads so much as my Friend _Will Dry_. _Will_, who is acquainted with _Tom's_ Logick, when he finds him running off the Question, cuts him short with a _What then? We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our present Purpose?_ I have known _Tom_ eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the Superiority of the Argument, when he has been non-plus'd on a sudden by Mr. _Dry's_ desiring him to tell the Company what it was that he endeavoured to prove. In short, _Dry_ is a Man of a clear methodical Head, but few Words, and gains the same Advantage over _Puzzle_, that a small Body of regular Troops would gain over a numberless undisciplined Militia.

C.

[Footnote 1: [its]]

[Footnote 2: It is said of Colon in the second Canto,

'Hourly his learn'd Impertinence affords
A barren Superfinity of Words.']

* * * * *

No. 477. Saturday, September 6, 1712. Addison.

'--An me ludit amabilis
Insania? audire et videor pios
Errare per lucos, amoenæ
Quos et aquæ subeunt et auræ.'

Hor.

_SIR_,

Having lately read your Essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, I
was so taken with your Thoughts upon some of our _English_ Gardens,
that I cannot forbear troubling you with a Letter upon that Subject. I
am one, you must know, who am looked upon as an Humorist in Gardening.
I have several Acres about my House, which I call my Garden, and which
a skilful Gardener would not know what to call. It is a Confusion of
Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie so mixt and
interwoven with one another, that if a Foreigner who had seen nothing
of our Country should be convey'd into my Garden at his first landing,
he would look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the
uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in several Parts
of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy and Profusion. I am so far
from being fond of any particular one, by reason of its Rarity, that
if I meet with any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a place
in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is
surprized to see several large Spots of Ground cover'd with ten
thousand different Colours, and has often singled out Flowers that he
might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field, or in a Meadow,
as some of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I
observe in this Particular, is to range in the same Quarter the
Products of the same Season, that they may make their Appearance
together, and compose a Picture of the greatest Variety. There is the
same Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a
Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not
naturally rejoice in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a
Labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the next Tree I shall
meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a Pear-Tree. My Kitchin has
likewise its particular Quarters assigned it; for besides the
wholesome Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought
a Kitchin-Garden a more pleasant Sight than the finest Orangery, or
artificial Greenhouse. I love to see everything in its Perfection, and
am more pleased to survey my Rows of Coleworts and Cabbages, with a
thousand nameless Pot-herbs, springing up in their full Fragrancy and
Verdure, than to see the tender Plants of Foreign Countries kept alive
by artificial Heats, or withering in an Air and Soil that are not
adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a Fountain rising in
the upper part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and
administers to the Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have
so conducted it, that it visits most of my Plantations; and have taken
particular Care to let it run in the same manner as it would do in an
open Field, so that it generally passes through Banks of Violets and
Primroses, Plats of Willow, or other Plants, that seem to be of its
own producing. There is another Circumstance in which I am very
particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimsical: As my Garden
invites into it all the Birds of the Country, by offering them the
Conveniency of Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not
suffer any one to destroy their Nests in the Spring, or drive them
from their usual Haunts in Fruit-time. I value my Garden more for
being full of Blackbirds than Cherries, and very frankly give them
Fruit for their Songs. By this means I have always the Musick of the
Season in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to see the Jay or
the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across
the several little Glades and Alleys that I pass thro'. I think there
are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres
and Flower-Gardens, are Epigrammatists and Sonneteers in this Art:
Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto's, Treillages and Cascades, are
Romance Writers. _Wise_ and _London_ are our heroick Poets; and if, as
a Critick, I may single out any Passage of their Works to commend, I
shall take notice of that Part in the upper Garden at _Kensington_,
which was at first nothing but a Gravel-Pit. It must have been a fine
Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming such an
unsightly Hollow into so beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye
with so uncommon and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now wrought
into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the greater Effect, they
have made a very pleasing Contrast; for as on one side of the Walk you
see this hollow Basin, with its several little Plantations lying so
conveniently under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other side of it
there appears a seeming Mount, made up of Trees rising one higher than
another in proportion as they approach the Center. A Spectator, who
has not heard this Account of it, would think this Circular Mount was
not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that
hollow Space which I have before mention'd. I never yet met with any
one who had walked in this Garden, who was not struck with that Part
of it which I have here mention'd. As for my self, you will find, by
the Account which I have already given you, that my Compositions in
Gardening are altogether after the _Pindarick_ Manner, and run into
the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affecting the nicer
Elegancies of Art. What I am now going to mention, will, perhaps,
deserve your Attention more than any thing I have yet said. I find
that in the Discourse which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter,
you are against filling an _English_ Garden with Ever-Greens; and
indeed I am so far of your Opinion, that I can by no means think the
Verdure of an Ever-Green comparable to that which shoots out annually,
and clothes our Trees in the Summer-Season. But I have often wonder'd
that those who are like my self, and love to live in Gardens, have
never thought of contriving a _Winter Garden_, which would consist of
such Trees only as never cast their Leaves. We have very often little
Snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts
of the Year; and have frequently several Days in _November_ and
_January_ that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At such
times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure, than
to walk in such a _Winter-Garden_ as I have proposed. In the
Summer-Season the whole Country blooms, and is a kind of Garden, for
which reason we are not so sensible of those Beauties that at this
time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her
Desolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren
Prospects, there is something unspeakably chearful in a Spot of Ground
which is covered with Trees that smile amidst all the Rigours of
Winter, and give us a View of the most gay Season in the midst of that
which is the most dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged my self
in this Thought, that I have set apart a whole Acre of Ground for the
executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The
Laurel, the Hornbeam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants
of the same nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot imagine a
more lively Scene. The glowing Redness of the Berries, with which they
are hung at this time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are
apt to inspire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight
which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former papers. [1] It
is very pleasant, at the same time, to see the several kinds of Birds
retiring into this little Green Spot, and enjoying themselves among
the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before
mention'd to you, does not afford a single Leaf for their Shelter.

You must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleasure which we take in a
Garden, as one of the most innocent Delights in Human Life. A Garden
was the Habitation of our first Parents before the Fall. It is
naturally apt to fill the Mind with Calmness and Tranquillity, and to
lay all its turbulent Passions at rest. It gives us a great insight
into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence, and suggests
innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I cannot but think the very
Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in these Works of
Nature, to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all
which Reasons I hope you will pardon the Length of my present Letter.
_I am,_
_SIR, &c._

C.

[Footnote 1: In No. 393.]

* * * * *

No. 478. Monday, September 8, 1712. Steele.

'--Usus
Quem penes Arbitrium est, et Jus et Norma--'

Mr. SPECTATOR,

It happened lately, that a Friend of mine, who had many things to buy
for his Family, would oblige me to walk with him to the Shops. He was
very nice in his way, and fond of having every thing shewn, which at
first made me very uneasy; but as his Humour still continu'd, the
things which I had been staring at along with him, began to fill my
Head, and led me into a Set of amusing Thoughts concerning them.

I fancied it must be very surprizing to any one who enters into a
detail of Fashions, to consider how far the Vanity of Mankind has laid
it self out in Dress, what a prodigious number of People it maintains,
and what a Circulation of Money it occasions. Providence in this Case
makes use of the Folly which we will not give up, and it becomes
instrumental to the Support of those who are willing to labour. Hence
it is that Fringe-Makers, Lace-Men, Tire-Women, and a number of other
Trades, which would be useless in a simple State of Nature, draw their
Subsistence; tho' it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely
rich, because their original Fault of being founded upon Vanity, keeps
them poor by the light Inconstancy of its Nature. The Variableness of
Fashion turns the Stream of Business which flows from it now into one
Channel, and anon into another; so that different Sets of People sink
or flourish in their turns by it.

From the Shops we retir'd to the Tavern, where I found my Friend
express so much satisfaction for the Bargains he had made, that my
moral Reflections, (if I had told them) might have pass'd for a
Reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the Discourse
run upon the use of Fashions.

Here we remembred how much Man is govern'd by his Senses, how lively
he is struck by the Objects which appear to him in an agreeable
manner, how much Clothes contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and
how much we owe it to our selves that we should appear so.

We considered Man as belonging to Societies; Societies as form'd of
different Ranks; and different Ranks distinguished by Habits, that all
proper Duty or Respect might attend their Appearance.

We took notice of several Advantages which are met with in the
Occurrences of Conversation. How the bashful Man has been sometimes so
rais'd, as to express himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines
that his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming Manner: And
again, how a Fool in fine Clothes shall be suddenly heard with
Attention, till he has betray'd himself; whereas a Man of Sense
appearing with a Dress of Negligence, shall be but coldly received,
till he be proved by Time, and established in a Character. Such things
as these we cou'd recollect to have happen'd to our knowledge so very
often, that we concluded the Author had his Reasons, who advises his
Son to go in Dress rather above his Fortune than under it.

At last the Subject seem'd so considerable, that it was proposed to
have a Repository built for Fashions, as there are Chambers for Medals
and other Rarities. The Building may be shap'd as that which stands
among the Pyramids, in the Form of a Woman's Head. This may be rais'd
upon Pillars, whose Ornaments shall bear a just relation to the
Design. Thus there may be an Imitation of Fringe carv'd in the Base, a
sort of Appearance of Lace in the Frieze, and a Representation of
curling Locks, with Bows of Ribband sloping over them, may fill up the
Work of the Cornish. The Inside may be divided into two Apartments
appropriated to each Sex. The Apartments may be fill'd with Shelves,
on which Boxes are to stand as regularly as Books in a Library. These
are to have Folding-Doors, which being open'd, you are to behold a
Baby dressed out in some Fashion which has flourish'd, and standing
upon a Pedestal, where the time of its Reign is mark'd down. For its
further Regulation, let it be order'd, that every one who invents a
Fashion shall bring in his Box, whose Front he may at pleasure have
either work'd or painted with some amorous or gay Device, that, like
Books with gilded Leaves and Covers, it may the sooner draw the Eyes
of the Beholders. And to the end that these may be preserv'd with all
due Care, let there be a Keeper appointed, who shall be a Gentleman
qualify'd with a competent Knowledge in Clothes; so that by this means
the Place, will be a comfortable Support for some Beau who has spent
his Estate in dressing.

The Reasons offer'd by which we expected to gain the Approbation of
the Publick, were as follows.

First, That every one who is considerable enough to be a Mode, and has
any Imperfection of Nature or Chance, which it is possible to hide by
the Advantage of Clothes, may, by coming to this Repository, be
furnish'd her self, and furnish all who are under the same Misfortune,
with the most agreeable Manner of concealing it; and that on the other
side, every one who has any Beauty in Face or Shape, may also be
furnished with the most agreeable Manner of shewing it.

Secondly, That whereas some of our young Gentlemen who travel, give us
great reason to suspect that they only go abroad to make or improve a
Fancy for Dress, a Project of this nature may be a means to keep them
at home, which is in effect the keeping of so much Money in the
Kingdom. And perhaps the Balance of Fashion in _Europe_, which now
leans upon the side of _France_, may be so alter'd for the future,
that it may become as common with _Frenchmen_ to come to _England_ for
their finishing Stroke of Breeding, as it has been for _Englishmen_ to
go to _France_ for it.

Thirdly, Whereas several great Scholars, who might have been otherwise
useful to the World, have spent their time in studying to describe the
Dresses of the Ancients from dark Hints, which they are fain to
interpret and support with much Learning, it will from henceforth
happen, that they shall be freed from the Trouble, and the World from
useless Volumes. This Project will be a Registry, to which Posterity
may have recourse, for the clearing such obscure Passages as tend that
way in Authors; and therefore we shall not for the future submit our
selves to the Learning of Etymology, which might persuade the Age to
come, that the Farthingal was worn for Cheapness, or the Furbeloe for
Warmth.

Fourthly, Whereas they who are old themselves, have often a way of
railing at the Extravagance of Youth, and the whole Age in which their
Children live; it is hoped that this ill Humour will be much
suppress'd, when we can have recourse to the Fashions of their Times,
produce them in our Vindication, and be able to shew that it might
have been as expensive in Queen _Elizabeth's_ time only to wash and
quill a Ruff, as it is now to buy Cravats or Neck-Handkerchiefs.

We desire also to have it taken Notice of, That because we would shew
a particular respect to Foreigners, which may induce them to perfect
their Breeding here in a Knowledge which is very proper for pretty
Gentlemen, we have conceived the Motto for the House in the Learned
Language. There is to be a Picture over the Door, with a Looking-Glass
and a Dressing-Chair in the Middle of it: Then on one side are to be
seen, above one another, Patch-Boxes, Pin-Cushions, and little
Bottles; on the other, Powder Baggs, Puffs, Combs and Brushes; beyond
these, Swords with fine Knots, whose Points are hidden, and Fans
almost closed, with the Handles downward, are to stand out
interchangeably from the Sides till they meet at the Top, and form a
Semicircle over the rest of the Figures: Beneath all, the Writing is
to run in this pretty sounding Manner:

'Adeste, O quotquot sunt, Veneres, Gratiæ, Cupidines, [1]
En vobis adsunt in promptu
Faces, Vincula, Spicula,
Hinc eligite, sumite, regite.'

I am, Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
_A. B_.