Chapter XCVIII: Letter I: found that Will was fallen off from his former Gayety, having (7)

I was Yesterday in a Coffee-House not far from the _Royal Exchange_, where I observed three Persons in close Conference over a Pipe of Tobacco; upon which, having filled one for my own use, I lighted it at the little Wax Candle that stood before them; and after having thrown in two or three Whiffs amongst them, sat down and made one of the Company. I need not tell my Reader, that lighting a Man's Pipe at the same Candle, is looked upon among Brother-smokers as an Overture to Conversation and Friendship. As we here lay our Heads together in a very amicable Manner, being intrenched under a Cloud of our own raising, I took up the last SPECTATOR, and casting my Eye over it, _The_ SPECTATOR, says I, _is very witty to-Day;_ upon which a lusty lethargick old Gentleman, who sat at the Upper-end of the Table, having gradually blown out of his Mouth a great deal of Smoke, which he had been collecting for some Time before, _Ay,_ says he, _more witty than wise I am afraid._ His Neighbour who sat at his right Hand immediately coloured, and being an angry Politician, laid down his Pipe with so much Wrath that he broke it in the Middle, and by that Means furnished me with a Tobacco-stopper. I took it up very sedately, and looking him full in the Face, made use of it from Time to Time all the while he was speaking: _This fellow,_ says he, _can't for his Life keep out of Politicks. Do you see how he abuses_ four _great Men here?_ I fix'd my Eye very attentively on the Paper, and asked him if he meant those who were represented by Asterisks. _Asterisks,_ says he, _do you call them? they are all of them Stars. He might as well have put Garters to 'em. Then pray do but mind the two or three next Lines? Ch-rch and P-dd-ing in the same Sentence! Our Clergy are very much beholden to him._ Upon this the third Gentleman, who was of a mild Disposition, and, as I found, a Whig in his Heart, desired him not to be too severe upon the SPECTATOR neither; For, says he, _you find he is very cautious of giving Offence, and has therefore put two Dashes into his Pudding. A Fig for his Dash,_ says the angry Politician. _In his next Sentence he gives a plain Innuendo, that our Posterity will be in a sweet P-ckle. What does the Fool mean by his Pickle? Why does not he write it at length, if he means honestly? I have read over the whole Sentence,_ says I; _but I look upon the Parenthesis in the Belly of it to be the most dangerous Part, and as full of Insinuations as it can hold. But who,_ says I, _is my Lady Q-p-t-s? Ay, Answer that if you can, Sir,_ says the furious Statesman to the poor Whig that sate over-against him. But without giving him Time to reply, _I do assure you,_ says he, _were I my Lady_ Q-p-t-s, _I would sue him for_ Scandalum Magnatum. _What is the World come to? Must every Body be allowed to--?_ He had by this time filled a new Pipe and applying it to his Lips, when we expected the last Word of his Sentence, put us off with a Whiff of Tobacco; which he redoubled with so much Rage and Trepidation, that he almost stifled the whole Company. After a short Pause, I owned that I thought the SPECTATOR had gone too far in writing so many Letters of my Lady _Q-p-t-s'_s Name; _but however_, says I, _he has made a little Amends for it in his next Sentence, where he leaves a blank Space without so much as a Consonant to direct us? I mean_, says I, _after those Words_, The Fleet, that used to be the Terrour of the Ocean, should be Wind-bound for the sake of a--; _after which ensues a Chasm, that in my Opinion looks modest enough. Sir_, says my Antagonist, _you may easily know his Meaning by his Gaping; I suppose he designs his Chasm, as you call it, for an Hole to creep out at, but I believe it will hardly serve his Turn. Who can endure to see the great Officers of State, the_ B--y's _and_ T--t's _treated after so scurrilous a Manner? I can't for my Life_, says I, _imagine who they are the_ SPECTATOR _means? No!_ says he,--_Your humble Servant, Sir!_ Upon which he flung himself back in his Chair after a contemptuous Manner, and smiled upon the old lethargick Gentleman on his left Hand, who I found was his great Admirer. The Whig however had begun to conceive a Good-will towards me, and seeing my Pipe out, very generously offered me the Use of his Box; but I declined it with great Civility, being obliged to meet a Friend about that Time in another Quarter of the City.

At my leaving the Coffee-house, I could not forbear reflecting with my self upon that gross Tribe of Fools who may be termed the _Overwise_, and upon the Difficulty of writing any thing in this censorious Age, which a weak Head may not construe into private Satyr and personal Reflection.

A Man who has a good Nose at an Innuendo, smells Treason and Sedition in the most innocent Words that can be put together, and never sees a Vice or Folly stigmatized, but finds out one or other of his Acquaintance pointed at by the Writer. I remember an empty pragmatical Fellow in the Country, who upon reading over _the whole Duty of Man_, had written the Names of several Persons in the Village at the Side of every Sin which is mentioned by that excellent Author; so that he had converted one of the best Books in the World into a Libel against the 'Squire, Church-wardens, Overseers of the Poor, and all other the most considerable Persons in the Parish. This Book with these extraordinary marginal Notes fell accidentally into the Hands of one who had never seen it before; upon which there arose a current Report that Somebody had written a Book against the 'Squire and the whole Parish. The Minister of the Place having at that Time a Controversy with some of his Congregation upon the Account of his Tythes, was under some Suspicion of being the Author, 'till the good Man set his People right by shewing them that the satyrical Passages might be applied to several others of two or three neighbouring Villages, and that the Book was writ against all the Sinners in England.

* * * * *

No. 569. Monday, July 19, 1714. Addison.

'Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis
Et torquere mero, quem perspexisse laborent,
An sit amicitia dignus--'

Hor.

No Vices are so incurable as those which Men are apt to glory in. One would wonder how Drunkenness should have the good Luck to be of this Number. _Anacharsis_, being invited to a Match of Drinking at _Corinth_, demanded the Prize very humorously, because he was drunk before any of the rest of the Company: for, says he, when we run a Race, he who arrives at the Goal first is entitled to the Reward. On the contrary, in this thirsty Generation, the Honour falls upon him who carries off the greatest Quantity of Liquor, and knocks down the rest of the Company. I was the other Day with honest _Will. Funnell_ the _West Saxon_, who was reckoning up how much Liquor had past through him in the last twenty Years of his Life, which, according to his Computation, amounted to twenty three Hogsheads of October, four Ton of Port, half a Kilderkin of small Beer, nineteen Barrels of Cider, and three Glasses of Champaign; besides which, he had assisted at four hundred Bowls of Punch, not to mention Sips, Drams, and Whets without Number. I question not but every Reader's Memory will suggest to him several ambitious young Men, who are as vain in this Particular as _Will. Funnell_, and can boast of as glorious Exploits.

Our modern Philosophers observe, that there is a general Decay of Moisture in the Globe of the Earth. This they chiefly ascribe to the Growth of Vegetables, which incorporate into their own Substance many fluid Bodies that never return again to their former Nature: But, with Submission, they ought to throw into their Account those innumerable rational Beings which fetch their Nourishment chiefly out of Liquids; especially when we consider that Men, compared with their Fellow-Creatures, drink much more than comes to their Share.

But however highly this Tribe of People may think of themselves, a drunken Man is a greater Monster than any that is to be found among all the Creatures which God has made; as indeed there is no Character which appears more despicable and deformed, in the Eyes of all reasonable Persons, than that of a Drunkard. _Bonosus_, one of our own Countrymen, who was addicted to this Vice, having set up for a Share in the Roman Empire, and being defeated in a great Battle, hang'd himself. When he was seen by the Army in this melancholy Situation, notwithstanding he had behaved himself very bravely, the common Jest was, That the Thing they saw hanging upon the Tree before them, was not a Man but a Bottle. This Vice has very fatal Efects on the Mind, the Body, and Fortune of the Person who is devoted to it.

In regard to the Mind, it first of all discovers every Flaw in it. The sober Man, by the Strength of Reason, may keep under and subdue every Vice or Folly to which he is most inclined; but Wine makes every latent Seed sprout up in the Soul, and shew it self. It gives Fury to the Passions, and Force to those Objects which are apt to produce them. When a young Fellow complained to an old Philosopher that his Wife was not handsome, _Put less Water in your Wine, says the Philosopher, and you'll quickly make her so_. Wine heightens Indifference into Love, Love into Jealousy, and Jealousy into Madness. It often turns the Good-natured Man into an Ideot, and the Cholerick into an Assassin. It gives Bitterness to Resentment, it makes Vanity insupportable, and displays every little Spot of the Soul in its utmost Deformity. Nor does this Vice only betray the hidden Faults of a Man, and shew them in the most odious Colours, but often occasions Faults to which he is not naturally subject. There is more of Turn than of Truth in a Saying of Seneca, That Drunkenness does not produce but discover Faults. Common Experience teaches us the contrary. Wine throws a Man out of himself, and infuses Qualities into the Mind, which she is a Stranger to in her sober Moments. The Person you converse with, after the third Bottle, is not the same Man who at first sat down at Table with you. Upon this Maxim is founded one of the prettiest Sayings I ever met with, which is ascribed to Publius Syrus, _Qui ebrium ludificat ladit absentem; He who jests upon a Man that is Drunk, injures the Absent_.

Thus does Drunkenness act in direct Contradiction to Reason, whose Business it is to clear the Mind of every Vice which is crept into it, and to guard it against all the Approaches of any that endeavours to make its Entrance. But besides these ill Effects which this Vice produces in the Person who is actually under its Dominion, it has also a bad Influence on the Mind even in its sober Moments, as it insensibly weakens the Understanding, impairs the Memory, and makes those Faults habitual which are produced by frequent Excesses.

I should now proceed to shew the ill Effects which this Vice has on the Bodies and Fortunes of Men; but these I shall reserve for the Subject of some future Paper.

* * * * *

No. 570. Wednesday, July 21, 1714.

'--Nugaque canora--'

Hor.

There is scarce a Man living who is not actuated by Ambition. When this Principle meets with an honest Mind and great Abilities, it does infinite Service to the World; on the contrary, when a Man only thinks of distinguishing himself, without being thus qualified for it, he becomes a very pernicious or a very ridiculous Creature. I shall here confine my self to that petty kind of Ambition, by which some Men grow eminent for odd Accomplishments and trivial Performances. How many are there whose whole Reputation depends upon a Punn or a Quibble? You may often see an Artist in the Streets gain a Circle of Admirers, by carrying a long Pole upon his Chin or Forehead in a perpendicular Posture. Ambition has taught some to write with their Feet, and others to walk upon their Hands. Some tumble into Fame, others grow immortal by throwing themselves through a Hoop.

'Cætera de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem
Delassare valent Fabium--'

I am led into this Train of Thought by an Adventure I lately met with.

I was the other Day at a Tavern, where the Master of the House [1] accommodating us himself with every thing we wanted, I accidentally fell into a Discourse with him; and talking of a certain great Man, who shall be nameless, he told me, That he had sometimes the Honour _to treat him with a Whistle_; (adding by the way of Parenthesis) _For you must know, Gentlemen, that I whistle the best of any Man in_ Europe. This naturally put me upon desiring him to give us a Sample of his Art; upon which he called for a Case-Knife, and applying the Edge of it to his Mouth, converted it into a musical Instrument, and entertained me with an _Italian_ Solo. Upon laying down the Knife, he took up a Pair of clean Tobacco Pipes; and after having slid the small End of them over the Table in a most melodious Trill, he fetched a Tune out of them, whistling to them at the same time in Consort. In short, the Tobacco-Pipes became _Musical Pipes_ in the Hands of our Virtuoso; who confessed to me ingenuously, he had broke such Quantities of them, that he had almost broke himself, before he had brought this Piece of Musick to any tolerable Perfection. I then told him I would bring a Company of Friends to dine with him the next Week, as an Encouragement to his Ingenuity; upon which he thanked me, saying, That he would provide himself with a new Frying-Pan against that Day. I replied, That it was no matter; Roast and Boiled would serve our Turn. He smiled at my Simplicity, and told me, That it was his Design to give us a Tune upon it. As I was surprised at such a Promise, he sent for an old Frying-Pan, and grating it upon the Board, whistled to it in such a melodious Manner, that you could scarce distinguish it from a Base-Viol. He then took his Seat with us at the Table, and hearing my Friend that was with me humm over a Tune to himself, he told him if he would sing out he would accompany his Voice with a Tobacco-Pipe. As my Friend has an agreeable Base, he chose rather to sing to the Frying-Pan; and indeed between them they made up a most extraordinary Consort. Finding our Landlord so great a Proficient in Kitchen-Musick, I asked him if he was Master of the Tongs and Key. He told Me that he had laid it down some Years since, as a little unfashionable: but that if I pleased he would give me a Lesson upon the Gridiron. He then informed me that he had added two Bars to the Gridiron, in order to give it a greater Compass of Sound; and I perceived was as well pleased with the Invention, as _Sappho_ could have been upon adding two Strings to the Lute. To be short, I found that his whole Kitchen was furnished with musical Instruments; and could not but look upon this Artist as a kind of Burlesque Musician.

He afterwards of his own Accord fell into the Imitation of several Singing-Birds. My Friend and I toasted our Mistresses to the Nightingale, when all of a sudden we were surpriz'd with the musick of the Thrush. He next proceeded to the Sky-Lark, mounting up by a proper Scale of Notes, and afterwards falling to the Ground with a very easy and regular Descent. He then contracted his Whistle to the Voice of several Birds of the smallest Size. As he is a Man of a larger Bulk and higher Stature than ordinary, you would fancy him a Giant when you look'd upon him, and a Tom Tit when you shut your Eyes. I must not omit acquainting my Reader, that this accomplished Person was formerly the Master of a Toy-shop near _Temple-Bar_; and that the famous _Charles Mathers_ was bred up under him. I am told that the Misfortunes which he has met with in the World, are chiefly owing to his great Application to his Musick; and therefore cannot but recommend him to my Readers as one who deserves their Favour, and may afford them great Diversion over a Bottle of Wine, which he sells at the Queen's Arms, near the End of the little Piazza in _Covent-Garden_.

[Footnote 1: Named Daintry. He was of the trained bands, and commonly known as Captain Daintry.]

* * * * *

No. 571. Friday, July 23, 1714. Addison.

'--Coelum quid querimus ultra?'

Luc.

As the Work I have engaged in, will not only consist of Papers of Humour and Learning, but of several Essays Moral and Divine, I shall publish the following one, which is founded on a former SPECTATOR [1], and sent me by a particular Friend, not questioning but it will please such of my Readers, as think it no Disparagement to their Understandings to give way sometimes to a serious Thought.

SIR,

In your Paper of _Friday_ the 9th Instant, you had Occasion to
consider the Ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time, to shew,
that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to
every thing, and privy to all the Modes and Parts of its Existence;
or, in other Words, that his Omniscience and Omnipresence are
coexistent, and run together through the whole Infinitude of Space.
This Consideration might furnish us with many Incentives to Devotion
and Motives to Morality, but as this Subject has been handled by
several excellent Writers, I shall consider it in a Light wherein I
have not seen it placed by others.

_First_, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being
who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence!

_Secondly_, How deplorable is the Condition of an intellectual Being,
who feels no other Effects from this his Presence but such as proceed
from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

_Thirdly_, How happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being, who
is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his
Mercy and Loving-kindness!

_First_, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being,
who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no
extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence! Every
Particle of Matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes
through it. The Heavens and the Earth, the Stars and Planets, move and
gravitate by Vertue of this great Principle within them. All the dead
Parts of Nature are invigorated by the Presence of their Creator, and
made capable of exerting their respective Qualities. The several
Instincts, in the brute Creation, do likewise operate and work towards
the several Ends which are agreeable to them, by this Divine Energy.
Man only, who does not co-operate with this holy Spirit, and is
unattentive to his Presence, receives none of those Advantages from
it, which are perfective of his Nature, and necessary to his
Well-being. The Divinity is with him, and in him, and everywhere about
him, but of no Advantage to him. It is the same thing to a Man without
Religion, as if there were no God in the World. It is indeed
impossible for an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his
Creatures, but tho' he cannot withdraw his Essence from us, which
would argue an Imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the
Joys and Consolations of it. His Presence may perhaps be necessary to
support us in our Existence; but he may leave this our Existence to it
self, with regard to its Happiness or Misery. For, in this Sense, he
may cast us away from his Presence, and take his holy Spirit from us.
This single Consideration one would think sufficient to make us open
our Hearts to all those Infusions of Joy and Gladness which are so
near at Hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we
consider,

_Secondly_, The deplorable Condition of an intellectual Being who
feels no other Effects from his Maker's Presence, but such as proceed
from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

We may assure our selves, that the great Author of Nature will not
always be as one who is indifferent to any of his Creatures. Those who
will not feel him in his Love, will be sure at length to feel him in
his Displeasure. And how dreadful is the Condition of that Creature,
who is only sensible of the Being of his Creator by what he suffers
from him! He is as essentially present in Hell as in Heaven, but the
Inhabitants of those accursed Places behold him only in his Wrath, and
shrink within the Flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in
the Power of Imagination to conceive the fearful Effects of
Omnipotence incensed.

But I shall only consider the Wretchedness of an intellectual Being,
who, in this Life, lies under the Displeasure of him, that at all
Times and in all Places is intimately united with him. He is able to
disquiet the Soul, and vex it in all its Faculties. He can hinder any
of the greatest Comforts of Life from refreshing us, and give an Edge
to every one of its slightest Calamities. Who then can bear the
Thought of being an Out-cast from his Presence, that is, from the
Comforts of it, or of feeling it only in its Terrors? How pathetick is
that Expostulation of _Job_, when, for the Tryal of his Patience, he
was made to look upon himself in this deplorable Condition!

_Why hast thou set me as a Mark against thee, so that I am become a
Burthen to my self_?

But, _Thirdly_, how happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being,
who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his
Mercy and Loving-kindness.

The Blessed in Heaven behold him Face to Face; that is, are as
sensible of his Presence as we are of the Presence of any Person whom
we look upon with our Eyes. There is doubtless a Faculty in Spirits,
by which they apprehend one another, as our Senses do material
Objects; and there is no Question but our Souls, when they are
disembodied, or placed in glorified Bodies, will by this Faculty, in
whatever Part of Space they reside, be always sensible of the Divine
Presence. We, who have this Veil of Flesh standing between us and the
World of Spirits, must be Content to know that the Spirit of God is
present with us, by the Effects which he produces in us. Our outward
Senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however taste and see
how gracious he is, by his Influence upon our Minds, by those Virtuous
Thoughts which he awakens in us, by those secret Comforts and
Refreshments which he conveys into our Souls, and by those ravishing
Joys and inward Satisfactions, which are perpetually springing up, and
diffusing themselves among all the Thoughts of good Men. He is lodged
in our very Essence, and is as a Soul within the Soul, to irradiate
its Understanding, rectifie its Will, purifie its Passions, and
enliven all the Powers of Man. How happy therefore is an intellectual
Being, who, by Prayer and Meditation, by Virtue and good Works, opens
this Communication between God and his own Soul! Tho' the whole
Creation frowns upon him, and all Nature looks black about him, he has
his Light and Support within him, that are able to cheer his Mind, and
bear him up in the Midst of all those Horrors which encompass him. He
knows that his Helper is at Hand, and is always nearer to him than any
thing else can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying him. In
the Midst of Calumny or Contempt, he attends to that Being who
whispers better things within his Soul, and whom he looks upon as his
Defender, his Glory, and the Lifter up of his Head. In his deepest
Solitude and Retirement, he knows that he is in Company with the
greatest of Beings; and perceives within himself such real Sensations
of his Presence, as are more delightful than any thing that can be met
with in the Conversation of his Creatures. Even in the Hour of Death,
he considers the Pains of his Dissolution to be nothing else but the
breaking down of that Partition, which stands betwixt his Soul, and
the Sight of that Being, who is always present with him, and is about
to manifest it self to him in Fullness of Joy.

If we would be thus Happy, and thus Sensible of our Maker's Presence, from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Goodness, we must keep such a Watch over all our Thoughts, that, in the Language of the Scripture, his Soul may have Pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his Holy Spirit, and endeavour to make the Meditations of our Hearts always acceptable in his Sight, that he may delight thus to reside and dwell in us. The Light of Nature could direct _Seneca_ to this Doctrine, in a very remarkable Passage among his Epistles:

_Sacer inest in nobis spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et
Observator, et quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos_
[2].

There is a Holy Spirit residing in us, who watches and observes both
Good and Evil Men, and will treat us after the same Manner that we
treat him. But I shall conclude this Discourse with those more
emphatical Words in Divine Revelation,

_If a Man love me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love
him, and we will come unto him, and make our Abode with him_ [3].

[Footnote 1: No. 565, and see Nos. 580, 590, and 628.]

[Footnote 2: Ep. 41. To Lucilius. 'Deum in viro bono sedere.']

[Footnote 3: John xiv. 23.]

* * * * *

No. 572. Monday, July 26, 1714. Z. Pearce [3].

'--Quod medicorum est
Promittant medici--'

Hor.

I am the more pleased with these my Papers, since I find they have encouraged several Men of Learning and Wit to become my Correspondents: I Yesterday received the following Essay against Quacks, which I shall here communicate to my Readers for the Good of the Publick, begging the Writer's Pardon for those Additions and Retrenchments which I have made in it.

The Desire of Life is so natural and strong a Passion, that I have long since ceased to wonder at the great Encouragement which the Practice of Physick finds among us. Well-constituted Governments have always made the Profession of a Physician both honourable and advantageous. _Homer's Machaon_ and _Virgil's Japis_ were Men of Renown, Heroes in War, and made at least as much Havock among their Enemies as among their Friends. Those who have little or no Faith in the Abilities of a Quack will apply themselves to him, either because he is willing to sell Health at a reasonable Profit, or because the Patient, like a drowning Man, catches at every Twig, and hopes for Relief from the most Ignorant, when the most able Physicians give him none. Though Impudence and many Words are as necessary to these Itinerary _Galens_ as a laced Hat or a Merry _Andrew_, yet they would turn very little to the Advantage of the Owner, if there were not some inward Disposition in the sick Man to favour the Pretensions of the Mountebank. Love of Life in the one, and of Mony in the other, creates a good Correspondence between them.

There is scarce a City in _Great-Britain_ but has one of this Tribe, who takes it into his Protection, and on the Market-Day harangues the good People of the Place with Aphorisms and Receipts. You may depend upon it, he comes not there for his own private Interest, but out of a particular Affection to the Town. I remember one of those Public-spirited Artists at _Hammersmith_, who told his Audience 'that he had been born and bred there, and that having a special Regard for the Place of his Nativity, he was determined to make a Present of five Shillings to as many as would accept of it.' The whole Crowd stood agape, and ready to take the Doctor at his Word; when putting his Hand into a long Bag, as every one was expecting his Crown-Piece, he drew out an handful of little Packets, each of which he informed the Spectators was constantly sold at five Shillings and six pence, but that he would bate the odd five Shillings to every Inhabitant of that Place: The whole Assembly immediately closed with this generous Offer, and took off all his Physick, after the Doctor had made them vouch for one another, that there were no Foreigners among them, but that they were all _Hammersmith_-Men.

There is another Branch of Pretenders to this Art, who, without either Horse or Pickle-Herring, lie snug in a Garret, and send down Notice to the World of their extraordinary Parts and Abilities by printed Bills and Advertisements. These seem to have derived their Custom from an _Eastern_ Nation which _Herodotus_ speaks of, among whom it was a Law, that whenever any Cure was performed, both the Method of the Cure, and an Account of the Distemper, should be fixed in some Publick Place; but as Customs will corrupt, these our Moderns provide themselves of Persons to attest the Cure, before they publish or make an Experiment of the Prescription. I have heard of a Porter, who serves as a Knight of the Post under one of these Operators, and tho' he was never sick in his Life, has been cured of all the Diseases in the Dispensary. These are the Men whose Sagacity has invented Elixirs of all sorts, Pills and Lozenges, and take it as an Affront if you come to them before you are given over by every Body else. Their Medicines _are infallible, and never fail of Success_, that is of enriching the Doctor, and setting the Patient effectually at Rest.

I lately dropt into a Coffee-house at _Westminster_, where I found the Room hung round with Ornaments of this Nature. There were Elixirs, Tinctures, the _Anodine Fotus_, _English_ Pills, Electuaries, and, in short, more Remedies than I believe there are Diseases. At the Sight of so many Inventions, I could not but imagine my self in a kind of Arsenal or Magazine, where store of Arms were reposited against any sudden Invasion. Should you be attack'd by the Enemy Side-ways, here was an infallible Piece of defensive Armour to cure the Pleurisie: Should a Distemper beat up your Head Quarters, here you might purchase an impenetrable Helmet, or, in the Language of the Artist, a Cephalic Tincture: If your main Body be assaulted, here are various Kinds of Armour in Case of various Onsets. I began to congratulate the present Age upon the Happiness Men might reasonably hope for in Life, when Death was thus in a manner Defeated; and when Pain it self would be of so short a Duration, that it would but just serve to enhance the Value of Pleasure: While I was in these Thoughts, I unluckily called to mind a Story of an Ingenious Gentleman of the last Age, who lying violently afflicted with the Gout, a Person came and offered his Service to Cure him by a Method, which he assured him was Infallible; the Servant who received the Message carried it up to his Master, who enquiring whether the Person came on Foot or in a Chariot; and being informed that he was on Foot: _Go, says he, send the Knave about his Business: Was his Method as infallible as he pretends, he would long before now have been in his Coach and Six._ In like manner I concluded, that had all these Advertisers arrived to that Skill they pretend to, they would have had no Need for so many Years successively to publish to the World the Place of their Abode, and the Virtues of their Medicines. One of these Gentlemen indeed pretends to an effectual Cure for Leanness: What Effects it may have had upon those who have try'd it I cannot tell; but I am credibly informed, that the Call for it has been so great, that it has effectually cured the Doctor himself of that Distemper. Could each of them produce so good an Instance of the Success of his Medicines, they might soon persuade the World into an Opinion of them.

I observe that most of the Bills agree in one Expression, _viz._ that (_with God's Blessing_) they perform such and such Cures: This Expression is certainly very proper and emphatical, for that is all they have for it. And if ever a Cure is performed on a Patient where they are concerned, they can claim no greater Share in it than _Virgil's Japis_ in the curing of _Æneas;_ he tried his Skill, was very assiduous about the Wound, and indeed was the only visible Means that relieved the Hero; but the Poet assures us it was the particular Assistance of a Deity that speeded the Operation. An _English_ Reader may see the whole Story in Mr. _Dryden's_ Translation.

_Prop'd on his Lance the pensive Heroe stood,
And heard, and saw unmov'd, the Mourning Crowd.
The fam'd Physician tucks his Robes around,
With ready Hands, and hastens to the Wound.
With gentle Touches he performs his Part,
This Way and that, solliciting the Dart,
And exercises all his Heavenly Art.
All softning Simples, known of Sov'reign Use,
He presses out, and pours their noble Juice;
These first infus'd, to lenifie the Pain,
He tugs with Pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then to the Patron of his Art he pray'd;
The Patron of his Art refus'd his Aid.
But now the Goddess Mother, mov'd with Grief,
And pierc'd with Pity, hastens her Relief.
A Branch of Healing_ Dittany _she brought,
Which in the_ Cretan _Fields with Care she sought;
Rough is the Stem, which woolly Leaves surround;
The Leafs with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs with Purple crown'd:
Well known to-wounded Goats; a sure Relief
To draw the pointed Steel, and ease the Grief.
This_ Venus _brings, in Clouds involv'd; and brews
Th' extracted Liquor with_ Ambrosian _Dews,
And od'rous_ Panacee: _Unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the Mixture with her heav'nly Hands:
And pours it in a Bowl, already crown'd
With Juice of medc'nal Herbs, prepared to bathe the Wound.
The Leech, unknowing of superior Art,
Which aids the Cure, with this foments the Part;
And in a Moment ceas'd the raging Smart.
Stanched is the Blood, and in the bottom stands:
The Steel, but scarcely touched with tender Hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own Accord;
And Health and Vigour are at once restor'd_.
Japis _first perceiv'd the closing Wound;
And first the Footsteps of a God he found.
Arms, Arms! he cries, the Sword and Shield prepare,
And send the willing Chief, renew'd to War.
This is no mortal Work, no cure of mine,
Nor Art's effect, but done by Hands Divine_.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester, with alterations by Addison.]

* * * * *

No. 573. Wednesday, July 28, 1714.

'--Castigata remordent--'

Juv.

My Paper on the Club of Widows has brought me in several Letters; and, among the rest, a long one from Mrs. President, as follows.

_Smart SIR_,

'You are pleased to be very merry, as you imagine, with us Widows: And
you seem to ground your Satyr on our receiving Consolation so soon
after the Death of our Dears, and the Number we are pleased to admit
for our Companions; but you never reflect what Husbands we have
buried, and how short a Sorrow the Loss of them was capable of
occasioning. For my own Part, Mrs. President as you call me, my First
Husband I was marry'd to at Fourteen, by my Uncle and Guardian (as I
afterwards discovered) by way of Sale, for the Third part of my
Fortune. This Fellow looked upon me as a meer Child, he might breed up
after his own Fancy; if he kissed my Chamber-Maid before my Face, I
was supposed so ignorant, how could I think there was any Hurt in it?
When he came home Roaring Drunk at five in the Morning, 'twas the
Custom of all Men that live in the World. I was not to see a Penny of
Money, for, poor Thing, how could I manage it? He took a handsome
Cousin of his into the House, (as he said) to be my Housekeeper, and
to govern my Servants; for how should I know how to rule a Family? and
while she had what Money she pleased, which was but reasonable for the
Trouble she was at for my Good, I was not to be so censorious as to
dislike Familiarity and Kindness between near Relations. I was too
great a Coward to contend, but not so ignorant a Child to be thus
imposed upon. I resented his Contempt as I ought to do, and as most
poor passive blinded Wives do, 'till it pleased Heaven to take away my
Tyrant, who left me free Possession of my own Land, and a large
Jointure. My Youth and Money brought me many Lovers, and several
endeavoured to establish an Interest in my Heart while my Husband was
in his last Sickness; the Honourable _Edward Waitfort_ was one of the
first who addressed to me, advised to it by a Cousin of his that was
my intimate Friend, and knew to a Penny what I was worth. Mr.
_Waitfort_ is a very agreeable Man, and every Body would like him as
well as he does himself, if they did not plainly see that his Esteem
and Love is all taken up, and by such an Object, as 'tis impossible to
get the better of. I mean himself. He made no doubt of marrying me
within Four or Five Months, and begun to proceed with such an assured
easie Air, that piqued my Pride not to banish him; quite contrary, out
of pure Malice, I heard his first Declaration with so much innocent
Surprize, and blushed so prettily, I perceived it touched his very
Heart, and he thought me the best-natured Silly poor thing on Earth.
When a Man has such a Notion of a Woman, he loves her better than he
thinks he does. I was overjoy'd to be thus revenged on him, for
designing on my Fortune; and finding it was in my Power to make his
Heart ake, I resolved to compleat my Conquest, and entertain'd several
other Pretenders. The first Impression of my undesigning Innocence was
so strong in his Head, he attributed all my Followers to the
inevitable Force of my Charms, and from several Blushes and side
Glances, concluded himself the Favourite; and when I used him like a
Dog for my Diversion, he thought it was all Prudence and Fear, and
pitied the Violence I did my own Inclinations to comply with my
Friends, when I marry'd Sir _Nicholas Fribble_ of Sixty Years of Age.
You know, Sir, the Case of Mrs. _Medlar_, I hope you would not have
had me cry out my Eyes for such a Husband. I shed Tears enough for my
Widowhood a Week after my Marriage, and when he was put in his Grave,
reckoning he had been two Years dead, and my self a Widow of that
Standing, I married three Weeks afterwards _John Sturdy_, Esq., his
next Heir. I had indeed some Thoughts of taking Mr. _Waitfort_, but I
found he could stay, and besides he thought it indecent to ask me to
marry again 'till my Year was out, so privately resolving him for my
Fourth, I took Mr. _Sturdy_ for the present. Would you believe it,
Sir, Mr. _Sturdy_ was just Five and Twenty, about Six Foot high, and
the stoutest Fox-hunter in the Country, and I believe I wished ten
thousand times for my old _Fribble_ again; he was following his Dogs
all the Day, and all the Night keeping them up at Table with him and
his Companions: however I think my self obliged to them for leading
him a Chase in which he broke his Neck. Mr. _Waitfort_ began his
Addresses anew, and I verily believe I had married him now, but there
was a young Officer in the Guards, that had debauched two or three of
my Acquaintance, and I could not forbear being a little vain of his
Courtship. Mr. _Waitfort_ heard of it, and read me such an insolent
Lecture upon the Conduct of Women, I married the Officer that very
Day, out of pure Spight to him. Half an Hour after I was married I
received a Penitential Letter from the Honourable Mr. _Edward
Waitfort_, in which he begged Pardon for his Passion, as proceeding
from the Violence of his Love: I triumphed when I read it, and could
not help, out of the Pride of my Heart, shewing it to my new Spouse:
and we were very merry together upon it. Alas! my Mirth lasted a short
time; my young Husband was very much in Debt when I marry'd him, and
his first Action afterwards was to set up a gilt Chariot and Six, in
fine Trappings before and behind. I had married so hastily, I had not
the Prudence to reserve my Estate in my own Hands; my ready Money was
lost in two Nights at the Groom Porter's; and my Diamond Necklace,
which was stole I did not know how, I met in the Street upon _Jenny
Wheadle's_ Neck. My Plate vanished Piece by Piece, and I had been
reduced to downright Pewter, if my Officer had not been deliciously
killed in a Duel, by a Fellow that had cheated him of Five Hundred
Pounds, and afterwards, at his own Request, satisfy'd him and me too,
by running him through the Body. Mr. _Waitfort_ was still in Love, and
told me so again; and to prevent all Fears of ill Usage, he desir'd me
to reserve every thing in my own Hands: But now my Acquaintance begun
to wish me Joy of his Constancy, my Charms were declining, and I could
not resist the Delight I took in shewing the young Flirts about Town,
it was yet in my Power to give Pain to a Man of Sense: This, and some
private Hopes he would hang himself, and what a Glory would it be for
me, and how I should be envy'd, made me accept of being third Wife to
my Lord _Friday_. I proposed from my Rank and his Estate, to live in
all the Joys of Pride, but how was I mistaken? he was neither
extravagant, nor ill-natured, nor debauched? I suffered however more
with him than with all my others. He was splenatick. I was forced to
sit whole Days hearkening to his imaginary Ails; it was impossible to
tell what would please him; what he liked when the Sun shined, made
him sick when it rained; he had no Distemper, but lived in constant
Fear of them all: my good Genius dictated to me to bring him
acquainted with Doctor _Gruel_; from that Day he was always contented,
because he had Names for all his Complaints; the good Doctor furnished
him with Reasons for all his Pains, and Prescriptions for every Fancy
that troubled him; in hot Weather he lived upon Juleps, and let Blood
to prevent Fevers; when it grew cloudy he generally apprehended a
Consumption; to shorten the History of this wretched Part of my Life,
he ruined a good Constitution by endeavouring to mend it, and took
several Medicines, which ended in taking the grand Remedy, which cured
both him and me of all our Uneasinesses. After his Death, I did not
expect to hear any more of Mr. _Waitfort_, I knew he had renounced me
to all his Friends, and been very witty upon my Choice, which he
affected to talk of with great Indifferency; I gave over thinking of
him, being told that he was engaged with a pretty Woman and a great
Fortune; it vexed me a little, but not enough to make me neglect the
Advice of my Cousin _Wishwell_, that came to see me the Day my Lord
went into the Country with _Russel_; she told me experimentally,
nothing put an unfaithful Lover and a dear Husband so soon out of ones
Head, as a new one; and, at the same time, propos'd to me a Kinsman of
hers; You understand enough of the World (said she) to know Money is
the most valuable Consideration; he is very rich, and I am sure cannot
live long; he has a Cough that must carry him off soon. I knew
afterwards she had given the self-same Character of me to him; but
however I was so much persuaded by her, I hastned on the Match, for
fear he should die before the time came; he had the same Fears, and
was so pressing, I married him in a Fortnight, resolving to keep it
private a Fortnight longer. During this Fortnight Mr. _Waitfort_ came
to make me a Visit; he told me he had waited on me sooner, but had
that Respect for me, he would not interrupt me in the first Day of my
Affliction for my dead Lord; that as soon as he heard I was at Liberty
to make another Choice, he had broke off a Match very advantageous for
his Fortune, just upon the Point of Conclusion, and was forty times
more in Love with me than ever. I never received more Pleasure in my
Life than from this Declaration, but I composed my Face to a grave
Air, and said the News of his Engagement had touched me to the Heart,
that in a rash jealous Fit, I had married a Man I could never have
thought on if I had not lost all hopes of him. Good-natured Mr.
_Waitfort_ had like to have dropped down dead at hearing this, but
went from me with such an Air as plainly shewed me he laid all the
Blame upon himself, and hated those Friends that had advised him to
the Fatal Application; he seemed as much touched by my Misfortune as
his own, for he had not the least Doubt I was still passionately in
Love with him. The Truth of the Story is, my new Husband gave me
Reason to repent I had not staid for him; he had married me for my
Money, and I soon found he loved Money to Distraction; there was
nothing he would not do to get it, nothing he would not suffer to
preserve it; the smallest Expence keep him awake whole Nights, and
when he paid a Bill, 'twas with as many Sighs, and after as many
Delays, as a Man that endures the Loss of a Limb. I heard nothing but
Reproofs for Extravagancy whatever I did. I saw very well that he
would have starved me, but for losing my Jointures; and he suffered
Agonies between the Grief of seeing me have so good a Stomach, and the
Fear that if he made me fast, it might prejudice my Health. I did not
doubt he would have broke my Heart, if I did not break his, which was
allowed by the Law of Self-defence. The Way was very easy. I resolved
to spend as much Money as I could, and before he was aware of the
Stroke, appeared before him in a two thousand Pound Diamond Necklace;
he said nothing, but went quietly to his Chamber, and, as it is
thought, composed himself with a Dose of Opium. I behaved my self so
well upon the Occasion, that to this Day I believe he died of an
Apoplexy. Mr. _Waitfort_ was resolved not to be too late this time,
and I heard from him in two Days. I am almost out of my Weed at this
present Writing, and am very doubtful whether I'll marry him or no. I
do not think of a Seventh, for the ridiculous Reason you mention, but
out of pure Morality that I think so much Constancy should be
rewarded, tho' I may not do it after all perhaps. I do not believe all
the unreasonable Malice of Mankind can give a Pretence why I should
have been constant to the Memory of any of the Deceased, or have spent
much time in grieving for so insolent, insignificant, negligent,
extravagant, splenatick, or covetous Husband; my first insulted me, my
second was nothing to me, my third disgusted me, the fourth would have
ruined me, the fifth tormented me, and the sixth would have starved
me. If the other Ladies you name would thus give in their Husbands
Pictures at length, you would see they have had as little Reason as my
self to lose their Hours in weeping and wailing.

* * * * *

574. Friday, July 30, 1714. Addison.

'Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Rectè Beatum, recliùs occupat
Nomen Beati, qui Deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti
Duramque callet pauperiem pati.'

Hor.

I was once engaged in Discourse with a _Rosicrusian_ about _the great Secret_. As this kind of Men (I mean those of them who are not professed Cheats) are over-run with Enthusiasm and Philosophy, it was very amusing to hear this religious Adept descanting on his pretended Discovery. He talked of the Secret as of a Spirit which lived within an Emerald, and converted every thing that was near it to the highest Perfection it is capable of. It gives a Lustre, says he, to the Sun, and Water to the Diamond. It irradiates every Metal, and enriches Lead with all the Properties of Gold. It heightens Smoak into Flame, Flame into Light, and Light into Glory. He further added, that a single Ray of it dissipates Pain, and Care, and Melancholy from the Person on whom it falls. In short, says he, its Presence naturally changes every Place into a kind of Heaven. After he had gone on for some Time in this unintelligible Cant, I found that he jumbled natural and moral Ideas together into the same Discourse, and that his great Secret was nothing else but _Content_.

This Virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all those Effects which the Alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls the Philosopher's Stone; and if it does not bring Riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the Desire of them. If it cannot remove the Disquietudes arising out of a Man's Mind, Body, or Fortune, it makes him easie under them. It has indeed a kindly Influence on the Soul of Man, in respect of every Being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all Murmur, Repining, and Ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted him his Part to act in this World. It destroys all inordinate Ambition, and every Tendency to Corruption, with regard to the Community wherein he is placed. It gives Sweetness to his Conversation, and a perpetual Serenity to all his Thoughts.

Among the many Methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of this Virtue, I shall only mention the two following. First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants; and Secondly, How much more unhappy he might be than he really is.